ã€ŠThe Ayda Seriesã€‹


 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 1: A Life Lost

    The cruel desert sun beat down upon a quiet and unassuming desert hamlet. Square, tan buildings dominated the sandy landscape, offering shelter to those within. The sounds of music drifted off into the distance, rhythmic notions from a lone player. From the outside, all was normal. Another calm day in the Second World. But the rumbling of an engine betrayed trouble in this peaceful town.

    A column of heavily armed soldiers made its way down the dusty streets. A military truck with a long back covered by a camouflaged tarp¡ªthe kind used to transport troops¡ªfollowed close behind, kicking up a modest cloud of dirt. Out in front was the man obviously in charge of this little sortie. He did not tote around a rifle, but instead carried a riding crop at his side.

    Their presence was not welcome. The occupants of this little town met them with fear and confusion. People closed windows and locked doors. Children scurried inside, encouraged by their mothers to make haste. No one dared interfere with the soldiers. Whatever their business, it was not worth getting shot or worse.

    After passing a mixed selection of through streets and alleyways, the column came to its destination. The leader raised a clenched fist, and they all stopped on a dime. Even the truck did not miss a beat, so disciplined was its driver. The leader turned to his right, and the soldiers wheeled to do the same. He approached a door immediately in front of him, giving it a few harsh raps with his riding crop.

    "Royal Army, open up," he said with an authoritative tone. There was no response. "Open this door or I will be forced to break it down."

    He didn''t even give the occupants time to respond. He gestured over his shoulder for one of the troops to come forward. A man armed with a shotgun rushed up to his right side. Without a moment''s hesitation, the soldier pressed the muzzle of his weapon against the doorknob and pulled the trigger, destroying it altogether. The door swung open. The moment the precipice was clear, the rest of the soldiers began to pour in.

    "Search the house, secure the girl." The leader barked orders at his men.

    The soldiers spread out through the property, holding their guns up at the ready as if in search of hostile targets. It wasn''t long before they located their prize. A struggle emanated from the back room: scuffles and shouting, the sound of a rifle butt stock impacting a human forehead. After a few seconds the soldiers presented their findings to the leader in the main room. An older man and woman, along with their young daughter¡ªPersian, by the looks of them¡ªallowed themselves to be forcibly led by the armed brutes.

    "Excellent," mused the leader. "Bring her here." In compliance with their orders, two soldiers restrained the girl as she was brought forward.

    "No, not my daughter!" Screamed the older woman. "Not Ayda!" She struggled against the soldiers restraining her, kicking and pulling in a desperate attempt to get away.

    "Take me instead! She''s just a little girl." The father made the noblest of sacrifices, also trying to escape from the men who had overpowered him. Indeed, the only one who didn''t make much of a fuss was the little girl. Perhaps it was shock, but she made not a sound as the captors moved her. The closest thing she made to an escape attempt was a few limp punches at one soldier''s wrist.

    When she was presented to the leader, he bent down momentarily to look at her in much the same way a farmer would inspect a cow. He nodded and gave a huff, turning around to exit the house. The men transporting the girl follow behind him.

    "What should we do with these two?" One of the troops still inside the house stopped the leader.

    "Same as the others." The leader resumed his walk. All but two of the soldiers began to exit the house.

    This was the final necessary push to awaken the beast within the girl. She thrashed about wildly, kicking and screaming howls of bloody murder. Being still small and weak, her feeble attempts at freedom were little more than a minor inconvenience for the big strong men taking her away.

    "No, let me go! Mom!" The little girl cried out to her mother for assistance, desperate to save them both.

    "It''s okay, honey, everything''s okay." The mother called through the open door.

    A single shot rang through the streets.

    "NO!" screeched the little girl.

    "I love you, Ayda!" The father made one final dedication to his daughter. A second shot.

    "Daddy!" Ayda''s voice broke from fear and sadness, little more than a hoarse wail. She stared back into her house. Between the throngs of soldiers, Ayda got a clear view of her living room. There, she saw the horrifying image of her father slump to the ground, thick red blood leaking from his head.

    "LET ME GO!" She fought and screamed, everything in her power to get away.

    Ayda was little more than a vicious ball of thrashing limbs by the time the soldiers reached the covered truck. They stopped behind the vehicle. A third trooper came up behind them and lifted her into the air. It took all three of them to heave her into the back of the truck. Her chin slammed against the metal floor and she slid a few inches.

    The girl was quick to react, however. In an instant she was on her feet and sprinting back toward freedom. One of the soldiers was partially inside the truck. He gave Ayda a harsh backhand which sent her crashing against the bench running along the left side of the vehicle. The impact knocked the wind out of her. While she was still stunned, the same soldier quickly zip tied her wrist to one of the poles upon which the tarp was stretched.

    Plastic restraint firmly in place, the soldiers sat down around her. The rest of them had formed up at that point, and the vehicle filled quickly. While they filed in, Ayda picked and thrashed against the zip tie, trying vainly to either break or undo it.

    The leader was the last to enter. He reached Ayda and gave her a sharp smack across the knuckles with his riding crop. She yelped in pain and shot accusatory eyes up at him.

    "Stop struggling," he ordered. "It doesn''t become you."

    Of course, Ayda did not listen to him. Immediately, she resumed her attempts to break the tie. Her efforts were met with another hit. She stopped momentarily to catch her breath and then once again tried to escape, producing the same response. The leader gave her an impatient look, daring her to try it a fourth time. But Ayda was too smart for that. Knuckles red and throbbing, she knew enough to give up. Her shoulders sagged and she sat more normally in her seat, utterly defeated and broken.

    The leader pushed aside some of his underlings to take the spot across from her as the truck drove off into the midday sun.

    ¡­

    Many hours passed in the back of the truck. The tarp covering offered little protection against the boiling sun. It was hot. It smelled of sweat and oil and burning rubber. The men did not speak. Most hardly moved. Ayda couldn''t be sure if it was fear or obedience which stayed their tongues, but it didn''t really matter, either. She also remained silent and motionless. The antagonists around her had guns and knives. She dared not do anything to anger them, lest she meet a grizzly fate.

    The gravity of everything which just transpired had not really hit home with her yet. In the dingy summer haze, it all seemed like a dream. Soon she would wake up. The smells of her mother baking bread would fill her nose. Her father would come in, bid her good morning, and recount all of their plans for the day. A good life awaited her, and all she needed to do was wake up.

    But the logical part of her brain knew this was not a dream. This horror was very real. Her parents were gone. She sat in the back of a big truck surrounded by strange and violent men, bound for some unknown location in the middle of the desert. Nothing would ever be the same. She was afraid. Her father was not there to comfort her with his big strong hands. Ayda would never know comfort again. She was afraid.

    The long and uncomfortable drive didn''t help to ease her mind much. Canvas flaps drawn over the entrance to the truck''s back obscured her view of the outside. Every once in a while she would get a good look through as they warped in the wind. Whenever she did, the surroundings were always the same; sand. Nothing but sand and rocks and the occasional scrubby bush. Were her arm not tied up in such an inconvenient position, Ayda may have fallen asleep from sheer boredom. The heat certainly made her drowsy.

    After what felt like forever, time having long since blended into one incoherent entity, the truck began to slow. Ayda was so out of it at this point, she didn''t notice the change in velocity at first. But, when she did catch on, she sprung to life. Ayda pulled at her restraint and craned her neck around, trying to get a view of the outside through the canvas flaps. It all still looked like sand, nothing to indicate a significant change in locale worth slowing down for.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    The truck ground to a halt. Ayda tried her hardest to pick anything out from the scenery, any sort of subtle hint as to the situation. She received a partial answer in the form of a loud metallic screech. It came from the front of the truck. The sound was brief, replaced immediately by a monotone electric motor. It only lasted a few seconds.

    When the new sounds had ceased, the truck resumed motion, albeit much slower than before. Ayda just happened to look up in time to see a shadow creep across the tarp ceiling above her head. She followed it with her eyes and found herself suddenly engulfed by shade. The air shifted. It was cooler. A slight breeze blew.

    Yes, they were most likely inside somewhere. This hunch was confirmed when the metal screech and electric motor sounds returned. The source of these disturbances was an extremely large garage door. It folded down from the concrete ceiling to close off the outside. It became much darker without the sun as a light.

    The truck stopped again. As soon as it had, the soldiers began filing out. Two stayed behind to deal with Ayda. One grabbed her by the back of the shirt. The other cut her free before taking her left bicep. Together, they led her out of the truck. Unlike before, Ayda didn''t struggle at their escort. Whatever this building was, it most likely belonged to them. She was in the belly of the beast. Escape would not be possible, even if she did manage to break loose.

    Ayda looked all around, trying to take in her new surroundings all at once. This was obviously a motor pool. The space was one huge concrete room, easily large enough to contain a dozen vehicles, although it hadn''t even half that at the moment. It was absolutely abuzz with activity. Soldiers, mechanics, and people in white lab coats went about their business. They reminded her vaguely of swarming insects.

    Ayda looked to her right and was immediately grabbed by what she saw. On the far end of the room were six other children, boys and girls, guarded by four soldiers. They were all about her age, although¡ªat a guess¡ªshe was probably the youngest by at least two years. Just after she noticed them, her escort began moving her over to the group of kids.

    The children tried not to look at her, risking only a few sly looks. None of them hid it particularly well. The soldiers guarding them must have known what they were doing. They either didn''t care, or were just too lazy to enact any sort of authority. The kids, though, were obviously terrified. They''d probably had similar experiences to Ayda. They''d every right to be afraid.

    The men escorting Ayda deposited her none-too-gently among the kids. A firm hand between her shoulders forced Ayda down on her knees. She just barely caught herself before her nose could impact the pavement. Momentarily, she was stunned. This passed quickly, however. Ignoring the pins and needles in her hands, Ayda scooted into place beside one of the kids, a tubby boy. They exchanged quick glances before contenting themselves to inspect the floor.

    "You''re late," said an especially pretentious male voice. Whoever it was spoke Persian just like everyone else, but with a decidedly American accent. Ayda looked for its source, but couldn''t see anything through the scattered throngs of people.

    "I''m sorry, Dr. Vahlen," said the leader. "We met a storm on the way to the village. It slowed us down considerably."

    "Don''t worry about it too much," Vahlen sighed. "I didn''t really have any big plans for today, anyway."

    A few seconds after this conversation completed, a man appeared before the children. Ayda assumed this was the Doctor who just spoke. They must have been closer than she thought. He was a middle-aged man, most of his square features obscured by a thick beard and bushy eyebrows. His round glasses caught just enough of a glare to conceal his eyes. He was tall and reasonably built, a stout neck upon broad shoulders.

    "Stand them up," he said shortly. The soldiers began jabbing the children with their guns. The kids got up, inspired by fright. Ayda didn''t need to be prodded in order to stand. She got the drift.

    Dr. Vahlen walked up to the boy on the far left of the line. Ayda was on the far right, last in line. Vahlen bent down until his face was just a few inches away from the boy''s. The child looked away but the Doctor grabbed her cheeks and forced him to look into his eyes.

    "No," said Vahlen after a few seconds. He moved on down the line to the next child, a girl. Again, he leaned to look her very close. She tried to divert her gaze and retrieved the same treatment.

    "No," he repeated. Vahlen went to the next person in line, a boy. He rehashed the process, but this time the child did not look away. He learned from his peers.

    "This one." Vahlen said something different this time. As he went to the next child in line, two soldiers came in to escort the previous away. They took him to form a separate group with two other guards off to the right.

    "This one," Vahlen indicated with a nod of his head. Again, the same two soldiers led this chosen girl over to where the first boy was taken.

    "No," Vahlen said of the boy next in line. Just as with the two before him, no soldiers came. Vahlen moved on to the boy right next to Ayda. This time, he only glanced at his subject. "No," he said with a grimace and went on to Ayda.

    Vahlen bent over and got right in her face. He was very close. Those piercing brown eyes of his seemed to stare into her very soul. Ayda desired nothing more than to avert her gaze, but she knew such a gesture would be useless. Vahlen would just force her to look. Ayda remained locked in his stare. She may have been in impossible circumstances, but this much she could control. She had command over her own willpower.

    Vahlen spoke lowly, words meant only for her. "You''ve got somefirein you." He stood. "This one."

    Ayda knew the drill. She began walking over to the secondary group before the soldiers could escort her. They took a couple quick steps to catch up with her. When she was securely in place, the four soldiers who had been guarding the original group began to lead them toward an open personnel door. Ayda tried to watch them as they left, but Vahlen''s voice ripped her attention away.

    "I don''t really have the patience for a speech right now, so I''ll keep this brief." he adjusted his glasses before continuing. "Now, I know you''re all scared, and rightly so, but you needn''t be. This is a safe and organized environment, committed to the betterment of mankind. Together, you and I will contribute to the advancement of science and society. You will be part of something much bigger than yourselves. Together, we will make history. But, in order to do that, I need your complete and undivided cooperation. Can you do that for me?"

    This was clearly a rhetorical question. As if they really had a choice in the matter. None of the remaining children spoke up. Ayda looked around for the other group but they were nowhere to be seen, probably outside already. They were the lucky ones. They probably got to go home.

    This suspicion was quickly rejected as a gunshot broke the silence. Ayda flinched. It came from outside, just on the other side of the wall. It was from one of the rifles the soldiers carried. Ayda could never forget that sound.

    "I''ll take your silence as ayes." Vahlen said. A second gunshot. "Take them to their quarters," he instructed. The four soldiers began to move, prodding the children to do the same. A third gunshot.

    The youngsters allowed themselves to be led toward a set of swinging double doors almost smack dab in the middle of the far wall. A fourth and final shot. Ayda looked behind her just in time to see one of the soldiers walk back inside from the personnel door. He flicked something wet from his glove. Ayda leaned back to try and get a better look, but a soldier shoved her. She contemplated the ground. No doubt about it, that was blood.

    A long, dimly lit hallway awaited the kids on the other side of the doors. It was a rather boring space, made completely of concrete bathed dull yellow by hanging lights. The only decorations on the walls were thick wires and metal electrical boxes. Ayda only peered around in sparing glances, fearful of retaliation should her eyes wander too far.

    The soldiers turned them left and they made their way down another, identical corridor. They repeated this pattern a few more times, never once encountering anything more interesting than a few scattered doors. Indeed, much of the facility seemed wasted space.

    When they finally reached the end of their journey, they found themselves in a cell block. Five large iron bar doors broke up the left and right walls of the area for a total of ten. Ayda glanced into the cells. Each contained multiple kids. The occupants looked up at the new arrivals as they passed. Most were older, but a few were around her age.

    As soon as they entered the cell block, the soldiers broke off to lead one of the children to their new homes. Ayda was no exception. Her guard took her all the way to the end of the dead end room. He extracted a key from his pocket and opened the cell on the far right side. Ayda stood before the abyss, staring at the people already inside. The soldier shoved her. She stumbled forward into the cell. Before Ayda could regain her footing, he slammed the door behind her, locking it with a turn of the key.

    And then he left. No ceremony, no parting words. He just left. His boot steps were not the only ones to depart. If Ayda counted correctly, two others also departed, leaving one behind to watch over the prisoners.

    Ayda''s breaths became labored and ragged as panic set in. Her eyes darted around the cell, searching for a way to escape, some sort of chink in the armor. There had to be a way, a loose chunk of wall or spot of rust on the bars. She took one deep inhale and let it out slowly. There was no way out. These walls were all concrete and steel. She could never make it out. This was her new home. Trapped like an animal in a cage. That was her reality.

    Ayda turned around, and was met with the faces of four other children. They did not look at or otherwise acknowledge her in any way. Indeed, they seemed dead to the world around them. They were dirty and destitute, dressed in identical baggy tan clothing. All hope long since vacated their aura. One, a blonde boy with striking blue eyes, was about her age. She walked over to him.

    "Hey," she whispered to him. He did not react. "Hey, where are we?" Ayda tried again, unable to hide the despair from her voice.

    "No talking!" A gruff voice barked from outside. Ayda turned in its direction for a moment, but gave up any notion she had of protest after a second. She wasn''t allowed to speak, and her cellmates were obviously closed off to any other form of communication, so she took the only other option available. Ayda sat in the far west corner of the cell.

    It was simple, but this small, quiet motion jogged her brain to clarity. The grim reality of her circumstance slammed home all at once. This place, all the kids, the soldiers, Dr. Vahlen, her parents, it was all now very real. Oh God, her parents. They were dead, taken from her. They were really gone. Nothing could ever bring them back. She would never see anyone she loved again. Would the wordloveeven mean anything in the coming eternity?

    An icy depression gripped Ayda''s heart. Her life was over. She would die in this cell, and no one was coming to save her. Ayda curled up into a pathetic little ball and wept.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 2: Cages

    Ayda sprinted down a corridor, long dark hair flowing out behind her like a majestic cape of pure black. All around her was an eerie quiet. Nothing moved. Any ambient noise which could be present in a cement hall simply did not exist. She looked briefly to her left to regain a bearing on the wires running along the wall. They served as her only guide, her sense of direction.

    It was fortunate she did turn her gaze leftward, otherwise she would have completely missed the gray door up ahead. Ayda ran up beside the door and planted herself against the wall right of it. A moment to gain her composure. Slowly, she reached down and turned the knob. With one smooth heave she pushed the door open. A second later, she spun a half turn into the jam, rifle held at the hip like an action movie hero.

    Her eyes scanned the room. It looked like a doctor''s office. An operating table dominated the dead center. Cabinets lined the wall on either side. There was a metal table on the west wall, a lighted display board on the east. These features were the only things of note. Zero hostiles occupied the space. Seeing it was clear, Ayda packed up and moved on.

    Back down the hall she continued on her quest. It turned off to the left up ahead. Ayda hung the corner, and immediately wished she hadn''t. She disappeared back around the wall just in time to avoid a torrent of bullets. Two soldiers stood in the middle of the hall. Ayda took a few deep breaths to steel herself into action. She popped around the corner and unleashed a whirlwind of lead from her gun. The weapon had no recoil because, obviously, she was more than strong enough to completely control it. The soldiers shot back, but they couldn''t hit the broad side of a barn. All of their shots missed. Ayda, however, was not so sloppy. Both enemies died in the blink of an eye.

    The threat dealt with, Ayda resumed her quest. Again she followed the wires on the wall. They were like a map, signs on the road showing her way. At the end of the shaft was another left turn. This time, Ayda was more cautious. She stacked up on the corner. A cautious peer into the next hall. It was clear. Ayda completed the turn.

    All was quiet, fartooquiet. Ayda held her gun at the ready, expecting an ambush. When she had traveled about halfway down the passage, her suspicions were confirmed. A duo of soldiers appeared from around the right turn at the end. They opened fire. Ayda executed the most logical maneuver in this situation. She dove forward, shooting her gun madly. The enemy bullets covered the air around her, yet none made contact. Again, Ayda proved herself far more skilled than these generic henchmen. Her spray hit true, neutralizing the threat.

    Ayda landed in a frontward roll, unsure of how exactly she managed to pull of such a feat without imparting any sort of rotational force prior to hitting the ground. She put that thought from her head, for the moment. She was just that good, clearly. Ayda stood from the somersault without missing a beat and took off in further pursuit of her goal.

    More guards awaited her around the corner. At this point, she was much more confident. Both groups opened fire at almost the same time. Once again, all of the bullets simply sailed past Ayda, while hers struck like lasers. The men fell to the ground, dead, and she progressed right past them. She took the left turn at the end.

    Immediately ahead of her down this path was a set of double doors. Ayda stopped for a moment to contemplate how best to continue. Through these doors was the motor pool, and the final obstacle between her and freedom. Doubtless, it would be well defended. The doors were the only entrance, so a stealthy approach was impossible. She could try to use the doors as cover and enter gradually, but they wouldn''t stand up long against gunfire. These men were so poor with their weapons, she could probably just burst through without much danger of actually getting shot. Yeah, that sounded like the best plan: a bold, frontal assault. Ayda bent her knees, put her left shoulder forward, and barreled through.

    Immediately, as predicted, a hailstorm of hot bullets came upon her like a tidal wave. Ayda began to return fire, and realized she suddenly had two rifles now. Ayda raised them both and opened up a can of unfiltered domination. The eight soldiers directly in front of her fell in seconds to her merciless torrent.

    Four guards appeared on her flanks, two on each side. Ayda outstretched her arms, dedicating one rifle to each group. All the while, she remained focused on running forward. Even though she wasn''t looking at her targets, they gave over to her.

    With those four gone, Ayda resumed shooting both of her guns at targets ahead. More men died, helpless to stop her overwhelming assault. She was the queen of death and they her lowly peons, little more than spiders facing down a giant. It was their fault for daring oppose her. They deserved a painful end. Ayda happily dished out fitting punishment to them.

    Ayda stepped into the center of the room. All eyes and guns were upon her. Again, Ayda held her weapons outstretched at her side. She spun in a slow circle, fingers never letting off the triggers. Enemy slugs flew all around her. Some whizzed through the air while others impacted at her feet, but none made solid contact with her.

    The troopers, though, were not so lucky. With every projectile which ensued from Ayda''s gun, another man died. Unrighteous was the slaughter. Burning lead was indiscriminate in murder. The dying screams of doomed men almost drowned out the cacophony of gunfire.

    Gray smoke filled the room. It stung at Ayda''s eyes as she spun, but was little more than an unimportant distraction. She was above such annoyances. After all she''d been through, a simple haze would not be her undoing. No, Ayda had control over all the elements around her. She possessed absolute power. She was the judge. She was the executioner. All these men were guilty. They had to die.

    Ayda spun several rotations more. Never once did her bottomless magazines require reloading. Heroes never ran out of ammo. As she continued to spin, the room slowly began to quiet. The guards were finally thinning. Not long now, and the fight would be over. Nothing could stop her whirlwind of pain.

    A few more spins, and the bullets ceased altogether. Ayda realized it was over immediately after the action passed, so perfectly tuned were her senses. She stopped spinning and lowered her guns. Steam billowed from their muzzles. The smoke in the room began to settle. As it did, revealed was the devastation around her. Not a surface had been spared a bullet hole Bodies lay all around her, some mostly complete, others torn to pieces by her attack. Ayda, though, had not suffered even a scratch.

    Ayda began toward the garage door, when she heard someone clapping. Slow percussive reverberations echoed off the concrete walls. From out behind a truck appeared the source of all her anger, the reason Ayda was in the situation in the first place, and the person she wanted to kill most of all. Dr. Vahlen gave her a condescending smile, staring at her like a proud father.

    "Good job, Ayda," he said. "You did it, you won. My men were no match for you. Now I see how wrong I was to try and keep you locked up like that. I should''ve known I could never keep you. It was a bad thing, but I''m sorry now. Could you ever forgive me?"

    Ayda did not answer him. Instead, she raised both her guns. Dr. Vahlen did not flinch at the sight of her weapons, only smiled deeper. Ayda pulled the triggers. Fully automatic fire tore into Vahlen''s body. He laughed maniacally as the bullets ripped him apart. His wounds did not bleed, but leaked black smoke and ash. Vahlen did not have a soul. He was nothing but dark on the inside.

    Vahlen''s legs gave out. He fell to the ground, slumping back against the truck. Ayda continued to shoot him, intent on removing any trace of his existence from the face of the Earth. All the while he laughed as if in complete rapture, like her bullets were the greatest joke he''d ever heard. His smoke filled the air around him, making it hard to see. Still, Ayda maintained fire. This could not end until Vahlen was gone.

    Even after his head had been completely removed, Vahlen continued to laugh. All his limbs were gone now. He was nothing but a damaged torso. Ayda shot into him, removing chunks at a time. Skin, muscles, organs, they all melted under her punishment. When all was said and done, the only remaining piece of Vahlen was his heart. His merriment vanished, but the heart still beat there on the ground.

    Ayda contemplated it for a moment. So, hedidhave a heart. After all that, something beat inside his chest. Not that it mattered, of course. She raised her foot and brought it down as hard as she could. A vicious stomp from her big black boots squished Vahlen''s heart. Black blood squirted out in all directions. Some even got on her face. Ayda licked it from her cheek. It tasted like victory.

    All at once, the smoke disappeared. The air in the room lightened considerably. With Vahlen gone, a great weight had been lifted from the world. It was a better place, and it was all thanks to Ayda. She smiled and turned once again toward the door. What she saw took her breath away. Standing there were her mother and father, hand in hand, smiling at her.

    "Mom? Dad? You''re alive?" She said, astonished almost beyond words.

    "Yes, Ayda, you saved us," her mother said.

    "We''re so proud of you." Add her dad.

    "But... how is this possible? I saw it, you were dead!" Ayda tried desperately to wrap her head around what was happening.

    "Oh, honey, we were never really dead, just gone for a little while." Although her father''s words were honest, something was off. His skin began to darken. His hair withered and died. Ayda looked at her mother and found she suffered a similar fate.

    "Mom, Dad, what''s happening? Are you okay?"

    "We''re fine, thanks to you," her mother said.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Despite her words, the older couple continued to deteriorate. Their skin melted. Blood drained from their bodies. They were nothing but muscle and sinew in seconds. Ayda cried out in horror. She dropped her guns.

    "What''s wrong, Ayda? Aren''t you happy to see us?" Her father reached out a hand. The flesh melted off his fingers, leaving only bone behind.

    "No, don''t touch me!" Ayda took a step back and then curled up into a little ball. She hugged her knees and turned her back to them. From out of nowhere emanated the sharp sound of metal impacting against metal. It had no explanation, no place in the world. It seemed unnatural. It unsettled Ayda almost more than her decaying parents.

    "Ayda, what is it, dear?" Her mother asked. Another metal sound.

    "We just want to help you. We''re your parents," added her father. More metal sounds.

    Curiosity got the better of her. Ayda looked over her shoulder. Her parents were now just skeletons. They made no attempt to get closer to her, but both reached out to her.

    "Just take my hand, Ayda," her father said. "Let us help you, Ayda."

    "Let us help you, Ayda," her mother echoed. Metal sounds.

    "Let us help you, Ayda," they chanted in unison. Metal impacted metal.

    "Let us help you, Ayda." The chants exchanged with the metal sounds, a horrifying concoction of noise.

    "Let us help you, Ayda."

    "Let us help you, Ayda."

    "Let us help you, Ayda."

    ¡­

    Ayda''s eyes flew open. She flailed her limbs and somehow ended up in a sitting position. Brown eyes darted around their surroundings in an attempt to take it all in at once. Five dirty children occupied the space with her. All of them were penned in by thick iron bars. None of them moved. They barely breathed. This was the cell. Ayda was not free. She was still captive to the will of a madman.

    The metal sound went off again, louder than ever. Ayda scurried to the front of the cell. She grabbed the bars and snaked her head around to get a view of the hallway. About halfway down, one of the soldiers stood in front of a cell on the opposite side of the hall. Behind him is a rolling metal cart with several matching platters atop. He knocked on the bars with his pistol and then slid a dish underneath a slot in the base of the bars.

    The moment his hand left the dish, the children inside pounced on the food. Ayda startled. It was the most life she''d seen from any of them since she arrived. They ate like savages; starved birds fighting over carrion scraps. Ayda recoiled at the repulsive sight of them. Despite herself, her stomach growled. A bite to eat would not be remiss. She hadn''t partaken even a sip of water since the day before.

    The trooper turned around and served the cell directly behind him. Ayda watched him hungrily. At this rate, her group would be last. The process was nearly identical. He pounded on the bars, slid the food underneath, and stepped back. Of course, Ayda could not see what went on in this cell, but the audible clues were more than sufficient. They were barbarians, all of them.

    Ayda''s eyes never left the guard as he distributed breakfast. Or, at least, shethoughtit was breakfast. There was absolutely no indication of the time. It could be six at night for all she knew. That seemed impractical, though. Ayda didn''t think she''d slept more than twelve hours.

    Finally, the soldier stopped in front of Ayda''s cell. She scooted back from the bars but stayed close to the slot, determined to be the first to eat. The man knocked the bars, but this time did not slide the meal underneath. Instead, he fumbled around with his keys.

    "Not right now, girl." He looked directly at her. "The Doctor wants to see you." The guard swung the door open and held out his hand to her. "Come on."

    "But, I''m hungry." Ayda protested.

    "You can eat after. You get your own private meal," explained the guard. "But the Doctor needs to see you right now."

    "No, I want to eat first!" Ayda remained defiant, pushing her boundaries. Perhaps it was simple hunger or some carnal desire to withstand authority, but she would not budge willingly. The guard sighed.

    "Why can''t they ever just listen?" He rolled his eyes and took Ayda by the bicep. His grip was not gentle. She could already feel herself bruising. He yanked her up to her feet. Ayda did not fight back. She knew it was useless. Never in a million years could she overpower him.

    She had almost made it all the way out of the cell when a hand grabbed her by the wrist. Her first reaction was to pull away in fear, but the grasp was firm, almost unnaturally so for a child. Ayda looked down at her captor. It was the blonde boy she''d spoken to the day before. He looked up at her with pain in his impossibly pale blue eyes.

    "Try not to struggle. It''s not as bad if you don''t struggle." This was his cryptic warning before releasing her. Strangely, Ayda hadn''t been the least bit anxious until he said that. Now her heart slammed against her sternum at a thousand beats per minute.

    The guard paused her just outside the cell. With his free hand, he closed the door and then slide his last food platter beneath. Ayda peered back into the cell. The idea of being an animal in a cage didn''t exactly appeal to her, but at the moment she longed to be back in the cell. It was safe in there.

    All but one of the children began pouring over the food. The blue-eyed boy remained locked on Ayda. The guard began to take her away, back up the hall. Ayda gazed at the boy as long as she could. When he disappeared from view, every organ in her chest collectively dropped. Never in her life had she felt such a profound sense of dread. What could possibly wait for her around the next corner?

    It turned out Ayda had quite the long walk to contemplate her destiny. They maze of identical corridors ahead seemed endless as it was boring. How did anyone get around in this place if everything looked exactly the same? The only thing of note she passed were the double doors leading to the motor pool She didn''t know anything about the facility, but she did remember her way that far.

    After what must have been more than twenty minutes of walking, Ayda and the guard arrived at their destination. It was another set of double doors set into the end of a comparatively short passage. The guard led her through. She would''ve frozen in place were she not so forcefully pulled along.

    It was a circular room, walls covered in partially reflective long sheets of metal. Perfectly in the middle was a metal operating table. Two separate wires ran up from the floor to it. There was a switch on the wall which also met with a couple cables. Several leather strap restraints were placed strategically along the slab. To the far side behind the table was an x-ray display board and, underneath it, a workstation complete with drawers, cabinets, and a sink. Standing at the station was Dr. Vahlen, his back turned. By the way his shoulders moved, he was working on something. Ayda could not see around him to know what it was.

    "Dr. Vahlen, sir," she guard said.

    "Thank you," he returned. "Restrain her."

    "What? No!" Ayda looked rapidly from the guard to Vahlen many times.

    The guard dragged her over to the table. Ayda kicked and pushed every step of the way. Every instinct in her body rejected the current situation. She didn''t know what was going on, but if she needed to be restrained for it, then it must be very bad.

    Her struggling had little effect on the soldier. Indeed, he hardly seemed to notice. With a great heave, the man placed her atop the table. One hand on her midsection kept her firmly in place. With his other hand, he slid her right wrist into one of the restraints. Quickly, he tightened the leather. His fingers were swift. Ayda didn''t have time to try and escape.

    She pulled at the strap, trying vainly to break it. At the same time, the guard continued to tie her down. Next was her other hand, followed by her feet. Try as she might, Ayda was completely and utterly powerless to resist him. He was simply too strong. A strap across her belly kept her firmly in place. She could hardly move, now.

    The last restraint to fasten was around her forehead. For the first time, the guard hesitated. Ayda''s thrashing about probably made her head difficult to get a grip on. Good, let him struggle. Gently, the man took both her temples in a soft yet firm grip, intertwining his fingers in her hair for a bit more control. He laid her cranium against the slap and quickly did up the leather with one hand. Now Ayda was completely immobilized. With her neck held in place, she found it difficult to move the rest of her body. She never realized just how much her finer motor functions relied on fluidity of motion with her spine.

    "It''s done, sir." The soldier stepped away.

    "Good. Leave us," Vahlen ordered. The man complied instantly, disappearing through the doors without further ceremony.

    It was just Ayda and Vahlen, now. She squirmed and shimmied in an attempt to get even a partial glimpse of him, but it was useless. She couldn''t move enough to have any real effect. Instead, all she could do was listen to the clinks from his metal workstation.

    "I hadn''t planned on starting so quickly, you know." Vahlen spoke as if they were acquaintances. "But, the General just kept bringing me so many good specimens, I really didn''t have a choice." He cleared his throat. "I would''ve liked to give you time to adjust to your new surroundings, but then I''d be behind schedule, and we can''t have that. The foundation of science is prudence, after all"

    Vahlen walked over to her. Ayda could feel his presence looming over her like a great specter. She strained to look up at him. The picture she got was blurry, obscured by her brow, but she could see enough to tell what he was up to. He held in his hand a drill with a large cup on the bit, the kind used to drill holes in concrete.

    With his foot, he messed with some controls on the floor. The table tilted up at a forty-five degree angle, Ayda along with it. She could no longer see him. She tried to scream, call out for help, but the words caught in her throat. All she could do was sit there and tremble. That grizzly tool inspired nothing but the purest form of terror in her very soul.

    "Now, I won''t lie to you, this will hurta lot," Vahlen began. "I''m sorry, I really am, but there''s no way around it. This is a very delicate procedure. We can''t have anything messing with the chemical balance up here in your noggin. Otherwise, it will kill you. ...Probably, anyway. That means no anesthesia."

    "What are you gonna do to me? Get away from me!" Ayda found her voice. She resumed struggling, even though she couldn''t do much more than wiggle in protest.

    "Don''t be like that, Twelve. Oh, did I tell you your number yet? You''re subject number twelve. It doesn''t mean anything. The number just wasn''t taken yet, but I digress." Vahlen gave the drill a few test spins. Ayda could hear it whine to life behind her.

    "No, please, Dr. Vahlen, don''t use that thing on me. Please, I''ll do anything!" Ayda pleaded. Terrified tears streamed down her face.

    "I can''t do that, Ayda, you know I can''t." His gentle tone was almost patronizing, given the circumstances. "If it makes you feel any better, you''ll pass out after a second or two. Then you won''t feel anything." With that, Vahlen pulled the trigger. Ayda could feel him inching closer to her head. The drill got louder in slight increments

    "No, Dr. Vahlen, I''m begging you. I''ll do anything you say, just please, for the love of God, don''t¡ª"

    Piercing, blood curdling screams replaced the words in her throat. Vahlen bored through the top of her skull, drilling out a broad hole with the saw cup. Ayda''s screams reverberated off the walls, completely drowning out the drill. Vahlen''s prediction was correct. Her body went limp, held up only by the restraints.

    He didn''t drill for long. Such a hefty implement could dig through bone without much trouble. When he''d made it through her cranium, Vahlen extracted the cut out hole by pulling on her hair. He took a moment to untangle the dark locks from the bit. He held it out to the side in one hand, undeterred by the gruesome business he committed.

    "It''s a good thing you have so much hair." Vahlen spoke to his unconscious patient. "This is so much harder when they don''t have long hair."

    Vahlen commenced the real meat of the procedure, humming as he worked. He put the drill down on the counter behind him, and exchanged it for some sort of futuristic device. It was a rectangle about the size of an index card, made of thick metal and wires. Vahlen lowered the thing into her head, letting it rest upon her brain. The press of a button activated the foreign instrument. The device beeped twice. Metal cables shot out from each side, their tips embedding firmly in the surrounding bone. The good Doctor gave the device a little jiggle, just to make sure it wouldn''t go anywhere. Satisfied it was firmly in place, Vahlen picked up a staple gun and began to put Ayda''s head back together, still humming all the while.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 3: Feats of Fury

    Blurry. That was the only word she could think of to describe the world as she slowly opened her eyes. Streaks of brown, gray, silver, and yellow blended together in a disorienting maelstrom of color. She immediately knew her identity. Her name was Ayda. All the darkness and confusion of unconsciousness was a distant memory. She was honestly embarrassed she could ever allow herself to be so baffled. Of course she was just knocked out. What other possible explanation could there be?

    But wait,whywas she unconscious? Ayda searched her mind, but that little bit of information was lost on her. Panic replaced any other notions she may have had. Ayda blinked rapidly, willing her vision to clear up. This room was all wrong. She remembered white lighting and metal walls, not yellow washed concrete. The place hummed with the soft din of electricity, yet the one she remembered was perfectly quiet. What happened? Where was she?

    Ayda tried to sit up, to get a better look at her surroundings, but made it not even an inch off the pillow. A sharp pain filled her entire head, as if she''d just been hit with a rock. She cried out and fell back into the pillow, clutching her head as if that would help to numb the pain.

    Why did her head hurt? She examined the top of her cranium. Gentle fingers felt around for anything out of place. Ayda quickly found a raised ridge on her head. The skin around it was quite swollen and tender. It formed a perfectly circular ring. Where did it come from? Ayda knew not what this scar tissue was, but she had a sinking suspicion it wasverybad.

    When her discomfort had perhaps reached its peak, distraction came to save the day. The door opened. Ayda hadn''teven noticed there was a door, but she turned her head to the source of the noise. Light spilled in from outside, causing her eyes to ache. A man entered. At this point Ayda was seeing much more clearly than before, and though she couldn''t really make out his face, it was obvious form his attire he belonged to the military. This man closed the door and walked over to her bedside.

    "Good, youareawake. I thought I heard someone stirring in here," he said warmly.

    "Where am I? What is this place?" Ayda had many more questions running through her head, but these were theones which boiled to the surface. Kinda seemed like a waste.

    "You''re in recovery," replied the man simply.

    "Recovery?"

    "Yes. Do you remember what happened before you ended up in here?" The man pulled up a chair Ayda hadn''t noticed and sat down beside her.

    "I remember..." Ayda scrunched her face in effort, trying her hardest to recall recent events. "I remember waking up in the morning. I had a bad dream. There was a guard giving out food, but I didn''t get any. He brought me to another room, instead. Dr. Vahlen was there. They strapped me to an operating table and... and..." All at once, the horror enacted upon her slammed into place. She remembered the fear she felt upon being restrained, begging the Doctor to let her go, the agony as his drill cut into her skull. It all came back.

    "Dr. Vahlen operated on you," the man filled in the blanks. "He made you his first patient of the day."

    "Patient?" Echoed Ayda. "What do you mean? What did he do to me?"

    "He put a very special device in your head. I''m sorry, I''m not allowed to explain all of that to you. Dr. Vahlen has been very clear he is the only one allowed to talk to the children about the procedure." The man''s tone was firm. "Besides, I really don''t understand it myself, honestly."

    "He did what? There''s something in my head?" Ayda struggled to comprehend this new information. "Please, you have to tell me what it is. Am I in danger?"

    "No, you''re not in danger." The man batted away the notion. "Far from it, actually. Like I said, I can''t go into detail about it, but you''re about to be part of something great. You''re making medical history, and it all starts with that thing in your head."

    "Medical history?" Ayda contemplated that phrase. Vahlen said something similar right after selecting her. "What about you? Who are you?"

    "I''m a medic," he said plainly. "Since the soldiers don''t really get wounded out here, I tend to the children instead." He was about to say something else, but Ayda''s stomach audibly growled. She blushed and shied away.

    "You must be famished." He stood. "I''ll go get you something from the mess. Just rest here until I get back. Don''t try to get up, you''ll just hurt yourself."

    And with that, he left, vanishing behind the door. Ayda stared up at the ceiling. She had no intention of going anywhere if even the slightest motion would make her head hurt like that again. She really didn''t understand what the medic had just told her. There was some sort of device in her head? Now that she thought about it, shedidfeel a bit heavier, as if a small weight were tied around her ears. Fear welled up inside. She could hear her heart beat, feel it in her chest. What had Dr. Vahlen done to her? What would he do in the future?

    ¡­

    A full week passed in that recovery room; seven whole days of absolutely nothing. Ayda stayed cooped up, not because that''s what she was told to do, but because she couldn''t have left at any rate. At first, every little motion sent debilitating spikes of pain through her head. It wasn''t just movements of her neck, either. Just wiggling her toes in the wrong way could cause a headache. It vaguely reminded her of the time she was sick with the flu. That time saw her stuck in bed for three days. It seemed so long ago, a memory of something which happened to someone else, a girl she barely knew.

    Left alone to her own devices, she had a lot of time to think. It became quickly apparent, however, thinking may not be the best course of action. No matter how positive or random her thoughts started out, they always eventually returned to her situation, how hopeless and destitute it was. The future looked bleak. Her life was beyond saving. Nothing could ever make her happy again.

    After a couples days of feeling sorry for herself, Ayda decided enough was enough. At that point, she was starting to feel much better. Ayda decided to put all her energy into recovery. She forced herself to move, to push her limits. If her body could get used to the sensation of motion, then theoretically the pain would begin to vanish. That was the thought, anyway. The reality was not quite so plain. Moving still caused her quite a bit of discomfort, although it was not unbearable.

    On the morning of the fourth day, her healing sped up exponentially. It was almost as if someone flipped a switch inside her body. Where just the day before sitting up caused her agony, it now was just barely more than uncomfortable. Standing still proved impossible, but this was a massive step in the right direction for her. The medic wasn''t surprised, though. According to him, most patients followed the same rapid recovery pattern. Ayda neglected to ask why, but she didn''t really care. He probably wouldn''t have told her, anyway. She was just happy to be on track.

    On the fifth day, Ayda decided it was time to finally get out of the bed. Sitting produced even less discomfort than before. Now, it was little more than annoying tension in the back of her head. Her confidence soared. Ayda swung her feet over the side of the bed and leaned forward, hands on her knees. Here she paused. Such quick motion made her dizzy. She waited for the world to stop spinning. With a deep breath, she pushed up.

    Her knees buckled. She fell forward hard onto the palms of her hands. Her breaths were hallow. Spikes of throbbing pain burrowed through her head. Laying in bed so long had made her legs weak. Even after making such great strides, she was still pathetic. To her surprise, a trio of tear drops fell between her hands? When did she start crying?

    No, no tears. No weakness. She had to be strong. Ayda wiped her eyes. With everything that had happened in such a short time, she refused to be the thing which held her back. Ayda crawled around to face the bed. Using the mattress, she pushed herself up. Her head throbbed. Most of her weight sank onto the bed, but she was standing. A smile stretched across her lips. She wouldn''t limit herself.

    Grit and determination. Those were the things which kept her going. Ayda forced herself to get better, for the sake of no one else but herself. With adrenaline through her veins and passion in her heart, Ayda would conquer this beast called incapacitation. It gave her purpose, made her feel alive. She had something to work toward, other than sitting around and slowly dying.

    When the seventh day rolled around, Ayda was up and about more often than not. If not for the still tender flesh on her head, no one would ever know she''d been bedridden not long ago. She felt strong and ready to face the world.

    Morning on the eighth day, and it was time for her to face the world. Instead of the medic, two armed men came for her. They quickly explained a group of children was being gathered for a presentation, and she was to be among them. Without question, Ayda fell in and allowed herself to be led from the room. At this point, she knew asking them anything was useless, so why even bother?

    Ayda had enjoyed living in her own little isolated reality for the last week. The moment Ayda stepped from her room, the real world smacked her in the face. All at once she remembered where she was, everything which had happened. The hope she''d felt vanished entirely, replaced by an all too familiar sense of dread. Suddenly, following these soldiers didn''t seem like a good idea. She stopped in the middle of the corridor, a dumbstruck expression on her face. The soldiers noticed almost immediately when she fell behind. One of them went back to get her.

    "Come on, get moving." He grabbed her by the back of the head and pushed her along. Ayda wished he hadn''t because it shot hurtful pangs through her skull. Of course, the soldier probably knew exactly what he was doing. Ayda was in too much pain to protest, as doing so would just cause further discomfort.

    The three of them walked down yet another series of identical passages. Ayda decided to turn this into a learning experience, lest she die of boredom. She didn''t know where the motor pool was, but a smart architect would put it near the center edge of the facility. The operating room was quite far away. The place couldn''t have been much bigger than the distance from the cells to there. By that logic, the place where the guards took her was most likely close to the exact center. This was all conjecture, of course, but it made sense to her.

    The guards led Ayda through a set of gray double doors. On the other side, she found a quintet of other children protected by four soldiers. They brought her over to join them before falling in behind the group. They were in a semicircular room, completely barren except for the five panes of glass in front of them.

    Ayda peered through the window. She looked down upon a large round room. Placed at equal distances around the edge were twelve baseball pitching machines. In the center stood a boy. He was about ten years old, completely bald, and dressed in the same gnatty rags as everyone else. Next to him on the ground was a five foot long metal staff. Ayda turned her gaze higher up to inspect the rest of the room. Directly ahead of her on the opposite end was another window, completely blacked out so it was impossible to see the other side.

    She would''ve liked to look around a bit more, but motion from one of the soldiers caught her attention. He pressed a button on a speaker box attached to the west wall.

    "We''re ready, Dr. Vahlen." Said the soldier.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    "Excellent." The Doctor''s voice came through the intercom. There was a pause before he continued. "Good morning, children. I trust your recovery is going well? I bet at this point, you''re wondering what exactly is going on. ''Why did the good Doctor drill a hole in my head?'' ''Why am I here?'' I can practically hear your thoughts."

    "Always the same speech..." one of the soldiers murmured to another with a roll of his eyes.

    "Well, today I will answer all those questions and more." Vahlen cleared his throat. "The human body is practically bursting with energy. We generate more electricity and heat than we could ever use, so the question is, what happens to all that excess energy? It just gets wasted. I think we can all agree that''s a bit counterproductive.

    "Andthatbrings us to our purpose here. Those little implants I went through all the trouble of putting in your heads are designed to unlock the full potential of the human body, to store up all that wasted power and put it to better use. Now, I could explain exactly how it does this, but I think it''s better if I just show you. Subject Twenty, here, will demonstrate. Are you ready, Twenty?"

    The boy standing in the room below nodded. He assumed a fighting stance, long and low, like something straight out of a classic kung-fu movie.

    "Ataboy. Begin the exercise!" The sound of a switch flipping could be heard just before Vahlen cut out.

    All attention was drawn to the floor below. The pitching machines whined to life in one shared breath. Their sound could be heard inside the observation room. Clearly, it was made to be sturdy instead of air tight.

    Once the pitching machines had finished spinning up, one of them fired a baseball at Twenty. It was almost too fast to see. Twenty, though, faced the threat without flaw. He pivoted on his heels and thrust a palm out to meet the projectile. What happened next defied explanation. With a sound much like a miniature sonic boom, a loud burst of purple energy ensued from his open hand. It created a shockwave about two feet in circumference just in front of his hand.

    The ball rebounded from this burst. It flew back at the wall, considerably faster and at a higher angle than it had been shot in the first place. The force with which it hit the concrete tore the seams apart and sent the bouncy rubber middle flying upward. It knocked off the wall and comically bounced around the floor.

    The children looked on with stunned expressions. Their brains struggled to comprehend what just happened. There would be no respite, however, not for the moment. Another baseball was fired at Twenty from a different direction. He rounded on the threat to repeat the process. Again, he struck at the ball and again a purple blast sent it flying into the wall. It landed a glancing blow and bounced around wildly a few times.

    Baseballs continued to assault Twenty, and he continued to bat them all away with energy blasts. His reactions were at a blazing speed, much faster than any normal human would be capable of. By the time Ayda had perceived the threat, he had already begun to move against it. He was mesmerizing to watch. While the assault persisted, Vahlen explained the action.

    "As you can see, Twenty is able to create concussive blasts by tapping into the energy stored by his implant and forcing it outward, but that''s not all. Pick up your staff, Twenty."

    In between baseballs, with compliance to Vahlen''s orders, Twenty bent down and picked up the staff beside him. A purple glow, the same color as the blasts themselves, outlined the weapon, slowly pulsing with unimaginable power. Another projectile was sent his way. Twenty batted it away with his staff. The resulting blast was considerably more powerful than any previous.

    After that, the pitching machines increased their attack. Barely any gap separated their fire. As soon as Twenty deflected one ball, another had already been sent at him. This new speed had no noticeable effect on him. Twenty continued to intercept each without a flaw, twirling his staff around to beat them away. His defense was impeccable.

    "Your power can be amplified even further by channeling it through metal objects," explained Vahlen.

    Again, the pitching machines sped up. Their barrage came like machine gun fire. Each one shot at irregular intervals with no clear pattern. There were always multiple balls in the air at any given time. Twenty changed his own pace to match them. The projectiles were inconsequential. He deflected every single one with perfect execution. He wasn''t even trying. So numerous were the blasts inside the chamber, it was almost hard to see what was going on.

    "In time, you too will learn to wield this kind of power," said Vahlen. "If our predictions are correct, this isn''t even a tenth of what is possible."

    All of a sudden, the pitching machines stopped entirely. Twenty remained in a ready stance for a few seconds, prepared to meet any new threats. Soon, though, he realized it was over. He relaxed his stance and bowed honorably.

    "That''s good, Twenty. You are dismissed." Vahlen said. Through a pair of doors, two soldiers entered the room and led him out.

    "Now, according to popular science," began the Doctor, "children have the easiest time learning when imitating something they just saw. To that effect, your training begins now. Guards, take them to the test chamber."

    The soldiers did as they were told, leading the children out of the observation deck.

    It was a short walk down to the test chamber. All of the kids were terrfied. After being just shown such a spectacular display, they were now expected to do the same thing? The information was still much, too new. They couldn''t even come close to understanding what happened. How were they supposed to replicate the results? They would have to learn fast, as each child was placed in front of a pitching machine. The soldiers left in a bit of a rush. Ayda didn''t like where this was going. Vahlen spoke through another loudspeaker.

    "Before we can begin, there''s the matter of turning your implants on. I''m sorry, but this will only hurt for a moment."

    The children began to panic just moments before blue electricity snaked along the metal floor. It engulfed each of them. They screamed out in agony as the lightning took their bodies. Ayda froze in place, unable to move for the electricity coursing through her. It lasted exactly four seconds, no more, no less. The pain vanished as quickly as it had appeared, terminated at the press of a button. All but one of the children fell to the ground. Ayda refused to let herself topple. She''d spent enough time on the floor recently.

    The four guards reentered the room and began to forcibly haul the children back onto their feet. As they did, Vahlen spoke.

    "Alright. Now that that''s out of the way, we can move on. I know you''re wondering how exactly you''re supposed to use these new abilities of yours. It''s all about intent. For reasons we don''t quite understand yet, the blasts only work on attacks. Purely defensive maneuvers won''t work. Don''t just block the baseballs, focus on sending them back at the pitching machines. In this way, you create a counter-attack and maintain the offensive. Don''t worry, I don''t expect you to get the hang of this today. We have plenty of time to master the skill."

    In a sudden spurt of courage, one of the children spoke up.

    "What if we don''t want powers? What if we don''t want to do what you say?" His antagonistic tone cause all eyes to fall upon him. Even the guards looked in amazement. Vahlen just laughed.

    "It''s cute you think you have a choice. There''s one in every batch, you know? You''ve seen what I do with the people who displease me.Don''tmake yourself one of them." A simple threat squashed all other protest. "Are there any more questions?" Not a soul dared ask. "Wonderful. Begin the session."

    The pitching machines whined back to life. They were much louder from inside the chamber. The soldiers quickly vacated the area. Each child assumed their best combat stance, most of which were clumsy and uncoordinated. Ayda tried her best to replicate Twenty. Of course, she had know idea what she was doing, but emulating someone who did seemed like a good start.

    The first volley of baseballs was dispensed. Instinct took over. Instead of trying to hit the ball speeding toward her, Ayda ducked. It sailed harmlessly over her head. Most of the other children avoided their projectiles as well. Those who did try to deflect failed miserably and were hit.

    "Do not dodge," Vahlen warned. "That''s not the point of the exercise. Continuing to do so will result in severe punishment."

    That threat in mind, Ayda squared her stance. She was ready for the next attack. Or so she thought. The next round came. This time, Ayda thrust her hand forward. Not only does this fail to create a blast, it also completely missed the ball. It hit her in the ribs. The blow was stinging, but not overly so, not nearly as bad as she anticipated.

    The third ball shot. Foolishly, Ayda thought it would be aimed at the same place. She blocked low, and missed by a mile. The baseball collided with the shoulder.

    Alright, this wasn''t working. She had to rethink her strategy. Screw everything else, Ayda was nowdeterminedto block at least one. Dr. Vahlen said something about the flow of excess energy. Maybe that was the key. Ayda focused, trying to detect this force running through her body. If she squinted in just the right way, she could almost feel it. When the next attack came, Ayda tried to release this energy in one quick, clean motion. It didn''t work. She took a baseball to the chest.

    Frustration built. Getting hit by baseballs was a great motivator. When the next one came, instead of try and hit it, Ayda made a swiping motion. To her great surprise, she actually managed to catch it. Her palm buzzed from the impact, but the ball was held in the firmly in her grasp. She smiled, proud of herself. Vahlen, however, was not so impressed.

    "While catching a balldoesdisplay the correct reflexes, it''s not the ultimate goal. Try not to do it in the future."

    That rejection angered Ayda. What was she doing wrong? Subject twenty made it look so easy. In Ayda''s mind, she was doing all the same motions, or as close as she could manage, but even her best efforts produced zero result. It was then Ayda realized this was exactly the problem. Of course doing the same thing over and over again wouldn''t work. Someone once told her that was the definition of insanity.

    Ayda retreated into herself, taking some time to really ponder out this conundrum. Vahlen kept going on and on about the brain, so clearly the problem was mental, not physical. She put her back to the pitching machines and closed her eyes, intense in thought. What was she missing? It must have been something obvious, sowhat?

    Of course, it would''ve been so much easier to think without the constant impacts from baseballs against her back. With every hit, she grew progressively angrier. Each new red mark clenched her fists tighter and tighter into frustrated coils. Her expression twisted into one of pure, unchecked rage. Soon, she could take it no longer.

    She heard the sound of another ball being fired at her. As if someone flipped a switch inside her, Ayda''s senses flared all at once. She rounded on the baseball. Although the world around her remained at a constant speed, Ayda reacted as if time had slowed down. She acted faster than she ever had in her life, than she even thought possible. Despite this, she remained in complete control of her movements. Not a split second passed when she didn''t knowexactlywhat she was doing. Ayda''s open palm accelerated ahead of her, guided along by inhuman reflexes. She unleashed a primal scream at the top of her lungs.

    It happened before she even knew what transpired. A sound like a sonic boom filled the space. It drowned out everything else. Purple energy exploded from her hand. It struck the ball with massive force. The object flew back to whence it came, disintegrating entirely upon impact with the wall. The few remaining pieces fluttered to the ground. So powerful was her blast, its effects were felt by the baseballs meant for children to her left and right. They diverted, missing their intended targets. Subject Twenty never managed anything so forceful, not even close.

    Ayda blinked a few times in sheer amazement. Every eye turned to her. The pitching machines switched off momentarily. Ayda shrunk under their collective gaze, embarrassed all of a sudden. What just happened? How did she do that?

    "Extraordinary, subject Twelve," Vahlen praised. "Try to remember what you just did and replicate it. I''m restarting the machines."

    Ayda almost laughed. Remember what she did? How rich. The only thing she could recall was anger. Perhaps that was the key? While the pitching machines started back up, she gathered all the wrath she''d accumulated over the past several days. She remembered being taken from her parents, thrown in a cell, operated on, and then locked in a little room for a week. Anger boiled up inside her, consumed every inch of her body. When the next ball was launched, she let it out all at once...

    And nothing happened. Her senses did not fire. No speed took her hand. She missed the ball and it hit her in the stomach. What went wrong? She did everything possible to accumulate anger, so why didn''t she blast away the ball?

    Wait a minute,the ball! The was the secret to everything! When she produced her blast, she was angry specifically at the ball, instead of just being mad as a state of mind. Thathadto be it. All of a sudden, everything Vahlen said about counter-attacking made perfect sense. Reflect, not deflect. Don''t block, strike. It all came together.

    When the next ball issued forth, Ayda put everything she''d just realized to practice. She channeled her effort into striking at the ball itself. It was a concentrated show of force. She knew it had worked even before the blast went off. Once again, she moved quicker than any person had right to. Her hand impacted with the ball, and a purple burst threw it back at the wall. It bounced at an angle and went flying off to the right. This blast was not nearly as powerful as her first, moreso in line with what Twenty displayed, but it was still a success.

    "Yes!" Ayda celebrated most deservedly, pumping her fist in victory. She was getting the hang of this. It felt good.

    "Good job, Twelve." Vahlen echoed her jubilation. "Keep it up."

    Another ball came, and again Ayda hit it with a blast. This time she barely even had to think in order to get the desired result.

    Several more balls came at her, and each one met a similar fate. The other children had ceased practicing at this point, and instead elected to watch her perform. Vahlen allowed this, because he too was impressed. Repetition made each burst progressively easier. Before long, Ayda didn''t have to focus nearly as hard.

    With every ball she destroyed, Ayda''s spirit soared. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt strong. She could take on the world.

    ¡­

    From up in his private observation room behind the blackened glass, Dr. Vahlen looked down upon the scene developing beneath him. He interlocked his fingers in front of his mouth stoically. He huffed to himself.

    "Very interesting, little girl. Very interesting, indeed.."

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 4: Giving Support

    Dr. Vahlen sat alone in his office, feet propped up on his cluttered mahogany desk. He didn''t wear his signature lab coat, but did sport a gaudy green turtle neck sweater. Behind his wheeled computer chair was a beautiful painting of a 19th century battle complete with horses, muskets, sabers, and cannons. Flanking this art piece on either side were slim bookshelves which extend all the way from floor to ceiling. In front of the desk was an ovular red and gold rug as well as a chair for guests to sit in. It was far and away the swankiest room in the entire facility, which meant it was still kind of a dump, especially compared to what he was used to.

    Idly, he swirled a glass of red wine in his left hand. He took a sip and grimaced upon lowering the drink. If he ever found a halfway decent bottle in this godforsaken country, it would be too late. Still, some wine was better than none at all. He took another unsatisfying sip.

    Vahlen paused and gave a sigh. He put the glass down on an out of the way corner of his desk. Transitioning into a more natural sitting position he rifled through one of the drawers on his right side, loudly shifting around its contents. After a few seconds he extracted his prize, a small digital recorder. Vahlen swung his legs around to the other side of his chair and leaned back. He held down a button on the side of the device and began to talk into it.

    "Dr. Vahlen, audio log for the week of July 17, 2005. Group A still shows very little in the way of progress. All seven of them have stagnated. This is... disappointing, to say the least. As both the first and largest group, I had high hopes for them. But, many improvements have been made to the technology since then, so I guess it isn''t really their fault. I''m looking into the possibility of replacing their implants with a newer model. We still can''t be sure what kind of side effects this would have. It could cause severe brain damage, or kill them outright. Either one would be an acceptable result, I just want to know which to prepare for.

    "My decision to stop bringing in new subjects after the acquisition of Group F is still a hot button topic more than five months later. Almost all of my scientists disagree, but they don''t understand my reasoning. Until we perfect the implants, bringing in more children is pointless. We''re just wasting time and resources. Our sample size as it is now is perfectly acceptable. It''s more efficient to just study the patients we have now, and learn from our past mistakes. I don''t know how long the soldiers can keep my dissenters at bay. I may need to enact my authority before long.

    "While it is true the children get more powerful with each new generation of implants, there was always the possibility of exceptions, and boy is Group D an exception. I saw something in Subject Twelve when she came to us two years ago. She continues to shatter expectations. Countless brain scans haven''t revealed any chemical or electrical bias toward use of the implant. For all intents and purposes, she''s just a normal eight-year-old girl. Purple explosions notwithstanding, of course. I can''t figure out exactly what it is which makes her so much stronger than all the others, but I''m determined to find out."

    Vahlen paused, perplexed. "I was going somewhere with that, somewhere specific, but I don''t remember where. It probably wasn''t important. This is Dr. Vahlen, terminating the audio log for the week of July 17, 2005."

    The Doctor opened a drawer on his desk, a different one than before, and tossed the recorder in. Talking into that blasted contraption was by far his least favorite part of the job. He understood the importance of keeping consistent and thorough logs, and a recorder was definitely the best way to do so, but that didn''t mean he had to like it.

    No sooner had he sealed the accursed thing to it''s fate, did a knock come at his door. He pinched the bridge of his nose. First an audio log and now unexpected company? This day just kept getting better! He sat with neutral posture to make himself presentable before answering the summons.

    "Come in," he said pleasantly. The leader, the man who coordinated most of the subject acquisitions, entered. "Ah, General. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

    "I think we need to talk," The leader¡ªthe General¡ªclosed the door behind him, mindful it should make not a sound.

    "Oh?" Vahlen raised an eyebrow. "What about?"

    "About the operation. I''m sure you know there''s been dissent in the ranks." The General shifted his riding crop from one hand to the other.

    "You never had a problem with my methods before, why start now?" Vahlen asked.

    "Because there never was a reason tohavea problem. I understand why we only went out to get test subjects once a year. You needed time to study them and improve the technology, but now we''ve stopped completely. Weneedmore test subjects if you want this project to succeed."

    Vahlen ran a hand through his hair. "I can''t believe we''re still talking about this. Why are westilltalking about this?"

    "Because it''s important," the General answered. "I know it won''t be time to go out for a while¡ª"

    "And when that time comes, you''ll see I made the right choice." Vahlen looked down and adjusted his glasses. "Tell me, General, what meaningful advancement do we make whenever a new group is brought in?"

    The General pondered this for a moment. "I''m not a scientist, you know that." He attempted to dodge the question.

    "Just take a guess," Vahlen insisted. "There are no wrong answers in science, only happy mistakes."

    "Well... the kids obviously get stronger. You improve the technology, I think." The General gave his best wild stab in the dark.

    "But howmuchbetter?" Challenged Vahlen. "Increments, General. Increments." He stood and began to walk around his desk over to the aging soldier. "You see, that''s how invention works. Edison worked on a hundred different ways to create a light bulb, making small changes between each version, until one day," he mimed an explosion with his hands, "breakthrough. It justworked. We need a breakthrough, wehavea breakthrough. I just need more time to study it."

    "You''re talking about Twelve." The General said. It was not a question, but a statement of obvious fact.

    "Of course I''m talking about Twelve." Vahlen walked back around his desk and leaned both his hands down on it. "She''s extraordinary. You have to agree she''s extraordinary."

    "I think dammed frightening is the word most of the men would use," suggested the General.

    "Ehh, tomato tomahto" Vahlen made a dismissive gesture. "The point is, I need more time to study her,specificallyher." He straightened and turned around, inspecting his painting. "The key to everything I''ve been working toward is locked up in that adorable little head of hers somewhere. I just need to find it." He turned again, this time to the General. "I won''t make any meaningful progress until I do. Implanting more children in the mean time is useless."

    "I''m not sure that''s true," the General challenged. "What if the breakthrough is in some other child, not Twelve? You''d never know that unless you have more patients."

    Vahlen conceded. "That''s true, you have a point, but I think it''s stupid to ignore the potential right under our noses. I think you can agree implanting more children for the sake of predictable results is a waste of resources. I needactionabledata, notbloateddata. I already know I can replicate the results, now I just need to take them to improve upon them. Twelve is the key to doing that."

    The Doctor let his words hang in the air, waiting for a response. The silence, coupled with the stony expression on the General''s face, told him the man was not convinced. Vahlen sighed. He walked over to the General.

    "Look, she has a bout later today. I''ll pull some strings, make it interesting. If I can convince you of her power and dedication to our cause, will you continue to support me?" Vahlen made his plea. The General thought for an uncomfortably long time on the proposition. The air grew thick and awkward. Vahlen was beginning to think of ways out when he finally made his decision.

    "Alright, fine. You have a deal."

    "Excellent. I knew you''d come to your senses." Vahlen clapped his hands to indicate the case was now closed. The General shook his head. He began to leave, but craned his neck to look back at Vahlen with a hand on the doorknob.

    "You''re putting a lot of faith in just one girl, Cyrus. I can''t protect you if she doesn''t pull through." He warned.

    "I know that, General. Twelve won''t fail me. She hasn''t yet." Vahlen gave him a dire look over the frames of his glasses. The General departed, disappearing behind the door.

    ¡­

    The Afternoon of that same day. Many children, along with their armed escort, had gathered in the observation room above the testing chamber to witness the day''s festivities. There was to be a fight, and it promised to be a good one. And, if not good, at least short.

    On the far side of the testing chamber stood Ayda, strong and silent like a sentinel, silver staff in one hand down by her hip. On the other side was a boy she knew well, much better than the others. He had blonde hair and blue eyes so pale they appeared pure white from a distance. He was the boy who spoke to Ayda on her second day, who warned her not to struggle. While they barely ever got the chance to talk, that boy was the closest thing she had to a friend.

    Ayda was noticeably older. Two years had passed since she''d been taken to the facility. Two years of servitude, of poking and prodding, of fighting. She was taller, her facial features more defined. Her hair, while only a few inches past her shoulders, was an unruly mane. It hadn''t been trimmed or taken care of at all, only occasionally cut shorter with a dull machete. A fresh scar broke the naturally tan skin on her left bicep.

    Now she stood across from her cellmate, forced into a battle neither of them wanted. She was confident in her ability to come out on top. In contrast, the boy¡ªshe only knew him as Subject Eight¡ªhunched his shoulders and stood with rather buttoned-up posture. Even an idiot could tell he was nervous. Ayda would make this quick, minimize the damage to him.

    The loudspeaker made a click, followed by Vahlen''s voice. "Today''s bout will be between Subject Twelve of Group D, and Subject Eight of Group C. Combatants, are you ready?"

    Ayda nodded and assumed a ready stance, left side toward her opponent. Taking her staff in two hands, she held the low end parallel with her hip. The other pointed directly at Eight''s nose. The boy took on the same configuration, although his balance was not nearly as solid. They''d already been shocked to turn on the implants. Now, they just waited for the go ahead.

    "Fight!" Vahlen ordered. His words came through loud and clear, but neither participant moved. They remained perfectly still, unwilling to engage. "Good God, not this again. I said fight!"

    Vahlen flipped a switch. A short spurt of electricity took the children. Eight fell to one knee, while Ayda took it like a champ. She hardly flinched. It lasted exactly three seconds. Even after it ended, neither made a move.

    "NOW!" Again, Vahlen shocked them. Exactly three seconds. This time, they got the hint. The children began walking toward each other. They didn''t want to fight, but the idea of being zapped again appealed to neither of them. If the alternative was to engage in combat, then they would.

    The two children met in the center of the chamber. They stopped for a moment, careful to remain just outside one another''s strike range.

    "I''m sorry, Eight," Ayda said. "He won''t stop unless we fight."

    "I know," the boy replied. "It''s not your fault, don''t worry. And don''t hold back. He''ll know if you do."

    "I know."

    Ayda opened the competition, striking laterally at him with a blast. Eight negated her blast with one of his own, comparable in strength. The two forces met and equaled each other out. It was the only way to defend against a blast other than dodging.

    They exchanged a flurry of blows. Eight struck low but was blocked. Ayda scooped his weapon up with the back end of her own. She twirled her staff around vertically in her hands five times. Each rotation was a pair of strikes, accentuated with small energy bursts. Eight walked backward at a steady pace, avoiding every one. On the final blow, Ayda came down harder, with a more powerful explosion.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    Eight swung for her head. Ayda ducked under the blow and came up with the back of her staff. Eight dodged and attempted to stab at her. Ayda blocked at an angle and manipulated his weapon off to one side. She struck laterally once, and then came back the other way for a double combo. Eight dodged the first and parried the second. He realized much too late Ayda had only one hand on her staff. With the other, she directed a sharp blast into his kidneys. Eight flew back, landing hard on his feet.

    Ayda pressed the attack. She charged at him, swinging once horizontally. Again, Eight dodged. She spun and twirled her staff to come again from the same angle. Eight blocked and tried to cease her momentum with a broad upward strike, but Ayda kicked it away. She brought her weapon down hard over her shoulder. Eight stepped back, but not far enough. Although the tip of Ayda''s staff only brushed against his chest, the blast was more than strong enough to send him flying. He slid across the floor in an impressive display of physics.

    Ayda jogged to keep up with him. When he came to rest after several feet, she put her staff against his neck, not hard enough to cause any pain, but with adequate force to pin him in place. She achieved her goal for the fight. It was almost laughably short.

    "Don''tget up," she warned. "I don''t wanna hurt you anymore."

    Eight raised his hands above his head, about to surrender when Vahlen interrupted him.

    "Stop, both of you," he barked. "That was a... decent... fight, but what do you say we make it a bit more interesting, eh?"

    "What are you talking about?" Ayda looked back at the blackened glass, the private viewing box, while maintaining control over her beaten opponent.

    "Come on, Twelve. I think everyone knew you''d win this fight hands down, so I thought I''d make it a bit more challenging for you. Bring them in!"

    At Vahlen''s behest, the doors to the testing chamber creaked open. Two more children entered, escorted by a quartet of soldiers. They were older, both of them preteens. One was a tall girl whom Ayda knew as Subject Thirteen, and the other was a muscular boy she''d never met. Ayda didnotlike the sight of them. She backed away from Eight, returning to the center of the room. From here, she had equal space on all sides, just in case something went wrong.

    "These are subjects Four and Thirteen," Vahlen explained. "They will be joining forces with Eight. They will fight together as a team against you, Twelve."

    "What?" Ayda yelled. "Come on, that''s not fair! I can''t fight three people at once." Despite her protest, the soldiers deposited the new arrivals and started back toward the exit. Four and Thirteen helped Eight to his feet.

    "You fought two at once before. What''s an extra person?" Reasoned Vahlen. Bold words, coming from a person who couldn''t battle his way out of a paper bag.

    "Are you serious? This is bullshit!" Ayda stabbed the ground with the back end of her staff, creating an energy burst in frustration.

    "My decision is final. If you refuse to fight, youwillbe punished." Vahlen said. That little threat straightened Ayda out. Vahlen''s punishments could be... brutal. She didn''t want to go through that. Not again.

    "Fine, whatever." Ayda huffed and went into the same ready stance from before.

    "I''m glad you could see reason," Vahlen said. "Now, fight!"

    Eight stood with his newfound allies. Replenished confidence painted his face. Four and Thirteen mirrored him. All of them relished in the chance to take down the facility''s best fighter. Ayda sneered. She would not give them the satisfaction, not without a fight. If they won, it would be a Pyrrhic victory. Ayda would make sure of it.

    The team of three charged at her all as one cohesive unit. Eight was a few steps ahead of the other two, Thirteen was on the left, and Four ran parallel to her on the right. Ayda squared her stance, trying to remain as loose as possible. She required fluidity, not strength, at the moment.

    Naturally, Eight reached her first. Ayda blocked his downward strike, countering his blast with a more powerful burst of his own. Eight''s staff was knocked up out of the way. Ayda kicked him in the stomach with an explosion which sent him flying backward.

    Thirteen and Four came upon her simultaneously. Attacking from each side, their torrent was relentless. A blast accompanied every strike. Ayda spun her staff around madly in a dizzying attempt to block all of their attacks with energy spurts of her own. The enemies were fast and strong, the product of greater experience and training. It was all Ayda could do to keep up her defenses, let along throw an attack.

    She would break sooner rather than later. Some attempt had to me made to regain the initiative. Four struck high, and created an opening below his knees. Ayda blocked at an angle. While Four''s staff slid along her own, Ayda spun her staff and thrust downward at his toes. The blast connected. He cried out in pain, falling to one knee. That''s good. Ayda could almost feel the momentum of battle shift.

    The act of incapacitating one, however, opened her up to retaliation from the other. Thirteen struck downward with the back end of her staff, catching Ayda on the shoulder. While there was no accompanying blast, the strike was still strong enough to bend her over. Thirteen followed up with a stab to Ayda''s forehead, again without any energy, which forced her back upright.

    That quick combo rocked her. It would take a few seconds for her to regain her balance. Four capitalized on the opportunity. He got to his feet, using the momentum to level a powerful upward blast straight into Ayda''s midsection. He swung like a baseball pinch hitter. Ayda came off her feet and sailed backward through the air. She came down hard, skidding along the floor.

    No time to lay around. Ayda stood on shaky legs, supporting herself with her staff like a walking stick. The enemies did not close in for the kill, though. Instead, they helped Eight to his feet and kept their distance. Ayda knew exactly what they were doing, of course. One limitation of the implants was they could only hold so much energy. Once it was all used up, they needed a few seconds to recharge. Stronger blasts used more energy and thus depleted them much quicker. At that point, the only one who hadn''t emptied his implant was Eight, since he never spent much time on his feet to begin with.

    It was in this, however, which Ayda gained perhaps her only advantage. She could make stronger blasts than any of them, using far less energy in the process. Also, flying through the air bought her a little bit of time. Doubtless, she had more stored up than them. The moment to press the attack was now.

    Ayda began to jog toward them. They did the same, not wanting to lose initiative. Ayda changed grip on her staff. Holding it like a spear she hurled it at Eight, propelling it with a blast for added lethality. The boy tried to block, but couldn''t keep up with the subsonic missile. It knocked him square between the eyes. Once again, he went down. Ayda shook her head.

    Four and Thirteen advanced in a slightly staggered formation, just enough for easy exploitation. Ayda slowed to a walking pace to more handily control her momentum. Four reached her first. He came straight over his head with a downward hack. Ayda countered his blast and caught the weapon. She took a big step forward. Four was now behind her. She threw a vicious back kick. The blast sent him to the floor.

    Thirteen smacked the ground to Ayda''s right. A shockwave traveled through the metal. Ayda easily jumped over it and spun. Her foot lashed out like a whip. Thirteen threw up a block with her forearm to keep the attack from hitting anything important. Although Ayda hadn''t planned to, the only way she could garner any useful effect from the attack was to channel energy into it at the last second. There wasn''t time to measure the blast, so it ended up immense. Thirteen rocketed into the east-side wall. Her collar bone audibly snapped. She screamed and writhed in terrified suffering. One down.

    But there was no time to celebrate. Four hadn''t been hit very hard, and already recovered. He was on Ayda the moment she hit ht ground. She tried to crouch down into a spinning leg sweep, but it was slow and sloppy. Four leapt over it with no problem. He smashed his staff down on Ayda before she could get up, using gravity to add strength as he returned to Earth. Ayda thrust her hands up to counter the blast, but didn''t have enough left in the tank to fully withstand it.

    Her defense broke. Again Four struck down. This time, all Ayda could do was cross her arms in front of her face. The enemy blast slammed her back against the floor. Stars swam through her vision. Four held his staff vertically and stabbed at his laid out opponent, attempting to end the fight then and there. Ayda rolled out of the way. While she was able to avoid the weapon itself, she forgot about the ensuing blast. The shockwave threw her along the floor. She skidded for several feet, coming to rest against the wall. While the wave was not necessarily damaging, this slide managed to skin up her right arm pretty badly. Three separate tendrils of blood ran down the wounded limb.

    This sham of a fight was getting under her skin. She was already annoyed from before the original duel began, but now Ayda found it just plain bothersome. As fortune would have it, she ended up not far from Thirteen. She walked over and scavenged the fallen girl''s weapon. She was now on much more even terms with Four. Eight still wasn''t getting to his feet. He probably had a concussion. He would have to be dealt with more severely in a moment, but for now the battle was one-on-one.

    Again, both sides jogged at one another. Ayda could see it in the way Four moved. He was getting tired, slowing down. She had him.

    They met at almost the exact middle point between them. Four opened with a quick downward slash and blast. Ayda burst against him, blocked high, and stepped forward, inside his guard. From here, she poked the back end of her staff at him. He hopped back out of the way, narrowly avoiding the explosion. He retaliated quickly by slicing at Ayda''s middle. She stepped back to avoid the blow. Four spun around and attacked from the same angle, this time with an accompanying blast. Ayda defended and once again found herself inside his guard. She struck up with the back end of her staff, came down with the fore end, and then up again with the back. Four blocked each of them, however.

    This trio of strikes put Ayda rather close to her opponent. She knew they would leave her open if they failed. Four leveled an open-palm strike into her chest which she was not able to block. Ayda took the blow and stumbled backward a few times. Four''s confidence surged. He charged at her, stabbing with the full length of his weapon when close enough.

    This wasexactlythe kind of miscalculation Ayda needed him to make. She easily sidestepped the attack. It missed her entirely. She was now behind him. Ayda jabbed the back of his knee with a powerful blast. The joint buckled and he fell upon it. Ayda passed her staff behind her back, twirling it rapidly to build momentum. Four looked back at her, fear in his eyes, just a moment before she cracked him over the head with a powerful blast. He toppled over his right side, head slamming against the metal. Though his chest rose and fell, Four didn''t move after that.

    Two down, Ayda made her way over to the final remaining opponent. While Eight was in no condition to resist, he still was not fully incapacitated. According to the rules, that meant the fight was not yet over. Ayda found him on all fours, struggling to get up through tunnel vision and a cloudy mind. She kicked him in the ribs, just barely enough force to turn him on his back. She put her staff against his throat.

    "Just give up, Eight," she implored. "I still really don''t wanna hurt you."

    Eight put his hands up. "I yield! I yield."

    And with that, the victory was hers. Ayda removed her staff from Eight''s neck. Two soldiers stormed into the room and removed both subjects Four and Thirteen. They were gone before Ayda even had time to wonder what they were ejected in the first place.

    Ayda turned to the blacked out glass and gave the most condescending bow she could manage: right foot back, hands flourished at her sides, an irritated look in her eye. The good Doctor thought he could get the better of her by sending in three opponents. He was wrong. Still, the principle of the thing pissed her off.

    "Yes, Twelve," praised Vahlen over the loudspeaker, "well done. An excellent show, indeed. Now, kill him." Every heart in earshot sank all at once. The atmosphere in the room shifted. It was oppressive and frantic.

    "Hold on,what!?" Ayda shouted. Both children stared up at the box with a mixture of shock and horror. Ayda couldn''t believe her ears.

    "I''m sure you know very well Eight hasn''t won a single bout since we began combat training. You''ve seen for yourself how weak his energy is, how terrible he is at fighting. Every team is only as strong as its weakest link. We can''t afford to have him bringing us down any longer. Kill him, for the interest of your fellow men." Vahlen spoke as if this were a perfectly normal request.

    "Are you out of your mind?" Ayda screamed at the glass. "I''m not gonna kill anyone!"

    "I was afraid you''d say that," Vahlen sighed. Over the speaker, the sound of him pressing several buttons could be heard. This was on purpose, of course. He wanted everyone to know he was manipulating the situation. After a few seconds, he flipped a switch.

    Electricity surged through the metal, but unlike every time previous, it was only contained to a specific area. Current coursed through Eight, and him alone. He shrieked in agony. This shock was clearly much stronger than what the kids were normally subjected to. He writhed at Ayda''s feet, unable to control his body and voice for the shock deluding his system.

    "What are you doing to him? Stop it!" Ayda pleaded.

    "You have a choice, little girl," Menaced the doctor. "Either you give him the mercy of a quick and painless death now, or you let him die slowly over the course of several agonizing minutes. I don''t really care how he dies, and hewilldie. It doesn''t matter to me. Can you say the same?"

    Frantically, Ayda looked from the viewing box, to Eight, and back again. What was she supposed to do in such an impossible situation? She couldn''t bring herself to kill another human being, and especially not her cellmate, but she also hated to see him in so much pain. Vahlen had no trouble ordering the deaths of children. She''d witnessed that firsthand. Others had lost their lives in bouts. It wasn''t a new thing. Heabsolutelywould allow the electricity to kill Eight.

    "Please, Twelve." Subject Eight struggled to speak through tears of anguish. "Please, make it stop!" He rolled over on his left side, away from Ayda, sobbing audibly.

    Ayda looked upon him with an expression as if she shared his pain. His skin was beginning to burn. He had Lichtenberg figure scars all over his body, their slim branches reaching out like sickening trees made form human flesh. His clothes caught on fire, adding further torture. His wails began anew, strengthened by the flames.

    "Dr. Vahlen, please, stop this. Save him." Ayda prayed with every ounce of strength she had.

    "I already said I don''t care what happens to him," Vahlen reiterated. "His fate is inyourhands, Twelve."

    Ayda''s breaths were shallow. Eight continued to scream. He''d already begged for her help. He was going to die. He knew it. A quick death was his last wish. In a way, it allowed him to go out on his own terms.

    With a carnal scream, Ayda lifted her staff, and flattened his head with a single blast. Brains, bone, and blood spewed everywhere. Ayda fell to her knees, weeping uncontrollably. The staff fell to her side with a clang. She didn''t even notice it. Two soldiers came in to remove her from the room. She couldn''t have resisted them if she wanted to. Her spirit was utterly broken. She was defeated beyond all reconciliation.

    "Remember, Twelve," the voice of Dr. Vahlen loomed over her exit. "I''malwaysin control."

    ¡­

    Up in the private viewing box, Vahlen and the General stand observing the actions below. They watched as Ayda was dragged out of the test chamber. The difference between them could not be any more obvious. While Vahlen wore an expression of smug satisfaction, the General''s face was ashen.

    "See?" Vahlen began. "Even three people weren''t a match for herandshe''s loyal enough to our cause to kill her only friend. It''s just like I said. So, do I have your support?"

    "You have a strange idea of obedience." The General turned and started toward the door.

    "Do I have your support, General?" Vahlen called after him.

    "For what it''s worth."

    The General departed. With him gone, Vahlen looked back out the viewing window, tapping his fingers together with glee, as pleased with himself as any human had ever been.

    ¡­

    Late that night, Ayda found it impossible to sleep. Reflections on her actions and fear of nightmares kept her awake. Instead, she occupied herself by carving into the wall with a small rock. Her fingers ached from the effort of so many repeated motions. It was time consuming and difficult, but at the end a single word had been etched into the concrete.

    Eight.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 5: Strings

    It was a bright and sunny afternoon. The sun just barely tipped over its precipice onto the latter half of the day. Although this part of the world was rather tranquil, it did not want for activity. Inside a large military facility, many people went about their daily business.

    It all centered around the motor pool. Soldiers ran this way and that attending to their individual tasks, all of which contributed to the success of the team as a whole. Mechanics worked an a couple vehicles whom had seen better days. An army had to be mobile, after all, and working men like them were the only things connecting their comrades to such a vital lifeline. Among the more standard working mooks were a few scattered scientists, betrayed by their white lab coats. They also had their own jobs to do, and today was a big day.

    Off to one side of the motor pool, seemingly oblivious to all which went on around him, was Dr. Vahlen. He leaned up against a raggedy old truck, caring not about the way it messed up his own lab coat. In light of everything which was going on, a little dust seemed a trivial matter. He crossed his arms. This would not be a good day. Neither would the next. Nor the entire week, for that matter.

    Light slowly filled the room from the bottom up. The sound of a huge garage door opening dominated over the din of hands diligently working. The moment it stopped, the low rumble of a large engine replaced it. The vehicle advanced into the area, motor noise bouncing off the hard walls. When it had completely entered, the door began to descend behind it. From the top down, outside light vanished from the room.

    The truck stopped. Dr. Vahlen listened as several pairs of boots hit the ground one right after another. There was a slight delay before the final soldier exited the truck. He walked about a pace slower than the others, the reason for which presented itself almost immediately. A small voice piped up from this man''s location.

    "Where am I? What is this place?" The child was desperate, afraid and uncertain. "Hey! Hey, answer me! I wanna go home¡ª" An audible slap shut him up. The boy remained silent after that. Vahlen scowled. He didn''t like it when the soldiers hit his children.

    Vahlen took deep, soothing breaths. His free time was about to come to an end, so he wanted to make the most of it. His ears honed in on the slower footfalls of the soldier and child. He knew exactly where they were going, and where that place was in relation to himself. With every step they took closer to their destination, Vahlen''s heart progressively sank. Reluctant eyes closed. He wasn''t looking forward to this.

    A second set of footsteps grew in importance. Unlike the first, these were getting closer. Vahlen scratched the back of his head. It was almost time for him to do his job. Normally, that wouldn''t be a reason for dread, but in this instance, it was the last thing he wanted.

    The first soldier reached his destination. He dropped off the child and fell into a guard formation with men congregating off to the right side. Now Vahlen dedicated all his attention to the man approaching him. He listened intently to the steps, never once opening his eyes. The man stopped when he finally made it over.

    "We''re ready, Dr. Vahlen, sir," he said. Vahlen rubbed his eyes.

    "Let''s just get this over with." He Doctor finally opened his eyes. Together, he and the soldier who summoned him traversed to their shared goal.

    Near the far wall, close to the entrance to the facility proper, four guardsmen watched over a group of eight children. The kids were shaken and trembling. They''d just been through individual hells. They had a right to be afraid. It was Vahlen''s job as their part time caretaker to ease their doubts, or at least try to. He was never really sure if his attempts succeeded. Most new subjects certainly took their sweet time in coming around to him. Some never did. Those storied few usually didn''t last long, though. Rejection of his teachings was a great way to end up dead, through the merit of sheer ignorance.

    Dr. Vahlen leaned down to look the first child straight in the eyes. They boy looked away. With a sigh, the Doctor forcibly turned his head back.

    "No." He said, moving on to the next. He repeated the process. This kid also looked away, but not for long. Vahlen held his head in place.

    "No." Another rejection. Vahlen continued down the line. The next girl, once again, tried to divert her gaze. Vahlen grabbed her before she even managed a half-turn.

    "This one."

    Vahlen continued to inspect the children. In the end, five of the total eight were selected. Those who were chosen stayed put right where they were. The others were led by a duo of soldiers toward a personnel door leading outside. The Good Doctor took a step back so all the selected individuals could see him easily. Time to deliver his speech.

    "Greetings," began the Doctor. This already wasn''t going well. "My name is doctor Vahlen. From this day forward, you will be under my care. I know you''re afraid. I can''t even imagine what you''ve been through, but you have nothing to fear. This is a safe place, dedicated to the advancement of science and humankind. Together, all of you will make history. We will shape the future of the world, but to do that, I need your unconditional obedience. Do you think you can do that for me?" Vahlen finished his speech the same way the always did, with a rhetorical question. Predictably, and like always, none of he children answered.

    "I''ll take your silence as a ''yes.'' The guards here will show you to your new quarters."

    The four guards taking care of the children began leading them through a set of double doors to their right. At the same time, Vahlen started walking back over to his truck. He had no real attachment to the vehicle, it just seemed like a good place to roost since he''d already been there. He wanted a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing on to his office for a little future planning, but it would not work out as such. A familiar graying military man walked up on his right. Dr. Vahlen gave the General a sideways glance.

    Gunshots began going off out side. Three rang out at regular intervals as they conversed.

    "That went a lot better than I thought it would," commented the General. "My boys still remember the process."

    "I hate the way my speech sounds now. It was so much better before." Vahlen replied.

    "It sounded fine to me," countered the General. "Although, I don''t remember your old speech."

    "I don''t either, and that''s exactly the problem." Vahlen slumped back against the truck, allowing most of his weight to fall on it. Everything about him just screamedtired. "Did I make the right choice, General?"

    "You mean finally deciding to go look for new subjects? Hell yes. I just wish you''d done it four years sooner." The General said. Vahlen expelled air from his nose.

    "I thought you would say something like that," he scoffed.

    "How are things with Twelve?" The General changed the subject. "Has her progress slowed?"

    "Not at all. Why do you ask?" At the mention of his favorite student, Vahlen straightened just slightly.

    "I''m just trying to figure out why you finally did this after you were so opposed to it for so long."

    "She''s getting stronger all the time, all the others can''t even come close to her, and her fighting is like nothing I''ve ever seen. I still think she''s the breakthrough I''m looking for, but we''ve made a lot of advancements in the technology since Group D. I need to start testing again." Vahlen glanced up pensively.

    "I thought it was something like that," the General responded honestly.

    "God..." Vahlen shook his head. "Saying that just now made me realize... can you believe it''s been six years since we found her?"

    "I wasn''t really keeping track," said the General.

    "Well, you know what they say, time flies when you''re doing science." Vahlen smiled at his own stupid joke. The General was not amused. Vahlen sighed again. "I need to get back to my office." He popped off the truck and began toward the double doors leading out of the garage.

    "Of course."

    "See you around, General." Vahlen made his way out into the hall. It was a long walk to his office. He would have copious time to loathe the tasks ahead.

    ¡­

    Three weeks later, Vahlen found himself in the operating room. The past several days had been hard on him, but this day made up for all of it and then some. He was practically giddy with excitement. It was extraordinary, unexplainable, beyond any goal he''d ever set. It was his dream.

    Vahlen was not alone in the room. Ayda was with him. She had been strapped into the table, but only her wrists. Unlike with every other time she''d been in this space, on his specific occasion it was voluntary. Something had her powers out of whack, and she wanted to know what it could be. Ayda was stronger than ever before, much more so than all the years past could explain.

    Ayda was not the same girl. Four years went by since her fateful bout with Eight. Ayda was now twelve years old. Slightly tall for her age, she had grown into a fine example of a budding young Persian woman. Her features were once again more defined, an excellent prediction for the woman she would become. More than a half decade of intense training kept her strong and slim. She was in better shape than most people twice her age. Her hair, though, remained an unmanageable mess. Although clean, it hadn''t been properly cut or cared for. The locks were wild, like a lion''s mane.

    Dr. Vahlen stood behind her. In his hand was a long, wide, beeping want, not too dissimilar from hand held metal detectors found at airports, although this particular device had a more specialized purpose. Ayda remained perfectly still as he waved it around her head every which way, seemingly with no pattern to his motions. It chimed in even intervals, no deviation from a set rhythm.

    The Doctor could barely contain his excitement. He practically bounced around her. The smile on his face was almost creepy. Ayda found his happiness alarming. Usually, things which got Vahlen going meant misfortune for other people. Even though he specifically told her not to talk¡ªbecause it would mess with her brainwaves¡ªshe spoke up anyway.

    "What''s wrong with me, Doctor?" She tried to open and close her mouth without actually moving her head. She only realized how difficult this would be after the fact.

    "Wrong?" Vahlen parroted. "Nothing''swrong. Quite the opposite, actually. This is astounding. I mean, I always theorized it was possible, but I never imagined it would actually happen!"

    "What, what happened?" Ayda pressed, hoping to snap him out of whatever daze he was in.

    "It''s impossible," he ignored her completely. "It''s impossible, yet it''s right here in front of me. I don''t... I don''t even know what to say. This is¡ª"

    "Doctor!" Ayda shouted. Her volume finally got his attention. Vahlen straightened up and cleared his throat, slowly lowering his wand.

    "Right, I''m getting ahead of myself." He took a deep breath. "The implant in your head is completely inactive and, if my instruments are accurate, has been for some time."

    "What?" Ayda breathed. "How is that possible?"

    "Now you see what I was so worked up about," Vahlen exclaimed briefly. "I don''t know how it happened, but I''m not reading any signals from the device itself, and there''s no residual EMF knocking around up there, either. For your system to flush all of the electromagnetic radiation given off by the implant, it would have had to be inactive for at least a month."Stolen story; please report.

    "But..." Ayda collected her thoughts. "But, I still have my powers." For emphasis, she channeled through the metal operating slab. It gained the signature pulsing purple glow objects gain when energy is fed through them. Vahlen took a tentative step back.

    "I know, and that''s just it," Vahlen said. Ayda released her connection to the table and it went back to normal. "If my hypothesis is correct, constant influx from the implant has changed something inside you, rendering it redundant. Something happened to make your powers permanent."

    "But, how could that even happen?" Ayda asked. "Something inside me changed?Whatchanged?" She was beginning to get worried.

    "I don''t know that right now, but the first step to finding out is taking that thing out of your head." Vahlen said, as if it were no big deal. To Ayda, though, that statement was the world. Her face lit up in the biggest beam she''d ever smiled.

    "You mean¡ª" She began.

    "Yes," Vahlen cut her off. "Wouldn''t it be nice to finally be rid of your implant?" He said. Ayda didn''t answer. "Okay, dumb question. Of course it would. We can operate tomorrow, if you''re feeling up to it."

    Ayda nodded. "And, I won''t lose my powers?"

    "The implant is already off, and your abilities are just fine. Physically removing it won''t make a difference," explained the Doctor.

    "And what''ll happen when it''s gone?"

    "Well, I can''t say for certain, but theoretically it would remove your need to rely on energy stored in a battery, so you could produce more blasts without waiting to recharge. That would also mean dedicating more energy to a single blast for more powerful attacks."

    Again, Ayda smiled. "Alright, I''m sold. Stronger blasts and more of them sounds great to me."

    "Excellent." Vahlen clapped once from satisfaction. "I was hoping you would say that. Like I said, we''ll operate tomorrow."

    "I can''t wait!" Ayda exuded happiness. Vahlen began to unbuckle the restraints at her wrists.

    "Just don''t eat breakfast tomorrow morning. I''ll have the guard bring you when he''s done handing it out." The Doctor finished releasing her. Ayda stood. "Oh, and youcanbe anesthetized this time. You won''t feel a thing."

    Ayda liked to think she was grown up enough that the pain didn''t scare her, but knowing she wouldn''t have to deal with it eased her mind considerably.

    She followed her escort back to the cell block and eagerly awaited the next day. She was absolutely over the moon with excitement. After all these years, she was finally going to get rid of that accursed thing. And, according to the Doctor, she''d be evenstrongerwithout it.

    That thought alone appealed to her. Although she didn''t like to admit it, being the most powerful among the children made her feel good; it stroked her ego in all the right places. Now, they would be even further below her. Ayda didn''t think of herself as a particularly prideful individual, but no person alive hated being the best at what they did. Now, if all of Vahlen''s theories held up, there wouldn''t be a single thing to hold her back. Aydaneededthis to go well. Sheneededto be free of her strings. Anything less would drive her mad.

    ¡­

    Ayda didn''t remember much about the actual day of the operation. As per Dr. Vahlen''s orders, she skipped breakfast and the guard took her straight to the operating room. She met up with the Good Doctor there, and they exchanged some pleasantries, but mostly they both just wanted to get started. There were a few questions to answer about her general health¡ªwhich was excellent, by the way¡ªand then a simple I.V drip had her drifting away. Ayda didn''t dream while under, which was disappointing. She thought she would dream.

    Then, for the second time, Ayda found herself waking up in the recovery room after a major brain surgery. Although chemically induced, the process of becoming conscious was much the same as the first time; suspended darkness followed by blurry confusion. This time, although, Ayda was not afraid. She couldn''t exactly remember what happened, but it was a good thing.

    The world slowly came into focus, both in her eyes and in her mind. As she stared up at the concrete ceiling, washed dull yellow by the single hanging light, Ayda began to remember what happened. Through anesthetic fog she heard Vahlen''s words from the day before, talking about her nonfunctional implant. She remembered skipping breakfast that morning and then laying on the operating table for... oh God,the surgery!

    Ayda tried to sit up, but was immediately hit with searing pain in her cranium. She instinctively reached up and felt around her head. She found another raised, tender scar but this one was different than what she remembered, as if Vahlen used less barbaric methods this time around. That was good. At least she wouldn''t be as badly injured.

    Metal, she had to find something made of metal. She looked around the room as much a she could manage without causing herself excruciating pain. The walls and floor were made of concrete, the desk was wood. The light bulb housing was probably metal, but getting up to grab it was currently out of the question. That wasn''t good enough. She needed to test her powersnow, to see if she still had them to begin with.

    Wait a minute, the bed frame! Clumsily, Ayda drooped her arm over the side of the mattress, ignoring the anguish this motion caused. Her hand flopped around clumsily in search of the frame. After a few frantic flails she grabbed onto something round, cold, and hard. Ayda fought against the fog in her mind to remember how her powers worked. She needed the intent to attack. Yes, attack, bring the entire room down if that''s what it took. Tension built inside of her, a mixture of strain and panic until...

    Release. Power surged through her bones. Endorphins rushed to her head, dulling any pain she felt. Ayda turned her head toward the door, and just barely caught a glimpse of purple pulse in her peripheral vision. It felt different, stronger and more in tune than ever before. Through her foggy cognition, it was obvious she used far less energy to create a stable flow through the bed. What this meant in practice would only be determined with time, but she still had her powers, and that was a major victory.

    Although her abilities certainly felt stronger, the first real sign of palpable improvement came in her healing. Normally, she could recover from wounds faster than a regular human, and without the implant to hold her back, this effect saw vast improvement. Whereas the same operation took a whole week to recover from six years ago, now Ayda was up and about in just five days. It was astounding. She longed for something to properly test her powers, an object other than the bed to channel into. Her body yearned to hit something, to blow stuff up just for kicks. But she would have to wait. Vahlen made her stay in recovery for a full seven days as a precautionary measure.

    When the end of her confinement rolled around, Ayda was more than raring to go. She was like a racehorse chomping at the bit, longing for the gates to open. Shehadto know what her new and improved powers were capable of. Her future depended on it. When she received the summons, it took all her willpower to keep from running to the testing chamber. This was the moment she''d been waiting for.

    The room was all set up when she got there. Many children¡ªmost of them from the older groups¡ªhad gathered on the observation deck to witness her first trial. Doubtless, they didn''t actually know what they had assembled for. Although she couldn''t see them through the blackened glass, with certainty both Vahlen and the General watched her with bated breath.

    Ayda took her place in the middle of the room and picked up the staff which had been placed there for her. Instead of the usual eight, twenty pitching machines had been placed around the testing chamber. Ayda looked at each one in turn, taking mental note of their positions. When things finally kicked off, she wouldn''t be able to rely much on sound as it would be impossible to discern which machine fired and when through the cacophony.

    After a moment, Dr. Vahlen''s voice rang through the loudspeaker.

    "Children, I bet you''re wondering why I gathered you all here today," he began. Ayda rolled her eyes. "Well, the truth is something remarkable has happened. I know how boring my speeches are, so I''ll just say we''ve had a breakthrough. Our star pupil, Subject Twelve, has gone through a metamorphosis of sorts. Her body has changed, and she no longer requires an implant to utilize her powers." Even through the glass and layers of reinforced concrete, the atmosphere noticeably shifted. "This will be her first test with the implant completely removed from her head. Are you ready, Twelve?"

    "Born ready," Ayda said, lifting her staff into a ready position.

    "Very well. Commence reflexes test one, implant removed."

    The pitching machines came to life, immense mechanical whine enough to reverberate off the walls. Ayda widened her stance just slightly. She would need balance in just a few short seconds. Energy pulsed purple through her staff. She was ready.

    The test did not start out slow. Immediately, several pitching machines fired upon her with nary a pause between their individual assaults. It was a lot to take in, but Ayda was able to quickly assess the situation and act against it. She began her staff in a smooth twirl. One right after another she knocked away the rubber missiles, never missing a beat. Her attack was one clean sweep. Every rotation flowed into the next baseball in order of proximity; a blast accentuated each hit. After the volley, Ayda glanced up into the kids'' observation deck. More than one jaw lay on the floor. Even the soldiers were impressed. She smirked.

    The second volley came, more intense than the last. Although there were more projectiles to deal with, Ayda found it no more difficult than the first. This time, she put focus on reflecting the baseballs rather than just getting rid of them. Again, not a single assailant broke her defense. While most defeated balls simply bounced off the walls, two returned to their homes. Such velocity did they carry, their impacts destroyed both their pitching machines outright. The two contraptions crumpled around where the baseballs hit, crashing to the ground.

    From there, things ramped up considerably. The machines fired in a constant barrage. Not a moment passed when there weren''t multiple balls flying through the air. Ayda''s eyes narrowed in sinister concentration. She pivoted and twirled her staff in a dizzying display of metal and purple shockwaves. She was astounding, flawless. The world almost moved in slow motion around her. Reaction time of this magnitude would never have been possible with the implant limiting her power.

    Not a single ball made it through. Almost every one was met by a blast. Those which weren''t Ayda simply knocked away with her staff. There were occasional yet clear lapses in her blasts where she had to build up more energy. Vahlen was right in saying removing the implant took away her battery limit, but it took a certain amount of energy to produce a blast in the first place, so if she used all of it to make a blast, she would have to stop and wait to build up more. Ayda took special note of this. With practice and proper discipline, the problem could be negated entirely. She had more pressing matters at the moment, however.

    After a few more pitchers fell to her wrath, it became clear Ayda had a specific goal in mind. One by one the pitching machines met a grizzly fate, reduced to scrap metal under the weight of her onslaught. The attack was relentless, her aim deadly. While most balls missed, those which flew in a correct way to be redirected promptly found themselves fused with a hunk of steel.

    Not even a minute passed before only one pitching machine remained functional, all the others having been destroyed. Ayda faced it, staff held defensively at arm''s length in a diagonal line from right shoulder to left hip. The machine fired. Ayda readied herself. In the end, she didn''t even bother with her weapon, deciding at the last second it was unnecessary. She created a blast with her palm and turned away a moment later. Behind her back, the final pitching machine twisted around itself. Bits of metal broke off and sprayed against the wall. Her work was done. The opposition lay broken at her feet.

    There was a poignant suspension as the dust settled and the room quieted down. No one could really believe what they just saw. An astonished Vahlen broke the silence, his voice crackling through the loud speaker.

    "That was... fast," he said. "Absolutely amazing, Twelve. I''d say you far exceeded my expectations. I wish you hadn''t destroyed the pitching machines, but it''s not like we can''t get more." He paused. "I guess this concludes our test. The guards will escort you back to your quarters."

    Two soldiers entered the testing chamber, stepping over mangled hunks of machine and metal. Ayda made no attempt to acknowledge their presence. She remained motionless in the center of the room, staff at her side, head slightly forward, face concealed by her long dark hair.

    This was different. Normally, she would have complied with such simple orders, not stood in direct defiance of them. The soldiers, professional operators that they were, picked up on her unusual behavior almost immediately. They stopped a few feet away from her. One of them, the more overzealous of the two, raised his rifle. The other maintained a more level head. After a display like that, he figured antagonizing her would be a bad idea.

    "Drop the weapon, Twelve," he said in his most authoritative voice. Ayda completely ignored him. She made not a motion, barely seemed to breathe. He rattled his weapon for emphasis, shouldering it. Now they both trained their weapons on her. "I said drop the weapon,now!"

    "Do as your told, girl," Vahlen menaced like the voice of an evil god.

    "You," Ayda said, "your voice. I recognize your voice. You killed my parents." She spoke in low, ominous tones.

    "What?" The soldier lowered his weapon slightly. Its barrel was no longer pointed at her.

    "Six years ago," Ayda clarified. "Do you remember?"

    "I don''t¡ª"

    "I could never forget. I hear that voice every night in my dreams."

    "Twelve..." Vahlen warned.

    "Are my powers really permanent, Doctor?" She shook her head. "No, don''t answer that. It doesn''t really matter right now."

    "Just calm down, Twelve. Let''s talk." Vahlen tried to defuse the situation.

    "When I was laying in recovery, I thought about a lot of things; I thought about those electric shocks you gave us every day to turn the implants on. I don''t need those anymore, do I? The worst mistake you ever could''ve made was taking that thing out of my head because, Dr. Vahlen," she looked up at his viewing box.

    "I don''t need you anymore."

    "Guards, subdue her!" Vahlen screamed.

    All at once the soldiers opened fire, but Ayda was faster than they could ever hope to be. Ayda clearly saw every shot they took. She twirled her staff rapidly. Tiny blasts deflected the bullets. Just like with the baseballs, her reaction time and precision were both impeccable. Bullets were useless against her.

    In two clean steps, she closed the distance between herself and the troopers. They stopped firing when she was within strike distance, knowing their guns would be worthless at such close range. Ayda sliced laterally to the soldier at her right, the first one to raise his weapon, with a blast to the side that instantly cracked his spine.

    Twirling her staff, she knocked the remaining man''s weapon from his grasp. It fell to the floor with a loud clink. He took a step back in an attempt to avoid her punishment, but it was all in vain. Ayda stabbed forward. A small and concentrated blast on the tip of her staff allowed it to pass clean through the man''s torso.

    His face was trapped in an expression of pure terror. Ayda stepped closer, running her staff further through him. Their heads were mere inches apart. She spoke softly, words intended only for him, the man who murdered her parents.

    "Tell my father I''m sorry."

    She extracted her staff and the man fell to the ground, slowly bleeding and dying. It was far more than he deserved. Ayda bent down and took his sidearm, inspecting the weapon for a second to disengage the safety. She stood sideways and held the gun in one hand, arm fully outstretched. She pointed it directly at Dr. Vahlen''s black window.

    "You once said you were always in control. How could you hope to control me, Doctor, when you can''t do anything tostopme?"

    She pulled the trigger.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 6: Break the Chain Part 1

    Ayda pulled the trigger. A bullet fired from the handgun. She saw it clearly as it flew at incredible speed. The metal slug pulsed purple with her energy. Her eyes widened. She certainly hadn''t been trying to channel into the bullet, and didn''t realize it would maintain her energy after leaving the gun. She turned her back to the window and curled up into a little ball with only milliseconds to spare.

    The blast created when the bullet shattered the window was louder and more powerful than anything Ayda had seen before. Tiny glass fragments sprayed in every little direction. A shockwave traveled through the concrete, cracking it. The fissures snaked their way all around the testing chamber walls until they reached the observation deck. This other window also shattered, but most of its glass poured outward. The kids and soldiers ducked to avoid any shrapnel which may have come their way.

    It was over in a few seconds. Ayda stood to inspect the damage. Her ears were ringing from the sound. She could barely hear anything. From what she could see, the bullet expended all it''s power when it hit the glass. A such, the room behind was mostly in tact, save for cracks in the walls from energy transferred through the tightly packed concrete. Dr. Vahlen, however, was long gone. Ayda didn''t really expect him to be there. He probably hightailed it the moment he told the guards to restrain her.

    While she would have loved a moment to catch her breath after all that unexpected destruction, there would be no rest. From the observation deck, one of the soldiers began firing at her. He stood close to the edge on her right hand side. Ayda reacted to the sound and spun her staff around at the last possible second to block his incoming bullets. She rolled over her left shoulder in an attempt to avoid his metallic rain. He stopped firing to shift his aim. It was only a second''s pause, but more than long enough for Ayda to capitalize on.

    Coming out of her roll, she kicked the ground to create a powerful blast. She used its force to propel herself upward, not unlike the bullet she''d just fired. She rocketed toward the observation deck. The soldier tried to blow her out of the sky, but most of his shots missed. Those which did find their target were promptly deflected. He stopped firing when she was mere feet away from the deck, out of both ammo and time.

    Ayda landed right on the edge, where the glass would''ve been just moments before. The soldier looked at her with shock and horror. He went for his sidearm, but Ayda was much too fast. She jumped over to him and spun around, kicking him in the head with a blast. He flew through the windowless gap in the wall and hit the testing chamber floor below with a sickening crack.

    Two more men opened fire from behind her. Ayda spun around and began to deflect their bullets, simultaneously charging at them. They hadn''t the slightest chance against her. She reached the one to her left in no time. She hit him on the left with a blast. He flew off right, skimming the floor, and slammed into the other soldier. Together they smashed against the wall. The troopers fell upon one another in a battered, unconscious heap.

    Ayda turned to the final remaining man. By the way he held his forehead, he was still recovering from the bullet blast which rocked his brain. Slight incoherence couldn''t stop him from raising his pistol, though. He fired clumsy shots at Ayda, over the heads of the still huddled together children. Ayda took great care to protect them while she blocked the enemy''s bullets. Each one met an upward strike from her staff, sending it into the ceiling. The dazed soldier fired again and again, seven times until all he got was a click.

    It was Ayda''s turn to attack. She sprinted over to her assailant, not wanting to give him time to reload. The soldier took a step back as she approached. He knew the fight was over; he had no chance of winning. That in mind, he took the only remaining option. The man dropped his gun and fell to his knees, hands submissively above his head.

    "I give up!" He shouted. "I give up. Just, please don''t hurt me."

    Ayda looked in his eyes, and the flame within her subsided. His hands trembled. He was white as a ghost and sweating profusely. Ayda pitied him. She remembered that fear. It was the same she felt back when men like him kidnapped her six years ago. Ayda wanted nothing more than to kill all the men inside this facility for the things they did to her¡ªthe things they let Dr. Vahlen do¡ªbut maybe this one could go free. Someone had to tell her story, right? She gave him a crescent kick to the temple accentuated by a small burst. He was knocked out, but alive.

    "Alright, everybody up!" With the guards dealt with, Ayda turned her attentions immediately to the children still huddled together for safety. They looked upon her with sideways glances. She took a few steps closer and they moved away, running clumsily into each other in a panic. A few in the back broke away from the group and pinned themselves up against the wall, trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

    Ayda stopped in her tracks. They were afraid. She was trying to save them, and they were afraid of her, just like how a fox in a trap bites at his saviors. Ayda dropped her staff and put her hands up.

    "It''s okay, I''m not gonna hurt you. I''m here to help," she said the most gentle tone possible.

    "Help? But you killed all those men!" One of the children spoke up. Ayda couldn''t pinpoint who actually had said it.

    "Only because they would''ve killed me," countered Ayda. "Look, I don''t have time to explain. I attacked the guards but I''m talking to you. That means I''m on your side. I''m getting us all out of here, but I need you to trust me, okay?" None of the children answered her. Their silence was nerve wracking. Was this how Dr. Vahlen felt wheneverheasked a group question? Then, one person from the mob stood up.

    "I trust you, Twelve." He said. This boy was one of her cellmates, the people Ayda was closest to in the entire facility. She didn''t even notice he was there. Herd logic kicked in for the rest of the kids. They looked at her and stood. Some nodded. Ayda''s spirit''s soared. This was the first step in achieving her goal.

    "Okay," she began. "You all need to get yourselves to safety. Anyone from Groups A through D step forward." At her behest, four kids¡ªincluding her cellmate¡ªstepped forward. Along with him, there was one from Group A and two from B. They were the oldest among them, along with Ayda herself.

    "You four, split the younger kids into groups and go hide somewhere," Ayda ordered.

    "Where should we go?" One of the folks from Group B asked.

    "Anywhere, I don''t care, just.Don''t. Stay. Here.It''s the first place the guards will look." All eyes remained on her for a moment. "Get to it!"

    Quickly, the kids organized themselves. Ayda helped her appointed lieutenants break the younger children into groups. The teams were uneven in terms of both numbers and represented ages, but that didn''t matter. The important part was they split up in the first place. When they were all separated, Ayda moved on with her plan.

    "Okay, now I need everyone over to that side real quick." She pointed to her left.

    "Why?" One of the lieutenants asked. Ayda motioned toward the entrance.

    "Because these doors are the only way out of this room, and the soldiers know it. They''re probably waiting for us on the other side." After explaining, Ayda picked up her staff. That was all it took for the kids to obey her order. They bunched up against the far left wall, making themselves as small a target as possible.

    Ayda walked up to within striking distance of the doors. She held her staff diagonally in front of her. It pulsed purple. Eyes closed, she began to concentrate. Her breaths were deep and heavy. Every ounce of strength within her went directly into the staff. Its brilliance shone brighter and brighter until the metal was completely obscured by purple light. The air began to bend around her. Miniature gusts kicked up at her feet. The power within her was set to bursting. When she could take it no longer, Ayda opened her eyes.

    She stepped forward and spun, swinging her staff like a home run hitter. A monumental blast ripped directly into the doors, all its force focused onto that small square area. It was as if a bomb went off. The metal and concrete were absolutely obliterated. Debris and shrapnel fired into the hallway.

    Just like with the bullet, the shockwave traveled through the walls, cracking them as it went, but it did not stop there. The wall at the end of the corridor also burst. The only thing which stopped the shockwave was the far wall in the next room, and even it took severe damage.

    Again, Ayda was concussed. She couldn''t hear anything, but this time was different. The bullet carried much of it''s own energy. That attack, however, had been all her doing. Her knees buckled. She fell forward, propping herself up with the staff. It was the only thing keeping her upright.

    "Twelve, are you okay?" One of the children asked.

    "Secure the hall," Ayda puffed through ragged breaths. "A through D only."

    The older kids ran into the corridor, while the younger held back. Ayda remained rooted in place, breathing heavily. She ebbed energy into her staff, just to make sure she could still do it. The purple grow was faint, yet pulsed stronger with every inhale. Her energy returned in just a matter of seconds, much quicker than it ever had with the implant.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    She rushed out into the hall, but stopped just after the hole she''d made. Hand above her head, Ayda created a much smaller blast. The force from it pushed down on the dust in the room, forcing it to settle. The devastation she caused was now perfectly clear.

    Rubble cluttered the floor. It would be impossible to walk without stepping on broken pieces of concrete. Her lieutenants stumbled through it, occasionally lifting pieces to check underneath. Chunks randomly fell from the walls at her side, breaking on impact with the ground. There were holes in the floor. The ceiling was cracked and collapsing, probably about to cave in at any moment. And, among the wreckage, splotches of red blood broke up the gray scenery. Broken bodies stuck out among the wreckage. Ayda was right. The soldierswerewaiting for them, but they all lay dead and buried, now. The path was open.

    It was only then she realized debilitating herself directly in front of the enemy trap may not have been the best idea. She had to be smarter.

    The ringing in Ayda''s head stopped. She rushed back into the remains of the observation deck. The children were huddled together holding their ears again, but if her hearing returned then so had theirs.

    "The coast is clear, you need to get moving," she ordered, gesturing for them to come near her. The kids sprang to life. The younger ones fell in behind their leaders, who ushered them away from the gap in the wall.

    "What about you?" One of the lieutenants asked from behind.

    "I''m going for the cell block, and then after the doctor," Ayda explained briefly.

    "You''re not coming with us?" One of the kids shouted.

    "You''ll be fine. I need to make sure everyone else is safe, or else this all meant nothing. Now, go!"

    People rushed past her, flooding into the broken hallway. She watched as they went, making sure they were all well on their way. When the last few were exiting the deck one of the youngest children present, a little girl, reached up and grabbed Ayda''s hand.

    "Stay safe, Twelve," she said in her sweet little voice. Ayda hesitated, unsure of exactly what to say. She smiled, and roughed up the little tike''s already messy hair.

    "Don''t worry about me, just get yourself to safety." She patted the innocent little child on the back. The girl exited the observation deck along with the last group to leave.

    Ayda remained there for a moment, observing as all the children scattered through the ruins. Some turned left, others went right, while one group traversed through the new opening at the end of the hall. It wasn''t until they were all gone that she herself went on her way. She ran down the hall and hung the corner left, destined for her comrades still imprisoned.

    Surprisingly little resistance barred her way. As such, Ayda made it to the cell blocks in record time. Strange. Doubtless, almost every person in the facility heard the massive explosions. Those who didn''t must have felt the shockwave. Although, the soldiers were probably trying to regroup and find all the children. That was good. Having the opposition so spread out made her job easier.

    The cell block lay around a corner at the end of a long hallway. As always, two men guarded the area at either side of the dead end room. Ayda blazed around the corner, almost kicking up dirt from the rapidity of her footfalls. The first soldier saw her the moment she entered. He tried to raise his weapon, but was not nearly fast enough. Ayda cracked him upside the head with a blast. He spun around a half turn and face-planted into the wall behind him. The second drew his sidearm and opened fire, but at this point Ayda was so used to blocking bullets she didn''t even have to try. Within a few swift steps she reached him. A leftward cut forced the gun from his hand; a rightward swipe put him on the ground with a broken back.

    With the immediate threat pacified, Ayda straightaway moved on to the captives. She started with her own cell, simply because it was the closest.

    "Stand back," she commanded. The kids inside obeyed promptly. They weren''t stupid. The only person capable of making the explosions they heard in the distance was Ayda. Best just do whatever she said.

    Ayda''s attack was small. She tapped the lock with a blast just strong enough to break the metal. It bent and swung open slightly, but did not actually break. She forced it the rest of the way open with a hefty push. The door was much heavier than she expected.

    The kids rushed out. At the same time she moved on to the next door across the way. The process was the same, except she didn''t have to tell the occupants to stay clear. Again, the door bent without breaking and she pushed it open. Both groups flooded the hall. While Ayda moved on to the next cell up on the right, one of the newly liberated children spoke.

    "Twelve, what''s going on?" Asked the little girl.

    "Prison break. I''m getting you out of here." Ayda busted open the third cell and moved on to the fourth. As she did, one of the older boys came out of the third cell and went to work at the other end of the hall, breaking open doors on the right side with blasts from his palm. He allowed Ayda to focus on the left.

    "But, how?" A different child asked. Ayda opened the fourth cell.

    "I don''t know yet," she answered honestly before moving on up the left side. "I don''t have time to explain right now, I just need you to go hide. When I figure something out, I''ll come for you." She opened up the second to last cell. "Oh, and avoid the testing chamber. I''ve already been there."

    "But, what about the soldiers?" Another kid voiced a valid concern.

    "Try to avoid them if you can, but don''t be afraid to fight." Ayda cracked the last cell. "You all have implants. You''re stronger than them, I know it."

    "What about you?" The first little girl asked.

    "I have some other things to do, don''t worry about me. Now, stop asking questions and go!"

    Leading by example, Ayda was the first to follow her own orders. She took off back the way she came, wading through the sea of children. The youngsters were not far behind. As soon as they all reached the adjacent corridor, the kids scattered, diving down hallways and through doors in an attempt to find a good hiding spot. Ayda, however, kept moving forward. She had a singular goal in mind.

    Although, the possession of a goal, and the knowledge to complete it, were two completely different things. Ayda came to realize this very quickly as she randomly scrambled her way through passage after passage, continually coming up with zero in terms of usable results. Her target was Dr. Vahlen, but she hadn''t the faintest idea where he was, and this was a large building. Finding him could take hours. He could have already hopped in a truck and driven off into the sunset. No, mustn''t think like that. A man like Vahlen was too stubborn to give up so easily. He was still somewhere in the facility, thinking of a way to salvage his work. Without that belief, there was nothing to keep Ayda running.

    Again she met little resistance along the way. The facility was eerily quiet. Only a few scattered gunshots and blasts rang out in the distance. Either there weren''t nearly as many soldiers as Ayda originally presumed, or they were hopelessly disorganized. Both were good for her. Less fighting meant more of her people made it out alive.

    While randomly sprinting around the base, Ayda passed an open door. It wouldn''t have been unusual¡ªopen doors were all over the place¡ªexcept for the size and contents of it. The space was little more than a closet, but inside was a giant console filled with buttons, knobs, and digital displays. Smack dab in the middle was a microphone. Finally, there was a rickety wooden chair. She had passed this room before. The communications center.

    Excitedly, she entered the area. This was it, her ticket to getting out. If she could just get a message through to the right people, then everyone could get away alive. Now, how did this thing work? Ayda sat down in the uncomfortable chair. There was a closed door to her left she hadn''t noticed, but it didn''t concern her.

    She turned a knob, which moved a needle in a display above it, but what exactly that meant remained a mystery. Ayda messed around with a few more buttons and sliders, but was getting nowhere fast. Of course, she hadn''t the slightest idea how to operate the thing. No matter, one of the soldiers probably did. When this was all over, she would just capture one and bring him there. Not a bad plan at all.

    Mind made up, Ayda began to rise from the chair. It was then that an unexpected noise stopped her cold. A sneeze from the door inside the room. She scowled at the gray bifold and ripped it open. Inside was a man, squished into the little supply closet, sporting the uniform of a low rank officer. He locked eyes with her and cowered. Although his dress associated him with the military, this man had clearly never seen combat in his life.

    "Out," Ayda commanded. She didn''t give him time to comply before tossing him by his shirt with one hand. He tumbled to the floor behind her and immediately tried to crawl away. Ayda quickly closed in. She placed a foot on his back. He sprawled out submissively.

    "Who are you?" She demanded.

    "Di''lan," the man said. "I''m Di''lan."

    "What do you do? Are you the comms officer?"

    "What?"

    "Are you the comms officer?" Ayda repeated, grinding her foot into his back.

    "Yes!" Di''lan shouted, voice cracking in fear. "Yes, I''m the comms officer."

    That was all Ayda needed to hear. She hauled him up by his shoulders and placed him in the chair. It creaked under his weight, threatening to break. It all happened before Di''lan realized what was going on. He looked back at her with an astonished expression. Ayda forcibly turned his head back toward the console.

    "How far out can this radio make a call?" She asked.

    "Why do you wanna know?" Di''lan naively thought he was in a position to ask questions. Ayda squeezed the back of his head, digging her fingernails into his scalp.

    "Just answer me," she said through gritted teeth.

    "We broadcast via satellite. I could talk to someone in Germany if I wanted to." Di''lan spoke in a tense rasp.

    "Perfect. I want you to contact the American military base in Pasni."

    "What? How do you even know about that?"

    "I''ve heard the soldiers talk about dodging it''s drones," explained Ayda quickly. "You''re going to tell them Dr. Cyrus Vahlen is here."

    "Why would I do that?" Di''lan challenged. Ayda slammed his head against the console and held it there.

    "Because I said so."

    "And what makes you think they''ll come?" For the first time, Di''lan made a valid point.

    "We both know Vahlen is a wanted man. I''ve been inside his mess of an office a few times. I''ve seen his paperwork. I know he''s angered some powerful men. So, if you tell the U.S military where he is, they''ll jump at the opportunity to bring him in." That was the theory, anyway. Ayda had no way of knowing that would actually work. But, it was the best idea she had.

    "But I can''t." Di''lan continued to protest. "If I betray Dr. Vahlen, he''ll kill me!"

    "Kill you? Motherfucker,I''llkill you!" Ayda threatened. "You can''t be the only person here who knows how to use this thing, and I''ll gladly go find someone else, someone a little more cooperative." She applied pressure to his head, channeling energy into her hand for emphasis.

    "Okay, okay, I''ll do it!" Di''lan shouted. Ayda let him up. He glanced back at her, but a strong push on his shoulder put him back facing forward. He messed with a few controls on the console and leaned in closer to the microphone. "This is communications officer Di''lan broadcasting on emergency channels to the United States Air Force base in Pasni, Afghanistan..."

    Ayda remained the whole time to make sure Di''lan broadcast a satisfactory message. As per their agreement, she allowed him to live, but did shove him back in the closet. He was spineless. Ayda knew she would find him still in there when the military finally arrived, however long that took. With hope of rescue secured, Ayda moved on with her mission. The children were free, but her job was far from over. There was still someone she had to see, someone responsible for everything she''d been through, someone who had to answer for his crimes.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 7: Break the Chain Part 2

    Ayda returned to endlessly combing the hallways in search either of Dr. Vahlen or someone who would know where to find him. She didn''t hold out much hope for the latter, though. Vahlen was clumsy, but not stupid. He wouldn''t tell just anyone where he was going. Ayda would need to find someone very important if she wanted that information. Someone like...

    There was an intersection up ahead where two hallways crisscrossed one another. Having long since abandoned running everywhere, Ayda approached it at a brisk walk. Were she not so focused on her goal, she would have easily heard the other footsteps approaching from the east. As it stood, however, she had no inkling of any other presence until they met in the center of the junction.

    There, not even ten feet away, stood the General and the duo of troopers escorting him. Both parties froze in utter shock at encountering one another. Ayda couldn''t believe her fortune. First the complete lack of patrolling soldiers, then finding Di''lan, and now this? Her plan couldn''t possibly go any better!

    Being an experienced military man, the General was the first person to come to his senses. Without warning, he took off down the hall, running away from both his men and aggressor. Everyone else realized his flight a moment after. The soldiers tried to raise their weapons at Ayda, but they were much too close. She cut them down with two separate motions, not even really trying. When the were dealt with, the chase was on.

    If it could really be called that. It was hilarious just how much faster Ayda was than the old man. She caught up to him in a matter of seconds. Ayda tackled him to the ground. Limbs impossibly intertwined, they rolled across the floor a few times, but Ayda tucked all her weight in close to control the rotation. She came out on top. Immediately, she swung her leg around to transition into a top guard, straddling him at the waist. His feeble attempts to struggle meant nothing. Ayda pressed her staff laterally against his throat, just hard enough to hold him in place. He wheezed and flailed, desperate to get free, but to no avail.

    "Where is Dr. Vahlen?" Ayda shouted at him.

    "I don''t¡ªI don''t know!" The General struggled to say through his constricted larynx. Ayda pressed down even harder.

    "Tell me..." she menaced.

    "I don''t know, really!" The old man insisted. "He said something about saving his autopsy reports, but that was a while ago. He might still be in the operating room."

    "There, see? Was that so hard?" Ayda mocked him. He commanded so much authority at any other time, but here under her thumb, he was just a helpless has-been.

    "Don''t hurt me, Twelve!" The General continued. "I know we did some bad things, but we were just following orders." Reduced to begging. He was pathetic.

    "That''s no excuse! The things you did¡ªthat you allowed to happen¡ªwere pure evil. A good man would''ve put a stop to it. There''s just as much blood on your hands as Vahlen''s." Ayda''s face twisted in rage. She''d never been more disgusted in her life.

    "I''m sorry, Twelve," the General made one final attempt to redeem himself. Ayda leaned down so their faces were inches apart. She whispered in his ear.

    "Sorry isn''t good enough anymore."

    A twist of her staff broke his neck. His eyes went blank and head rolled limp. The General was dead.

    Ayda took off like a fighter jet, making a b-line for the operating room. She propelled herself on little blasts at the bottoms of her feet, anything to increase her speed. Her spirit soared. She finally had a lead, even if Dr. Vahlen wasn''t still there, she could at least get a bearing on his final destination. This was it, the culmination of everything she''d been working toward that day. She would finally have the revenge she so desperately needed.

    Any opposition she met was dealt with post-haste, no matter the size of the patrol. There were still relatively few soldiers to deal with, but she did come across a few scattered groups. It was not far to the operating room. These few mindless rats would not stop her. No force on Earth could.

    When finally the swinging double doors stood in front of her, Ayda picked up the pace even further. Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. Everything so far led up to this moment. If Dr. Vahlen was not on the other side of those doors, she would have to start back at square one. She hated the notion.

    Ayda bust through the precipice, and saw she needn''t have feared. There, shuffling through papers on the counter at the other end of the room, stood the source of all her suffering; the man who''d caused her such anguish and terror over the past six years, the target of her unending hatred.

    Dr. Vahlen whipped his whole body around the moment Ayda entered the room. A metal tray and a few miscellaneous instruments tumbled to the floor with loud clinks as he did. The Doctor looked upon her with big round eyes. His breaths were shallow. Ayda smiled. After all this time, the tables had turned.

    "Twelve..." he breathed.

    Ayda hadn''t time for words. Too much anticipation welled up within her heart. She stepped toward him, malicious intent flaring in her brown eyes. She only made it a couple feet before Vahlen brandished a compact handgun at her. Ayda stopped in her tracks and held her staff up defensively at a diagonal slant, but not out of actual fear for the weapon.

    "Stay back, Twelve! Don''t make me use this." Vahlen threatened, even though his hand shook.

    "Try it." Ayda returned with a cock of her head.

    Vahlen pulled the trigger. Ayda''s maneuver was perfect. She reflected the slug with a quick blast. The projectile made a U-turn and returned to its sender. Vaheln cried out in pain and dropped the gun, opting instead to clutch his right bicep. Blood stained his lab coat around the wound where the bullet had entered.

    Ayda crossed the distance between them. Utterly defenseless, Vahlen made a desperate attempt to scurry around her and run out the door. She was running out of patience. Lazily, she intercepted him with a blast. Although only meant to destabilize, it sent him careening into the counter. He slumped onto his feet, visibly stunned. A bit more than she''d intended, but it would certainly do. Before Vahlen could properly regain his balance, Ayda put the tip of her staff against his neck as if it were a blade, effectively pinning him in place. He raised his hands in submission.

    "Now, now, now, Twelve, why don''t you take a moment to catch your breath, calm down, and then maybe we can¡ª"

    "Calm? You want me to be calm?" Ayda laughed. "That''s hilarious!"

    "Please, Twelve, you''re not thinking clearly." Vahlen made another attempt to calm her.

    "Oh, I''ve never been more sure about anything in my life!" She asserted. There came a short pause. Vahlen''s eyes darted around, clearly looking for some sort of escape. Ayda couldn''t stand the sight of him. "Y''know, I used to fantasize about what I would say to you in this moment, but now it all seems a bit pointless."

    "That''s good!" Vahlen nodded. "That''s... that''s good. Maybe if you lower your staff we can come to some sort of agreement?"

    "Agreement? You tortured me every day for six years. I bled and cried for you. Imurderedfor you. And you think we can just end all this with an agreement?" Ayda couldn''t believe her ears.

    "Murderis such a strong word..." Vahlen trailed off.

    "Eight, Twenty, Sixteen, Forty-two, Thirteen, Fifty, I killed all of them becauseyoutold me to. You never gave me a choice. Don''t youdaretry to justify it!" Ayda pressed her staff further into his neck, not to clarify some point, but because she wanted to hurt him, to make him feel at least some of the same pain.

    "Okay, maybe I was wrong, but I did it all in the name of science¡ª"

    That was all Ayda could take. In a momentary loss of temper, she jabbed the wall behind him. Dr. Vahlen went flying across the room, smacking hard against the far wall. He crumpled to the ground, laying pathetically on his side. Before he could even think about leaving, Ayda walked over and kicked him onto his back. Again, she placed her staff against his neck.

    "And that''s not to mention my parents," she said. "Did you shoot all the other families, too? And what of the kids you killed? You have a lot to answer for."

    "I never¡ª"

    "Don''t play dumb!" Ayda smacked him across the face with her weapon. "You ordered all those deaths, which means you''re just as responsible. What do you have to say for yourself."

    "I''m..." Vahlen downcast his gaze. "Sorry. I''m sorry, Twelve."

    Ayda shook her head. "Despicable." She looked him right in the eyes. "I already had one of yourloyal underlingscontract the U.S embassy in Tehran. They''ll be here any minute to shut down your little operation. It''s over, Cyrus. You lost."

    "No..." This pathetic whimper was the only response he could manage. Where once was a proud and confident man lay one broken and defeated. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly calm.

    "I can''t go to jail. A guy like me? I wouldn''t last a day among real criminals." It almost sounded like he was speaking to himself.

    "Real criminals?" Ayda raised an eyebrow. The sheer irony of that statement was the greatest joke she''d ever heard. "You still don''t think you''ve done anything wrong. Well, don''t worry. Jail is too good for you."

    Ayda dropped her staff and hauled Vahlen up by his shirt. Forcibly, she slammed him down on the operating table before he had a chance to resist.

    "Hey! What are you doing?" His energy returned to him all at once.

    He tried his best to struggle, to scurry up off of the table. Ayda subdued him with a quick blast to the head. The Doctor, not accustomed to such pain, was stunned momentarily. Ayda took advantage of this to swiftly strap his wrists into the leather restraints he so often used against his test subjects. That done, she began toward the wall, and the lever placed ominously upon it.

    "No! Ayda, wait!" The Doctor screamed. She stopped dead in her tracks.

    "You know my name." She breathed, rounding on him. "All this time you knew my name and yet youstillreduced me to a number instead?"

    "It was meant to give you a sense of unity with the other test subjects and¡ª"

    "Bullshit!" She yelled. "You never cared about any of us. We were just tools to you, a means to an end."

    "That''s not true, you were all like family¡ª"

    "Shut up!" She cut him off again. "I''m through listening to your lies!"

    Ayda walked over to the switch. Vahlen craned his neck around to follow her. She ran her fingers gently down the length of the device, teasing him with it, relishing in his terrified stare.

    "I''m sure you remember this. Whenever you wanted to study us individually, you''d strap us to the table and turn on our implants with this, instead of using the observation chamber. I''m willing to bet you''ve never actually been shocked by it."

    "Ayda, please, don''t do this," the Good Doctor begged for mercy.

    "No, you don''t tell me what to do anymore!" Ayda shouted. She took a deep breath. "Before, I did whatever you said because I was scared. I saw what you did to the ones who disobeyed you, and I was afraid I''d end up like them. But now I''m calling the shots. Now that I''m the one who''s in control, tell me, Dr. Vahlen. Which one of us is afraid now?"

    She flipped the switch. Current consumed Dr. Vahlen''s body. His back arched. His mouth opened in a silent wail. After a few seconds, his muscles relaxed a bit. Vahlen writhed in agony. His excruciating screams reverberated off the walls and spilled into the corridor outside. Everyone in the facility would be able to hear his cries.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    Ayda only stayed to watch him for a moment. The man she''d feared more than the devil himself; even in death, he was nothing but pathetic. She had no stomach to witness him wither and die. She left him to his fate, listening to his screams fade away as she walked down the hall.

    When she was finally out of earshot, Ayda took a moment of long-needed rest. She turned a corner and leaned back against a wall, letting it take the majority of her weight. She cradled her head in her hands, caring not about how her staff clinked to the floor. She released a shuddering breath. It was over. She''d done it. Dr. Vahlen was dead or soon would be. The only dream she ever remembered dreaming came true. She was free.

    So, why was she hit with such a sense of aimlessness? Everything from here on out should be easy. Get out of the base and move on with her life. It was just that simple, right? So, why didn''t it feel that way? It felt like her life was over. The only thing she''d been living for was accomplished. Fulfilling your dreams was supposed to be a rewarding experience, and it was, nothing could ever make her feel more vindicated. So, why the confusion? What was she supposed to do now? No one ever explained what to do after happily ever after.

    Ayda gathered up her staff and slowly walked down the hall, eyes downtrodden. The sounds of faint blasts and gunshots serenaded her. The soldiers still put up a good fight from somewhere, but they didn''t stand a chance against the kids,herkids.

    This was supposed to be her great victory, the single greatest achievement of her young life. I didn''t feel like that, though. Sure, she won¡ªit would look like absolute conquest to any outsider¡ªbut there was more to it than that. After so much time fearing for her life, the absence of that same fear felt like a gaping hole. Without her hatred for Dr. Vahlen, whowasshe? What was her purpose in life? Who was Ayda?

    She would have spent an eternity more time thinking about this, but something utterly unexpected interrupted her train of thought. Through the intercom yelled a little voice, the sounds of battle in the background.

    "Hello?" Said the disembodied little child. "Twelve, are you there? I don''t know if you''re hearing this, but we need you in the garage!" A loud blast went off. The child paused to let it pass. "A lot of the soldiers have dug in here. We can''t win. Please, Twelve, we need you! You''re the only one strong enough to¡ª" A gunshot stopped the message short. The child screamed before the intercom cut out.

    Ayda took off back the way she came, turning right around the first corner, headed for the motor pool. Fire burned in her eyes. No one hurtherchildren, not while she still drew breath. From spiraling down the pits of despair, she found her answer. Ayda had purpose once again. The children were all victims of Vahlen''s evil. She would protect them if it was the last thing she ever did.

    Even though walking away from the operating room had taken her in the exact opposite direction of the motor pool, Ayda still blazed a trail toward her destination. Little blasts propelled her at breakneck speeds. World class sprinters wouldn''t have made it there so quickly. She emerged from upon one of the catwalks overlooking the garage.

    From her perch she could see the battle below. The soldiers held their ground closer to the doors. The children huddled behind various pieces of cover while bullets whizzed all around their heads. Lacking any proper weapons, most were confined to hiding in fear of their lives. Some fought back with blast propelled rocks or stolen firearms, but they didn''t make much progress. The older and more skilled of them tried their hands at reflecting bullets, but they didn''t have Ayda''s power. They were promptly cut down. Ayda watched as her former cellmate, the first one to trust her in this little rebellion, twirled his staff around, blocking bullets. He only lasted a few seconds before hot metal ripped through his body. He fell in a bloody heap. She looked on with utter horror. Of all the death and destruction of the day, this angered her more than any of it.

    A determined look on her face, she ran back through the door. When she returned, it was at full sprint. At the end of the catwalk, Ayda launched herself over the railing with a downward blast. Some of the soldiers spotted her as she flew through the air, straight as an arrow. They attempted to fire on her, but their bullets were useless against her masterful defense.

    Ayda''s jump was perfect. The way she flew was almost majestic, poetry in motion as purple explosions surrounded her body. She crashed directly into the center of the enemy position, staff pointed downward.

    Time seemed to slow as adrenaline pumped through her veins. An incredible shockwave spread through the floor in all directions, taking with it all in its path. Chunks of concrete flew into the air, propelled like rockets by the energy behind them. The floor shattered and buckled at the strength of her impact. Men and debris took flight in every which direction. Vehicles careened across the ground, turned into deadly battering rams. They smashed into soldiers foolish enough to stand before them. An unlucky trio found themselves squished between a truck and the wall. When it was all over, Ayda knelt in a crater just deeper than she was tall.

    The dust began to settle. The devastation was insurmountable. Anyone who didn''t know any better would never have known this room had been a garage just moments before. The vehicles were mostly reduced to twisted hunks of rubber and metal. Only a few remained recognizable as automobiles. Death was all around her. Most of the soldiers lay bloody and dead. Some had been eviscerated, their limbs scattered about the floor. The destruction was not rampant, however. Ayda had complete control over her actions. The shockwave never reached the entrenched children.

    In the center of her crater Ayda slowly stood to her feet, the queen of death incarnate. Unlike before with the observation room doors, she had a plan. The dust and debris concealed how laggard her movements were, and kept the enemy from a clear shot. Ayda focused to feel her power returning in unsteady waves. A deep breath in, and then out. She assumed a ready stance as the smoke settled.

    All at once, those few soldiers who continued living turned their guns upon her. They opened fire. Ayda twirled her staff madly, blocking bullets from all directions. Even though most of them were dead, it was still an impressive volume of fire. Even though Ayda could still clearly see every bullet in the air, she was just barely able to react to them all in time.

    But that wasn''t the only problem plaguing her. Creating such a massive blast took a lot out of her. She didn''t have much energy left in the tanks, even with the time she''d given herself to recover. Her brain needed a few seconds to make more, but that was time she didn''t possess. She could feel her defenses breaking. Her blasts became progressively weaker, just barely strong enough to deflect the projectiles. She couldn''t keep this up much longer. When all hope seemed lost, a single young voice rang out atop the gunfire.

    "CHAAAAAARGE!"

    A cry of battle the likes of which never heard before by human ears dominated the room. Children poured from their hiding places, flooding upon the soldiers like a typhoon. The men attempted to shift their fire, but it was too late. The tide of war was upon them. What started out as a stalemate turned into an unrighteous massacre.

    Any momentum the soldiers may have had was lost in an instant. They were outnumbered and hopelessly outgunned. Against a torrent of super powered children, these mere mortal men couldn''t hope to stand tall. Ayda fought shoulder to shoulder with her compatriots, the legendary hero of an epic story. She spun her staff in a maddening maelstrom, knocking aside both bullets and bodies. Soldiers fell all around her in broken heaps. This was the wrath of a truly tortured soul. All of these monsters would reap what they had sewn.

    Ayda blocked bullets from two soldiers in front of her. She managed to reflect the slugs back at one of them. Many shots penetrated his chest. She spun to gain ground on the second, coming out of it with a great slash. He flew across the room. Two children rushed up on either side of her, taking enemies down with terrible prejudice.

    A line of three men presented themselves. They were a prime target. Ayda launched herself forward, straight at them. They opened fire but couldn''t get an effective shot in. She flew past, landing behind them. Ayda leveled a blast into the back of the last man in line. He smashed into the other two and together all three of them flew toward the children. They were promptly mobbed on the ground and killed.

    The battle raged on for several minutes more. Every blast signified the death of a soldier. The most prominent were Ayda''s. They were louder and larger than any of the rest. Only scattered spurts of gunfire broke up the constant barrage of energy explosions. Nothing the soldiers tried produced any results. Their morale was broken. Victory would not be possible. The only thing they could do was go down in a blaze of glory like the true warriors they thought they were.

    Then, all of a sudden, it was over. Ayda spun around, ready to engage another enemy, but only wore a look of confusion when there was no one left to fight. The noise of blasts had subsided. If anything, it was downright quiet, as if someone pressed the mute button. She looked around. All she saw were dead soldiers and victorious children. That was it. The battle was over. They won.

    Ayda smiled.Thiswas her great victory, the realization of her dreams. Freedom, true freedom, forallof her children.Thatwas what it meant to truly defeat Dr. Vahlen, to defy his every action. Nothing could stop her from conquering the world.

    Off to her right, a circular rabble of children had formed. They jeered and some threw rocks. Clearly, there was some great commotion. Ayda made her way over to the group. Through the gaps she could see the wounded visage of a soldier. Likely, he was the only survivor. The kids yelled at and threatened him. They wanted blood, and rightly so, but Ayda had different plans.

    "Leave him," she called. The the children made way for their great leader, circle parting to allow her entrance. "We''ll need someone to confirm our story." She pointed to two of the older boys. "You two, take him to the corner over there. Watch him like a hawk. If he so much as blinks funny, break his legs. If he needs further encouragement, come talk to me."

    The two boys swiftly took the soldier away, following their orders to a tee. The crowd, including Ayda, dispersed. One of the teenagers caught up to her. It was one of the four people she appointed as her lieutenants when she took the testing chamber. She smiled at him, glad to see he made it out alive.

    "What should the rest of us do?" He got straight to the point.

    "I... don''t know." Ayda looked up pensively. She hadn''t thought this far ahead, quite honestly. She considered the situation for a moment, going through all the possible courses of action, although the best answer was obvious as soon as she found it. "Ah, there are still groups of children hiding all around the facility. Get some of the older kids to round up a few search parties and find them. Bring them here."

    "Alright, I''ll spread the word." He ran away to his assigned task.

    Most children stayed behind with Ayda, keeping guard over the motor pool. Not that Ayda really expected any significant enough number of soldiers remained to stage any sort of meaningful counter-attack. But, it always paid to be safe. Every once in a while, a search party would return with a few more kids, but they never added many. Most of them must have gathered in the motor pool for the final battle. That was a good thing, in the end. It made the task of rounding everyone up much easier.

    Several hours passed waiting around in the motor pool. After the first couple, someone figured out how to open the garage doors. The view outside was rather boring, a bunch of sand and scrubby bushes, but it beat the destroyed interior.

    Nothing really important happened for a long time. There was sporadic conversation, and morale seemed high, but mostly the kids were just nervous. They all heard before long about how Ayda had contacted the United States. The only thing for most of them to do was wait.

    And wait they did. With every hour which ticked by, Ayda could feel spirits sink. They had enough food and water to last for months, so supplies weren''t the problem. Instead, what worried her was boredom and anticipation. Even the most well fed army could suffer from despair. What if people thought the Americans weren''t coming? How could she keep them all together? Anarchy would rip them apart. They didn''t have months. Ayda could maintain control for a few days, at most.

    ...

    The sun dipped low in the sky, just barely a sliver over the dunes lighting up the sky orange and yellow and red. Ayda sat upon the hood of a mostly intact truck, idly dangling her foot. She took a deep breath. This was dull, and the rest of the kids felt it. She''d fall asleep soon, just from sheer tedium.

    Then, something rumbled in the distance. It was low and carried along by the desert wind, but had a certain rhythm to it. This thing, whatever it was, could not be natural. Ayda turned her eyes to the dunes ahead of her. She activated her powers, squinting her eyes against the light. This didn''t actually make her vision any better, but heightened reaction time could make it easier to see any motion from so far away. Silhouetted against the painted sky, several black dots rapidly approached, and she wasn''t the only one who saw them.

    "Look up in the sky, over there," a child called out, pointing. "What are those?"

    Ayda muttered to herself. "They''re here."

    Everyone gathered around the entrance to await the arrival of the newcomers. Before long, it became obvious the objects in the sky were helicopters, seven in total. With every inch they covered, Ayda''s anticipation grew, yet she stayed stoic upon her truck. She was the emotional rock of the entire group. If she allowed excitement to take her, any semblance of order would fall apart.

    Before long the helicopters reached them. They fanned out in a wide arc, covering the flanks of the facility. They hovered low to the ground, tan paint blending in with the sand beneath. Ayda hopped down from her perch and made her way to the front of the group. She put her hands up.

    "Weapons down, hands up, everyone," she yelled over the loud rotors. "Show them we''re not a threat. No matter what happens, stay behind me."

    The helicopters descended. Soldiers spun down to the ground upon ropes extended from the aerial vehicles. They advanced upon the children, stopping several feet away with guns trained defensively. They did not fire nor make any attempt at hostilities.

    One of the choppers landed completely. A man and his bodyguard exited. He was an aging chap, clearly someone of importance by his fancy military attire and calm, confident swagger. He approached the group of children all with their hands up. As she was the one in front, Ayda established herself as the obvious leader. As such his attentions were on her.

    "What''s the meaning of all this?" He spoke in perfect Persian. "Who are you kids?"

    "We''re all the subjects of experiments conducted by Dr. Cyrus Vahlen inside this very building." Ayda explained in clear terms. "May I ask who you are?"

    "My name is Colonel Ben Hammond of the United States Marine Corps," he said quickly, as if he''d repeated those very words a thousand times. "You said Cyrus Vahlen was here? Where is he now?"

    "Dead, along with the rest of his soldiers. You have me to thank for that." Ayda couldn''t stop herself from smirking.

    "Youkilled Vahlen?" Hammond asked incredulously. He looked into the building. "And who did all of this?" American soldiers were now entering the garage. A few of them stopped to inspect the damage.

    "That was me too," Ayda said. "Well, mostly. My friends here helped out a lot."

    "But, you''re just a bunch of kids." The Colonel struggled to understand. "You''re just a little girl."

    "There''s a lot you don''t know, Colonel. I''ll tell you everything, but I won''t say a word until I know your men won''t hurt any of my friends." Ayda laid out the terms of her cooperation.

    "As long as I get the same promise from you, we won''t have a problem," Hammond acknowledged.

    "Of course," she agreed. With a nod from the Colonel, the soldiers lowered their weapons.

    "Now, get to explaining," demanded the Colonel.

    "Why don''t you come inside, sir?" Ayda offered. "I think it would be easier to just show you."

    "Alright." Hammond nodded again. He and his bodyguard walked toward the building. Ayda turned and began to lead him in, but he stopped her. "Hey. What''s your name, kid?"

    She turned to him and smiled.

    "Ayda."

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 8: Terms and Conditions

    Ayda found herself sitting alone in a dimly lit room, barren except for her own chair, a metal desk, and a second seat on the other side of it. The irony of the current situation was not lost on her. After spending so much time in similar environments, Ayda once again was forced to deal with yellow bathed concrete walls. There was one distinct difference, however, one thing which made all the difference in the world. For the first time in forever, she felt safe.

    It had been two days since her bold attack against Dr. Vahlen and his minions, two full cycles of the moon since she led her people to freedom. A large portion of the first was spent in transit. The military, after thoroughly exploring the facility, had loaded the children on two gigantic helicopters.

    It was the exploration, though, which concerned Ayda most on the first day. With so many soldiers flooding through the space, it only took a few hours to cover every inch of it. Ayda filled the role of tour guide, bringing Colonel Hammond through each of the important rooms such as the testing chamber, cell block, and recovery rooms. For some reason, Hammond was also interested in places Ayda would not have deemed interesting such as the mess hall and crew quarters, the former of which had been mostly destroyed in a battle Ayda knew nothing of.

    Hammond also demanded a demonstration of her abilities. Ayda saw this coming from the moment she contacted the base. The story of the children was an extraordinary one. There would need to be proof. Ayda happily provided.

    Since the motor pool was one of the only large rooms not in danger of collapsing, the demonstration took place in there. Many soldiers gathered to witness the spectacle. They formed a wide circle around Ayda. She kept the display simple, a few big blasts, deflecting rocks thrown by the children, and the like. She would''ve liked to block some bullets as well, but Hammond understandably wouldn''t allow his men to shoot at her.

    The Colonel did, however, demand a short combat display. Ayda had explained all of the combat training and trials the children went through, and Hammond wanted to see if she could back up her claims. After all, to take down an entire military base with just a handful of little children required extreme martial mastery. He mustn''t have thought too much of her, however, as he only selected one opponent for Ayda to face down.

    His rules were simple, no weapons and no blasts. This was a show of technique, not raw power. While taking on a trained United States Marine was not exactly a simple task, Ayda still won the bout handily. The soldier was more than a little embarrassed at getting his ass handed to him by a young girl. He''d probably never hear the end of it. She almost felt bad for him.

    That seemed to satisfy the Colonel. He informed the children transportation had already been requested, and would arrive after a while. All they had to do was be patient. For Ayda, the wait was almost unbearable. She wanted nothing more than to finally leave the facility, and never look back.

    The helicopters arrived early in the morning, before the sun had risen. Everyone, children and soldiers, camped out in the motor pool because¡ªagain¡ªit was the only room large enough to hold them which was not in danger of falling apart. A part of Ayda was proud of the destruction her minions had caused. They had a lot of strength stored up in those little bodies.

    When transport finally arrived, the kids were roused and promptly loaded onto the aircraft. At first Ayda was skeptical whether or not all of them would it on just two helicopters, but after seeing the size of them, her suspicions were promptly put to rest. They had to be packed in kind of tight, but all of the youngsters did make it onto the two vehicles.

    After several hours they arrived at a military base. Ayda was completely flabbergasted with the place. It was a huge campus, containing a few different large buildings. People were everywhere, going about their daily business. It seemed a rather busy place. The size of it intimidated Ayda. She could probably take ten steps in the wrong direction and get hopelessly lost.

    The choppers set down one after another on a helipad. After the first group disembarked, they were moved off to make room for the second. When both had gathered into one collection, they were shepherded off to what Ayda assumed was a barracks.

    There they stayed for the remainder of the day. The local personnel gave them a wide berth, probably from instruction. Base medical staff called the children away in small groups for quick check-ups. The procedure was not too invasive. The nurses checked for signs of physical harm, ran tests of blood pressure and glucose, drew blood for analysis, and generally made sure the children were okay. The general consensus here was surprise. They probably expected the children to be in much worse shape from living in such terrible conditions. Dr. Vahlen made sure his children stayed healthy. Sick test subjects were useless to him, after all.

    Not much happened after that. The children were placed under guarded supervision, but the soldiers didn''t try to enforce any strict rules. Basically, they just couldn''t leave. Ayda was fine with that. She expected some sort of crackdown. They were an unknown, and had to be treated as such. For the time, Ayda just enjoyed the freedom. She could finally walk around and speak with whoever she wanted. They seemed small things, but to her they were great luxuries.

    The nighttime accommodations were not quite as nice. There weren''t enough beds on site for the children to sleep in, so they had to camp out on the barracks floor. Ayda hated to admit it, but she was used to such treatment. She''d been sleeping on the floor for quite a while. A few more nights wouldn''t hurt her.

    The next morning, shortly after breakfast, a soldier was sent for her. And, that''s how Ayda ended up in her current dimly lit room. Not much context had been given, except that Colonel Hammond wanted to speak with her. She remained on edge. In her experience, waiting around in settings like this never led to good things. If the time came, Ayda had to be ready to fight.

    Without warning, the door opened. Hammond walked in, carrying a small white envelope in his left hand. The door swung freely closed behind him. He did not acknowledge her presence as he entered the room, only spoke a single word.

    "Sit.," Hammond said, moving around to the opposite side of the desk. Defiantly, Ayda remained standing. "Sit down, Ayda," he repeated. Still, she remained upright.

    "Am I in trouble?" She asked.

    "No, not at all." Hammond took his seat behind the desk. "It''s just easier to look you in the eye, if we''re both sitting down." He gestured toward the chair behind her. Ayda plopped back down upon it.

    "Then, why did you separate me from the other children?"

    "I thought it would be best if we could talk alone," the Colonel said. "We have a lot to discuss."

    "Like what?" Ayda crossed her arms, impatient.

    "Like what we''re gonna do with you." Hammond leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I don''t think I need to tell you, you''re a special case. The other children are being relocated around the country after their implants are removed, but we can''t exactly do that with you. So, we had to think of some alternate options."

    Colonel Hammond slid the thing he''d been holding in his hand across the table to her. Ayda stopped it just before it could fall off the edge. Holding it in her hand, she could see it was an envelope of some sort, made from paper long cut and cheap. She opened the flat fold and extracted the contents, a slip of white paper with a bunch of words on it she didn''t really understand, something about gates and a seat number. She glanced up at the old man.

    "What is this?" She questioned.

    "A plane ticket," Hammond responded simply. "Congratulations, you''re going to America. El Puerto Texas, to be exact."

    Ayda''s heart skipped a beat. Did she hear that right? No, there must have been some mistake. The Colonel sneezed, or something.

    "America..." she breathed. "But, that''s so far away. Why would you send me there?"

    "We don''t have enough of a presence here anymore to keep an eye on you, so we chose the next best option." Hammond explained. "There were some concerns about¡ª"

    "Keep an eye on me?" Ayda interrupted. "What, like some sort of prisoner? You wanna watch me every second of the day? No, Colonel, I won''t have your goons following me everywhere I go."

    "Of course not," Hammond shook his head. "That''s not what I''m saying." He paused. "You''re not under surveillance. Think of it more like probation. You''re free to do whatever you like¡ªwithin reason¡ªbut break the law, and therewillbe consequences."

    "So I''m a slave, then." Ayda challenged. "You want me to live my life according to your rules. I won''t bend to your beck and call, I''ve had enough of that!" Ayda crunched the envelope in her hand. She was just inches away from channeling her power and leveling the place. She couldn''t believe her ears! After everything Hammond saw just the previous day, he was trying to put her in another cell?

    "No one''s trying to control you, Ayda." The Colonel''s voice took on a startling gentleness. "After everything you''ve been through, I want you to live a normal life, to have a childhood, but we can''t have someone with your considerable...abilitiesrunning around without supervision. You have the freedom to choose whatever you want for your life, we just need to make sure you don''t step out of line."

    "That doesn''t sound like freedom to me," Ayda muttered under her breath. She looked at the Colonel. "What if I refuse? You just said I''m allowed to choose, so what if I don''t go to America? What if I stay here instead?"

    "Well, that''s a bit more complicated," Hammond sighed. "If you stay on the base, you will remain a military asset. In that case, youwillbe confined to the base, youwillbe under constant surveillance, and you will most likely be forced to participate in military operations."

    "And youreallythink I''d just let you do that to me?" Ayda sat back and crossed her legs, bouncing her foot in agitation. She met the Colonel''s gaze with the most confident expression she could muster. Hammond, however, remained stone calm.

    "I''m gonna put this as plainly as I can, Ayda." He narrowed his eyes. "Don''tmake an enemy of the United States. You''re strong, no doubt about it, but even you can''t take on an entire military by yourself. If you become a threat to national security, we won''t hesitate to take you out. "

    With that statement, Hammond plaid all his cards. Everything was laid out on the table. These were the exact terms of his deal. Ayda looked down at her feet, seriously considering her options.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    The Colonel was right, of course. Pacifying a single, understaffed military outpost had been difficult enough, and Ayda only managed it with the help of several other super powered children. She could never hope to fight off an entire country, let alone the most powerful one in the world. Her heart sank. After such a natural high from conquering Dr. Vahlen, her future was once again out of her control.

    "I don''t really have choice, do I?" She said without looking up.

    "No, not really," Hammond agreed. "Not this time."

    "If I go to America, what am I allowed to do?"

    "Anything," the Colonel began simply. "You can go out with your friends, go to school, go to college, get a job, have a family with whoever you want; you have the same rights and privileges as any American Citizen. The government willnotinterfere with your daily life. Our Constitution forbids it. It''s your life to live any way you see fit, period." Hammond spoke in a strong tone with exactly the correct terminology. He certainly had a way with words.

    "I''m assuming that excludes who I really am?"

    "Not necessarily." Hammond took a deep breath. "Yes, the bigwigs want to see you brought to heel. They want you to quit using your powers entirely. I, on the other hand, think that''s bullshit. It would be like making a perfectly capable person use a wheelchair. I fought for a better deal, but they shot me down. So, instead, I''m offering you something more private, just between the two of us."

    "I''m listening."

    "I''m a military man. I understand what the politicians want never works in real life. So, I know it''s impossible to stop you from using your powers. Accidents happen, and there may be situations where it''s unavoidable. As the person in charge of your case, I officially can''t allow any use of your powers. Unofficially... just don''t let me know it was you. The greatest talent of the American government is it can cover-up pretty much anything. That includes you."

    Ayda looked again at the ticket. Subconsciously, she''d kept from damaging it. Although made of simple paper, it seemed so heavy, as if the weight of her future piled on top of it. She didn''t think the Colonel¡ªor the United States, for that matter¡ªreally wanted to hurt her. They were giving her an opportunity to start fresh, to at least partially regain the life she never had. And, the Colonel offered her some form of amnesty. It was all under the table, of course, but it was still something. Besides, she''d lived with illicit, secretive dealings before. Six years of them, in fact.

    While Ayda didn''t necessarily enjoy the idea of leaving behind the only place she''d ever known, staying in Iran was not an option, either. She''d already been subject to the whims of a greater power. She refused to do so again. Put like that, only one real option remained the logical choice.

    "Okay, I''ll do it," she said with a quick nod. "I''ll go to America."

    In that moment, Hammond did something Ayda never in a thousand years could have predicted. He smiled.

    "You made the right decision, Ayda," he said, standing up. "Your flight leaves tomorrow night. Everything you need to know is on your ticket. I''ll leave you alone for now. I know you must need some time to process all this and no one will bother you in here. When you''re ready, just find one of the men and he''ll lead you back to the others."

    And with that, Hammond departed. For a third time, Ayda inspected her ticket. America, huh? In her wildest dreams, she never expected to actually get a chance to go there. Now, it would be her new home. Home. That word hadn''t meant anything to her for six years. But, given her new future and all the possibilities it brought,homewas the only word which mattered to her. What kind of people would she meet there? Left to roam around in the land of the free, what kind of person would she become?

    ¡­

    Compared to the helicopters, Ayda''s fist time on an airplane was absolutely pleasant. It was a smooth ride, not much louder or more uncomfortable than an automobile. There were relatively few other passengers, as well. Strangely, international flights from Iran to Texas weren''t very popular. Other than that, she spent most of the time sleeping. The plane seats made comfortable beds, especially when compared to the concrete floors she was accustomed to.

    Ayda had anticipated excitement over her first flight, but in reality the only thing she could feel was nervous. She was nervous about going to America, nervous about whoever her new caretakers would be, and nervous about adjusting as a foreigner to a new society. She knew next to nothing about America, its people and customs. How could she ever hope to fit in?

    Flying quickly lost its luster when Ayda realized she had nothing to do. Most of her time was spent asleep not because she was tired, but because she was bored out of her mind. Staring out the window to marvel at how high up she was could only hold her attention so long. No one else sat in the row with her. The closest person was two seats ahead, and she didn''t feel like yelling up to talk to him. Besides, he probably had better things to do if the buds in his ears were any indication.

    The Colonel could have given her a book orsomethingto look at. But, the only thing she received was a haircut and a white dress with a winding rose pattern to wear. While she liked the current length of her hair¡ªjust past her shoulders¡ªthe dress was utterly ridiculous. After so much time wearing baggy pants, she felt exposed in such flowy clothing.

    The craft finally made landfall at around three o''clock PM local time. That was what the pilot said, but it felt so much earlier to Ayda. The deplaning process was a bit hectic. Everyone just kinda got up and filled the aisle all at once. Ayda followed suit, shuffling her way to the center of the craft. She hadn''t the faintest idea what she was doing, but everyone else seemed to, so following their example made the most logical sense. After a moment of standing around confused, the door was open and the people began flooding out. Ayda allowed herself to be swept up by the current.

    Immediately out of the fuselage Ayda was met with a long corridor which cut sharply to the right at its end. Again, she simply followed the people in front of her, doing her best to not fall behind. Although, about halfway through she realized how pointless this was. The way out was a single path with no deviations. Even getting off the plane was only accomplished in one direction. Why follow these people? Where else could she possibly go? Ayda found herself much more at ease with this revelation. Airports weren''t that hard.

    All that confidence vanished, however, the moment she exited the corridor. Before her was the widest open hallway she''d ever seen. She stopped dead in her tracks, brown eyes triple their normal circumference. It was actually two joining passages which met at an obtuse angle at their respective end and beginning, a wide seating area where the two converged. There were people absolutely everywhere. They moved in a dizzying crisscross of paths, mostly individuals although some were obvious groups.

    Ayda stared at them, utterly baffled. This was easily the most puzzled she''d ever felt. Battles and training exercises were simple dealings in comparison. Where was she supposed to start? How could anyone even come close to navigating such a space with confidence? A person could walk these floors for a hundred years and never memorize the layout. And, judging by the size of the facility while they approached from the air, this was only a miniscule fraction of it. Airports were absolutely impossible.

    She whipped her head left to right a few times, desperately searching for a hint as to her next step. After a few frantic takes, her eyes fell upon an American family. A man, his wife, and their daughter; they stood off to the left side of the gate. The girl held in her hands a piece of white poster paper which said one word in big black letters:Ayda.

    Colonel Hammond had mentioned them in names and descriptions she didn''t remember. In all the excitement, she''d forgotten.

    The man was a ruggedly handsome older gentleman, clean-shaven and hair graying in patches. He had a strong jaw and gentle green eyes. The mother and daughter could have been sisters, if the former were not clearly so much older. They had the same hair, the same body type, the same basic facial structure, and even the same nose. The eyes were different though. In that respect, the daughter took after her father. Her blonde locks had been tied into a single braid, which she draped over her shoulder. She looked to be just a couple years older than Ayda herself.

    Ayda hesitated, stopping dead in her tracks at the sight of them. Something about this family intimidated her. They were just so... happy. All three of them wore welcoming smiles, which only grew when she turned her gaze to them. They knew she''d spotted them. Ayda felt cornered. A hundred different decisions all ran though her head, and none of them made sense. Maybe if she dashed back onto the plane it would take her back.

    Too late. In the light of her hesitation, the family started moving toward her. Red flags went up in every inch of Ayda''s brain. Shewasn''tready. Escape was the only option, except it wasn''t. She locked eyes with the daughter, and all of a sudden everything within her calmed. Something about the compassion in her face, a sort of pure kindness Ayda had never witnessed before. She didn''t know these people, had zero good reason to trust them, and yet she did. She justknewthey didn''t want to hurt her. Ayda stood with her feet parallel and tried to look as calm as possible while they approached.

    "Ayda?" Asked the father after the family had all stopped within an acceptable speaking distance. "My name is Bernard Belmont. This is my wife, Emma, and our daughter, Jacqueline." He gestured to each of them in turn. "We''ll be taking care of you while you stay here in the States."

    He beamed warmly at her. Emma, the older woman, nodded reassuringly. Out of the three, Ayda found her by far the most frightening. She radiated with the grace and beauty of a goddess.

    There was no time to ponder this, however, as the daughter, Jacqueline, approached. The girl came to a stop just a couple feet away,farpast Ayda''s comfort zone. She took a small step back, unable to keep the uncertainty from her expression. Normally, people who got this close either meant her harm or wanted something. Ayda reminded herself this was a new place, with much gentler tendencies, but none of it registered.

    Without warning or provocation, Jacqueline wrapped her in a tight embrace. Ayda tensed up. Every fiber of her being rejected the contact as self preservation kicked in. She put her hands on the girl''s waist, just about to push her off, but then stopped. This action was not an attack, it was a hug. It had been so long, Ayda forgot hugs even existed. Her shoulders drooped, back arched slightly forward. She dropped her hands awkwardly to her sides, unsure of where to put them if not in defense.

    "I''m so happy to meet you," Jacqueline said, her voice low and soothing. "I justknowwe''ll be good friends."

    Ayda shot a pitiful glance over to the parents. Since violence was not an acceptable way to resolve the situation, her only remaining option was to ask for help.

    "Come now, Jackie, don''t strangle the poor girl," Bernard said. Jacqueline quickly released her captive. She took a step back and looked at the ground, grinding dirt into the floor with her right foot, color flushed in her pale cheeks.

    "Sorry," she said. Ayda didn''t respond, only looked on in awe. This girl... she defied explanation. At this point, Ayda wasn''t even sure she was human.

    Bernard captured both of their attentions. "You must be exhausted after such a long flight, Ayda," he said. "Come, let''s get out of this busy place and show you to your new home."

    Bernard and his wife turned around and began to walk away, indicating this was not a request. Jacqueline did the same, glancing back at Ayda with a gesture to follow. She did, taking a few quick steps to catch up. She walked just behind the older couple, with Jacqueline at her right shoulder. Bernard continued to converse as they turned down the left passage.

    "Howwasyour flight, anyway?"

    "Long," Ayda responded simply. "I never realized how long eighteen hours was," she added.

    "That sounds terrible," Jackie intoned.

    "Your English is great, if you don''t mind me saying." Emma changed the subject. "Who taught you?"

    "Thanks," Ayda said. "Um, my father was an English teacher, so he taught me English and Persian at the same time, said it would help me later on." She''d never believed him until just then. At the mention of her father, Emma''s face turned to ash.

    "I''m sorry, that was insensitive of me," she looked away.

    "No, it''s alright," Ayda blurted. Why did she care how this woman felt?

    An awkward silence fell over them after that. The family wasn''t sure how to continue after Emma supposedly killed the mood, and Ayda didn''t know how to tell them it was okay. But the silence wasn''t the only thing which made her feel a bit uncomfortable. The little discussion about language made Ayda painfully aware of her own accent for the first time. Did she sound funny to everyone else?

    She looked around at all the people to take her mind off of it. There were so many, and they all seemed so busy. Even the people buying lunch or drinking coffee had a spring in their step. It made Ayda want to break into a sprint, just to keep up with them.

    "Feeling overwhelmed?" Bernard asked. Ayda snapped her attention back to him. "You''ve probably never seen so many people in one place before," he observed. Although it was a correct statement, Ayda didn''t especially like him making such broad assumptions about her upbringing.

    "Don''t worry, dear, the rest of the city isn''t as bad," Emma reassured her.

    "It''s worse," Jacqueline interjected.

    Although this was meant as a joke, Ayda wasn''t looking forward to the process of adjusting to city life. All the sights and sounds in an urban jungle which seemed to never end. Back in her old home in Iran, it was possible to drive from one end to the other in about twenty minutes. How could she ever hope to align with the urbanized method of operation? Her heart sank, a physical embodiment of how unfathomably more complicated her life just became.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 9: Belmont

    Overwhelmedwould have been a grievous understatement. Ayda thought having three other people to guide her would help soften the blow of culture shock, but as she made her way through the crowded airport, that couldn''t be further from the truth. Her head remained on a constant swivel, as if some physical disability prevented her from keeping it still. She tried to take in everything at once, all the sights and sounds... and smells. Her brain simply didn''t know how to comprehend such a vast miasma of stimulus.

    There were just so manypeople.With all the shops, kiosks, sitting areas¡ªalong with the sheer size of the place¡ªthis was the one thought which kept circulating through her consciousness. How could so many men and women, doubtless completely different in most every way, possibly come together in one space? Surely, such a massive human concentration lead to conflict. Yet, they were peaceful. While Ayda would never call this giant mob organized, the people remained civil, if a little selfish. How could any society function so well? Americans must have been the nicest people on the planet.

    Ayda did her best to focus on the given objective of following the Belmont family wherever it was they were going. Despite the distractions, she though her efforts were admirable. She never once strayed from the path, and honestly didn''t want to. In such a crowded space, even the simplest of tasks would''ve been far too much for her to handle. In this, the family acted as more than just guides. They were a mission, something to pull her attention to the right place.

    Eventually, Ayda followed the Belmonts into the parking lot. Despite everything she had just seen and experienced inside the airport, nothing could prepare her for the exterior.

    Cars. Seated atop this asphalt plain were more cars than Ayda ever could have even imagined existed in the entire world. Every single inch was absolutely dominated by mechanical monsters of all shapes and sizes. Some were old and beaten down, while others were so new and shiny she could hardly stand to look at them. They came in a rainbow of colors, each more brilliant than the last. This must have been the elite upper-crust of the nation. Not everyone in America could afford a car, right? That was just ludicrous to even consider.

    The family continued on into the lot and Ayda followed out of habit. She wasn''t really paying attention, choosing instead to marvel at the collection of vehicles. Walking among them gave her a better look at several of the specimens. It wasn''t just the amount which amazed her, but the sheer variety as well. No two were exactly the same, although many seemed to serve the same purpose. Large SUV''s for families, sporty little two-doors, rugged pickup trucks, the categories were repetitive and obvious. So, why were so many different kinds of vehicles necessary to perform the same collection of tasks? Why not just have one kind of truck or one kind of sports car? The variation seemed rather inefficient.

    After walking past several rows of parked cars, Bernard led his people off to the left.

    "This is us," he said, indicating the automobile in front of him. It was a shiny black sedan, long and slightly boxy in its shape. It had big wheels, a square grille, and rectangular headlights. On a chrome insert just above the license plate were stamped two intertwined letters "RR."

    In a split-second calculation, Ayda decided to let everyone else fill in around the vehicle first. She could simply take whatever was left. That way, there would be no confusion as to what seat belonged to her. Bernard, predictably, claimed the driver''s seat, and Jackie sat in the back behind him. Emma rode shotgun. This left the back right seat for Ayda.

    Having watched Jacqueline open her own door, she learned they were hinged at the back, exactly the opposite of what she expected. It took her a second to figure out how to open the door. Color flushed in her cheeks, she plopped down on the tan leather, purposely avoiding eye contact with anyone else.

    As the car growled to life, embarrassment was replaced by surprised delight. Ayda shifted around on the cushion, testing her balance on the soft foam, a bewildered expression on her face. Jacqueline, who had been observing the whole time, beamed at her. She leaned over and reached across Ayda. The latter tensed up slightly, wary of the sudden proximity. Jacqueline grabbed something over her shoulder. The blonde girl pulled a strap across Ayda''s chest and fastened a metal buckle in a receptacle beside her. Jackie flashed another smile before returning to her own seat. Ayda noticed she had a similar contraption slung over her own shoulder.

    "Do you like the car?" Jacqueline asked. Ayda nodded.

    "It''s the most comfortable chair I''ve ever sat in," she said. Everyone laughed as the car pulled out, even though her statement wasn''t a joke. She sank back into the leather in a vain attempt to hide herself.

    "If you think this is nice, just wait until you see the house," Jacqueline said.

    "Why? What''s the house like," inquired Ayda.

    "Oh, I can''t tell you that. It''d ruin the surprise." Jacqueline gave a playful wink. With that little bit of foreshadowing planted firmly in the back of Ayda''s mind, they were off, set to comb the vast concrete jungle.

    Although she''d seen it from the air on approach, the city looked completely different at ground level. One could barely see the sky through the buildings on either side of the road. Some were impossibly tall, stretching up past heaven itself, while others contained only one story. The juxtaposition was jarring at times. These structures represented several architectural generations, old family business smashed up against modern office buildings.

    Ayda kept her face glued to the window the entire time. She wanted to take in everything at once. Every sight and sound was a new experience, although she couldn''t hear much over the din of traffic and Bernard''s painful disco music. Occasionally, she would crane her neck around to look out Jacqueline''s window. The blonde was always polite enough to lean back out of the way, smiling all the time. She must have looked like an idiot, but Ayda didn''t really care. This was her great adventure, and she''d be damned to miss anything important.

    After what seemed like no time at all, the dense concrete, steel, and glass of the city center gave way to a more relaxed setting. The buildings gradually became more spread out. The design changed as well. These structures were less concerned with saving space. Ayda knew little of American style, but these seemed like homes. That would make this a residential area. Were they getting close to the house?

    The concentration of the homes was not the only thing which gradually changed as they left the city. They also became much more opulent. The size and extravagance increased steadily. Ayda had never seen homes so big. She marveled at their expanse. This was the true excess of American culture. Ayda had heard stories about how the rich and important in this country lived, but she never really believed any of it until then. More importantly, though, why was Bernard driving her through such a place?

    "We''re here, Ayda," Bernard said. "This is your new house." He pointed to a structure up ahead to the left.

    Without really thinking, Ayda leaned left to look out the windshield. Her jaw slammed through the car floorboard. The house was... magnificent, impossible. Three stories tall and four big windows wide, it was colored pure white with slanted gray shingles. The ceiling consisted of four peaks. A main one ran lengthwise along the house, and then three more right in a line above each of the center upper-story windows. The center of the house was rounded out in a half-circle, giving brilliant contrast to the straight lines which flanked it. A wrought iron fence and gate separated the house from the road.

    "You''re kidding," Ayda breathed. "You can''t be serious!"

    "I am," Bernard said coyly.

    "I''m gonna livethere?"

    "Yes, you are. Welcome to your new home, Ayda."

    "I don''t believe it. I can''t live here. It''s a palace." Ayda was talking more to herself at this point.

    "It must be quite different from what you''re used to," Emma commented. "You''ll have everything you need and so much more."

    Bernard pulled up to the gate and began fiddling with a number pad attached to his sun visor. After entering a code, the gate opened automatically. He slowly pulled through it into the paved driveway.

    "But, is it really okay?" Ayda continued. "I mean, for me to live here, in such a big house? Aren''t places like this only for special people?"

    "And what makes you think you''re not special?" Bernard took on a sudden challenging tone. He paused, collecting his thoughts. "I don''t really know how to explain it. I know all of this must be a bit of a shock, but you''re living with us now, as a member of our family. This home is as much ours as it is yours."

    Ayda sank back in her sat. Just like Bernard, she didn''t really know what to say. A large and overpowering portion of her brain rejected the place. There was no way such an impossible building could be her home. It just didn''t register in the realm of possibility. It defied all common sense, all logic and natural laws.

    Still, another much smaller part of her wanted to believe,neededto believe. The chance to occupy such a gigantic abode¡ªeven if just temporarily¡ªmade her all giddy inside, like a hundred birthdays wrapped up into a single moment. Joy surged through her veins, the likes of which she''d never known. Back in her home country, only royalty dwelt in domiciles so big, so exuberant. Here, she could live like a queen.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    The driveway wrapped around to the right, leading to a detached garage behind the home. Bernard followed it a few feet but stopped just after the front door. When the car had been switched off, he and Emma exited at almost the same time, followed closely by their daughter.

    "You''re parking here, dear?" Emma inquired.

    "I''ll bring the car around back later," he replied. "This is just easier right now."

    With a confused blink, Ayda realized she was the only one left in the car. She fumbled around with the seatbelt for a moment, but figuring out how to undo it wasn''t difficult; just press the obvious button. The strap retracted and she opened the door, stepping out onto the asphalt.

    She peered straight up in wonder. It was even bigger up close. From this angle, it seemed to go on forever, its white brilliance illuminating the heavens. It was the most beautiful structure she''d ever seen.

    "Come on, let''s head inside," Bernard said, leading the way. Ayda hadn''t even noticed him come up beside her. She obeyed his request, falling in behind Jacqueline, who glanced quickly over her shoulder just to make sure Ayda indeed followed. The four of them ascended the short staircase to wait while Bernard fiddled with the locks.

    He opened up the double doors to permit them entrance. Immediately, Ayda was met with a grand stairway leading up to the second floor, flanked on both sides by doors which led to other parts of the home. To the left was a sitting area, complete with a big red couch, a matching chair off to the side, and the biggest flat screen television she''d ever seen hanging on the dark paneled wall. To the right, another red couch and a white end table, a closed door just past it. The floors were of a medium hardwood, crosshatched so the boards appeared woven.

    Ayda spun a full three-sixty, inspecting every inch of the massive space. This room alone, it seemed, was bigger than the average house where she came from. She knew that wasn''t actually true, but the fantasy was fun to think about.

    "What do you think," Bernard asked, a smile in his voice.

    "It''s amazing!" Ayda exclaimed. "I mean, I''d heard stories about places like this, but I never thought I''d actually get toseeone."

    "Well, get used to it," Bernard chuckled. "You''ll be seeing a lot of this place."

    "I don''t believe it," Ayda said. "Thank you so much, sir!" She spoke without thinking. The words just flowed out of her. She colored a little, embarrassed at her sudden show of emotion. Why was she so uncomfortable with expressing gratitude? Thankfulness itself wasn''t wrong, so why the resignation?

    "Don''t mention it," Bernard joked.

    "Why don''t you show Ayda to her room, Jackie?'' Emma suggested.

    "Okay! Come on, it''s this way." Jackie took off up the stairs. Ayda faltered for a moment before following.

    At the top of the stairs was a small landing area with the same flooring pattern as the entrance. It served as little more than a crossroads for all the rooms on the second story. Two sets of stairs wrapped around and back the other way at opposite ends to provide access to the third story.

    "That''s my room over there." Jackie pointed to a closed door at her right. "And yours is right around the corner here..." She turned left and opened a door just on the other side of the stars. "Ta-da!" She sang, with jazz hands for effect.

    Slowly, Ayda took a few steps into the room. Her expression could only be described as the definition of pure and unfathomable amazement. The room was a spacious perfect square, big enough to park a truck in. Fine olive carpet covered the floor. On the left wall was a short and wide bookcase filled with colorful tomes. An adorable teddy bear with a red bow tie perched on the middle shelf. The twin bed sat with headboard against the center of the far wall straight ahead, a tall window directly above it, a white hope chest on the floor at its foot. On the opposite wall from the bed, a plasma television hung above the wooden dresser. Finally, on the right wall, a black and white painting of a lighthouse atop a jagged rock in rough seas.

    Ayda couldn''t speak. A wash of emotions hit her all at once like a confusing tidal wave. She was happy, sad, confused, and even a little bit angry all at once. Her brain couldn''t comprehend any of what was happening. How could she even begin to digest it? Thankfully, Jacqueline was there to save her.

    "So, what do you think?" She invited herself in. Ayda snapped out of her daze and looked at the bubbly blonde. "Nice, right? I helped decorate it. I didn''t know what colors you''d like for the bed, so I went with a nice neutral grey. It doesn''t really match the carpet, though."

    "Is..." Ayda collected her thoughts. "Is all this stuff really mine?"

    "You bet," Jackie confirmed. "Every bit of it."

    "Even the T.V?"

    "Of course, silly." Jacqueline giggled. "Don''t tell me you''ve never had your own T.V before."

    Ayda shook her head. Jackie leaned forward with wide eyes and mouth agape, as if that were the most ridiculous thing she''d ever heard.

    "Well, everything in here belongs to you. I contributed these." Jackie walked over to the bed to retrieve a lavender button-up blouse Ayda hadn''t even noticed. There were matching trousers. She held it up for Ayda to see.

    "A shirt?" Ayda raised an eyebrow.

    "Pajamas!" clarified Jacqueline. "I thought you''d like to change into something more comfortable when you got here. They used to be mine. I hope you don''t mind my hand-me-downs."

    "They''re perfect," Ayda took the shirt. "Thank you." For the first time in what felt like forever, Ayda did something which had almost become completely foreign to her. She smiled.

    "I''m so glad you''re happy," Jackie returned the expression ten-fold. An awkward silence stretched between them, as neither was really sure what to say next. "Well, I guess I''ll let you get changed and stuff. Feel free to come downstairs whenever you like."

    "Okay," replied Ayda simply.

    Jackie spared one last curl of her lips before departing. Ayda hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath. Dropping the shirt onto the bed, she fiddled with the zipper in the back of her dress. It slid loudly and the garment fell around her ankles. Ayda stepped out of the fabric pile and retrieved the pants. She pulled them on in one swift motion. They were silky and soft, like wearing a pillow.

    "Hey, Ayda, I forgot to mention that¡ª" Jacqueline''s voice preceded her presence in the open door. A startled gasp escaped from her lips. Ayda was also surprised. She let out an uncharacteristic yelp and turned to the door, face ashen as it could be.

    "Don''t you ever knock, Jacqueline?"

    "No." Jacqueline shook her head. "Ayda..." She stepped into the room. Ayda shied away, but it was not her nakedness¡ªbare save for her bra¡ªwhich gave her such shame.

    Ayda''s torso was covered in scars. Most were the remnants of stitched up cuts. They sprung up through her skin at random intervals, at least a dozen in total. On her right hip bone was a dark, mottled pattern left behind by a severe burn. An awful, twisted bit of flesh on her left shoulder indicated where something had passed clean through. Perhaps most chilling, however, was a vertical cut which ran along her sternum. It must have missed her heart by millimeters.

    With gentle guidance, Jackie sat Ayda down on the bed. The latter wore a look of utter defeat. These marks were a travesty, the remnants of old failures. Each one represented a time where she should have been better, a time when the perfect warrior in her had slipped. At least, that''s what Dr. Vahlen always said.

    Jacqueline ran ginger fingers along some of the marks, tracing them with short, tender sweeps. Her touch was sweet. Her hands were cold.

    "Oh my God, Ayda," she breathed. "When they told us what you''d been through, I never imagined it would be this bad."

    Ayda hastily put her shirt on, glad to be covered up. She wasn''t exactly at the "seeing each other in their underwear" stage with Jacqueline just yet. Although, there she was slightly more concerned with something else in that moment.

    "They told you about me?" She inquired with a cautious tone.

    "Some stuff, yeah," Jackie said as if it were no big deal.

    "What kind ofstuff,Jacqueline?" Ayda insisted.

    "When we were approached about taking you in, the military told us a little bit about what you''d been through. They said you were kidnapped when you were six, that your real parents were killed. They said a bad man did horrible things to you, but they never said what or why."

    "Anything else?"

    "No, that''s about it," Jacqueline shrugged. "Dad knows more, but that''s all they told me and Mom."

    Ayda looked away. She was glad her secret was safe, but part of her hated everything Jacquelinedidknow. Jackie knew she was different, that she wasn''t like all the other girls. Ayda didn''twantto be different. All her life, the only thing she''d ever wanted was to be a normal child. Jackie''s revelation only served to reinforce the reality that she never would.

    Jacqueline immediately picked up on the shift in tone. She placed a gentle hand on Ayda''s wrist, little more than a light brush of fingertips.

    "But, Ayda, none of that matters to me," she said with a dire sincerity. Ayda met her gaze. "What matters is I''m your big sister, now, and there isn''t a force in the world strong enough to take that away. I''llalwaysbe here to protect you, to comfort you, and to guide you. There''ll be no more scars, not as long as I have anything to say about it. I promise."

    Ayda took on a curious cock to her head. With how incredible her fist day in America had gone so far, she almost believed what Jacqueline said. What little optimism remained within her wanted to, more than anything. But, she''d had people make wide, sweeping promises to her before. They spoke of changing the world, of needing her help to do it. That didn''t exactly turn out so well. No matter how kind or pure, one teenager could never keep out all the bad things.

    But she wasn''t in that place anymore. This was a whole new world, literally on the other side of the planet. It couldn''t be more different from her cell, and all she had to do for proof of that was look around. Her eyes fell upon the teddy bear on the bookshelf,herbookshelf. Something so cute and useless would never have been allowed in the research facility. Here, it existed without a care. If that dumb little toy could live unworried in this world, then why couldn''t she?

    So Ayda ignored her instincts. She ignored her past experiences with empty promises. She ignored the fact that, if anyone did the protecting around here, it was her. Ayda replaced all of this with something she hadn''t allowed herself to have for so long, she almost forgot what it felt like. It was just a shimmer, a glow off in the distance, but it was there. For the first time in six years, Ayda allowed herself to hope.

    "Okay," was all she said.

    "Hey," Jacqueline began, "why don''t we go shopping tomorrow, just us girls: you, me, and Mom? You can pick out some nice clothes, and we''ll stop for ice cream on the way home. Sound good?"

    Although there were probably much more important things Ayda could have said right then, only one thought ran pervasive through her mind.

    "What''s ice cream?" She said. Again, Jacqueline looked absolutely astonished.

    "Tell me you''re joking," she implored. Ayda shook her head. "Ice cream is probably the best thing in the world. I''s cold and sweet and refreshing and I know you''ll justloveit." She couldn''t help but get excited. "So, how about it? Girls'' day out?"

    "Okay," Ayda nodded.

    "Good." Jackie smiled. She wiped a stray hair from Ayda''s cheek. Her eyes took on a sudden puzzled slant. "I came in here to tell you something, but now I can''t remember what it was." They both laughed. "Well if I remember what it was, I''ll come backagain." Jackie stood and began to leave.

    "I''ll holler when dinner is ready," she said. Jacqueline paused at the door and turned back to Ayda. "Have you ever had pizza before," the blonde asked. Ayda again shook her head. Jackie wore a devilish grin. "I have so much to teach you."

    Again, Jacqueline started for the exit and actually left this time. Ayda began fastening the buttons on her new shirt. She didn''t really know what the appeal of clothes shopping was, but she was excited to try thisice creamJackie so greatly praised. She wiped a dry tear from her face. Her first day in America had been splendid, and the next sounded like a success as well.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 10: Shopping Spree

    Ayda had a decision to make. Faced with the extreme, oversized, and materialistic nature of American consumerism, as a foreigner she had two choices. She could either spend the next however long being constantly surprised by every new thing she saw, or simply ignore and accept them as the standard for first-world living. She chose the latter option, if only for sanity''s sake.

    However, walking through the most massive shopping center she''d ever seen, each new step tested her determination. Everything about it exceeded her expectations, which was both good and bad. Jacqueline had told her about places like these, about all the different stores, but Ayda could never have imagined the scale of it all. Every few feet was a new outlet, or kiosk, or shiny new car for sale, which caused Ayda to wonder how it even got in the building at all. Being at an odd hour¡ªafter lunch but before most folks got out of work¡ªthe concentration of people was not quite as dense as she''d predicted. It wasn''t quite on par with the airport, but still more individuals than she was used to dealing with.

    Ayda couldn''t help but look around, mesmerized despite her best efforts to remain mostly calm. She derived great enjoyment from peering into each storefront and trying to guess what sort of goods it specialized in. There were several clothing stores, little curio venders, a few different technology emporiums, an arcade full of things calledvideo games, and even a hole-in-the-wall selling old style weapons. She honestly would have been content to spend the rest of the day in there, but sword shopping wasn''t the point of the journey. No, Jacqueline had bigger plans for her.

    The blonde strode cheerfully at her right shoulder, with Emma supervising a step behind. Of course, Jacqueline had a specific goal in mind, but she allowed Ayda the time to look around, to take in her new surroundings. Frankly, Ayda found it a bit awkward, as if she was leading the pack yet had no idea where to go. She spoke to hopefully alleviate any discomfort.

    "What is this place called again?" This was perfect, because it filled the air and also asked a genuine question.

    "It''s a shopping mall," answered Jacqueline, "a place where a whole bunch of stores are all connected together."

    "Yeah but, why?" Ayda continued. "What''s the point?"

    "For convenience sake, so you don''t have to go all over the city to get the things you need," explained Emma. Ayda pondered this for a moment, tilting her head pensively.

    "So, it''s kinda like a farmer''s market, then?" She concluded.

    "Exactly," confirmed Emma, "except with more generalized merchandise."

    "And all indoors," Jackie added.

    They traveled for a moment longer in silence while Ayda contemplated all she''d just learned. It really made a lot of sense to her. People in big cities were busy. She''d already been privy to just how long it took to get anywhere in such a massive, crowded space, even by car. Stopping at several different locations to pick up a variety of things could easily take an entire day. City folk simply didn''t have the time for nonsense like that. Shopping malls, while undoubtedly vapid, were necessary.

    "I guess I just don''t understand how you can fit so much stuff in one place. It''s like... like everything I could ever want is right here, right in front of me." mused Ayda.

    "It is impressive, when you think about it," agreed Emma.

    Jacqueline, sensing another awkward pause coming on, took matters into her own hands, quite literally. She grabbed Ayda''s wrist and began to drag her ahead.

    "Come on, the store I want to take you to is up here. I think you''ll love it!"

    "Don''t pull me." Ayda yanked her hand away. Jackie paused mid-step to give her a wide-eyed expression.

    "Sorry, I wasn''t thinking," apologized the blonde.

    Ayda sighed. "Let''s just go." They resumed their walk. Jackie traveled a step ahead of Ayda, and kept her hands to herself.

    The store in question was by far the largest clothing outlet in the mall, and perhaps the biggest store in the building period. It actually had an escalator of its own. Ayda had never seen so many different garments in one concentrated spot. They were arranged by size and style, with the smallest pieces toward the front of the store. Although it was clearly themed toward teenage and young adult women, Ayda refused to believe some of the articles could cover a grown person without their midriff hanging out.

    The store smelled just slightly of a sweet perfume. The white and metal color palette was pure and clean, inviting to the eye and yet distinguished. The people within carried a certain pompous air about them, as if shopping there required some sort of entry criteria. Indeed, the fabrics seemed finely distinguished in their craftsmanship. That, paired with the lavish handbags and gold jewelry on display, denoted this as a high-end establishment. As a lower middle-class foreign girl, Ayda felt a bit out of place.

    To say Ayda hadn''t the first idea where to begin would have been putting it mildly. How could she pick her own outfits if she didn''t even know her size? Everything differed so greatly from what she was used to. None of the options presented seemed particularly appealing, but perhaps that was due to a lack of understanding. Seeing everything suspended on hangers or folded on tables gave little indication of how they would go together, and much less their potential appearance on her.

    Thankfully, the eagle-eyed Jacqueline was on the case. She''d arrived with a plan, after all. Doubtless, the blonde had already decided round about what she would cobble together for Ayda long before they arrived. She led both her sister and mother up and down a few select aisles, but never up to the second story. Shame, Ayda kind of wanted to ride the escalator.

    Jacqueline''s incessant determination to dress Ayda up in nothing but the latest trend was what found the latter girl standing in a cramped fitting room, holding up a pink shirt with a look both skeptical and mortified.

    "Are you serious?" She called out the cubical to her companions waiting outside.

    "Come on, just try it," encouraged Jackie. "It''ll beadorable."

    "If you say so," Ayda conceded with a sigh. She refused to believe such frivolous garments could be in any way adorable, but was willing to at least try if it placated Jackie.What could possibly go wrong?

    Ayda emerged from the fitting room, all dressed up in the outfit Jackie had chosen. Her stride was awkwardly pigeonholed by the heels she wore. The aforementioned pink top was lightly ruffled around the modestly swooping neckline. The semigloss fabric caught the light in muted reflections. Ayda nervously picked at the hem on her flowy pleated skirt in a desperate attempt to drag it down just a few centimeters to cover her knees.

    "You lookfabulous!" Commended Jacqueline. "What do you think?"

    "I feel so exposed!" Ayda said quickly. "I knew I shouldn''t have let you pick."

    "You don''t like it?" Jackie''s entire body sagged in defeat. Ayda gave her a pained expression.

    "Honestly, no. I''m sorry, but I don''t think it''s really my thing." Not that Ayda knew what herthingwas in the first place. "Um, I like the shoes, though," she added quickly. "I could probably do some real damage with this spike thing." She lifted one foot off the ground for emphasis.

    "Those are high heels. They''re for fashion, not fighting." Jackie couldn''t hide a hint indignation from her voice.

    "Why don''t we look for something else?" Interjected Emma. "Maybe you''d like something simpler, like some nice jeans?"

    "Sure, give it a shot." Ayda swiftly agreed. Anything to get out of these ridiculous togs. She disappeared into the fitting room to again adorn her floral pattern dress. If nothing else, she only had to put up with this for a bit longer.

    The trio delved into the depths of consumerism, once more in search of garments, but this time for something more appropriate. Emma provided more input this go around, although Jacqueline still did most of the picking. Ayda kept her mouth shut about that. These people were her best shot at a semi-normal life, espeically after everything she''d been through. She had to at least try and get along, for her sake if for no one else.

    They came across an outfit much quicker this time. Either Jackie had a backup plan, or sensible ensembles were easier to build. Ayda had more faith in the latter.

    When again she emerged from the fitting room, everything about her simply exuded confidence. Her steps were even and comfortable, expression contented, and posture relaxed, all in sharp contrast to just a few minutes ago.

    Her outfit started with another sleeveless pink blouse, but this time simpler in design and less revealing. The only big of skin it showed (other than the arms, obviously) was through a short, narrow V cut in the neckline. Dark blue jeans clung to her lower body. Comfortable black and white sneakers adorned her feet.

    "This issomuch better," Ayda smiled. "Had a hard time getting the pants on, though. Are you sure they''re my size?"

    "They might be a bit small, but that kind of cut is supposed to be tight," explained Jackie.

    "Are American pants always so clingy?"

    "Sometimes. It depends on your mood. That''s what''s so great about fashion, it''s an expression of yourself." Jacqueline said. Ayda narrowed her eyes just slightly. She didn''t really understand how clothing could be an expression of anything other than keeping warm. Maybe she was missing something?

    "You look wonderful, dear." Emma changed the subject.

    "Itdoessuit you a lot better," admitted her daughter.

    "I feel a lot better," agreed Ayda. "I''m a lot more mobile, like I could break into a sprint whenever I wanted."

    "Well, I guess that''s a good thing," Emma said with a shrug.

    "Come on, let''s go find more, now that we know what to look for." Jackie took Ayda''s wrist again, but did not pull her along this time. Instead, she allowed her to follow of her own accord. "Isn''t this fun, Ayda?"

    "Yeah, it''s a lot better than I thought it would be."This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    "What''sthatsupposed to mean?"

    Emma laughed at the girls'' banter.

    Ayda swiftly lost track of exactly how much time she spent inside the clothing store. She didn''t remember much about shopping back before being taken, but she knew it was never an enjoyable time. What made this instance different? It could have been maturity or, more likely, the present company. Jacqueline always had something funny or interesting to say, and Emma''s calm grace provided the perfect balance.

    All in all, Ayda made out with an entire wardrobe''s worth of garments. She knew little about combining different articles, but Jackie claimed she could go a few months without ever wearing the same assemblage twice. That seemed somewhat unlikely, but Ayda went along with it. Jacqueline probably knew what she was talking about, and if not, Emma seemed to have a level head on her shoulders.

    The trio approached one of the several food counters set into the borders of the court. They waited in a short line. Ayda took a gander at the menu, and was immediately more bewildered than she''d been for a very long time. Combinations of words she''d never so much as considered before crossed her consciousness. How was a split banana supposed to be a treat? WasSundaymisspelled on purpose?At Emma''s suggestion, she went with something which sounded safe. Then again, cones usually meant caution. Maybe this wasn''t a good idea.

    They sat down at a little table constructed of white plastic wires, meant for a maximum of four people, bolted to the ground for some reason. Jacqueline put her purse on the floor and immediately began sucking on something called a coffee milkshake. Emma had ordered on of thoseSundaes¡ªAyda couldn''t get over how wrong that word looked¡ªwhich was really just vanilla ice cream with molten caramel and nuts on top. Ayda herself stared pensively into a tall soft serve cone, pure white dessert spiraled atop a light as air wafer handle.

    "So, how do I start this?" She asked.

    "You lick it," Emma replied simply.

    "Go for the curl on top first," Jackie added. "That''s what I always do."

    Ayda raised an eyebrow at them. Licking it seemed a bit barbaric, not to mention degrading. Not too late to back out. Though, the Belmonts probably wouldn''t eat it if there were any sort of danger. The cone hadn''t left her hand since being prepared, and it came from the same machine as Emma''s order. What would they think if she didn''t eat it? Nothing ventured, nothing gained, and she stood to gain a whole lot. Ayda tooka big chomp right off the top of the spiral. She immediately winced.

    "It''s cold!" She cried out.

    Pain quickly gave way to rapture as she worked the concoction around. Ayda practically melted at the sensation which crept through her being. Jackie giggled.

    "Good, isn''t it?" She joked.

    "It''s the best thing I''ve ever tasted!" Ayda hastily look another large portion with her tongue, ignoring the laughter which emanated from her companions.

    The three slipped off into their own little world, oblivious to the environment around them. Ayda attacked her ice cream cone with the ferocity of a feasting barbarian, while the others fed on her infectious energy. It was a kind and simple moment, where time slowed down to focus on the importance of happiness and family.

    But peace was fleeting. The laws of nature paused for no man, or woman in this case. Where one person found solace, another saw only opportunity. A man wearing sunglasses and dressed all in black shuffled through the crowd. Hands were in the pockets of his hoodie, he was trying to look invisible. These three ladies were clearly well-to-do. They never even saw him coming.

    In one fluid motion, the man bent down and snatched up Jacqueline''s purse. However, the man was not a very smart thief. Without missing a single step, he took off running. The women snapped focus all at once on to the sound of heavy footsteps sprinting away.

    "Hey, my purse!" Jackie called after him. "That man stole my purse! Someone stop him! Thief!"

    While Jacqueline just sat there uselessly calling for help, Ayda had already sprung into action. She gave chase to the man, pushing off the table for a little extra starting momentum. When her soles actually hit the ground, she was already at a sprint.

    Now, Ayda was pretty fast on her feet, especially for a twelve-year-old girl, but this thief must have been an Olympic sprinter. Even running full out, she hadn''t the slightest prayer of catching him. Not under her own power, anyway. She needed help. The choice whether or not to use her abilities was never really a debate. The man had Jackie''s bag. He wouldnotget away with it.

    However, Ayda was smart enough to exercise at least a modicum of discretion. She needn''t much to catch him, just enough to provide a boost. She created miniscule blasts underneath her feet, almost indistinguishable at the speed she was moving and inaudible over the natural din of music, people, and ventilation. Still, it gave her the advantage she needed.

    But that was not the only thing working in her favor. Being the one in the lead, it was the thief''s burden to push through the crowd. By the time Ayda reached where he''d just been, the sea had already parted. Charging his way through confused groups slowed him considerably.

    Within not even a minute, Ayda had closed the gap. She leapt at him. At the sudden weight on his back, the man missed a step and crumbled to the floor. They slid along the tile for a moment, a hopeless tangle of limbs. Ayda shifted her weight to the right, ensuring she would not roll underneath her victim.

    When they skidded to a halt, she swiftly transitioned into a standard top guard, straddling the man''s lower back. With one hand, she snatched up the bag. In the same motion, she pressed his head into the ground with the other. He squirmed and bucked, trying to throw her off, but his speed did not translate into strength. Although maybe half his age, Ayda was far stronger. Wiry muscle could not win him the day. He wasn''t going anywhere.

    Ayda bared her teeth, applying more pressure to the thief''s head. He stopped struggling before too long, utterly defeated. It was over. She had won. She rescued Jackie''s bag. That would probably put her in their good graces.

    Gratification morphed into disarray as Ayda felt a chill run down her spine, as if a thousand eyes judged her all at once. She looked around. A small crowd had formed around the scene. Onlookers gazed down at them in a mix of anxiety and shock. Why did they all look so afraid? She stopped a thief. That was a good thing, right?

    Ayda peered through the gathering, and her heart sank. Emma and Jacqueline ran up to the outer edge of the pack. Jackie had her hands clasped in front of her mouth, and Emma wore an expression which could only be described as concerned disappointment. Why were they so surprised?

    There was little time to think about any of this, however, as two security guards stormed onto the scene. One ripped Ayda off the perpetrator, while the other quickly put him in handcuffs. Ayda knew why the guard restrained her. He wanted to make sure she wouldn''t to hurt the thief anymore. It made sense.

    It wasn''t until they were both dragged off in the same direction that Ayda began to panic. She pulled at her new aggressors in a vain attempt to free herself. The guard was easily three times her size, and had the finger strength to back it up.

    "Where are you taking me?" She screamed. "The thief is right there, I had nothing to do with it! Hey, wait, WAIT!"

    ¡­

    Another dimly lit room, although this one not by design. One of the long florescent lights had burned out, shrouding the latter half in relative darkness. Ayda remained well illuminated, though. Light shone like a spot on her slumped shoulders, reflecting off the cuffs which held her to a bolted down metal chair.

    Save for the aforementioned chair and a fake little tree in the left hand corner, the room was mostly undecorated. Wider than it was long, this was a holding area of sorts. It operated as a halfway point for detainees while they waited for either interrogation or judgment. Ayda had been brought there after her altercation with the thief.

    It had been a half hour, if not a little longer. One thing the room lacked, probably on purpose, was a clock. Thirty minutes to stew in her own pitied puzzlement, to wonder what she''d done wrong. No matter how many times Ayda went through the events in her head, all her decisions seemed perfectly justified. Maybe she''d tackled the thief a bit too hard? It was the only logical conclusion she could come to.

    The door to her right swung open. A security guard entered, idly jingling a set of keys in his right hand. Ayda slowly looked up at him, expression grim, prepared for the worst. The guard bent down to fiddle with the restraints but to her surprise, instead of unclasping her from the chair, he freed her hand first.

    "Alright, you''re free to go," he said in a naturally gruff tone.

    "You''re letting me go?" Ayda wondered, massaging her wrist.

    "Yeah, we just had to make sure you weren''t involved, is all." He took a breath. "We appreciate the sentiment, just don''t do it again."

    ¡°You thought I was involved?¡± Ayda stood. ¡°But I was clearly chasing the guy!¡±

    ¡°Yes, but it''s more complicated than that.¡±

    ¡°It seems pretty simple to me,¡± declined Ayda. The guard sighed.

    ¡°Firstly, vigilantism is illegal, so even if you did the right thing, you still broke the law. Secondly, we didn''t know at the time if the thief was working alone. If not, his accomplices would probably try to look for the little girl who brought him down.¡±

    ¡°I could''ve taken them, if they did,¡± Ayda insisted.

    ¡°Right, of course you could.¡± The guard rolled his eyes. ¡°Beyond all of that, you could''ve taken something from the purse yourself, but your sister confirmed nothing was missing, so we ruled that out. Finally, that entire scene could''ve been a distraction for us while something else went down in the mall. There''s more, but that''s the gist of it.¡±

    ¡°What? I already told you I''m not involved!¡±

    ¡°And we know that now.¡± The guard remained calm, but there was a hint of tension on his face. ¡°We had to hold you until our investigation was complete. Be glad it didn''t take longer.¡±

    ¡°That''s bullshit,¡± Ayda muttered.

    ¡°It''s necessary,¡± the guard countered. ¡°You''re free to go, but if you continue to be defiant, I can put you right back in those cuffs.¡±

    ¡°No, I get it.¡± Ayda deflated. ¡°I don''t like it, but I get it."

    ¡°Good,¡± the guard nodded. ¡°You''re lucky your dad is such an influential person. This would''ve taken a lot longer if he didn''t vouch for you.¡±

    "Bernard is here?" Was the only thing Ayda could think to say.

    "He''s right outside, wating to take you home. Come on."

    The security guard exited the room, motioning for Ayda to do the same. She slowly followed, dreading any sort of confrontation with Bernard. Still, she was mature enough to accept her punishment. She walked out the door, head hung low.

    Just as the guard had said, Bernard awaited her a few feet outside the holding room. With a deep breath, Ayda raised her eyes to meet his unnecessarily gentle ones. She took even steps over to him, trying to appear as calm as possible. That all disintegrated, though, the moment she opened her mouth.

    "Bernard, I''m sorry. That man came by and he grabbed Jackie''s bag and I didn''t know what else to do so I caught him but then everyone was looking at me and¡ª" She spoke at a mile a minute, trying to get everything out all at once, mortified she''d messed all of this up. She half expected Colonel Hammond to walk around the corner and take her away. Instead, Bernard laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she stopped.

    "It''s okay, Ayda. You''re not in trouble," he said slowly.

    "I''m not?"

    "No. If anything," he got down on one knee, "I''m proud of you for being so brave, but you can''t just chase after criminals like that. Think about how worried Emma was, how worriedIwas when I got the call."

    "But that guy had Jackie''s purse," Ayda argued. "He was gonna get away with it."

    "That''s a problem for the police to handle, not a little girl. What if you''d gotten hurt?"

    "I''m not a little girl," Ayda muttered. "That doesn''t make any sense, Bernard! If I can do something to stop him, then I should just do it. Why would I let him get away?"

    "Because he could''ve been dangerous," Bernard countered. "He could''ve had a knife or a gun. We have policemen to handle people like him."

    "Guns have never been a problem for me before," perhaps unwisely, Ayda copped an attitude. "We both know he couldn''t have hurt me, even if he wanted to."

    The energy in the room immediately shifted. Bernard inclined his head. Ayda didn''t know what was going on, but she felt suddenly quite troubled.

    "That''s actually what I wanted to talk to you about," Bernard said lowly. "You used your powers to catch him, didn''t you?"

    Ayda didn''t respond, only nodded her head. Why did adults insist on asking questions they already knew the answer to? Bernard''s grasp on her shoulder tightened ever so slightly.

    "Ayda, listen to me. It''s important you don''t use your powers in public. Your case is still classified. No one can know about you, understand?" Although perfectly calm, his tone was grave.

    "Why not?"

    "Because the world isn''t ready for someone like you, not yet. Think of the panic if it got out that people with strange powers walked among us. There''d be a witch hunt, and it wouldn''t be just you. People would falsely accuse others of having powers. They would be afraid, and when people are afraid, they get violent. We''d have a crises on our hands. People would get hurt.Youwould get hurt. Ithasto remain a secret, okay?"

    "Doesn''t that seem a bit extreme?" Ayda gave him a sideways glance. All that because of one girl? It sounded utterly ridiculous.

    "Maybe, but it''s already happened once before. Back in the sixteen-hundreds, there was an event called the Salem Witch Trials, which was exactly what I just described. People accused their friends and neighbors, even family members, of having magical powers. The guilty were imprisoned, tortured, and killed, and back then the magic wasn''t even real. Imagine what would happen if it really was?"

    Ayda looked down. She knew nothing about these supposed trials, but something told her Bernard wouldn''t lie, not about something so important.

    "Please, Ayda." Bernard took her other shoulder. "There will come a time when we can tell the whole world about you, it just isn''t right now. You have to keep everything a secret, for the good of humanity."

    When he put it like that, Ayda found the entire situation much more agreeable. She liked the idea of helping people, and by keeping her big secret, she could do so every single day.

    "Okay," she agreed.

    "Okay," parroted Bernard. He stood and placed his hand between Ayda''s shoulders, leading her down the corridor. "Come on, let''s go find Emma and Jackie. They''re worried sick."

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 11: Making the Grade

    Jackie dashed through the mansion sitting room, little more than a blonde blur. She could be heard rummaging around in the den, but from the top of the stairs, Ayda hadn''t the slightest idea what she could be doing. Jackie didn''t stay in one spot for long. She ran from the den to the kitchen, again little more than a streak. Even Ayda with all her enhanced vision and reflexes couldn''t fully make her out.

    "Come on, Ayda!" Jacqueline called. "You''re gonna be late!" Her voice snapped the younger girl back to reality. Slowly, she began to descend the stairs.

    "How can I be late?" She wondered aloud. "I''m not actually going anywhere."

    "It was a figure of speech!" Jackie shouted back, sounding just a little distressed. Ayda pondered this for a moment.

    "No, I don''t think it was." She hit the bottom of the stairs. "But maybe my English isn''t all that great."

    "Of course it was," responded Jacqueline, markedly quieter.

    "I''ll take your word for it," Ayda muttered. "Shouldn''t you be getting ready for school, anyway?" She asked of Jackie.

    "This isn''t about me, Ayda," Jacqueline said.

    A moment later she appeared in the door from the kitchen to the sitting area. She wore her private school uniform, a feminine cut burgundy blazer, white skirt, black stockings and matching shoes. A stack of folded white towels rested on her forearms. She assumed a cockeyed stance, as if to bring attention to the fact that shewasready for school.

    "Youhaveto make a good impression."

    "I don''t think cleaning the house will help me do that," challenged Ayda. Jacqueline was about to offer a rebuttal, but the appearance of her mother at the top of the stairs cut her off.

    "I have to agree with Ayda this time, honey," Emma said as she made her way down.

    "But they''re gonna be here any minute now!" Jacqueline wasn''t even trying to calm down.

    "It''s sweet you''re so concerned, but your sister will be fine," insisted Emma.

    "I can deal with a little homeschooling," added Ayda. "I''ve been through worse before.

    "Still though,"Jackie began. She looked from her mother, to Ayda, and back again, attempting to collect her thoughts.

    She seemed about to say something but once again was cut short, but this time by the doorbell. All three heads turned to the sound, focusing in on the entrance to the homestead. Jacqueline''s eyes grew to the circumference of baseballs. She had been operating on a tight schedule before, but now was officially and completely out of time. Jacqueline peered around the room, unsure of how to proceed or what she was supposed to do with the towels in her hands.

    "That must be them," Emma commented. She slipped past her daughters and made for the door.

    Jacqueline dashed up the stairs. Again, Ayda found herself impressed at the blonde''s speed. Her sister could be a track star if sports interested her in the slightest. She had bigger problems at the moment, though, as Emma opened the door. Light spilled in from the morning outside. Ayda tried to get a look at the bell ringer but couldn''t quite see, both for the rearward illumination and Emma standing in the way.

    "Hi," Emma greeted enthusiastically.

    "Hey there," a disembodied female voice answered. They embraced briefly.

    "It''s good to see you again," said Emma.

    "You too," the other woman responded, completing the exchange of pleasantries.

    "Please, come in." Emma turned to permit the visitors entrance with a gesture to the interior of the home. They crossed the precipice and Ayda''s heart sank, for there were two guests instead of just one.

    The first newcomer was a tall, thin woman in her late thirties with long dark hair pulled into a tight braid, but she was not the problem. No, the issue at hand was the sandy blond boy at her left. He was about Ayda''s age, and just a tad shorter. From his buttoned up posture, he was either nervous or anxious. Ayda couldn''t really tell. The two of them locked eyes, and he took a small step back.

    "Ayda," began Emma, "this is Karen. She''ll be your tutor."

    "It''s good to meet you," Karen said, holding out her hand. Ayda accepted the gesture. The shake was quick and a bit limp. "This is my son, Rudolph," Karen gestured toward the lad. "Rudy, say ''hi.''"

    Rudolph gave a quick wave, and Ayda returned it in kind. The entire situation made her a little uncomfortable. The woman she could deal with, but no one told her there''d be aboyinvolved.

    "I hope you don''t mind me bringing him along," Karen continued. "He has the day off from school today and the sitter canceled, so..."

    "Oh, it''s no problem at all," Emma batted away the notion. In the same moment, Jacqueline appeared at the top of the stairs.

    "Sorry, give me a minute," she called down. The blonde hurried down the stairs to join the others. "I''m Jackie, Ayda''s sister." She shook hands with Karen. "It''s nice to meet you, Mrs. Steiner."

    "No-no, The pleasure is all mine," Karen said. Jacqueline moved on to Rudolph, bending over just slightly so their faces were even.

    "Andyoumust be the teacher''s aide," she said with a bright smile. There was yet another handshake, but Jacqueline made sure to keep this one swift, as Rudolph was already uncomfortable enough.

    "Well, I hate to run off so quickly," Emma bluntly moved the situation along, "but we really need to get Jackie to school. Come on, dear."

    "Okay," Jackie said. Breaking away from the group, she fell in behind her mother.

    Ayda could feel her heart rate skyrocket. She peered at each person individually, going over them all several times. Was it suddenly hotter in the room?

    "You mean you''re not staying?" She called after her departing family members with a single step in their direction. Emma turned to her with a soft expression.

    "Don''t worry, I''ll be back before you know it," she said gently. "You can trust Karen. She''s a friend of mine."

    "You have nothing to be afraid of, Ayda," Karen added. "I promise I don''t bite." The dark-haired woman smiled in the most comforting way she knew how.

    Ayda hung her head, She wasn''t exactly enthused over the situation, but knew there was little choice in the matter. It wasn''t that she felt intimidated by Karen, or Rudy, for that matter. They posed absolutely zero threat to someone like her. It was the fact that she didn''t know them, that they were new people, which made her uneasy.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    "Okay," Ayda agreed begrudgingly.

    "Okay," nodded Emma. "Come on, Jackie."

    Jacqueline spared a hug for her sister. The embrace was quick, just a light squeeze, but it consoled Ayda more than anything else up to that point.

    "You''ll do great. Study hard, alright?" Jacqueline said. Ayda gave a quick nod. Jackie beamed once more, lightly brushed Ayda''s shoulder, and then disappeared with her mother behind the front door before Ayda really had time to react.

    The atmosphere in the room shifted dramatically. Emma and Jackie left far quicker than Ayda had expected them to. Left alone with Karen and her son, she hadn''t he faintest idea what to do with herself. She could practically reach out and punch the awkwardness stretching between them. Punching something seemed like a good idea, actually. It would help relieve some of the stress.

    "Why don''t we move into the den, Ayda?" Karen suggested. "I think that''d be more comfortable." She didn''t give either child a chance to decide before making her own way off to the right. Rudolph remained close behind. Ayda glanced at the front door, and then went along as well.

    The upside down L shaped den was just as immaculately decorated as the rest of the home. Dark hardwood ran south to north along the floor. The far wall was lined with eight windows, each separated by thin strips of wall. Around the corner to the right were a brown leather couch and an accompanying easy chair perpendicular to it. Both were canted on an angle to face the white marble fireplace. In front of the couch lay a simple, square, dark wood coffee table.

    Karen and her son went over to the sitting area. The older woman sat down on the left end of the couch. She set her bag on the table and began rummaging through it, but didn''t get very far. Rudolph stood at her side, hands in his pockets. Ayda watched all of this from behind the couch a few feet away.

    "Why don''t you got sit in the chair and play on your phone, honey?" Karen requested of the boy. He nodded and began toward his indicated destination. "Thank you for being so patient with me today."

    "I wish the sitter hadn''t canceled," Rudolph said offhandedly as he sat down.

    "I''m sorry, sweetie. Just tough it out for one day, alright?" Karen did her best to cheer him up. It didn''t seem to take all that well, though, as Rudolph just picked his smart phone from his pocket and began pressing the screen. Her son occupied, Karen turned her attentions to the student. She patted the cushion next to her.

    "Come on, Ayda. Have a seat," she requested before returning to her bag.

    Ayda followed instructions. Sitting next to some strange woman, she all of a sudden didn''t know what to do with her hands. Vacant of a better option, she hunched forward and clasped them between her knees, shoulders tensed uncomfortably.

    "I know you''re nervous, but you really don''t have to be," said Karen. "I''ve been doing this since before you were born."

    Ayda couldn''t tell if this statement was supposed to make her feel at ease or not. She never doubted the woman knew her craft. Expertise was not the issue. The problem was Karen herself, and being left alone with her, an unknown factor she had no reason to trust. Ayda decided to remain silent, mostly for a lack of anything to say.

    "I understand you have a lot to catch up on." Karen finally found the thing she had been looking for. A thick red book was laid on the table. Across the top read one word in big purple letters,Math.

    "What did they tell you?" Ayda couldn''t help from becoming a little bit defensive. Again, just as with Jackie on her first day in America, she felt her story was her own to tell. No one else had the right to talk about it.

    "You''re parents? Just that you were taken out of school when you were six and you have a lot to catch up on." Karen paused. "Is that right?"

    Ayda nodded, resisting the temptation to saysort of. That concern out of the way, Karen continued on speaking.

    "They want you to get into the same school as Jacqueline, if only for a couple years," she said. "Would that interest you?"

    Ayda perked right up at that. She''d always wanted to go to school just like a normal girl, and the prospect of attending a fancy private school excited her greatly. She nodded.

    "I thought you might say that, but that means we have a lot of ground to cover. Do you think you''re up to the task?" Karen grinned.

    Now, Ayda may not have ever actually been to a school, but she wasn''t born yesterday, either. She knew Karen was playing to her emotions, here, using a natural childhood desire to create some sort of common goal. However, Ayda couldn''t have cared less. A great fire grew within her, burning with determination. Again she nodded, this time full of gusto.

    "That''s the spirit," commended Karen. "Thankfully, private lessons like this allow us a bit more freedom in the lesson plan. We can focus on exactly what you need help with and hopefully move along quite a lot faster than kids in a traditional academic setting."

    "Can we really compress six years of school that much?" Ayda had to ask. Although optimistic, she was skeptical about the entire situation. It seemed a gargantuan task.

    "Well, you''d be surprised how much of school is just review. We can cut all of that out, and get to the tests a lot faster. Which, brings me to our first order of business."

    Karen cracked open the red book and began flipping through the pages. When she reached the desired part, near the beginning of the tome, she transitioned to her bag once again. The woman extracted a yellow pencil and a numbered piece of white lined paper, both of which were handed to Ayda.

    "I''d like to start with a pop quiz, just to get a feel for where you''re at."

    "No one told me there''d be a test." Ayda glared at the book with disgust. Her first ever lesson wasn''t going very well. Though she''d never taken a quiz before, some instinct deep down told her to loath them.

    "Yeah, I know, I''m sorry. You''re gonna have to take on in each core subject, I''m afraid. No one likes tests, but I need to see what you already know, so I can figure out what you need to learn."

    Ayda sighed. Of course, that made absolutely perfect sense. While Ayda accepted the necessary inevitability of such assessments, that didn''t mean she had to be happy about it.

    "Am I gonna be graded or anything?" It seemed unfair to potentially grade her on things she might not have ever encountered.

    "No, of course not," Karen shook her head. "This is just so I can get a feel for where you''re at."

    Good. That was a tremendous load of Ayda''s shoulders. Just a little aptitude test. No pressure, right? She took the pencil between her fingers and leaned forward, ready to get started. Absently, she was surprised her hand still remembered how to hold a pencil. Just like riding a bike... which she couldn''t do.

    "Alright, how does this work?" Ayda asked, looking from the piece of paper to the book. Karen also leaned forward, pointing out each section as she spoke of them.

    "See how the examples in the book are all numbered?" She began. "Those numbers correspond with the ones on the paper. Copy down each problem, and then solve it to the best of your ability. Don''t worry about showing your work or anything."

    "So, I don''t have to do all of them?"

    "No, just the ones I picked out for you."

    Ayda shrugged and put her pencil down on the paper. It seemed simple enough. Out of courtesy, Karen stood and began walking around the room so Ayda could have some space to work in peace.

    Her biological parents had done their best to teach her a little bit of basic math. The test Ayda took now was nothing she hadn''t seen before, just a bunch of basic addition and subtraction. As she got to work, she wondered just what she had been so worried about. This was easy, the kind of work you''d give to a kindergartener. But, Ayda couldn''t be offended by it. Again, it was all just to ferret out her current skill level. Karen had given her something akin to the level of education she assumed Ayda had received, and the dark-haired woman wasn''t too far off the money.

    There weren''t many questions, only about thirty. The choice in which ones were taken from the book seemed mostly random. It made sense to Ayda that, as she progressed further down the page, the material would become gradually harder, but that was not the case at all. The difficulty was completely inconsistent, with later questions being much harder than some of those from before, and vice-versa. Ayda knew not to linger on it, lest she distract herself, but she''d have to try and figure out the reasoning behind it later.

    In what felt like no time at all, Ayda had finished all of the given problems. She sat up.

    "Done," she declared.

    "Okay, let me take a look." Karen sat down next to Ayda and took the paper in one hand. Her eyes swiftly made their way down the page. Ayda looked on, proud of her work. She felt confident. It had been a simple task, child''s play. She awaited her eventual praise. However, it wouldn''t come.

    "Alright, well, it''s good, but there''s definitely room for improvement," Karen mused lightly.

    Ayda''s shoulders slumped, her expression sagged. She thought she did well, but clearly what was not the case. From his chair, Rudolph chortled. Ayda shot him an acrid glower which he didn''t see. Another outburst like that, and he''d find out what that stupid phone of his tasted like.

    "But, there''s nothing wrong with that," Karen quickly recovered the situation. "That''s the whole reason we''re doing this, right? To see what you''re good at? Why don''t we go over the answers together, and then we''ll move on to Language Arts?"

    Feeling disheartened, Ayda leaned in closer to Karen so she could better see the test. The older woman started in on one of the questions Ayda had answered incorrectly, which just so happened to be the first example. While not quite as confident as just moments ago, Ayda was sure the next subject would go much smoother. She already spoke English, after all. How hard could it be?

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 12: Endeavors

    Ayda thought it would be a good day. Completely out of the blue the night before, Bernard had asked if she wanted to come to work with him. This offer immediately piqued her interest. Bernard never really talked about his job. Ayda wasn''t even entirely sure what he did at all, except that he worked for the government, which she''d already guessed, otherwise he never would''ve even known she existed.

    So, naturally, she jumped at the chance to accompany him, but it''d be a lie to say curiosity alone contributed to the decision. It was a weekday, Friday. Going with Bernard meant skipping classes. Now, Ayda harbored no ill will toward her teacher, but all children naturally resented school. Those who claimed otherwise were liars. The chance to get off the hook, even for one day¡ªweekends excluded¡ªwas an opportunity Ayda simply couldn''t pass up.

    She now stood in Bernard''s office, a place where what had started as a good day turned bitterly south. They were not alone in the room. A scientist, as denoted by his lab coat, stood in the corner northwest from the entrance next to a fake potted tree, partially obscured by it as if trying to hide. For a wonder, Colonel Hammond also shared the space, although his presence demanded slightly less attention. He leaned against the south wall, nestled between the door and a cozy landscape painting. Bernard stood behind his mahogany desk by the east wall, while Ayda occupied the dead center of the room. Her stance was buttoned-up and tense, face contorted in rage.

    "NO!" She shouted at the top of her lungs. The scientist behind the plant winced and took a small step further behind the foliage. He was probably the smartest person in the room at the moment.

    "Ayda, calm down," Bernard began with a poor choice of words. "The tests we want to run are perfectly safe, and¡ª"

    "Are you serious? No! I can''t believe you would even ask!" Ayda stood firm. From where he stood, Colonel Hammond audibly facepalmed.

    "I knew we should''ve waited more than six months." He dropped his hand. "Honestly, what did you think would happen, Bernard?"

    "I thought we could maybe reach an understanding," Bernard said.

    "There''s nothing to understand," yelled Ayda. "I won''t be a plaything for a bunch of scientists, not again. End of story."

    "You''re not aplaything," Bernard said it with palpable disdain. "Everything we do will be under close supervision and with¡ª"

    "I don''t care if Jesus fucking Christ is watching!" Ayda''s voice reverberated off the plaster walls. A stunned silence gripped the room. Hammond smirked to himself. In her native language of Persian, Ayda cursed them all. She let out a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. "This conversation is over. I''m leaving."

    Ayda made her way over to the door, but her path was suddenly blocked. Arms crossed, the Colonel stepped in front of the exit. He gave her a stern glare. Ayda cocked her stance to one side, completely unimpressed.

    "Do youreallythink you can stop me, Colonel?" She challenged. Hammond did not respond. "What are you evendoinghere?"

    "Since your case is still technically a military matter, someone needs to oversee the operations," he explained. "As the highest ranking officer closest to you, I was volunteered."

    "Volunteered?" Ayda parroted. She rounded on the scientists. "And what about you, Bernard? Were youvolunteered, or did you only take me in so you could run your sick experiments? You never really cared about me at all, did you?"

    Another silence stretched in the office, this one more uncomfortable than anything else. Bernard looked as if he''d just seen a ghost. The man hiding behind the tree held down one of the leaves with a finger, eyes darting between the father and daughter. Hammond still stood in front of the door, but he too wore a softened expression.

    "Ayda..." Bernard breathed. He moved out from behind his desk and started toward the girl. At the same time, Hammond walked to the other side of the room. Bernard got down on one knee. Again, she was just slightly taller than him from here. He tried to put a gentle hand on her shoulder, but Ayda violently shook him off. Instead, he braced both palms on his knee. He breathed in.

    "I will admit, we weren''t the only family approached about your situation. If I''m being perfectly honest, we weren''t even the first, although things did move along quite fast. My instincts as a father were what drew me to you, not as a scientist. I didn''t care about the research or the money, I just saw an innocent little girl who never got the chance to have a childhood, to have friends, to play outside or be free. I couldn''t just leave you there, especially when you reminded me so much of my own daughter. I want to help you, Ayda, but the only way I can do that is if I understand you first."

    "How do I know you''re not just telling me what I want to hear?" Ayda responded immediately. She broke eye contact with him. "The last scientist I knew was pretty good at that."

    "That''s not fair, Ayda, you know it''s not." Bernard leaned back, genuinely offended. Then, without warning, he grabbed her up in his arms. He took a long, shuddering breath. "Please don''t compare me to him. You''ll break my heart."

    They separated. The room fell eerily still. Even the air seemed to cease circulation. Bernard had nothing to say, Ayda had far too much going through her head to speak, and no one else dared open their mouths. This moment was between the two of them, and nobody else.

    The quiet did give Ayda some uninterrupted time to think, though. On the one hand, she knew comparing Bernard to Vahlen was a low blow. The two were so different, it was hard to believe they even belonged to the same species. On the other, the fact that Bernard would consider conducting tests on her even in his faintest fantasies both amazed and appalled her. Hammond was right to question him. Did hehonestlythink Ayda would just accept his offer, especially after everything she''d been through? A thousand years would not have been enough time. However, though all that, something he said stood out. One specific word, actually. Something she''d seldom been offered in earnest.

    "You really want to help me?" She said, still not meeting his gaze.

    "Yes, Ayda, I really do." Again, Bernard put a hand on her shoulder. This time, she allowed it. "I don''t know what you''ve been through. I''m sure I could never even begin to understand. But, I know you never wanted these powers. I truly believe we can help you get rid of them once and for all, but I need to understand them first, and the only way to do that is to see them in action."

    "I... I don''t know, Bernard." She glanced up at him, and then back at the ground. "I want to trust you, I really do, but it''s justhardafter everything I''ve been through."

    She could be convinced, however. Her mind was not completely closed off to the idea. Dr. Vahlen wasn''t overly concerned with explaining her abilities, since he already knew all about them. This was an opportunity to do some learning herself. To that end, and for the first time, the scientist who had been so intent on hiding stepped forward to give his own opinion on the matter.

    "What about a tour of the facility?" He offered. "Maybe if you see how safe and controlled everything is, it''ll help ease your mind."

    "That''s a great idea, Elliot," commended Bernard. He turned to Ayda. "How about it? Wanna take a little walk?"

    He held out his hand to her. Tentatively, Ayda nodded and accepted his offer. She didn''t really like the idea of becoming a test subject, but the thought of changing the entire face of modern medicine, the chance for greatness, spurred her on. Maybe, as Elliot had said, a tour would prove there was nothing to be afraid of. Besides, she should at least have all the information before coming to a decision.

    Hand in hand, Bernard and Ayda departed from his office. Elliot was the next to leave, looking just slightly smug at being the first one to truly get through to the girl of the hour. Hammond brought up the rear, flipping the light off before closing the door. Within the wooden entrance was a fancy pane of frosted glass. Black lettering upon it spelled out "Dr.Bernard Belmont, CEO."

    Despite her doubtful, temporary acceptance, Ayda kept her eyes wide open. She had the power to level this entire facility, and all it would take was a single step out of line. Technically, such a step had already occurred, but Ayda had at least half a mind to humor them. If something went wrong in any way, no one in this entire city could stop her.

    Far from the visitor''s center or any sort of tourist reception area, these hallways were barren and boring, sheets of plain metal bolted over concrete to hold up the ceiling. The cold, unfeeling nature was in sharp contrast to Bernard''s office. The place could probably survive a bomb with minimal damage. While on the way to the office earlier it hadn''t really connected with her, but now Ayda realized it was designed like that on purpose. What kind of research was going on here, that such precautions had to be taken?

    The walk to the testing area proved rather uneventful for a time. The most interesting thing was the environment, which pretty much said everything one would need to know about the transit. Between the nervous Elliot, focused Bernard, still somewhat seething Ayda, and the naturally quiet Hammond, no one spoke a word.

    Ayda took no comfort in the quiet. She would have welcomed a little conversation to distract her from the insanity of what she''d just agreed to. Nothing was permanent yet, but by opening herself up to the possibility of willing experimentation, she made the whole concept seem exponentially more real. In Bernard''s office, it was just a pretentious suggestion, but now that she accompanied him through the facility, it felt absolutely dire.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Perhaps he could read minds, or Bernard had just required a moment to collect his thoughts, but he decided to speak up after they were about halfway to their destination. From his tone, he sounded like a salesman giving a pitch to some important and powerful investor. In a way, he kind of was.

    "When my father founded Belmont Technologies in 1956, he had a dream of bettering the world through the advancement of science. He truly believed the best world was a technically proficient one. Now, more than fifty years later, his little startup has grown into Belmont International. Over the years we''ve developed breakthrough technologies in the medical, civilian, and military sectors. Almost every home in American contains at least one of our products, and many have more. Through revolutions in both the communication and medicinal sectors, we connect the world as well as keep it healthy."

    "Why are you telling me all this?" Ayda said after a pause.

    "So you can know where I''m coming from. Everything I''ve ever done was for the betterment of humankind. You just need to look at the phone in your pocket for proof of that."

    Now, Ayda could''ve said Bernard wasn''t the first person to ever sell her that line. She also could''ve pointed out that anyone could change at any time. But, both points seemed kind of moot. They were both beginning to talk in circles, where Bernard tried to convince her he wanted to help, while Ayda declared she didn''t need help from a scientist. Both arguments had been made before, if not directly, and restating them would not progress the conversation. She decided to remain silent for the time being.

    Eventually, the party reached the end of the line, or at least what Bernard claimed was their destination. All Ayda saw before her was a dead end, a wall of metal which terminated the hallway. How could this possibly be their goal? It wasn''t much of a testing chamber.

    Bernard let go of her hand and walked over to the wall. Once at the end, he turned to the partition on his right and slid up a hidden panel in the metal sheeting. Behind it lay concealed a nine digit number pad. With dextrous fingers, he entered seven characters. Ayda wished she''d been channeling her powers just then, for she missed exactly what sequence he used. She swiftly found herself distracted, though.

    Machinery roared to life. Ayda couldn''t pinpoint the exact location of all the noise, but it seemed to be coming from somewhere within the structure itself. Then, something she never expected happened. The dead end wall before her parted, receding into the surrounding ramparts. The motion passed reasonably quick, not too fast to see, but it wouldn''t prohibit progress, either.

    The circular room beyond the new opening was pure white. Padding like little square pillows covered the walls and ceiling. Not an inch was left unprotected. A thin layer of soft foam coated the floor. It provided minimal protection without making it difficult to walk. A fall would still hurt, but likely no serious damage would result. Other than that, the space sat completely empty.

    Not one to stand on ceremony, Colonel Hammond was the first to enter, followed closely by Elliot. Ayda stayed put, though, unsure if she should go before or after Bernard.

    "Go on," he said with a gesture into the room. "I need to close it behind us. Don''t worry, I''ll be right there."

    That made sense. At his behest, Ayda entered the chamber. The Colonel and Elliot had gathered in the almost exact center of the circle. The desolate interior left little to focus on, so Ayda figured this was as good a destination as any. Inside the room, the white was almost blinding, although this probably had something to do with the fluorescent lights poking through the pillows in the ceiling. Ayda looked around, but there wasn''t much to see, just an ocean of white.

    The mechanics in the walls came alive again. Ayda looked behind her to see Bernard messing with a number pad on the inside of the room. He pulled down a metal cover to conceal it, and then let the padding fall into place for protection. No one would ever know it was there, which was probably the point. He joined them in the middle.

    "This is the primary testing area for our R&D department." He made a broad gesture to encompass the space. "There''s nothing in here right now, but it''s where we test all of our technologies which don''t fit on a table or in a pocket."

    Bernard put his hand between Ayda''s shoulder blades and pointed up to the east. Ayda followed his indication. She saw five panes of clear glass set into the wall high above her. From this angle, though, all she could see was the metal roof. Bernard continued his tour.

    "Up there is the observation room. That''s where we monitor everything that goes on inside here from electrical and mechanical readings, to atmospheric pressure."

    "I can see through the glass," Ayda commented. Although just an offhand remark, it took Bernard completely by surprise.

    "What do you mean?" He said with a blank expression.

    "Before, I couldn''t see where the scientists monitored me, monitoredus.It was a two-way mirror." Ayda explained with a certain breathy tone, almost as if reminiscent.

    "Well, that''s not the way we do things here." Bernard changed the subject. "Did you see the double doors on the way here? That''s the equipment closet. Normally the only thing we put in there is safety gear, but now we have a lot of things specifically designed to measure your abilities from accelerometers, to force gauges, and even a slow-motion camera."

    "What''s an accelerometer?" Ayda pronounced the new word slowly, wrestling with her tongue to get it out properly.

    "Nothing bad," Bernard waved his hand. "It''s just a device which measures changes in acceleration, kind of like the scientific version of the speedometer in a car."

    "Do you want me to go get one of the punching bags?" Elliot offered. "Just as an example."

    "I was actually about to suggest that," Bernard agreed. "Go ahead."

    Elliot jogged back to the entrance. The closet wasn''t far away. He would not be gone long. In the mean time, Ayda asked a question which had been bugging her since she first saw the chamber.

    "Why are the walls padded?" She began. "I mean, no offense, but you guys don''t seem like the most active bunch. Are your products really so dangerous?"

    "No," answered Bernard. "It wasn''t always like this. It used to be just metal. We installed all this protection for you. Testing your blasts will be a little bit hazardous, and we don''t want you or anyone else getting hurt."

    Ayda looked down. While Bernard provided no proof this was true, he needn''t have. Scientists testing domestic products didn''t warrant the use of a padded room. Anything more unsafe was likely tested outside or in a different facility. The people at Belmont International really put a lot of effort in preparing for Ayda''s arrival. How could so much caution possibly be nefarious?

    After a few minuets, Elliot returned. He opened the wall and sauntered in, bear hugging a large purple sandbag, but did not close it again. A thick black band ran along it''s center, containing all sorts of scientific baubles. Ayda could only guess at what purpose any of them served.

    "I''m back," Elliot called into the room as if it weren''t obvious. He peered awkwardly around the bag as he walked.

    "You brought the lightest one," Hammond remarked.

    "Wellyeah." Elliot stopped just short of everyone else. "How strong do you think I am?"

    "Ayda," Bernard got everyone back on task, "this is just one of the many things we''ll be using to conduct our tests. It''s fitted with all the devices we just went over to measure the force of your energy blasts. Give it a try"

    Ayda considered the bag for a moment. It certainlylookedofficial enough, but a warrior of her caliber could not be bothered to work with substandard equipment. Also, shereallywanted to hit something, and had never had the chance to use a heavy bag before. Most of her training involved beating other people. Ayda stepped in front of it, putting up her dukes.

    "Whoa, whoa, hey now," Elliot took a cautious step back. "Let''s not get ahead of ourselves."

    "Relax," she said. "I''m just gonna punch it."

    Although not sure he could believe her, Elliot realized he had little choice in the matter. Anything in the name of science, right? He squared his stance and clutched the bag as tightly as he could. Ayda threw a punch. Elliot winced in anticipation. Her fist made solid contact with the bag. Elliot swayed at the impact, but remained rooted on the ground. Ayda smiled.

    "Alright, that''s kinda fun," she admitted.

    "Says the one throwing the punches," remarked Elliot. Ayda directed three more quick jabs into the bag, which he barely braced himself for. "Alright, I think you''ve made your point."

    Ayda shuffled back a step. She got her balance before raising her knee to level a forceful side kick into the bag. Elliot''s lungs emptied in an audible wheeze. He stumbled a few steps before falling flat on his rump. He sat there for a second, stunned, before toppling backward. He lay spread eagle on the ground. The bag rolled lazily off him. Ayda snickered.

    "See? That''s not so bad, right?" Bernard said. Ayda turned to him and shook her head, beaming.

    "Is no one gonna help me?" Elliot interjected from his place on the floor. "I think I broke my tailbone."

    "Oh, cowboy up," snarked Hammond as he made his way over. "You big baby."

    "As you can see," Bernard continued, ignoring the two of them entirely. "Everything here is designed to be perfectly safe. Even the striking instruments are low impact. No one is in any danger."

    "I beg to differ," Elliot joked as Hammond helped him to his feet. Bernard shot him a brief, icy glare.

    "So, what do you think" Bernard asked of Ayda. "Will you help us help you?"

    "I don''t know." Ayda looked away, somber. "I mean, that was really fun, but it still doesn''t feel right, ya know?"

    "Tell you what, why don''t we do a test run," suggested the older scientist. "We''ll run a few light tests, nothing too dramatic, just so you can see what kind of things we''ll be doing. Then, if you still don''t like it, we''ll call it quits."

    That certainly sweetened the deal, but still Ayda hesitated. No matter how she looked at it, or what spin Bernard tried to apply, she simply didn''t feel comfortable letting herself be a lab rat.

    "I''ll let you knock Elliot around some more," Bernard joked, interrupting her train of thought.

    "Say what now?" Elliot piped up as he and the Colonel rejoined them. Ayda laughed at him.

    As Ayda took more time to consider the offer, She was struck with how much different the current situation was from her past, as if the people involved actually cared about her. It made her feel oddly human. She wasn''t just a doll to them. She had merit and value. It was comforting.

    "Alright," she said. "The only way I''ll do it is if the tests are one-hundred percent on my terms. If I don''t like something, it ends. Period." This was her cost, the circumstances to be fulfilled if she were to agree to anything. They were nonnegotiable.

    "That''s the way it was always gonna be from the very beginning," Bernard said. "Nothing happens without your approval. There will be no surgeries, no electricity, no fighting, none of it. I promise."

    "Don''t worry, kid," added Hammond. "I''ll beat him into shape if he steps out of line."

    "Thanks, Colonel," Ayda said. Not that she needed anyone to fight her battles for her, but the sentiment was appreciated.

    "Do we have a deal?" Persisted Bernard, searching for the definitive answer which he pined.

    "Yeah, we have a deal," Ayda nodded.

    "Ayda, you have no idea how happy that makes me."

    Elliot stumbled over to them, walking as if drunk.

    "Don''t I get a say in this?" He said. "Ya know, if I''m gonna be the meat puppet, and all?"

    "Don''t worry, Elliot, I''ll go easy on you." Ayda grinned maliciously.

    "Come on, I think we all could use a little lunch break," Bernard said, heading for the exit.

    "That''s the smartest thing you''ve said all day," Hammond agreed, following. Ayda fell in behind him. Elliot, however, remained behind for a moment.

    "Gee, thanks," he called after them. "I feelsooooomuch better." His shoulders sagged. He went after them, dragging his feet. "I''d better be getting a raise for this."

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 13: Understanding

    The hollow, meaty sounds of bare skin slapping against hard wood echoed through the testing chamber. Or, at least, as much as the padded interior would allow. Impacts always came in sets of three, impossibly fast triplets interspersed between short pauses. So quick in succession were they, at times it was impossible to differentiate when one strike ended, and the next began.

    Ayda stood in the testing chamber, close to the open entrance. She mercilessly pounded on a peculiar dummy shod of wood. The center column was little more than a smooth sanded, solid log. It stood at the perfect height¡ªjust a few inches over her head¡ªwhich couldn''t be an accident. Three short and narrow dowels stuck out of the cylinder facing her. The first two were about an inch apart vertically and offset on a horizontal plain, the distance between them roughly that of a person in a fighting stance. The final dowel protruded from the dead center of the middle column about level with Ayda''s hips.

    Her hands were a blur. Any normal person would never have even the faintest hope of following the motions. The strikes did not lack for strength, either. Every hit rocked the dummy. Ayda utilized every part of her arms to lash out. Fists, open palms, elbows, forearms, wrists, all of them were lethal weapons. She alternated between lateral swipes at the dowels and straight punches and elbows against the center column. The attacks followed seemingly no pattern, but all conformed to the same basic formula: sets of three which never made contact with the same dowel twice in a rotation.

    Ayda came dressed for a workout, sporting a solid black T-shirt and blue wind pants with a fat silver stripe up the sides. It was an outfit Jackie chose for her.

    From the hall behind her Elliot approached. He paused for a second on the precipice. The sight of Ayda beating up on a poor, innocent piece of wood made his heart skip a beat. He remembered how easily she threw him around the other day. To witness such an impressive feat of martial prowess did little to set his mind at ease. A deep breath, and he entered the room.

    "Showing off?" He said quickly between repetitions.

    "Warming up," Ayda corrected mid-strike. She offhandedly tapped one of the dowels before turning to face Elliot. Not a single bead of sweat dripped from her brow. She barely even breathed hard. "These things are fun, so I couldn''t resist. Where''s Bernard?"

    "Looking for his tablet. I''m sure I don''t need to tell you he''s always losing things." Elliot said. Ayda shook her head.

    "Can''t take my eyes off him for a second," she joked. Elliot walked past her and ran his fingers down the dummy''s middle column.

    "I never really understood what this thing is supposed to be. I mean, I know you hit it, but what''s with these sticks?" As if it were an outstretched hand, he shook one of the dowels for emphasis.

    "It''s supposed to be a person in a fighting stance," Ayda said. She stepped beside the dummy and put her dukes up, mimicking the upper protrusions. "See? It teaches hand speed and Wing Chun limb strikes," she explained. Elliot pondered it for a moment, scratching his chin in contemplation.

    "Yeah, I see it for the top two here, but what''s about the bottom one," he asked. Ayda adjusted her stance slightly. Now, instead of both hands up, she pivoted her left one down ninety degrees so the fist pointed toward the ground, elbow bent for her hand to be almost level with her pelvis.

    "You see this stance in Hung Gar a lot," she said. "This is Chinese martial arts, remember."

    "Okay, I think I saw that in a movie once," responded Elliot, nodding his head as if he understood. Ayda rolled her eyes at him.

    Due to his hiding the other day, Ayda hadn''t really the chance to get a good look at him. She took the opportunity for a quick visual pat down. Easily over six feet tall, Elliot was of an average athletic build, although somewhat broad at the shoulders. He had a long face with gentle features, a constant smile in his dark eyes. Black stubble concealed his jawline, while matching hair grew barely long enough to be combed. Although not bad looking, he conducted himself in a rather clumsy and awkward manner, as if never really sure what to do with his hands. He was charming, in a dorky sort of way.

    Now, Ayda could have continued on talking about martial arts all day, but Bernard entered at that moment. For the first time, he wore a white lab coat identical to Elliot''s, although obviously more well worn. His right hand cradled the aforementioned silver tablet, Belmont International logo on the back. There was something poetic about Bernard using his company''s own technologies for these test. At least he trusted his own products.

    "Am I interrupting something?" He said while tapping on his tablet screen.

    "No," retorted Elliot. "Ayda here was just teaching me all about Kung Fu fighting." Was he making fun of her? It sounded like he was making fun of her. She''d have to remember that.

    "Yes, well, I distinctly remember telling you to put that back in the equipment room." Bernard shot him a sideways glance.

    "What?" He recoiled under his boss''s gaze. "I was going to, but it''s heavy."

    "Never mind, we''ll move it later." Bernard sighed. "For now, we have science to do." The older man moved past the training dummy, further into the room.

    "Ooh, Ilovedoing science," quipped Elliot, who fell in behind him. Ayda picked up the rear.

    The three of them went over to the only other objects in the room, although these demanded much more attention. Wrapped up in practicing her forms, Ayda had almost forgotten about this little workstation, but now she couldn''t help but wonder what it was for. Bernard had told her what the day''s test would set out to accomplish, but Ayda hadn''t really understood much of it.

    The setup consisted of three parts, the easiest of which was a tan painted, folding metal chair. Next to it was a square table, and that''s where things got complicated. It was a mess of wires and computer parts, all connected to the components atop it. One was a small brass-colored tube with a button atop. The other defied understanding. It vaguely resembled the skeleton of a skateboarding helmet, interspersed with some sciencey mumbo jumbo. Sensors, wires, and computer chips tangled together like something out of a comic book.

    Without asking permission, Ayda picked up the little metal cylinder. She turned it over in her fingers, trying to figure out what it could be. There was an opening in one side, but she knew enough not to peer into it.

    "Point it at the wall and press the button," Elliot instructed. Ayda did as he said. A small dot of red light projected on the fabric.

    "Some kind of... flashlight?" She wondered aloud.

    "A laser pointer," corrected Elliot. "You use it to, well, point at stuff."

    Ayda could have asked a few questions about such a device, like why an apparatus simply designed for pointing was even necessary, but she stayed her tongue. There were more important things to talk about, like what that helmet could be for.

    "Okay, and what is this supposed to be?" She pointed at the helmet.

    "It''s..." Bernard paused. "It''s hard to describe. This device is a piece of proprietary tech which will allow us to see scans of your brain activity in real time."

    Ayda scrutinized the thing. "It doesn''t look very safe."

    "The technology is admittedly a little rough, but we''ve worked out all the major kinks. I guarantee it''s perfectly safe," explained Bernard. Ayda was curious about his word choice, how he failed to specify what thesemajor kinksactually were. In her experience, that kind of talk was scientist code forwe don''t know what''s wrong with it.

    "I''m not sure I want experimental technology anywhere near my head," Ayda said. "Been there, done that." Although meant as a joke, this statement was absolutely true.

    "I assure you, there''s nothing to be afraid of. Here, I''ll show you." Bernard handed his tablet to Elliot and sat down in the chair. The latter swiftly punched a few icons on the device. He took a loose cord from the table and plugged it into the tablet. Bernard donned the helmet. Underneath it was a third object, a black plastic shaft with a red button on top, attached to the helmet by a thick wire.

    "Alright, Elliot. Turn it on," instructed the aging man, who looked absolutely ridiculous.

    Elliot tapped on his screen again, and then gestured for Ayda to join him. She did, eying the silver rectangle with suspicion. On it was a grayscale picture of a strange looking object, all oblong and squiggly. It fluctuated randomly, as if it were a camera trying to focus on a distant object. Her gaze flicked from it to Bernard a few times before she began to catch on.

    "Wait... is thathisbrain?" Disbelief saturated her tone.

    "Astounding, isn''t it?" Bernard said. "Instant full brain scans in a miniscule package. A revolution in medical technology."

    Ayda was sure whatever Bernard had to say was quite intelligent, but she didn''t really hear him. She was much more concerned with what happened on the tablet. When Bernard spoke, a few different sections of his brain lit up with splashes of yellow. Her jaw dropped. She leaned in closer, trying to make sense of it, curious like a child.

    "That yellow is Bernard''s brain activity," began Elliot. "The more intense the color, the more active that part of the brain is. Speech doesn''t require much concentration, so it''s just yellow."

    "And you''re gonna test my reflexes with this?" Ayda said.

    "Yes," Bernard confirmed. He took the helmet off and stood. "Specifically, I''m curious about your brain activity while using your powers. We''re gonna do the same with your blasts, too, but it''s your reflexes which interest me more."

    "Why," inquired Ayda. In her opinion, the blasts werewaymore exciting. Why would someone be so fascinated by something so benign?

    "The data we recovered about your blasts is pretty conclusive. They move just slightly over Mach One and your most powerful recorded blast was a little more than twelve tons of force. But, a lot of data was lost in your attack on the facility. We weren''t able to recover very much about your reflexes," said Bernard. "Before we move forward, we need to fill that gap."

    "Yeah," Ayda agreed. "There might not have been very much to recover, either. Vahlenwasalways more concerned with making us hit things," she joked. Bernard adjusted his collar and Elliot inspected the floor. "What''s the brain scan for?" Ayda continued asking her questions, completely oblivious to the current atmosphere.

    "Yes, um, they''re so we can understand what''s going on in your head," responded Bernard.

    "Whatever Doctor Strangelove put in your noggin, it altered the way your brain works," added Elliot.

    "Exactly," the former confirmed. "Since we don''t have an example of the actual device, we need to look at your brain to figure out what it actually did."

    "Alright, that actually makes a lot of sense," Ayda nodded. This entire project was much better thought out than she thought it would be. "What do you need me to do?"This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    "First, sit down and put on the helmet," instructed Bernard.

    Ayda walked around both of them and sat down on the chair. Bernard handed her the helmet. She stared at the device, cradling it gently in her hands. It seemed a rather fragile thing. The exposed wires and servos didn''t exactly reassure her. Sure, Bernard had worn it without any visible negative side effects, but he also took it off rather quickly.

    With a burst of determination, Ayda placed the thing on her head. All the things she''d done in her life, and a little bit of metal and electricity scared her? It was ludicrous. She could deal with a little bit of strange technology. Again, been there and done that. Sitting there with a metal hat on, Ayda suddenly became a bit self-conscious. She remembered how Bernard looked just moments ago.

    "I feel stupid," she remarked.

    "But youlookawesome," Elliot jabbed, "and that''s what really matters." Sarcasm dripped from his voice. Ayda contemplated whether it would be better to test her reflexes on his face. A smile spread across his lips. "Ha! She''s mad, look!"

    He turned the tabled first to Bernard and then to Ayda. A little portion of her brain was lit up yellow. She was torn between amazement at seeing her own cortex, and humiliation from having her emotions exposed. She felt almost violated, as if someone had seen her naked. In a philosophical sense, that wasn''t too far off.

    "Well, I guess that works for a baseline," Bernard said. "If you would pick up the little clicker over there, Ayda," he said. Ayda pointed at the plastic stick with the button. Bernard nodded and she nabbed it. "We have the laser pointer hooked up to a timer app on my tablet. It will shine the red light on the wall at random intervals. When you see the light, press the button as fast as you can."

    "Simple enough," Ayda shrugged. "This sounds kinda fun." She leaned forward, giving the button a trial push. It audibly clicked. She fidgeted in her chair, uncomfortable.

    "Wait, can I stand? Are these wires long enough?" Without waiting for confirmation, she rose from the chair. The wireswereof adequate length, but only just. She wouldn''t be able to stand on her tiptoes without possibly ripping them out of place. Both Bernard and Elliot silently stepped of to their left so as to see past her.

    "There, that''ssomuch better," she said.

    "Are you ready to begin?" Bernard inquired.

    "Whenever you are," confirmed Ayda.

    "Alright. Elliot, begin the test."

    The younger scientist hit the start button on the tablet screen. The electronics attached to the table came to life, only audible due to the silence in the room. Even the din of a fan blowing would drown them out.

    Ayda channeled her powers. Energy coursed through her veins. The world slid into focus. She blinked rapidly a few times. It had been a while since she''d done that. The effect was jarring. It wore off almost straightaway, however, as the sensation was immediately familiar. It felt good. She feltalive. Why didn''t she live every moment of her life in this state? Ayda took a deep breath and centered her stance. She was ready.

    A few uncomfortable seconds eked by as the machinery came on. Ayda leaned forward just slightly in anticipation. The wait was killing her. The moment reminded her, oddly, of a fight. The laser pointer was an opponent; the light, it''s move. She waited for it to act, prepared to capitalize on its momentum.

    A red dot appeared on the white padding which lined the wall, there and gone in a fraction of a second. Ayda clicked the button, and the scientists were momentarily stunned. To them, it looked as though the laser and the click happened at the exact same time. There was no comprehensible gap between the two. A fluke. That was the only explanation.

    The laser shined, and again Ayda didn''t miss a beat, any separation between the two acts entirely indistinguishable. This quickly became the norm. The intervals between red dots truly was random, quick bursts separated by dead air or slow pulses. Every light met instantly with a click. Ayda never slowed down, never missed, never lost control. Her clicks were always in perfect synchronization with the lights. If there were three dots in rapid succession, then Ayda would counter them with a trio of clicks, and so forth.

    Elliot''s jaw hit the ground. Bernard stared blankly at the wall, blinking with every loud press of the button. This was beyond anything either of them ever expected. It defied explanation.

    "Try not to anticipate the laser, Ayda," Bernard said, just to make sure she''d understood the point of the test.

    "I''m not," the girl insisted. For emphasis, the dot shined right after she said this, and she clicked in time with it.

    Twice more the laser projected, and Ayda met it without a flaw. Clearly, Bernard had underestimated her. This test was too simple. The computer, too easy to follow along with. He had to intervene.

    "Here, give me manual control." He snatched the tablet from his assistant and pressed a button.

    With Bernard calling the shots, randomness turned to complete disarray. Any semblance of order evaporated. He tapped the screen, and the laser pointer shone in accordance with him. He did is absolute best to throw Ayda off. Quick, long bursts of activity were segregated with lenghty pauses and everything in between.

    The sudden change threw Ayda out of harmony for only a second. She recovered with hardly a problem. Only one light went by without a click before she focused right back in. Even at this pace, with human input dictating the chaos, Ayda could not be fooled. No matter what Bernard did, she met him perfectly. She was in the zone.

    After a few seconds more the laser attacks dried up completely. At first, Ayda thought it was just another pause in the activity. As the lull dragged on, however, it became apparent there would be no more lights.

    "What happened? Did I break it?" Ayda turned the button over in her hand, searching for any signs of obvious damage.

    "Um... no," Bernard breathed. He handed the tablet back to Elliot, who took it while still staring at the wall. "I think that was good enough for a first round."

    "First round?" Ayda repeated. "We''re doing this again?"

    "Several more times, actually," Elliot said. "We need a lot of data so we can see if the results are replicable and establish a baseline across all the tests."

    "It shouldn''t take too long," added Bernard. "We''ll be out of here in time for lunch. Just tell us when you''re ready and we can begin the next round."

    "I''m good to go, just start it whenever," Ayda said. She wasn''t exactly happy about spending more time in the testing chamber. She expected a quick and simple experiment. Her hopes were dashed, but if anything that just inspired her even further. They wanted consistent data? Well, Ayda would show them just howconsistentshe could be.

    They ended up running the same test nine more times, a number which Bernard was seemingly dissatisfied with. The intellectual in him wanted to keep going, to acquire as much data as they possibly could. Elliot managed to convince him to take a break, though, under the guise of consumability. Further tests would just create bloat. If they wanted to accurately crunch all the numbers, the examples needed to be presented in digestible chunks.

    Bernard simply couldn''t argue with the logic of that. So, the three went up to the observation room to do exactly what Elliot had suggested, put all the results together and make something understandable out of them. There, Elliot plugged the tablet into the central computer and began with his calculations.

    The observation room was much less exciting than Ayda previously imagined. It was mostly barren, devoid of any decoration. The most prominent features were the window in the west wall from the door and the long console underneath it. Both ran the length of the space. The console was chock full of dials, gauges, and gizmos, none of which Ayda could discern the function of. Something made a constant rhythmic beeping noise, although she couldn''t figure out what device was actually responsible. She would''ve punched it, otherwise.

    Oddly, the only other thing of note was actually a person. Colonel Hammond leaned up against the wall across from the window. He glanced up at the arrival of Bernard and company, but didn''t move from his spot. Ayda gave him a puzzled look.

    "Were you... up here the whole time, Colonel?"

    "I''m supposed to watch you guys work, but I decided to stay up here," he explained. "All this science crap gives me the heebie-jeebies." He popped off the wall. "Which is why I''ll be waiting outside. Just pound on the door if shit gets weird."

    And with that, he departed. Ayda stared at the door in utter bewilderment, but shrugged it off after a moment. Colonel Hammond was absolutely impossible to read. Elliot and Bernard seemed to have already come to terms with this fact, however, as they got straight to work.

    Elliot sat down in one of two rolling chairs and typed away furiously on a calculator, writing on the tablet with a stylus while all the raw data ran across the computer monitor built into the mainframe. It was a lot of math to do, but he completed it in record time. Strangely, Ayda found herself jealous of him. Numbers just made her head hurt, yet Elliot manipulated them as if he himself were a computer. What a showoff.

    While he worked, Ayda and Bernard looked on in silence, which was awkward to say the least. Ayda felt as though she should be more involved. She''d been instrumental in the creation of the data. Its analysis should at least have some input from her. Although, she wasn''t sure what that would be, what she could possible add. If Bernard would just say something, her nerves would be much more at ease.

    When he was done with the calculations, Elliot dropped the stylus on top of the console in front of him. He let out a long breath and stared at the computer screen, checking it a few times against his tablet.

    "How''s it look, Elliot?" Bernard asked.

    "Well, I''m not really sure," Elliot began. "These results don''t make a lot of sense."

    "How so?" Bernard leaned over his shoulder to get a better look. Elliot indicated a few specific bits to him.

    "See? I''ve run the numbers a few times, but they all come up the same. I even took into account any latency in the program."

    "I don''t believe it," Bernard whispered.

    "Hey," interjected Ayda, "don''t talk about my brain like it''s not here."

    "Sorry, Ayda, it''s just I''ve never seen anything like this," said Bernard.

    "Like what?" Ayda bent over Elliot''s opposite shoulder to see what they were making such a fuss over, and immediately wondered why she''d even bothered. It may as well have all been Chinese to her. Thankfully, it was Elliot to the rescue. He explained the figures to her, pointing them out as he went.

    "Over here is the normal human reaction time, 0.5 seconds. That''s how long it takes someone to perceive a threat and decide what to do about it, but not to start moving. Over here isyourreaction time, 0.02 seconds."

    "Is that fast?" Wondered Ayda aloud.

    "It''s exactly twenty-five times faster than a normal human," Bernard began. "In theory, you could perceive a threat and nullify it before your opponent ever saw you move. To you, the world must look like it moves in slow motion."

    "I don''t know." Ayda straightened and shrugged. "It''s only when I''m channeling my powers, and even then everything just looks normal. I think of it more like I just move faster."

    "That isn''t really what''s going on," Bernard contested. "Your hand speed isn''t any faster. It''s your brain which processes things at such an alarming speed."

    "It''s even more amazing when you compare the brain scans," Elliot added. He pressed a button on the observation room computer keyboard, and then jabbed his tablet. "On the monitor, here, is a normal human reacting to stimulus. On my tablet is you."

    Both Ayda and Bernard inspected the two images. The first, the boring average brain, was only lit up yellow in a single section, which Ayda guessed was the portion which dealt with reflexes. Her brain, however, told an entirely different tale. Splotches of bold red popped up all over the place in brilliant contrast to the first image.

    "What exactly do they mean?" Ayda asked.

    "It means you''re dedicating much more of your brain matter to each reaction, and using up a lot more energy to do it," said Elliot, a note of amazement in his speech. "It''s almost as if your brain operates in a completely different way from ours.

    "That''s..." Bernard sighed. "That''s actually something I wanted to talk to you about, Ayda." Oh God, he was using his dad voice. Nothing good ever happened when he used his dad voice.

    "Is it bad news?" She asked tentatively.

    "I''m afraid so. I''ve had a hypothesis ever since you came here about what the implant did to you, but now¡ªseeing your brain scans¡ªI think I may be right. Somehow, the implant completely altered the physical structure of your brain, which complicates things. We could cut out all of the changed bits, but that would run the risk of seriously damaging you cranial functions. Even if we reverse engineer the implant and slowly shrink the affected areas, it would still leave irreversible damage."

    "What are you saying, Bernard?" Even as she spoke, Ayda could feel her heart sink further and further. "Is all of this permanent?"

    "I honestly don''t know, and I know that''s not what you want to hear." He spoke in grave tones. Ayda looked down.

    She sighed, "I get it. I''ve... been thinking about my powers a lot, lately¡ªnot just yesterday, but for a while. Can we talk about them for a second?"

    "Of course, Ayda," Bernard said. "That''s why we''re here, after all, to talk about your powers."

    Ayda balled her hands up into fists. This was proving more difficult to say than she anticipated, but there was no going back. She took a deep breath.

    "I know you think these powers are a bad thing, and maybe I used to as well, but I don''t think I do anymore. I mean, you just saw how fast I am, and you''ve never even seen me fight. Just ask Colonel Hammond. I''mamazing.These powers are what got me to where I am today. I don''t think I can just give all of that up." Ayda let her shoulders relax.

    "But, I thought you wanted to get rid of your powers," Bernard asked.

    "I never said that. Youdid," accused Ayda. " I know you want me to be normal but this," she held up her palm and made a tiny blast, "thisisnormal to me. I still hate Dr. Vahlen, and I hate what he did to me, but these powers are who I am now. They''re a part of me. Take them away, and who am I?"

    "So, you''re saying youdon''twant to get rid of your powers?" Elliot asked, an eyebrow raised.

    "No. If at all possible, I want to keep my powers, and if not, then there won''t be any more tests." She exchanged hard glances with Elliot and Bernard. This was the one place she would not budge.

    "Most of our current contingencies are designed around the idea that we might not ever be able tocureyou. We can forget removing your powers and go in a different direction, if that''s what you want."

    "Thank you, Bernard." Ayda smiled at him. "Yeah, that''s what I want."

    "Ok," Bernard nodded. "I''ll report that your powers are incurable, and we''ll go from there. They probably are anyway, so it won''t be a problem."

    "Maybe we can think of a positive application for your abilities in the meantime," Elliot offered.

    "Yeah, that sound''s good." Ayda agreed.

    Relief¡ªand a strange sense of pride¡ªwashed over her. These abilities had been her entire reality for six long, painful years. They identified her, made her into the person she was right then and there. It would''ve been nice to go about getting them in a slightly different way, but the past was set in stone. The future, though, she had some control over. She would always be Ayda, the Explosive Girl, and that wasexactlywhat she wanted.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH14: Days Gone By

    Late at night, when Ayda probably should have been asleep, she sat at home on her bed. The room was illuminated by a standing lamp in the northeast corner, bathing the space in dim white light. Ayda wore her lavender pajamas, the same ones Jacqueline had so graciously donated.

    It was quiet. One could hardly hear the crickets up on the second floor. The only prominent sounds were occasional rhythmic scrawlings from lead marking a piece of white lined paper. Ayda had turned her nightstand into a sort of makeshift desk. On it she laid out her math text book, a pink wedge eraser, and the aforementioned pale sheet. Her smartphone was on the bed to her left. It acted as a calculator. She wrote with a black mechanical pencil, its built-in eraser severely chewed, hence the need for a surrogate.

    The paper had been about halfway filled with numerical equations and the thought process required to solve them. Ayda vehemently despised that part of mathematics. Why bother showing all her work? Shouldn''t the answer itself¡ªwhether right or wrong¡ªbe the important part? Drawing out every single repetitive step only served to slow her down. If the ascertained solution was correct, clearly that meant she knew how to solve the problem. Seriously, mathematics wouldn''t take an hour to complete if she could just skip all the faff.

    Ayda copied down an example and then paused, contemplatively tapping the pencil against the side of her head. She scratched in the next step, having condensed the equation considerably. Her point hovered over the sheet for a brief moment before it continued to write, again smallening the problem to its final hurdle before the solution. So ingrained in her work was she, Ayda didn''t even notice the presence which lingered in her open doorway.

    "Hey," greeted a familiar voice. Ayda looked up to see her sister standing on the precipice, a white mug in either hand. Grey steam rose from the receptacles.

    "Hey," Ayda returned. Jacqueline entered the room. She handed Ayda one of the mugs before plopping down on the bed to her right.

    "Studying or just homework?" The blonde asked before taking a small sip.

    "Well, it''s homework, but I guess you could say it''s both." Ayda nudged her book around with her newly acquired mug to make room for it to rest. "I have a test tomorrow."

    "You know, if you want some help, I''d be more than happy to¡ª"

    "No," Ayda cut her off. "Thanks, but I feel like I retain the information better if I figure it out on my own."

    "I think you''ve said that before." Jackie fell back on the bed, allowing her knees to drape over the side. She held the mug to her stomach for stability. "Speaking of tests," she changed the subject, "how''d it go today? Dad didn''t work you too hard, did he?"

    "Not at all," Ayda shook her head. "If anything, I think I''m the one that workedhim." As she spoke, she scribbled down another problem.

    "Yeah, you''re probably right." Jacqueline laughed and then sighed.

    "How about you? How''s school?"

    "It''s school." Jackie rolled her eyes.

    "Yeah, I get that, I guess." Ayda took a sip of her drink, and in doing so learned it was hot chocolate. "Still, it must be nice spending time with kids your own age."

    "It loses it''s appeal pretty quick. You''ll find out when you get there."

    "Yeah,if," Ayda scoffed.

    "Don''t be like that," Jackie said. "You''re a sharp girl. You''ll catch up in no time."

    "I know, it''s just disheartening." Ayda solved the problem. "I missed so much."

    "And none of that is your fault." Jackie sat up. She gave her little sister an awkward little peck on the back of the ear. "I''ll let you study." She stood.

    "Alright, thanks for the coco," Ayda called to her back.

    "Don''t mention it." The blonde made for the exit. "Good night."

    "''night."

    Jacqueline departed, gently closing the door behind her. Free of distractions, Ayda continued work on her assignment. She enjoyed the company, but a moment of concentration was also nice. She erased an answer which was clearly wrong and went about correcting it. No matter how much time passed in her life, Ayda didn''t think she''deverenjoy math.

    ¡­

    The piercing screech of a smartphone alarm tore through the peaceful blackness of a dreamless sleep. Although disturbed, the dark was rent not. Rebellions pangs of lingering exhaustion kept the lightless world intact, stubbornly in protest of forces which would see its end. But sleep faced an uphill battle. Pressed on by electronic ambitions, the alarm was a relentless pursuant. It would not stop. For slumber to succeed, it would require an ally. Thankfully, it had just that.

    From under the covers Ayda''s hand lashed out. Plagued by a groggy lack of coordination, the most she could do was ineffectually flail at the phone laying on her nightstand. Of course, she realized opening her eyes would make the ordeal simpler, but some things were simply out of the question, like waking up.

    She smacked the phone in a vain attempt to silence it. The thing seemed to laugh at her attempts with its constant blare. Another slap, this one slightly more controlled but no less efficient. This wasn''t working. Ayda hovered her hand in place, gathering strength with a slow flex of her fingers. When again she came down it was at a different angle, an attempt to hit theoffbutton from the top. Her aim, though, did not prove true. No, that would be too easy. Instead, she knocked the thing to the floor. It landed face down with a soft thud against the carpet. Clumsy fingers searched the ground, but it had come to rest out of their reach. Utterly defeated, Ayda groaned into her pillow.

    This had not been her intention. Ayda wanted to continue her next hour or so of sleep in nine minute intervals, but that would not be the case on this damnable morning. She''d have to open her eyes and at least partially get out of bed to halt the annoyance emanating from her phone, but the moment she did that there would be no returning to her solemn dreamland. She took a deep breath. The best laid plans of mice and men never survived contact with the enemy; the enemy in this case being sunlight.

    Ayda swung bare feet over the side of her bed and sat upright. A big stretch and yawn greeted the new day. She bent over and retrieved her phone, promptly putting a much needed end to the cacophony it created. For such a small thing to create such horrendous noise truly exemplified the wonders of western technology. Again Ayda yawned before standing. Heavy footsteps led the tired girl from her bedroom.

    She made her way across the second floor and into the bathroom. This early in the morning, not even her sister had awoken yet. It truly was an ungodly hour. Shafts of light beaming in from the outside softened the blow, however. At least the morninglookednice. Out of consideration for those still enjoying the rapture of bed rest, Ayda slowly and silently closed the restroom door.

    A moment''s hesitation before she stood in front of the sink. A light grasp tugged open the medicine cabinet. From within it, Ayda received a sky blue toothbrush as well as a mostly used-up tube of toothpaste, the kind made specially for sensitive teeth. The cabinet closed with aclickand Ayda analyzed her reflection for a moment.

    The year was 2014. Gone was the slightly na?ve and adorable little girl from five years ago, replaced by a fine young woman. Ayda was now seventeen years old.

    Perhaps the most drastic change was her hair. Still black as night, it had been cut reasonably short. Jagged, layered tips extended just below a chiseled jaw. It curtained her soft cheeks while drawing attention to dazzling brown eyes. She stood just a little bit on the tall side for a woman. Her physique was fit and healthy with the lean muscle of a professional athlete.

    Ayda began hastily brushing her teeth, eager to hop in the shower and maybe awaken herself, if just by a bit. The only thing which could truly jolt her to life was a strong cup of coffee, but there would be plenty of time for that. Running so far ahead of schedule allowed for a modicum of flexibility in an otherwise rigid agenda.

    As such, Ayda made sure to take her time. She ate breakfast¡ªsomething she never did¡ªsurfed the internet with her phone, and even got through two whole cups of coffee, all within the space of roughly forty-five minutes. A rather productive start to the day, in her mind.

    But, these distractions could only retain her interest for so long. Once the novelty of an early morning wore off, Ayda decided she should probably just go to school. There wasn''t anything better to do, after all. So, she donned the burgundy blazer and white skirt of her private school uniform. It was also supposed to feature black stockings, but Ayda hardly ever wore them. Dress code be damned, they were itchy.

    Just as Jacqueline had predicted, Ayda made it into the same private high school she had attended. Although the blonde had since graduated, the chance to enroll was simple validation of what she knew to be true. Ayda could do anything she set her mind to. The fact that she''d only caught up in time to attend her senior year at the school was not an important detail. She''d accomplished her goal, and that was all she cared about.

    All gussied up and ready to face the world, Ayda made her way to the family garage. Or, as she liked to call it, the Belmont Fleet. Seriously, why four people required so many vehicles escaped her even after five years in the country. There was the boxy black sedan with reverse hinged doors, but it was one of three which received any meaningful use. The rest were what Bernard refereed to asclassics,heavy pieces of outdated American bravado preserved in a flawless union of steel and fossil fuels. Of course, everyone needs a hobby, and Ayda was glad Bernard found his, but why did it have to take up so much space?

    In that respect especially, Ayda preferred her own vehicle¡ªthe second of which to be used on a regular basis. It lay near the front of the garage leaning slightly off kilter on a kickstand. Her chariot was a thing of beauty, two wheels mounted inline on a low slung chassis. The panels were painted matte black while a fat crimson stripe ran down the top center of the gas tank and rear seat cowl. Ayda was the only student who rode a motorcycle to school.

    She picked the black full-face helmet from where it hung on the left handlebar and placed it on her head. Ayda mounted the beast. A flick of a switch and push of a button brought it to life with a high-powered roar. An intimidating rumble filled the hollow space, echoing off the walls. With a turn of the throttle, she was off. Ayda accelerated much faster than necessary, just for the fun of it.

    The ride to school was a reasonably brief one. It made sense for a high-end school to be near the high-end side of town. The trip lasted a little longer than twenty minutes, which was an absolute blink of the eye for a place like El Puerto.

    The building itself was rather new, little more than ten years old, constructed all of glass and metal and white walls. Its layout consisted of two long rectangular complexes connected by a narrow enclosed causeway. Students affectionately referred to it as the Big H, which was admittedly not the most creative nickname.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    Ayda pulled into one of the three parking lots. This particular one was out behind the establishment. Being the closest to the property, it also experienced the most congestion. Only the back most spots were available when Ayda normally made it to school, but on this day she lucked out. Between a big black SUV and an oversized pickup truck she found a singular space. It normally would have been much too small for a car to fit in, but her bike hadn''t the same problem. She zipped in and switched off her engine, eager to lay claim to the space. Ayda removed her helmet and hung it on a handlebar. With a swing of her legs, she dismounted and made way to the double doors.

    Although only the secondary entrance, the back lobby was much larger than the front. It did see more traffic, after all. A trophy case adorned the left wall. It storied all of the student body''s achievements in sports and academics. As a rather young school, however, it was sadly bare. The principal liked to call it a promise of things to come, but no one really bought it. Other than that, there wasn''t a whole lot else to see besides the staircase immediately to the right of the doors. Ayda ascended these, destined for the second level.

    Although it took some effort to reach, being the middle floor, the second level saw the most foot traffic at any given time of day. The mornings were no different. Students walked the halls in droves, all of them dressed in the school uniform. The boys sported more straight cut coats and dark pants. In a search for individuality, many folks chose to alter their clothing in some way, be it a piece of jewelry or something worn crooked. The consistent dress made such deviations from it all the more obvious.

    Most of the teenagers traveled in chatty little packs. Just as with every day, the cliques were out in full force. Almost everyone had a place to belong, a unit of close companions within whom they could confide. Those who walked alone simply hadn''t located their group yet, but would before the first bell. The high school social structure consisted of several dozen cliques all in competition to be the coolest.

    One such temporary lone wolf caught Ayda''s attention. He walked several feet in front of her, focused on his forward path. The shaggy, sandy blond hair on his head was unmistakable, or at least it was to those who knew him. Ayda called to the boy.

    "Rudy!" Her voice just barely rose over the din of footfalls mixed with conversation. At the sound of his name, the boy turned around. He smiled the instant his blue eyes met hers.

    "Ayda, hey," he said when she was within easy earshot. "You''re here early." The two fell in together, walking abreast down the hall.

    "Yeah, I missed the snooze button and I didn''t have anything else to do so..." she threw up sarcastic jazz hands. "Here I am." Upon completion of the story, Rudy snickered at her. "What, it''s true!" Ayda took on a defensive tone. "I probably lost a half hour of sleep."

    "Oh, you poor thing," Rudy mocked. Without provocation, Ayda jabbed him in the shoulder just hard enough to produce a soft thud. He recoiled. "Ow! What was that for?"

    "For being an idiot."

    "Okay." The speed of their exchange, and how well Rudy played it off, indicated this same incident had happened before.

    As they continued to trek on, there was a short pause in their conversation. Ayda wasn''t really bothered by this. Having known Rudolph for five years, she felt mostly comfortable around him. Her ease was not so readily reflected in him, though. Rudy''s shoulders were just the least bit tense; his fists gathered up in loose balls. He almost missed a step.

    "So..." he trailed off. "Got any plans for lunch today?"

    "I can''t join you, Rudy, sorry." Ayda let him down gently. "I''m going out with Jackie, remember?"

    "Was that today?" He wondered aloud. Ayda nodded. "I thought for sure that was tomorrow."

    "No, it''s today," confirmed Ayda. "Our lunch schedules coincide, for once."

    "Oh, yeah." Rudy looked away briefly before continuing the conversation. "How''s she doing, anyway? That job of hers still going good?"

    "She''s the same old Jackie. Her job is alright, but she wouldn''t complain if it wasn''t. You know her." Ayda rolled her eyes, and Rudolph nodded.

    "Why''d she go and get a job at a place like that, anyway?"

    "I don''t know, dude," Ayda shrugged. "Something about wanting to make her own money instead of dipping into a trust fund."

    "Yeah, I guess that makes sense." Rudy grimaced. "But still, aconvenience store? Her dad istheBernard Belmont. Surely she could find something better."

    "Your guess is as good as mine. It''s beneath her, if you ask me." Ayda shook her head. A few steps more, and Rudy glanced at his watch. He sighed, letting his entire body sag. "Something to get off your chest?"

    "No," Rudy began. "Mrs. Strumier wanted to see me today." He sighed again. "I guess I''ve put it off long enough." He walked ahead a bit. "See you later?"

    "Yeah, I''ll probably be in study hall," Ayda said, referencing their one shared period. They exchanged waves before Rudolph walked away. He was quickly gobbled up the crowd.

    Without anyone left to speak with, Ayda plopped down on one of the innumerable wooden benches hanging from the white walls. This particular one was next to a closed blue painted classroom door, yet far from any cluster of slim, grey metal lockers. She plugged a pale set of buds into the jack at the bottom of her phone, and situated them in her ears. A few taps of the screen flooded her senses with the sound of music. Heavily distorted guitars and rough vocals were just barely audible to passersby. She crossed her legs and bounced her foot idly. This wasn''t how she''d wanted to spend her free time before classes began, but it would suffice well enough.

    ¡­

    The first four periods of the day passed with nary an incident, and before Ayda knew it, lunch time rolled around. She made her way to the back parking lot, but it was not her bike for which she was destined. This had been chosen as the meeting spot for the sisters. Jacqueline, as always, was late. Ayda leaned up against the wall and crossed her arms, waiting for her ride to arrive.

    She wasn''t the only one in the parking lot, either. Many students chose to eat their lunch outside the school. The administration allowed them a gracious fifty minute meal period, and the kids made the best of it. Supposedly, a long break allowed for fresher minds and more effective learning. Ayda couldn''t be sure whether or not that was true, but she wouldn''t protest as long as it benefited her.

    Waiting for the arrival of her date proved much shorter than Ayda expected. After not even three minutes a purple convertible came screaming into the parking lot, much faster than prudent. It''s driver slammed on the breaks. The vehicle skidded quickly to a halt, doors even with Ayda''s position on the wall. From behind the wheel Jackie looked at her sister, peering over the rims of her blue lensed sunglasses for a better look. Ayda just rolled her eyes.

    "You''re a badass," she joked.

    "Hey, I have to keep up with you somehow," replied the blonde.

    Ayda smirked. She walked around the front of the car to the empty passenger side. The teenager didn''t bother with the door. Such trivial things just slowed her down. Instead, Ayda placed one hand atop it and hopped clean over, swinging her feet cozily into place. She landed squarely in the seat. A sly smile was spared for her sister in consolation.

    "Alright, you win," conceded Jackie. "You ready?" Before her passenger could offer a response, she''d already begun turning the car around.

    "I thought you''d never ask," Ayda agreed.

    Jacqueline pulled out of the parking lot more more carefully than she had entered. Putting on a little show for her much bolder companion was fun, but she knew the importance of safe driving. The tiny purple bullet merged with traffic, and they were off. Silence gripped the opened up cab for a time as both girls simply enjoyed the sensation of wind running through her hair.

    A little bit of yellow flashed in Ayda''s peripheral vision, and she glanced over to her chauffeur. Jacqueline had always been pretty, but at nineteen she''d become an absolutebombshell.Long hair, impossibly green eyes, perfectly arranged features, and a figure most other women would kill for, she was America''s sweetheart personified.

    Now, Jackie wouldn''t have necessarily objected to a quiet, peaceful drive with her beloved sister, but there was business to take care of. She was hungry. To that end, she brought up a very important subject.

    "So, where to you wanna go," she asked.

    "I don''t know, anywhere is fine," said Ayda after a moment.

    "No, no, no, we''re not doing this again," Jacqueline shook her head, suddenly adamant.

    "Doingwhatagain?" Ayda wondered, surprised by the unforeseen shift in tone.

    "You know very well what. The thing where neither one of us can decide where to go so we end up driving around for, like, an hour until I take you back to school."

    Ayda looked out her side of the car, where the window would have been were it not rolled down. The exact scenario Jacqueline described happened once before. It wasn''t quite as dramatic as she made it out, though. After being unable to make an agreement, they decided to not be hungry and enjoy the day instead. In the end it didn''t really work out, as Ayda must have devoured half the fridge when she got home. No, a repeat of that ordeal was out of the question.

    "What about that burger joint a few blocks down," Ayda suggested, turning to the driver. "You know, the one with the weird name?"

    "You mean Snap Burger?" Jacqueline brightened up instantly. "Yeah, I haven''t been there inforever!"

    "Neither have I," said Ayda. "I just thought of it."

    "I like the way you think." Jackie grinned. She hung the next right up ahead, taking them eagerly toward their new destination.

    The establishment known as Snap Burger was only a few short minutes away. Despite this fact, not many students ever ate there, perhaps for its old fashioned designs. The building carried a sort of retro-fusion motif. Straight royal blue lines intermingled with black and white checkerboard patterns set into a stainless steel exterior. A band of clean windows revealed the inside. It had a modest seating area, although most dining was done outside, and a bar at the far end from the front entrance.

    The sisters entered and were immediately met with a rapturous maelstrom of smells. Coffee, hot oil, seared red meat, and pumpkin pie all mixed together in a wonderful miasma. As the two seated themselves in a booth, Ayda could already feel herself getting excited. Few things got her so worked up as good food.

    A waitress came by to take their order and before too long their individual meals came charging from the kitchen like two noblemen parading through town. Blue wire boats filled to the brim with fries were placed in front of each of the girls. Both wore thick, juicy hamburger sandwiches as hats.

    Ayda munched on a few french fries, but Jacqueline had no time for such fiddling distractions. She squished her burger between delicate fingers and took a big bite. A moment of contemplation immediately was overrun with pure bliss as the flavors filled her mouth. She chewed and quickly swallowed, eager to dive in again.

    "It''s even better than I remember!" She exclaimed before ripping off another portion.

    "The fries aren''t bad, either.," added Ayda, plopping another one in her mouth.

    She couldn''t wait any longer. The younger girl took up her sandwich. For a moment, she considered how best to start the thing. A voluptuous beef patty piled high with cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and two big strips of bacon fit alluringly between a sesame seed bun soft as a cloud. How was she supposed to eat something she could barely fit in her hands? This kind of problem, however, was best solved by trial and error. Ayda opened her mouth and moved in for a bite, but only got about halfway before Jacqueline so rudely interrupted.

    "What did you get again?" The blonde asked.

    "The bacon bleu cheese burger." Ayda answered quickly before finally taking a bite.

    "They''re notburgers, they''resnaps. Get it right." Jacqueline sassed before devouring a fry. Mouth full of food, all Ayda could do was make a dismissive hand gesture.

    Despite herself, Ayda wilted at the taste of the burger. It was the best thing she''d ever had, full of greasy, meaty goodness.

    So intent were they on eating, the girls barely had time for even the most offhanded chitchat. They finished their respective meals in complete silence and with record timing. For just a brief moment, they were Olympic athletes in the sport of eating way too much. Such self-indulgence was good every once in a while. It kept the human experience from growing dull.

    After finishing with their lunch, the girls made way out onto the sidewalk. Jackie had parked in a lot a short walk from the diner itself. The act of traversal didn''t really sit right with either of them, though, not after a feast like that.

    "I think I ate too much," Ayda commented. Jacqueline gave a soft sigh.

    "But that''s part of the fun, isn''t it?" She retorted. Ayda didn''t agree, but kept it to herself.

    "We should definitely go there more often, though," said the younger girl. "I hear their apple pie is really good. We''ll have to try it next time."

    "Oh, for sure," Jacqueline enthusiastically agreed.

    A short hush fell over them. The blonde rooted around in her brown leather purse for a moment before extracting a pink smartphone. She messed around with the screen for a few moments before turning it sideways.

    "Hey, take a selfie with me," she requested of her sister.

    "Wha¡ª" Before Ayda could protest any further, Jackie pulled her in and snapped a quick photo. It was over in the blink of an eye. "What was that for?"

    "To commemorate the occasion," Jacqueline responded simply.

    "What occasion, getting fat?" Ayda joked.

    The blonde gave her a sideways glance. Gaining weight was nothing either of them had to worry about too greatly. Jackie''s grin faded just slightly as she inspected the photo.

    "You didn''t smile," she said.

    "Youambushedme!" Defied Ayda in self-defense.

    "I like it though," continued Jackie. "Something about that face is so totally you."

    "Oh yeah,thanks," Ayda feigned offense.

    "You know what I mean." Jackie put away her phone. "There''s still a few minutes before either of us has to go back. Anything you wanna do?"

    "We don''t really have time for anything, do we?" Questioned Ayda. "We could just drive around if you don''t wanna go back yet."

    "Sounds good to me," agreed Jacqueline. Together, they continued walking toward her car.

    Ayda couldn''t remember the last time she was this happy. Although a simple, domestic moment, it was the kind of thing she lived for. A good lunch with her best friend in the whole wide world? What more could anyone ask for? It was a perfect moment, a perfect day. Maybe she should get up early more often.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 15: Artificial Altercations

    Elliot fell flat on his rump. He winced as a shockwave traveled up and down his spine. The testing chamber''s padded floor offered little in the way of impact protection. Another day, another little test at the Belmont International research facility. Although, at the moment, he contemplated leaving. To just go home sounded like a viable alternative. If only the job didn''t pay so well.

    Ayda reached out a hand to him, an offer of help in getting to his feet. Elliot accepted the gracious gesture, but not with his own appendages. On each hand he wore a focus mitt, the little hand pads boxers use to practice punching. He also sported a body protector to cover his lower torso. Unable to actually grab hold of anything, he instead offered a wrist. His partner yanked him up none too gently. Although the act of standing caused him moderate pain, he was glad to relieve the pressure on his sore behind.

    "Thanks," he said, slowly rubbing his lower back.

    "Don''t mention it," replied his partner, grimacing internally. She''d never liked the way her accent sounded in the echoless chamber.

    Ayda brushed a stray hair from her forehead. The teenager bounced from one foot to the other a couple times, full to bursting with energy. She''d come prepared for a workout, wearing tennis shoes, black capri yoga pants, and a tight tank top of matching shade. She wore no gloves, only white tape on her hands.

    "Remind me again why I agreed to help you warm up," Elliot requested.

    "Because I said please," Ayda said simply, "and because you can''t say no to me."

    "Yeah," Elliot scoffed, "or I just know better."

    "Oh, shut up." Ayda playfully pushed back one of his shoulders. "Come on, lets run it again. I''ll try not to hit you so hard this time."

    "Yeah, we''ll see how long that lasts." Elliot made sure to get one last verbal shot in before he became a glorified human punching bag.

    Both participants assumed ready postures¡ªlegs spread, knees bent, fists up¡ªyet Elliot''s was noticeably sloppier, more condensed and jagged. He took a deep breath to mentally prepare. As the inexperienced fighter, this exercise only started on his terms. With a sudden determined look, he nodded his head.

    Beginning from a southpaw stance, Ayda threw a right jab followed immediately by a left cross and then back to the right for a hook. Each strike met one of Elliot''s pads with a satisfying slap. In response to this torrent, Elliot offered a left jab. Ayda dodged the blow and simultaneously stepped forward to put herself in place for a right uppercut. Somewhere in there, she''d changed to an orthodox stance.

    After the uppercut, Ayda leveled a left kidney punch toward her adversary. The body protector¡ªa wide and thick pad worn like a belt¡ªshielded him from the impact. Ayda ended the combo with a quick right jab aimed at the face.

    Again, it was Elliot''s turn to swing. He threw a right uppercut at her. Ayda avoided it with a twirl. Her little dodge resulted in a brutal spinning backfist. Elliot successfully blocked with his pad. With a hand on his middle, Ayda shoved him back. In perfect range of her legs, Ayda raised her knee and lashed out with a sidekick. Elliot closed his eyes, prepared to once again meet the floor, but all he felt was a light tap. When he opened his lids, he found Ayda had stopped short at the last moment and only made contact with the toe of her shoe. Audibly, Elliot let out the breath he hadn''t been aware of holding. Ayda dropped her foot and relaxed. Her partner did the same a second later.

    "See? I told you I''d go easy," she said.

    "You call that easy?" Refuted Elliot. "My hands are buzzing like crazy, like I''ve got a bunch of bees in my mitts."

    "Then we should probably call it quits," Ayda determined. "We''ve been at it for a few minutes, anyway."

    "Oh, thank God." Elliot said. He undid the strap on his left mitt with his teeth and then clumsily used his other hand to slide it off. With one set of flanges freed, he hastily removed his other pads. With how ferociously he went about this task, one would think they caused him physical harm.

    "You''re getting better at the patterns, El," Ayda began. "We only had to go over them once this time."

    "Yeah, well, when it''s either learn or get punched, you pick up on it pretty quickly," he joked. "Really, though, I think this is more of a workout for me than for you."

    "Yeah," Ayda chuckled, "you''re probably right."

    This particular conversation was over. As Elliot had mentioned, his role in the moment was to help her warm up, and to that end he succeeded. Strength coursed through her loose and able joints. She was ready to face whatever the day''s test would throw at her, regardless of what it may entail. And it was good she felt so prepared, for as Elliot removed his body protector, a voice came over the loudspeaker.

    "I hope you plan on putting all that away," menaced the voice, referring to the way Elliot haphazardly threw his equipment on the ground.

    "Yeah, um... of course," Elliot tried to save face. "I just need to get it all off, first." This assertion made little sense, as he could have easily walked into the equipment closet before discarding it. He hastily departed, carrying all his stuff with him.

    "Bernard?" Ayda looked toward the observation room window, the source of the voice. She could see her adoptive father through the glass, hunched in front of a stick microphone. "What are you doing up there?"

    "I need the computer up here to run the test," Bernard answered plainly.

    "That''s... different," Ayda tilted her head. "I thought we were measuring the atmospheric displacement of my blasts... again."

    "Something else came up, kid," replied a different yet very familiar voice. Its owner stepped into the window.

    "Hey, Colonel," greeted Ayda. "I thought you''d be up there, too."

    "We can catch up later," began Colonel Hammond, "we have more important things to do right now."

    "Like what?" The teenager shot an accusatory glance toward Bernard. "We had a deal. No secrets. Don''t break it now."

    "I''m sorry, Ayda, I''m not trying to keep a secret. I just haven''t had time to tell you. Today''s test is..." Bernard took a breath. "It''s probably better if I show you first." He tapped a few buttons on the control console in front of him.

    Faintly, in a location Ayda didn''t care to pinpoint, some piece of digital machinery wheezed to life. It sounded somewhat like a virtual projector, like the kind used by movie theaters. Such noises were somewhat common in the testing chamber. Bernard was always running some sort of fancy technology, so Ayda paid it no mind.

    That was, anyway, until she felt someone behind her. Ayda instantly entered a state of alarm. Her back was to the wall, the only entrance firmly in her peripheral vision. Short of dropping through the ceiling or tunneling up from the floor, no one could ever get behind her without her knowledge. Ayda was pretty sure she''d hear someone digging through the metal, so that couldn''t be it. She channeled her powers and turned around. What she saw stopped her in her tracks.

    Something was behind her, but it could never be called human, although it shared the rough visage of a man. The thing was roughly six feet tall and built like an ox with all the basic features of a person like a head, shoulders, arms, legs, and feet. The similarities ended there. Honestly¡ªand this was a ridiculous parallel to draw¡ªit looked like a character straight out of an old video game. The outline was jagged, a harsh point wherever there should have been a gentle curve. The figure wore no clothes, and had no discerning characteristics. Instead, its body was made of a dark blue light. Horizontal and vertical white lines crisscrossed all around it, making several dozen little squares. Perhaps most disconcerting, though, was its completely featureless face. Ayda took a step back, eying it with cautious confusion.

    "Bernard... what exactly is this thing?" She said slowly, as if any sudden sounds would upset it.

    "It''s a goddamn freak is what it is," Hammond interjected.

    "Colonel, please," insisted Bernard. "That is the greatest technological revolution of the past decade. Its a semi-intelligent hard light holographic projection." he could barely contain his excitement. Nobody else shared in his glee.

    Ayda blinked twice. "Yeah... you''re gonna have to say all of that again, but slower," she quipped. Hammond cackled in the background.

    "You might have seen it on the news before," began Bernard. "For a couple years now, the military has been working on using artificial intelligence software and hard light projection technology to make what are basically reactive training dummies. The goal is to create realistic battle simulations to train our soldiers." Now that he''d said all of that, it did sound quite familiar.

    "I think I read something about it in history class," affirmed Ayda. She gave the thing a suspicious glare. "Is that what this is, then?"

    Without asking permission, Ayda extended a finger to poke at the thing. Instead of passing straight through like she expected, the gesture met with a solid surface. It molded just slightly to her touch, offering a gel-like resistance. It felt to be about the same temperature as human skin, maybe a bit hotter.

    "Cool," Ayda said with a grin. "What''s it doing here?"

    "That''s the exciting part." Bernard was becoming more exuberant with every word. "The government is contracting a bunch of different tech conglomerates to help develop the project. Belmont International was chosen to put the finishing touches on its hand-to-hand combat runtimes."

    "And let me guess," interrupted Ayda. "That''s where I come in."

    "Bingo," confirmed Hammond. Ayda couldn''t see the old man anymore, but she could practically hear him crossing his arms.

    "Hand-to-hand was chosen for initial development because fighting in a single battle is simpler than coordinating with a fire team," Bernard explained. "The runtimes are almost done. It will be easier for us to perfect the program if we see it in action, but we can''t really assess its abilities without putting it in an actual fight."

    "And you want me to fight it." Ayda didn''t need Bernard to say anything more. She''d already figured out his endgame. "Are you sure this is safe? I mean, what is it even made of?"

    "The hologram is made up of millions of photonic particles interlocked together until they form a solid, dense material," said Bernard. "As you''ve already seen, it''s safe to touch, and it doesn''t give off any sort of harmful energy." Of course, by harmful energy he meant radiation. Ayda sighed and shook her head. Not a single word of that made the slightest bit of sense. Why did she even bother asking?

    "To put it simply," Hammond said, "It won''t hurt you if you don''t get hit."

    Ayda smiled. That was the kind of terminology she could get behind. Her expression faded, though, as a realization sprang up in the back of her mind.

    "It doesn''t really matter what I say, does it?" She said. A hush fell over the entire facility. She locked eyes with Bernard. "If I refuse, you''ll just find someone else and test it anyway. I''m not the important part of this equation."Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    "She''s got you there, Bernie," Hammond said with an audible smirk.

    Bernard did not respond. Ayda didn''t have a good look at his face, but he must have been mortified. She saw right through his little game. So many years around scientists had taught her much about how they operate. When it came to perfecting a new idea, to getting that revolution they all so craved, nothing would stand in their way. To that end, whether or not Ayda volunteered to test it made little difference. Bernard let out a long labored breath.

    "You''ve always been very perceptive," he began. "You''re right. If you refuse, we have a backup plan lined up, but we''re also under orders to keep our sphere as small as possible. It''s easier for everyone involved if you run the test."

    "Everyone except me," Ayda asserted. Again, Bernard said nothing. "Just, tell me one thing. Why didn''t I hear about any of this before? Why did you lie about my test today?"

    "I didn''t lie to you," Bernard said gently. "We only received the software and equipment late last night. I had every intention of testing your blasts today just like I said, but this has to take priority."

    "It''s the truth, kid," Hammond added. "I can show you the paperwork, if you want."

    "Colonel, I don''t think that''s¡ª"

    "This is my op, so I make the rules," Hammond firmly cut of Bernard. "As far as I''m concerned, she has full access."

    Ayda smiled. "Thanks, Colonel, but you don''t have to. It sounds kinda fun, if I''m being honest, but I''ll only help you just this once. After today, I''m done."

    "I guess it''s unfair for me to ask anything else," Bernard admitted with a sigh. "Alright. Thank you, Ayda. Every little bit helps."

    "Yeah, whatever," Ayda dismissed. She faced the hologram, giving it a quick top to bottom. "So, how is this gonna work? Are there any rules or anything?"

    "Well, the grappling scripts aren''t complete yet, so I''d say avoid anything like that," Bernard suggested.

    "I''m guessing my powers are also off limits?" This was a rhetorical question. Ayda already knew the answer.

    "I think that goes without saying," agreed Bernard. "Your reflexes are fine, but the blasts would be an unfair advantage."

    "Hold on a minute," Hammond interjected. "I actually like that idea. Hear me out. In combat, you have to constantly adapt to unexpected circumstances. What could be more unexpected than purple explosions?"

    "Well, you''d know better than I would." Bernard said with another sigh. "I''ll differ to your judgment on this one."

    Ayda smiled. This entire situation suddenly became much more interesting. It had been ages since she''d been able to go all out with her powers on a responsive opponent. Her heart fluttered with anticipation. The prospect of breaking something excited her beyond words. Although, there was a problem with that, something she hadn''t realized before. She turned to the observation room with a puzzled squint.

    "Hold on, how is this even gonna work?" She said. "I mean, I can''t exactly beat a computer program senseless."

    "We thought of that, don''t worry," Bernard reassured her. "It''ll be a five point match, where each hit is a single point, just like in your karate classes."

    "It''s Jeet Kune Do," Ayda corrected hastily. Everyone got it wrong and, at this point, she had little patience for it. A scoring system put her mind at ease, though. Familiar circumstances gave her a certain sort of advantage.

    "Alright, kid." Hammond took the spotlight from Bernard, physically nudging him out from in front of the microphone. "My Marines do something similar in training, so I''ll be calling the shots here. Just tell me when you''re ready."

    Ayda took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled through her nose in one great heave. She assumed a common Wing Chun stance, palms inward, leading with her left side, one hand out in front for protection while the other remained close to her chest, poised to strike. She planted her feet and bent at the knees, a foundation solid as an oak tree. Finally, she embraced her powers. Energy coursed through every inch of her being. The world slammed into focus. She could time every pulse of light from the hologram. This was what it meant to be truly alive, how it felt.

    "Ready," Ayda called out a bit louder than necessary.

    Through the microphone, Bernard could be heard swiftly tapping a few buttons. Without any other warning or indication, the hologram came to life. It made ready for the bout. The thing rooted down in a comparable stance to Ayda''s, but more buttoned up. Its palms were parallel, hands clenched and held up higher to better protect the faced. Many western mixed martial arts fighters preferred a similar configuration. It moved just like a person.

    "Okay..." Bernard trailed off. "Diagnostics still look good, we''re green across the board. We''ll go by your countdown Colonel."

    "Cut the theatrics, Bernie," Hammond said. "Just press the button." A pause while Bernard did as he was told.

    "Connection successful. Begin!"

    Ayda didn''t need Bernard''s system diagnosis to tell her the fight had begun. The hologram moved toward her, shuffling along to remain in a ready posture. Ayda did the same a fraction of a second later to keep pace with the thing. With both fighters moving toward the same point between them, the distance closed rapidly.

    As the shorter of the two, Ayda was at a noticeable reach disadvantage. As such, she threw a punch just a moment before she were actually in range. It was a split-second calculation most normal fighters would be capable of, but one she pulled of without flaw.

    The attack she opened with was rather tame, especially by her standards. It was a simple three hit jab combo, something any fighter would be familiar with. The hologram closed up, pressing his forearms together. Ayda''s fists bounced off uselessly.

    In retaliation, it answered with a cross. Ayda stepped back, out of the way. The blue fist met only air. To say she was impressed would be an understatement. It certainly reacted like a trained combatant. More importantly, though, this little display gave her an idea of what it could do, and how it fought.

    Her next attack was not quite so merciful. She threw another simple jab, but it was a misdirect. In almost the same motion, she hooked her foot around the hologram''s ankle and yanked forward. The thing fell down to one knee. With the same leg, Ayda leveled a powerful knee toward the hologram''s chin. The hologram avoided the blow by advent of sheer dumb luck. It stood at just the right moment to avert harm. The thing stumbled back a step.

    They way it reacted was beyond disconcerting. More accurately, it hardly reacted at all. The thing showed no pain, no hesitation nor loss of balance. Lacking any tangible body language, it was absolutely impossible to read. It made Ayda''s skin crawl.

    While she was only put off for a second, it was more than long enough to lose the initiative. The hologram closed on her and let loose a quick one-two combo. Ayda leaned away from the first, but deflected a second with her wrist and a step to the right. The two fighters were misaligned now, but momentum was on Ayda''s side. She tapped it behind the knee with her foot just to off balance it. Then, with one hand, she gave the hologram a swift backfist to the brain stem, accentuating it with her first blast of the match.

    "Point, Ayda!" Shouted Hammond from the observation room. The score was one zip, advantage humanity.

    A purple shockwave forced the hologram face first to the floor. The thing slid a few feet, but stopped short for the soft foam in the ground. It stood swiftly, again displaying zero reaction to the hit, but Ayda did notice a difference in its behavior. It went back to stance, yet remained perfectly still. Perhaps she was projecting, but it almost seemed shaken, as if it didn''t quite know how to react to what just happened. She smirked. No amount of programming could prepare it for her overwhelming power.

    Ayda pushed her advantage. She charged full sprint, leaping into the air about halfway between herself and the stationary hologram. The teenager rocketed through the atmosphere toward her opponent. When she was about to reach it, Ayda pulled her fist back. From midair, she struck down with a terrible punch. The hologram put its arms up to block, but it could not withstand the ensuing explosive blast. It fell flat on its back, head bouncing off the floor. Ayda cleared her downed opponent and landed in a somersault. That jump had more momentum than she''d expected.

    "I''m counting it," Hammond said. "Point, Ayda! That''s two."

    Ayda didn''t hear him. She had more important things to worry about. She got to her feet just in time to catch the hologram doing the same. They closed the distance. Ayda opened up with a jab and a cross, each one the catalyst for a blast. This time, the hologram did not attempt to block. Instead it dodged the attacks, weaving left and right to avoid all damage from the blasts.

    It retaliated quickly with a right hook, which Ayda knocked away. Such an attack could never make it through her reflexes. However, even they had limits. The hologram followed up with a low push kick at almost the same time as it had punched. Ayda''s block put her out of position. No matter how infallible her reactions, she could only move as fast as her body would allow. Ayda saw the hit coming, but could do nothing about it. The bottom of the hologram''s foot smashed into her knee. She took a few steps back, wincing in pain. The thing hit like a truck, and that wasn''t even a good kick. Just how strong was it?

    "Point, uh..." Hammond paused. "What are we calling that thing? Glowing blue freak? Yeah, point to the freak. It''s now two-one."

    Ayda looked upon her opponent with untempered wrath. It learned. The damned thing actually learned! It knew blocking wouldn''t work, so instead avoided her attacks altogether. While Ayda hadn''t much experience to cull from, no human opponent¡ªexcluding her fellow test subjects¡ªwas smart enough to figure that out. This hologram did so within two encounters with her blasts. Granted, most people didn''t last long enough to have a chance at learning. Regardless, Ayda didn''t like it. This fight would be much harder than she''d initially assumed.

    When she approached again, it was with caution. The fighters took little steps in and out, jockeying for position and to spot an opening. Ayda dropped her left hand. The hologram threw a big punch, seizing the opportunity. The teenager smirked. Reacting like a real fighter gave it all the same tendencies, just like she thought. Ayda stepped off line and shot her left hand into the hologram''s armpit. In the same motion, she grabbed its wrist with her other appendage. She spun around with all her might. Centrifugal force brought the hologram down, hard. It slammed shoulder first into the floor and rolled along a couple times. Its recovery was impressive, though. The hologram landed like a cat and sprung erect.

    "Point, Ayda," declared Hammond. If the hologram truly was learning, it would not fall for that same feint twice. Ayda would have to come up with something else.

    Ayda closed and attempted a sidekick just like the one which threw Elliot to the ground earlier, except this one had a blast attached. The hologram avoided with a step to its right and threw a low punch. While getting her footing back, Ayda dropped her hand to block.

    She had to act fast, or else the freak would continue attacking. She lashed out with a quick jab just to destabilize it, and followed up immediately with an uppercut. The hologram dodged both, taking two steps backward. Ayda came around with a big crescent kick, a blast accelerating her foot to inhuman speeds. Still, the hologram ducked and took a step forward.

    Again, it got inside her defenses. Again, she could not defend in time. The hologram unleashed. It punched her once under each rib and then struck straight for the heart. A fourth and final left hook to the jaw sent her reeling. Ayda bent forward and took a few steps to the side, nearly losing her balance.

    She rose slowly. Fire burned in her eyes as she glared at the pulsing blue abomination. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. She wiped it away on her knuckles. This was a new experience for her, underestimating an opponent. Clearly, whatever data the scientists used to program the thing was solid. Clearly, it worked. The hologram certainly reacted like a real human. It fought just like a trained and disciplined fighter. It fought like a soldier. Ayda had beaten soldiers before. It was time to get serious. The proverbial gloves came off.

    The hologram was smart enough to realize the advantage had shifted. It was currently winning, in that regard. It stepped in and attempted a mid-aimed front kick. Ayda slammed the foot back down with an open palm blast. She followed up immediately with two big hooks, but the freak dodged both. It threw a jab, likely as setup for another attack, but it wouldn''t get the chance. In one fluid motion, Ayda sidestepped the punch and rammed her fist into its liver. Without missing a beat she brought her other hand around in a massive overhand punch. A blast tossed the hologram like a rag doll.

    "Point, Ayda," called Hammond. "You''re just one away, now."

    Ayda had completely lost her patience for niceties. She ran at the hologram in hot pursuit as it tumbled along the ground. It came to a stop on its back, and the teenager was right there to greet it. Striking a grounded opponent was illegal in any regulation match, but that didn''t matter anymore. Ayda raised her foot straight up in the air and brought it crashing down into the hologram''s chest, a vicious axe kick accentuated by a blast to end the fight.

    This time, the blue freak did not get up. Ayda wasn''t exactly sure why. Maybe it had some sort of protocol for refereed fights, or perhaps Bernard had just been quick on the draw and turned it off. She didn''t care. Either way, it was done. She stood up straight and dropped her shoulders, breathing heavily from stress rather than actual exhaustion.

    "Yeah, that''s what I''m talking about!" Hammond shouted. "Fuck you, science!"

    "How was it, Ayda?" Bernard said, completely ignoring his loud companion. "It seemed rather skilled. Did it fight like a real person?" He was eager to move on with the experiment, to start working on the data. So, when the teenager did not respond, he pressed harder. "Are you alright? Did it hurt you? It''s best if we¡ª"

    "Jesus Christ, Bernard! Can I get ten seconds to catch my breath?"

    At her sudden outburst, the atmosphere in the room shifted dramatically. The rage slowly softened on her face. She looked down. That was wrong. She needed something to take her anger out on, but Bernard didn''t deserve it.

    "You''re angry," he said. It was not an inquiry, but an observation.

    "Getting punched in the face isn''t fun," Ayda quipped. "I just need a minute to cool off, alright? But, it did fight like a person, to answer your question," she added.

    Honestly, that may have been what angered her the most. It had been years since anyone gave her such a hard time in a fight. Even her Jeet Kune Do classmates couldn''t manage anything quite so impressive. In the end, her greatest challenge in recent memory came from a computer program, something designed to fight like a professional.

    Ayda couldn''t necessarily pinpoint why that disturbed her so greatly. In essence, it wasn''t much different from the video game characters it resembled, or a training dummy like Bernard had said. And yet, something about it just felt wrong. It walked the uncanny valley in all the worst ways. Although the hologram was clearly an artificial being, it certainly felt real when it made contact. In a philosophical sense, if it looks, feels, and acts real, then it must be, right?

    No, don''t over think it. Maybe the thing hit her harder than she thought. It was just a computer program, a product designed for a singular purpose. To that end, it was a success. Ayda understood the technology had a long way to go, but it would certainly help soldiers learn how to handle themselves in a fight. If it saved lives, then how bad could it be?

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 16: Silver Screens

    Ayda leaned back against a wall carpeted in gaudy pink and blue, one knee bent so her foot could rest flat against it. On hand carried a soft drink in a blue paper cup with a straw. The other cradled a big bucket of popcorn.

    People milled to and fro all about the wide open space, though most waited at the concession stand. Some bought tickets, other stood around socializing, including a large and annoying group of college kids. A tall, dumb looking boy said something, and the clique erupted in laughter. Ayda winced and let out a long breath. She prayed they were not there to see the same film, even if she knew that was unlikely. The theater would match the screen if that group didn''t learn how to shut up between now and showtime.

    Ayda took a sip of her drink. Root beer, like always. Anyone who drank anything else at the movies was just plain wrong. Her eyes slipped to the snack in her right arm. It smelled heavenly, but she couldn''t well eat it with both hands occupied. Unless... She looked left, then right, and left again. In one swift motion she ducked her head low, stuck out her tongue, and collected a few kernels upon it before snapping them all back in her mouth. Overly buttered, salty, and a little stale, just how she liked it.

    She was about to chance another bite when the door to her left opened. Out waltzed Jacqueline, her hair in braids and adorned in a pale yellow sundress. The style was in great contrast to Ayda''s own band t-shirt, blue jeans, and grey sneakers.

    "Finally." Ayda popped off the wall and joined her sister, who waited patiently.

    "There was a line," Jackie said. Together, they walked toward the back of the room.

    "Of course there was," Ayda rolled her eyes. "I still don''t understand why I have to come with you."

    "It''s just a girl thing."

    "No it''s not. I''m a girl, and I don''t get it, so clearly it''s not a girl thing."

    "Well, that''s what we tell ourselves, since the real reason is kinda depressing," reasoned Jacqueline.

    "Can''t be any worse than standing out there all alone," Ayda shrugged.

    "It''s for protection, so some creepy guy doesn''t jump us."

    "I get that, but I don''t think anyone would be dumb enough to do anything here. This place is kinda busy."

    "You''d be surprised," Jackie mused as they hung a left hand turn down a dim hallway lined with double doors.

    "That''s fucked up," Ayda said.

    "How are we just now having this conversation?" Jackie wondered aloud.

    "It is kinda weird, isn''t it?" Ayda agreed. "Then again, I guess I never really thought about it that way. I can handle most creepy guys."

    "Not everyone can be as cool as you, Ms. Black Belt," teased Jackie.

    "My dojo doesn''t have belts," Ayda quickly refuted. "And you''re damn right they can''t." She stood a little straighter. "I''m the coolest."

    "You''ll get no argument from me."

    Jacqueline took a right and them through an open set of doors. Inside, at the far end, was a big white sheet flanked on either side by drawn black curtains. The space between entrance and screen was filled with red and black chairs on a steep slope. The showing was modest. Only about half of the seats had heads sticking up over their backs. One blonde do in particular was of interest to the new arrivals.

    "Looks like she saved us a seat," Jackie said quietly.

    "I bet she draped her coat on them," added Ayda in similarly hushed tones.

    "Lord knows it''s big enough," Jacqueline chuckled. "How she wears that thing in this heat is beyond me."

    The pair advanced down the aisle, stopping roughly in the middle of the room where their chaperone, Emma, sat. The graceful older woman stared straight forward with her ankles crossed and hands folded neatly in her lap. The only acknowledgement she gave to the arrival of the two girls was a flick of her eyes in their direction. She had, indeed, laid a long white coat across two seats to her left.

    "Hah! I win." Ayda slipped past her sister to shuffle into the aisle. As she did, Emma gathered up her garment. Ayda sat next to her.

    "Yeah, but we didn''t actually bet anything, so I''m safe," assessed Jacqueline, claiming the seat next to her sister.

    "That''s what you think." Ayda wore a malicious grin.

    "Oh no. Mom, save me." Jackie threw up sarcastic jazz hands, complimentary to her tone.

    "Reap what you sow, dear," Emma said simply without looking at either of her daughters.

    "What? Mom," Jackie insisted. Ayda laughed.

    "Even Emma''s on my side. There''s nowhere for you to run."

    "Well, fine." Jackie sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, still obviously overreacting. A smile graced her lips a moment later, one which Ayda returned. Emma watched them from the corner of her eye. She crossed her legs, and let a small satisfied grin adorn her face.

    "I assume Bernard won''t be making it," Ayda asked of the older woman.

    "I''m sorry, no. He got caught up at work again," said Emma.

    "Of course," Ayda scoffed.

    "You''ll have to be patient with him. He''s been busy at work." Emma put up for her husband.

    "I know," said Ayda. "It''d just be nice if we were all here, ya know?"

    "Oh, you''re such a downer," admonished Jackie.

    She grabbed a pinch of popcorn from the bucket on Ayda''s lap and popped the kernels into her mouth. Doing so caused Ayda to remember the antics she''d pulled earlier. Swift fingers gathered up the pieces around where her tongue had intruded. She chewed quickly and swallowed.

    "I wonder if this will be as good as the original." Jackie changed the subject away from the one she''d brought up. She gestured toward the screen.

    "I thought you''d never seen the original," asserted Ayda.

    "I haven''t," Jackie shook her head, "but I can still think about it."

    "You saw the old one, right Emma?" Ayda asked.

    "Yes, many moons ago. I wasn''t too crazy about it, but it''s not really my kind of movie."

    "Oh. Sorry for dragging you along, then," apologized Ayda.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    "It''s alright. This remake looks much better. I like that Reynolds fellow."

    "Sure you do." Jackie waggled an eyebrow at her mother. "You just think he''s dreamy."

    "He''s... very talented," Emma said after a moment.

    "Well, I guess we know why Bernard isn''t here," Ayda quipped. Jackie had a good giggle at that.

    Conversation dried up after that. Jacqueline and Ayda pulled out their phones to keep themselves entertained. The former browsed social media while the latter played a game about running forever through some old temple. Emma, for the most part, remained looking forward at the blank screen, but did turn to her own device a few times.

    The trio wasn''t condemned to such silence for long. Within a few minutes, the lights dimmed and the previews began. There were times when Ayda enjoyed them more than the actual movie, if only for the guy with the deep voice.

    The feature presentation was a fairly standard action film about a plucky police officer with a heart of gold and a distaste for authority. One day¡ªin a series of events that didn''t really make sense¡ªhis wife was kidnapped. Instead of going to his fellow officers like any sane person would, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

    It played out at first like a standard damsel in distress tale, which Ayda rolled her eyes at. The trope itself didn''t really bother her, but she''d seen it a thousand times. The main character blasted his way through hundreds of faceless baddies in search of his beloved. Not terrible, per say, but bog standard.

    At the climax of the film, it took a turn. The hero found his wife, but instead of kidnapped, she was just fine. In fact, she was a member of the gang. The whole thing was a ploy to get away from him and live a life of crime. Why she didn''t think the clearly hotheaded cop would come after her was far beyond Ayda, but she guessed it wouldn''t have been much of a movie if things went the wife''s way.

    The film culminated in a big action set piece which saw the hero take down a whole horde of bad guys and arrest his wife. They had some forced-sounding argument about how he still loved her, but she was a criminal and had to go to jail. There was some message about the greater good in there, but Ayda didn''t really care. She just came to watch people get shot.

    The Belmont trio departed the theater while the credits were still playing, just as many others did. There was little conversation as they left. Ayda dropped her empty cup in a trashcan in the hallway, but held on to her popcorn. That stuff was like gold, far as she was concerned. It deserved a better fate than to rot in the garbage.

    She was the first out the front doors. She waited on the sidewalk for her companions to emerge, which they did within just seconds. Jacqueline knuckled her back while Emma put on her coat as they joined her.

    "That was pretty good," remarked Jackie, bending her spine back into a more normal upright position.

    "The story was just so-so, but I thought the actions scenes were really well shot," said Ayda.

    "Of course that''s what you picked up on," Jacqueline said.

    "What? Don''t tell me you actually watch action movies for the plot," returned Ayda. "It''s all about the fights."

    "Maybe," Jacqueline nodded, "but a movie needs a good story, too. Otherwise, it''s just a waste of time."

    "I guess we''ll have to agree to disagree."

    "How did it compare to the original, Mom?" Jackie moved right from one topic to another.

    "It was a lot better," Emma said. "The modern effects helped it a lot."

    "Well, at least it''s not a complete loss, then," Ayda said.

    "Remakes usually suck, but I''ll take your word for it," agreed Jackie.

    "Is there anywhere else you want to go before we head home?" Emma said, hefting her purse for emphasis.

    "No," Jackie said sweetly.

    "I can''t think of anything," echoed Ayda.

    "Let''s be off then." Emma turned to her left and began moving along the sidewalk. Her daughters followed suit, chatting from behind her.

    ¡­

    Ayda sat on the foot of her bed, with the leftover theater popcorn next to her. It was dark out. Most of the light in her room came from the fixtures inside. She hunched over, elbows resting on her knees. A determined look pulled at her face. Her hands clutched a black controller. She tapped buttons at a feverish pace, short bursts interrupted by movements of the sticks.

    On the flat screen television across from her, two characters danced about. They stood on a two-dimensional plane constructed with three-dimensional artwork. The only directions they were allowed to move were left, right, up, and down. Beaten and bloody, the two combatants jockeyed for position in a duel of the fates.

    Ayda''s character, an African-American man with metal arms, jumped up into the air. Her opponent tried to counter, but was too slow. She pushed down a terrible kick with such force it sprung the enemy into the air. Ayda hit the ground just as the other was falling. She ducked into a crouch and uppercut her opponent back skyward. She stood and leveled a quick one-two combo followed by a vicious push kick, all before her target recovered. The blonde woman she was fighting flew across the screen to make hard contact with the ground feet away.

    The woman stood and the two combatants shuffled forward. The woman jumped. Ayda attempted to swat her out of the air, but was just a split-second too quick. Her punch passed harmlessly underneath while the woman laid a fist into her skull. The blonde came down and unleashed a hail of blows so quick Ayda could barely keep up with them. The temptation to use her real-life powers for greater perception was strong, but pride wouldn''t allow her to on something so unimportant as a video game.

    The woman launched into an awkward cartwheel which hit a few times. She followed that up with a few more hits, then ducked down into a handstand. Her ankles wrapped around the midsection of Ayda''s character. The blonde lifted the much larger man up off the ground, over her head, and smashed him facedown into the dirt.

    Both characters rose to their feet. Ayda took the second where neither could act to survey the battlefield. She was at low health, and her opponent more so. Her character could probably survive another exchange. The other could not. One round each, so this was the final bout. It was time to end things.

    The blonde surged forward. Ayda crouched down low to punch the ground. A purple shockwave emanated all around her. The enemy was knocked up. Ayda dashed forward with a quick superman punch. She followed with a quick series of three jabs. Not finished yet, she had her fighter reach out and grab the enemy by the head. A press of a button made it an extra special move. The man pounded his metal fist into the blonde woman''s face again and again, each time spraying more blood. One the final hit, the woman went flying. Her health bar depleted.

    The woman pushed herself to her feet, but instead of attacking, stood still in a punch-drunken stupor. Ayda ran up close. She input a quick button combo. The screen went dark at the behest of a dramatic music cue. Ayda''s character brought his hands back and clapped them together on the woman''s ears. Her head squished between the metal appendages, leaving only a stumpy neck to spurt blood. The black man followed up by grabbing both her wrists and placing a boot on her chest. A vicious tug rent free the limbs. The mutilated corpse fell backward. The man held the arms above his head in victory for a moment before slamming them into the ground. He flexed and gave a primal shout. A deep voiced announcer proclaimed his conquest.

    "Jax wins. Fatality." Letters dripping blood red spelled out the final word.

    "Yes." Ayda whisper shouted through grit teeth. The teenager pumped her fist low, then let out the breath she hadn''t been aware of holding. She took a celebratory munch of popcorn. That was one hell of a close fight. The game progressed to a results screen, and she quickly exited the lobby. Even though that was a good match, her heart could only take so much. She really had no interest in fighting that person again.

    "I hope I''m not interrupting," said the familiar voice of Jackie from behind her. Ayda twisted around to her with a smile.

    "No, I just got done." She shook her head, putting the controller down behind herself.

    "Alright." Jacqueline entered the room. She wore her pajamas, a purple tank top with matching plain flannel bottoms, and bare feet.

    "What''s up," Ayda asked as Jackie stopped at her shoulder.

    "I just came to say good night," answered the blonde simply.

    "Is it really that late?" Ayda leaned back to look at the alarm clock behind her sister. It was only a few minutes until midnight. "Huh, guess so."

    "You should get to bed," instructed Jackie. "You have school tomorrow."

    "Okay, Mom," Ayda teased with a smile.

    "I can go get her, if you want. I''m sure she''d say the same thing."

    "Let''s not get hasty," said Ayda. "And don''t you have work tomorrow, too?"

    Jackie groaned. "Don''t remind me."

    "At least it''s only part-time," Ayda tried to soften the blow. "You won''t be stuck at school like me."

    "I think I''d rather be in school." Jacqueline said. "Hey, so, I don''t remember if I said so earlier, but I had a lot of fun at the movies today."

    "So did I," Ayda agreed, "even if the movie kidna sucked."

    "Well, I liked it," declared Jackie.

    "That''s because you have bad taste."

    "Yeah, you''re probably right." Jackie had a little giggle at her own expense. This was followed immediately by a yawn, which she daintily covered with her fingers. It took all of Ayda''s willpower to keep from copying her.

    "And you say I should get to bed?"

    "Oh, shut up," deflected Jacqueline. "I''m not a night owl like you are."

    "Trust me, I know." Ayda rolled her eyes.

    She stood up and walked the short distance around the bed to stand before her sister. They embraced in a short hug. Jacqueline laid her head on her sister''s shoulder. She gave a satisfied hum at the contact before they separated.

    "Don''t stay up too late, alright," Jackie said.

    "I won''t," promised Ayda.

    "Okay. Good night."

    "Good night, Jackie."

    The blonde departed the room, politely closing Ayda''s door on her way out. The moment she was gone, Ayda finally allowed herself to yawn. While the expression still wracked her body, she switched off both her television and gaming console. She stretched and moved over to her closet. It had been a good day.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 17: Closing Time

    It was a beautiful day. A brilliant yellow sun rose in a cloudless sky of endless blue. Dry heat baked the air at a comfortable temperature. The scattered chirping of birds as they flitted from trees and power lines interspersed the near constant rumbling of vehicles. Folks either walked or drove to their various destinations, most intent on running a few errands during the relative lull of noon time.

    This complete pause was felt by establishments of all sizes, even a little convenience store on a square plot of asphalt at the corner of a relatively empty street. A single aged car parked between a pair of white lines. Inside, a short old woman purchased some miscellaneous items; a pack of cigarettes, a magazine, a loaf of bread, and a few other unrelated goods.

    Behind the cash register Jacqueline dutifully rang up the materials, tallying them one by one with a hand scanner. Each scan was denoted by an overly loud beep. She flipped over the bread one by one in search of the bar code before giving it a proper ring. The store sold a few different brands, and of course none of them could agree one where to put the relevant information. Jacqueline could never keep them straight.

    All the while, the old lady stood on the other side of the service counter, waiting none too patiently for her transaction to complete. The expression she gave was tight and unimpressed, as though under the assumption she could do a better job. Her gnarled hands shook with Parkinson''s as she reached into her giant brown leather purse to extract a thin green checkbook, receipts poking out of its cover. Internally, Jacqueline groaned. Checks were an absolute pain in the ass to tender.

    The blonde finished ringing up the few items and hastily placed them all in a duo of clear plastic bags. She placed them in front of her customer, as was her habit, and recited the total. The old lady nodded. At a snail''s pace, she began writing on the check. Thankfully, she''d had the foresight to sign the slip beforehand, so the only required step at this point was to jot down the total. When finished, Jackie received the check, ran it through the validator, and placed it in the cash register.

    "Okay, you''re all set," Jackie said with a smile. "Have a good day."

    The old lady said nothing in response as she gathered the two bags in her arms. Carrying them in complete ignorance of their convenient handles, she exited through the automatic doors.

    The moment the customer left, Jackie''s smile faded. She considered herself a mostly patient person, but rude customers like that got on her nerves. With all the negativity in the world, there was no excuse for needlessly adding more to it. Perhaps that made her an idealist, but it was a dream she fully believed in. Be the change you want to see, and all that.

    At the moment, however, the only change Jackie really cared about was a alteration of scenery. The warm breeze which blew in from outside reminded her just how nice of a day it was. She yearned to be out in the world, hanging out with her friends or just basking in the sun. Although, that last one may not have been the best idea. She tended to burn instead of tan.

    She looked around the store in search for something to occupy her mind. This time of day¡ªafter lunch and the early bird rush¡ªalways dragged on. It was easily the worst part of any shift. At least the properties of part-time meant she only had an hour left. As always, it would feel much longer than the previous four combined.

    The store was a tiny little hole in the wall. A few aisle displays made lanes in the middle of the floor. The walls were also lined in several rows of shelves. Not an inch was left empty. Everywhere the eye could see, except for the entrance, had something to buy. This facing of product was the direct result of Jackie''s desperation to stay busy.

    The store was immaculate. Jackie had already straightened the shelves about six times that day, and the old lady hadn''t noticeably disturbed anything. The displays were not in need of cleaning, the floors had been waxed just recently. Indeed, everything ran quite smoothly, but that was exactly the issue. No mess to clean up or shelf to fix meant there was nothing to do.

    A buzz went off in her pocket, little more than a brief vibration against her thigh. So zoned out was she, it took her a couple seconds to realize this disturbance was her cellphone. Jacqueline shook the cobwebs from her cranium. With a sly squint, she peered around the interior, just to be extra sure it was empty. When a positive conclusion had been drawn, she extracted the device.

    As if someone had flipped a switch in her mind, Jackie''s expression instantly brightened. She had received a text message from her beloved sister. As there was no one in the store, and no cars in the parking lot, she thought nothing of answering. It would take only a few seconds. She would never be caught. With an upward flick, she opened up the message.

    "Hey," it read. "So... I know I asked you last night, but I already forgot. Are you working at nine or one today?"

    "Nine," Jackie wrote in reply. "I''ll be home when you get there." She proofread her text, just to make sure autocorrect didn''t mess anything up. For a finishing touch, she added a smiley face emoticon before tapping send. After that, she attempted to return the phone, but the second she did, it vibrated again. With a shake of her head, Jackie took it out.

    "Cool," was Ayda''s one word response.

    "See you then," Jackie wrote just as recognition she received the text. Hopefully that would be the end of it. Jacqueline enjoyed messaging her sister, but not at work. It would get her in trouble. This point was proven when the door behind her opened.

    "Should you be texting right now?" Said her manager in an authoritative tone.

    "No, sorry." Jacqueline hastily pocketed her phone.

    "It''s alright, I know it''s a slow day." The middle-aged woman stopped at Jackie''s left. "Just don''t let it happen again."

    "It won''t," promised Jackie, knowing full well she''d probably lapse within a day.

    The manager was a middle-aged woman, wider than she was tall. Her boyishly styled haircut had obviously been dyed it''s dark color, betrayed by encroaching gray at the roots. She''d supposedly been working at this little store for fifteen years, but part of Jacqueline refused to believe it. She wouldn''t wish such a terrible fate on anyone.

    "Mark should be done with his break in a few minutes," the manager changed the subject. "Then it won''t be just you in here. Not that it matters," she added.

    "Well, you know what they say, ''misery loves company.''" Jacqueline did her best to make a joke. Admittedly, it wasn''t funny, so she felt no shame when her manager forgot to laugh.

    "If you''re bored, you could¡ª" The manager began to offer a suggestion, but would never get the chance to finish her sentence.

    Three men burst through the doors. They moved quickly with a sinister purpose. The men wore nondescript street clothes, but any semblance of innocence they may have had ended there. Each one hid their face with a cheap Halloween mask, the kind available at any dollar store. The first one to enter was unarmed, presumably so he could open the door. The second hefted an aluminum baseball bat, slightly dented in the middle where also stuck the remnants of a dark stain. Even though he was the shortest of the bunch, the third commanded the most authority. He brandished a sleek black handgun.

    "Hands up, both of you!" commanded the gunman, pointing his weapon in turn at each employee before resting on Jacqueline. "This is a robbery!"

    Both women complied instantly. Jackie''s heart beat out of her chest. The blonde breathed as if she''d just run a mile, quick and uncontrolled bursts through her nose. Unconsciously, she backed up until she ran into the wall behind her. Anything to put as much distance between herself and the gun. She winced in surprise at the sudden pressure on her shoulder blades. Any other movement escaped her. She was absolutely paralyzed with fear.

    The manager, though, displayed none of the same hesitation. As soon as the men had entered, she''d done her best to avoid looking at the gunman. Instead, the middle-aged woman inspected the west wall. Slowly, she inched toward the counter. It was almost within her reach to begin with. If she could just move a few inches without anyone noticing. Occasionally, she would spare the aggressors a quick glance, just to make sure they hadn''t caught on. A woman her size, though, could never be surreptitious in motion.

    "Hey, hey, hey!" The gunman screamed, training his muzzle on her. "If you sound the alarm I will shoot you, understood?"Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    The manager stood bolt upright and nodded frantically. So much for that heroic rescue. At this point, the reality sunk in. No one would come to save them. At this time of day, no new customers would pull up. The captives had no way of contacting the police, and no way to escape. These men hoarded all the power, and nothing could be done about it.

    "Take her to the back," the gunman ordered of his cronies. "Restrain anyone else you find back there."

    "Are you sure you can handle this?" The man with the bat said.

    "I have the gun, I''m fine."

    The bat wielder shrugged. He gestured for the remaining burglar to follow him. Together, they made way behind the service counter. The unarmed man forcibly turned the manager around. None too gently, he pulled her arms down behind her back, just like cops do before handcuffing a suspect. Without any sort of restraint, though, he simply followed his cohort behind the door. It swung closed.

    Jacqueline''s heart sank through her foot. It was just her and the robber; alone with an armed, dangerous, and clearly unstable man. She looked at the door, praying for the manager to return, or even one of the other thieves. Any sort company would make her feel more safe, as ridiculous as that seemed.

    "Hey," the gunman shouted.

    He rattled his gun. Jacqueline whipped her head around to look at him, eyes quadruple their normal circumference. The man produced a plastic shopping bag from his gray hoodie''s pocket. He gave it a flick to fluff it out and held it at arm''s length.

    "Open the register, put all the money in this bag," he ordered, sounding somewhat calm for the first time.

    Jacquelin did not move. Her mind knew what to do. The training manual said, in a robbery situation, just do what you''re told and don''t be a hero. She wanted to, but her body wouldn''t obey. Innumerable other thoughts clouded her mind. It was impossible for any singular notion to preside for long.

    "Now!" Screamed the gunman, once again shaking his weapon.

    It wasn''t his volume which spurred Jackie to action, but instead the movement of the gun. Jacqueline would do anything to avoid it''s wrath. She walked forward and attempted to take the bag, but the criminal yanked it away from her.

    "No, just fill it," he ordered quickly. He replaced it back to where it had just been.

    Jackie paused before opening the register. She began with the largest bills in fear that anything else would get her threatened or worse. The store hadn''t seen much business, so there weren''t many big denominations to give over, a solitary hundred and two fifties. From there it was the smaller amounts, most of which had been put into the machine that morning for the purpose of making change.

    "Come on, faster," the gunman commanded.

    Jacqueline did her best to speed up, but she''d already been going as fast as she could. Fear muddied her motor skills. She fumbled a bill. It fell atop the drawer. She picked it up and hastily put it in the bag. Had this been the kind of register with a removable till, she would have just dumped it all in one go. That would certainly be more efficient.

    The gunman grew more and more visibly impatient as Jackie moved on the the coins. At this point, she gathered with a feverish intensity, dumping both loose mintage and solid rolls into the bag as quickly as possible. She finished this portion much more swiftly.

    "There, that''s all of it," the blonde blurted out before taking a big step back.

    The thief, ever thorough, checked the till. Keeping the gun trained on his hostage, he leaned over the counter just to confirm the machine really was barren. His gaze remained there for a second. Having found the confirmation he sought, the gunman raised his head quickly to make sure his captive was not out of sight for too long.

    It happened in the blink of an eye. His pale blue ghoul mask caught on the corner of the customers'' price readout as he rose. The lackluster elastic snapped. In a way almost comically unceremonious, the mask floated down onto the counter. Bare olive skin greeted the world. Both he and Jackie looked on with mortified expressions as it lay there. Surprise immediately turned to rage and horror. The gunman looked up and covered himself with his free hand. The other hand flourished his weapon.

    "You saw my face!" He accused. A step closer to the counter.

    "No, I didn''t I swear!" Jacqueline shouted back, frantically waving her arms.

    "You saw my face!"

    "No, you were looking at the register!" Tears flowed down Jacqueline''s face. "Please. Please, don''t hurt me."

    "You''ll tell the cops," insisted the thief. "You''ll give me up."

    "I won''t, please! I swear I won''t tell anyone!"

    The gunman widened his stance and raised his weapon.

    "No!"

    A gunshot.

    ¡­

    ¡­

    ¡­

    A wooden casket. Its dark stain caught a bright reflection from a dazzling midday sun. Polished fixtures gleamed in the light, shining with hues of yellow and silver. Out of respect for the deceased it had been left sealed. Truly, it was tomb fit for a princess.

    A solemn hymn played in the background, softly sang by an older woman with a voice pure as snow. It mused on the sadness of loss, both that of youthful innocence and of loved ones. There was not an absence of hope, however. The song wondered if the circle would be unbroken, and if a better home awaited in the sky. Like all good hymns, it never answered either question.

    The coffin lay atop a granite table draped in white. Vases of red roses flanked it on either side, while loose flowers collected at its base. Even more buds ringed the table itself on the green grass below. The display had been professionally arranged, designed to be simple and clean, yet elegant. In one way or another it drew focus to a large picture in a golden frame; an image of a smiling young woman with blonde hair and impossibly green eyes.

    A field of tombstones stretched on behind the casket, each one unique but no less important. They marked a memory, the final resting place of a dearly departed. To think every person left behind a degree of unfinished business brought hope to some, yet despair to many others. The field made for a somber backdrop, a stark reminder of the dead and forgotten. One day all would end and be forgotten, the only remnants a collection of carved rocks without meaning.

    Before the headstones, in an area clear of them, many people had gathered. They stood in a semicircle to create an uneven sea of black and white, friends and family of the deceased summoned together to pay their respects. A wide channel ran through the center to permit traversal. Nary a dry eye could be found, so darling was the blonde girl featured in the photo. Well loved and respected, her passing moved many hearts and composed many tears.

    In the front row stood the Belmont family, an older man and woman along with their adopted daughter. Emma Belmont clung to her husband, sobbing openly into his shoulder. While Bernard maintained a stony face, it could not stop tears from flowing down his cheeks. Next to him perched Ayda. Standing bolt upright with shoulders hunched just slightly, her expression remained blank. Not an ounce of wetness stained her face. Indeed, instead of grief, the only emotion she displayed was shock.

    This was the end of the ceremony. A sermon had been said, a moment of silence had, and memorials given. Now, all which remained was to lay the girl to rest. A procession of six men rose from the crowd. Bernard was the first to reach the casket. Together, they lifted it upon their shoulders.

    The trip to the appropriate headstone was short. The crowd which accompanied them at this point was rather small, limited to family only. Ayda walked among the people, a sullen look on her face as she stared at the ground. Her eyes didn''t really see. Her ears heard nothing. Existence was but a dream. The world carried on, yet she was numb to it.

    When all had reached their shared destination, the pallbearers placed the coffin down upon the lowering mechanism. Its straps strained under the weight. Slowly, the gears turned. The casket lowered into the rectangular hole. As it fell, the inscription on the tombstone rose to view.

    Jacqueline Marie Belmont

    Daughter, dreamer, sister.

    Though her light is gone, may her love remain forever.

    1995-2014

    This was her final resting place, her last mark on the planet. It would serve as a permanent reminder of someone who used to be, of all the light she gave to everyone who crossed her path. Jacqueline Belmont may have left the world, but in her wake was a story of love and peace. It was a better place for having had her.

    It hurt too much to stay. With a long exhale from her nose, Ayda left the scene. No one attempted to stop her, yet both Emma and Bernard watched her go with sad eyes. Part of Ayda wanted to stay, to be with her for just a little while, but it would not come to pass. Ayda could bear the sight of it no longer. It hurt too much to stay. The sound of a motorcycle riding away perforated the quiet moment.

    When Ayda made it home, she went straight up to her room. The girl had no appetite for food nor company. She wanted to be alone for the day, maybe forever. Only time would tell. Besides, the atmosphere in the house was currently perfect for introspection. It was quiet. So quiet.

    Ayda opened up the door she didn''t remember closing and crossed the threshold. Strange, everything was exactly as she remembered. The bed, the shelf, her television, everything remained in its proper place. So, then, why did it feel so different? She stopped in her tracks to contemplate, but soon shook her head. The bed looked more inviting than anything she''d ever seen. To that end, she began to walk.

    As she passed by the dresser, Ayda stopped in her tracks. Something caught in the corner of her eye brought all other functions to a complete standstill. Slowly, Ayda turned to inspect the source of the disturbance. Timid hands reached out to grab it.

    A photograph, a memory emblazoned upon paper to commemorate a time passed. In it Ayda saw herself, smiling with a gentle curve of her lips, a peace sign held next to her head. She remembered this photo. It was her first official day of school.

    Ayda''s breath caught. Her heart skipped a beat. Clinging to Ayda in the photograph was an exuberant blonde, mimicking her pose with much more enthusiasm. Jackie. She was so happy, so proud of her little sister, but now that pride meant nothing. Life had burned so passionately in her soul but now... the only remnants were ashes

    In an instant, everything slammed home. She was gone. Jackie was really gone. The woman who''d sworn to protect her, the first person in so many years to ever show her true kindness, was no more. Her sweet laugh, that endless happiness, the way she twirled her hair whenever she was confused, Ayda would never witness any of them again. Jackie was gone.

    Ayda fell to her knees. Her breaths came in uncontrollable spasms and hiccups. Tears freely flowed from her closed eyes, staining the glass in the black picture frame. She pressed it to her chest, clutching it as tightly as her body would allow. Ayda bent forward. Her forehead almost touched the floorboards. Doubled over and crying, the intensity of her sobs caused her chest to ache. Today was the last time she would ever see the one person she loved more than anyone or anything else in the entire world. It was the last time she would ever see her sister.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 18: Determination

    Empty. The house felt absolutely barren. At some point, Ayda had been struck by the fact that she''d never been around so few people before. All her life had been packed cages and urban spaces. There was the recovery room, but that didn''t count. Now, stuck at home with only two other people, she didn''t even know what to do with all the blank space.

    She could go outside, search for light and distraction, but even as she ruminated on the possibility for the hundredth time, she knew it to be impossible. For her, simply getting out of bed was a gargantuan task. It''s not that she was weak, or sick, or anything like that. Rather, she lacked the motivation to do so. What''s the point? Why bother getting out of bed to face the emptiness when staying in was so much easier?

    For all the confusion and strife these things may have caused, Ayda liked it. The dark desertion made her feel comfortable and safe, almost as if the real world didn''t exist. Nothing could do her any harm in the safety of her room. It was warm and gentle and kind, just like a girl she used to know. She could remain locked away forever in her own little world, deaf to any other outside influence.

    It was hard to believe an entire week had passed. It felt so much shorter. Although, Ayda could not agree with herself on how much shorter it actually seemed. Sometimes it felt like just a few hours, and others at least a day. Regardless, the week passed in a blink of an eye. A whole week, and she''d never left the security of those four bedroom walls.

    So stuck in the depths was she, Ayda almost forgot what she was sad about. Depression slowly replaced her senses until only it remained. She wallowed in a pit of despair so devoid of happiness it pervaded everything it meant to be her, to be a functional person. There was a familiarity in the stagnation. It was safe, if only for the fact that action of any sort brought the possibility of memory. Everything reminded Ayda of her, in some way. Staying in her room all alone was easier than facing the realities of outside.

    It wasn''t any sort of sudden realization which brought Ayda to her senses. No epiphany invaded her sense of realism. It was Emma. For all the time Ayda spent in her room, the woman wept. Out of sight and out of mind, Ayda at first largely ignored it. Only occasional sounds drifted up to her room. She realized rather quickly, though, Emma wouldn''t cry if she didn''t have a reason. The woman never came off as so emotionally unstable. For all she tried to dismiss it, Ayda knew full well the reason.

    Jacqueline. The mere thought of that name sent her spiraling down a deeper down her well. She wanted to curl up in a ball and never do anything ever again because that was easier than facing an empty house.

    Stupid. That entire concept was stupid. She was stronger than that. Ayda had only known adversity in her life. She''d faced down harsher situations and come out on top. All this lazing around, feeling sorry for herself, it made zero sense. It wasn''t what she wanted. It wasn''t what Jackie would want for her. Ayda was a fighter. She would fight. She would win.

    But it wasn''t that easy. Things seldom were, especially in her world. Every time Ayda tried to stand. Every time she convinced herself it was the right time to put herself back together, she fell apart again. Like glass, she shattered. Like tinder, she burned. She failed over and over again, until the only thing left to do was sit.

    She was vaguely aware of the time that passed. She knew another week went by, but only through using her phone as reference. Ayda was not privy to the calendar. She existed in a state between time and space, a location where nothing mattered except the bare minimum to survive. Sleep. Eat. Don''t look at the facedown picture frames. The cycle went on and on, an endless self-fulfilling prophesy.

    When at the end of the second week her phone vibrated, Ayda abstained from checking it, just like she had been. No one could say anything to take away the pain, so why even bother looking? This time, however, when her eyes made contact with the device, curiosity got the better of her. That, and maybe a little guilt. Somewhere in her stupor she realized it was wrong to ignore the people in her life. With a quick motion, Ayda snatched the phone from where it lay on her bed.

    A text message from Rudy. She hesitated a moment before opening it, noting briefly the dozens of missed messages from him. The contents were not condolences or even a greeting. No, it was a video of a stupid cartoon frog with a top hat and cane, but instead of old pop music, it sang a loud song about letting the bodies hitting the floor. She didn''t reply, nor even make it through the whole thing, but despite everything she felt inside, Ayda smiled.

    As the third week commenced, Ayda''s strength began returning. She still found it hard to leave the comfort of her bed, but doing so was no longer impossible. She played video games and surfed the internet. She even began accepting phone calls from both Rudy and Elliot. The poor boys had been trying to reach her ever since the funeral. She felt terrible for giving them the cold shoulder. They were just worried, after all. Talking to them did her a lot of good. It reminded Ayda she still had friends who cared about her. More than anything else, that gave her the will to go on.

    On a rather unremarkable afternoon, Ayda found herself absorbed into such a phone call. She sat at the head of the bed, squished up against the wall with her chin on her knees. The television had been turned on for the sake of background noise. She wasn''t really watching it, so the volume remained low. It served as a distraction, an attempt to make the eerily quiet space a bit less disconcerting. It didn''t work, but Ayda liked to think it eventually would.

    "No, Rudy," she said gently into her phone. "It''s a nice gesture, but I''m fine, really." She paused to let her friend on the other side of the line reply. "Alright, you got me. I''m not fine. I just... need to be alone, still. I think. I''m really sorry."

    Rudy probably had some response to that comment, but Ayda didn''t hear it. In the moment, she was more concerned with something which just came across her television screen. An attractive dark skinned woman spoke in tones she could barely hear. Ayda could, however, read the headline on screen. "Gang violence still rising after death of billionaire''s daughter." It didn''t take a genius to figure out who they meant.

    "Hey, I''ll call you back, alright?" Without giving him a chance to respond, Ayda terminated the call. She leaned forward to grab her remote. Quick fingers turned up the volume. The anchorwoman''s voice filled the room.

    "¡ªcan be directly linked to a noticeable and persistent increase in gang related crime." An image of an Asian man with short black hair and a thin goatee appeared next to the woman''s head. "Sun Xin, pictured here, is the main suspect in the murder of local celebrity Jacqueline Belmont. A known associate of the Chinese Triad in the city, he has so far evaded police custody. With me now is criminal analyst Mike Hunter to talk about how such high-profile cases can have a cascading effect."

    The view cut out to include an aging Caucasian man in a gaudy tweed suit, but Ayda no longer paid the program any mind.

    She honestly didn''t know what to think. Of course, the police had clued her in on some details of the investigation, including the name of their prime suspect, but at the time Ayda hadn''t done anything with that information. Perhaps naively, she still trusted law enforcement to handle the matter, to bring it to a succinct end. But so much time passed and¡ªas this reporter put it¡ªthe cops hadn''t done jack shit.

    It should have been easy, right? Get a warrant, go to the man''s house, and slap some cuffs on him. A quick open and shut case. So, why had there been no results? Why did this Sun Xin remain at large? Why were the police so worthless?

    It suddenly dawned on Ayda that this may be the end of it. Restricted by protocols established with public safety and due process in mind, the police may never progress any further past this point. Even with all their funding and resources, they were limited. There were places they couldn''t go, things they couldn''t do. In some respects, they were powerless.

    Ayda had none of the same restrictions. She was not powerless. She was the explosive girl, cursed with great strength by a madman. His exploitation failed, and she''d been left the abominable waste product of a failed experiment. But maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªher powers were not a curse.

    Maybe everything she''d been given, everything she''d learned, had led up to this moment, this one decision. She had great power, but what good was it if she never used it? She''d been given these abilities for a reason. In some twisted way, her creator had noble intentions. He wanted to change the world through science. What if she used his science to changer her own world?

    Truly, Ayda enjoyed a bountiful breadth of freedom the local law enforcement could never even dream of. Bound only by the risk of being caught, she could go places and do things they couldn''t. If anything, Ayda had a duty to assist. As a responsible citizen, it was her duty to see justice done. She had a responsibility to help, to use her immense strength in assistance to the legal process. Anything different was guilt by association. Inaction made her just as bad as the man who took her sister away.

    All of that in mind, the decision she had to make became clearer than the bluest of skies. Ayda refused to let Jacqueline die as just another unrequited victim. The loose threads connected to her death would be severed one by one until only due justice remained. If the police couldn''t do anything about it, then she would.

    ¡­

    Finding the Triad was easy. Anyone who spent more than twenty minutes in El Puerto knew where Triad territory was, and the gang members themselves made no attempt to hide it. Everything from the defunct industrial district to the docks¡ªand a few surrounding boroughs¡ªfell under the jurisdiction of organized crime. The Triad was by far the largest gang in the city. They used that power to expand their zone of control and rule with an iron fist funded by laundromats and restaurants. Some of them probably thought they lived in an old-fashioned gangster movie.

    Sun Xin, however, proved a much tougher nut to crack. Ayda would by no means call herself a technology expert, but she knew how to use the internet. One thing which never ceased to amaze her about the western world was just how much information about individual people existed in the digital space. How few people were even aware of this distribution was perhaps even more troubling. Ayda kept her online presence to a minimum for this exact reason.

    Her quarry practiced no such caution. His personal information was simply all over the place. Not just public records, either. Social media, online radio, shopping websites, app stores, all were bountiful cornucopias of information. After Ayda found his username on one space, the rest opened up to her. Just like most people, he had a habit of using the same moniker everywhere.

    She hadn''t the time nor patience to crack his password, not that she possessed the ability to do so in the first place. It was, thankfully, superfluous. Sun Xin was wanted for¡ªamong other things¡ªbail bonds. Three years ago, he''d missed a court date and refused to pay the bail set on him for a breaking and entering charge. His gang had protected him from being tracked down. No one wanted to mess with the Triad. However, his last known address was plastered all over various bounty hunting websites.

    In a simpler case, that would be the end of it. Break his door and then his neck, easy as that. Doubtless, the police had already tried this and failed. Otherwise, Xin would not be still on the run. Obviously, he''d fled his home and gone to ground somewhere. That made sense, to Ayda. Finding him would be difficult, but in this Ayda had a distinct advantage. Since she was not a cop, people would be more willing to talk to her. Hopefully, that would make the search run much smoother.

    Ayda used his most recent residence¡ªa grimy apartment somewhere in the industrial district¡ªto canvas a search area. Most people didn''t like to stray too far form their homes, especially in urban settings. While Sun Xin could have been an exception, for now Ayda would have to bank on his conformity to the status quo.

    A quick prod around for relevant research data on this topic and a consultation with an interactive map gave Ayda all the information she needed. She marked any and all points of interest within an established search radius. Any sort of business be they bars, restaurants, markets, and anywhere which accepted customers were flagged as likely questioning and stakeout locations. Sun Xin had to have habits, favorite places he went to eat and socialize. They would have information about him.

    Ayda just needed to find them. It would take time, but this was the best starting point. She did make a special note, however, to avoid entering his apartment complex. The probability of running across the prying eyes of other gang members was much too great a risk. A few thugs she could silence with threats and a good beating, but one she never saw could pose a major problem. If Sun Xin was tipped off and then relocated, her entire effort would be for naught.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    With the acquisition of data came the formation of a grand scheme. Ayda took much of the remaining daylight piecing together all she''d learned. Points of interest fell together like building blocks. First were names and locations, then an actual route to follow. Although to some it may have seemed like a long shot, Ayda had faith in her tactics. They had to work. Failure was not an option. She just had to wait for the right time to put them all in action.

    ¡­

    Night fell over the city. Blackness blanketed the sky, the sun having long retreated to a place of slumber. In its stead, the moon and stars. A slight breeze blew which carried with it remnants of dry heat mostly overshadowed by the humid chill of evening. While the city certainly never slept, it did slow down. With all the commuters and day workers tucked snugly into their homes, traffic was a non-issue. It was a calm and peaceful time.

    Through the still of night ripped the sinister screech from an expensive motorcycle, its rider clad all in black, face obscured by a thick visored helmet. A black, unzipped cropped leather jacket fluttered lightly in the wind, a tight black tank top beneath. Skin tight jeans clung to her hips and fed into mid-calf boots. A quartet of straps ran in lateral bands around the footwear. Bound against saddlebags on the back of her steed, a long metal staff swayed in reaction to a quick left hand turn to avoid a slow car. Ayda was a woman on a mission. No black of night nor bad drivers would stop her.

    She rode on for several more minutes with little mind paid to speed limit laws. Here in the industrial district, the police had almost zero presence. The dominant gang did a good job of keeping them out. As such, she suffered little threat of intervention. Besides, a speeding ticket would be a drop in the bucket for her. While the anarchy here did not exactly settle her mind, Ayda wouldn''t argue with anything which aided in her task. The faster she got this done with, the faster she reached her ultimate goal.

    Ayda hung another left, but this time pulled into a small parking lot outside a divey little pub. The building had no signage, no lights on the outside, and not even a bouncer to guard the entrance. It would be quite easy to drive right by, especially at night. In fact, Ayda was pretty sure she''d done just that more than once. She could only find it in the first place because she marked it on her phone''s GPS.

    After claiming the space closest to the street, Ayda switched off her motorcycle. She removed her helmet and immediately replaced it with a pair of cheap, dark sunglasses. These made it a bit harder to see, but would conceal her identity well enough. Not that she expected to find anyone she knew here. Ayda entered the establishment through a single, black painted door.

    The inside was just as nondescript as the out. It was literally just a single long room. A bar stretched from the east wall about halfway down straight ahead from the entrance. Several plain stools lined its outside. A large, aging man with grease stains on his white shirt stood behind it wiping down a clean glass. Red cushioned booth tables made of dark wood occupied every inch of floor not already taken by the bar. They formed two distinct columns along the north and south walls, the space between them hardly wide enough to traverse.

    Ayda took a quick glance around. Other than the bartender and herself, the only other people were an old fogey sitting all alone just past the bar, and a group of three young men in the far corner. One of them peered up at her briefly when she entered, but the other two cared not. They were very quiet, despite clearly conversing amongst themselves. Neither party posed an immediate threat.

    With the area fully assessed, Ayda took a seat at the bar. The rickety metal stool slipped to one side as she sat down, resting on uneven legs. The barman took immediate notice of her, just like she''d expected. He was the man she''d come to talk to, and sitting at the bar was the best way to get his attention without drawing too much to herself. He walked over to her, all the while drying the same glass.

    "You gotta be twenty-one to sit at the bar, little lady," he said gruffly. Ayda had a feeling this kind of thing happened quite often.

    "Relax," she said. "I''m just looking for a little light conversation."

    "And you have to sit at the bar to do that?" The barman replied with a raised eyebrow.

    "Tell you what," Ayda leaned her elbow on the counter top, "humor me, and I''ll be out of your hair."

    "Sounds good to me," shrugged the man. "Go on, shoot," he nodded. Ayda extracted a photograph from her jacket pocket.

    "I''m looking for this man, goes by the name Sun Xin. Have you seen him around here recently?" This was her gambit. Up until that moment, it hadn''t seemed real. There was no going back now. She''d have to pursue this course to the very end.

    For all the ice the bartender maintained on his exterior, he had a terrible poker face. His expression immediately drooped at the sight of Sun Xin''s picture. He even went so far as to put his glass down.

    "That... depends on who''s asking?" Said the barkeep in a dodgy sort of way.

    "The underage girl sitting at your bar," Ayda responded with a smirk. "You wouldn''t want the police to find out, would you? I can get off with a warning, but something tells me you can''t afford another fine." She leaned forward. "Answer me and I''ll leave, simple as that."

    The quip about another fine was a complete guess, but it seemed to hit home. The man placed his palms on the bar. His breaths quickened just slightly, not enough for most normal people to notice, but Ayda''s supernatural perception allowed her to pick up on it. He wanted her gone, and that was a good thing.

    "Yeah, he used to come in here pretty regularly, but I haven''t seen him ever since the cops started looking for him," said the bartender.

    "Any idea where he might have gone?" Ayda pressed.

    "Not a clue," the man shook his head. "We never really talked all that much."

    Ayda sighed. "I thought you''d say something like that." She stood. "Thank you for your time."

    With that, she left. She''d made a promise, after all. The barman deserved no ill will from her. He probably had enough trouble from the local degenerates. The last thing he needed was some random girl causing him grief.

    Ayda made it out to the parking lot and began toward her bike. All in all, the trip had been both more informative than she''d expected, yet less than she''d hoped. To score any sort of hit at all on her very first stop filled her with hope, but the extent of the information made her realize just how daunting the task would be. Likely, she''d find the exact same responses from dozens of other individuals. To corner the one who would spout off a little more would be like finding a needle in a concrete haystack. Still, Ayda had already prepared for such. No one ever said this would be easy.

    She made it all the way to her motorcycle. Helmet in hand, about to remove her glasses, an interruption stayed her.

    "Hey!" Called out an authoritative, accented voice behind her. She shook her head.

    "Let me guess," she put down her helmet, "the three guys in the corner." Ayda turned to look at her guests. "Oh, I am just that good."

    Indeed, the three men sitting in the corner of the pub had roused themselves to join her outside. They carried the look of hoodlums about them. Each one wore ill-fitting clothes and two had baggy hoodies. The lightest color among them was a dull gray. All three of them were of Asian descent. They stood in defensive, hunched postures. Ayda could already tell there''d be no getting out of this. She backed up against the motorcycle and grabbed her staff behind her back.

    "You had some interesting questions back there," the man in the center said.

    "You think so?" Ayda played coy. "I thought they were pretty tame, myself." She scratched a theoretical beard and grinned.

    "Who told you about Sun Xin," asked the same gangster. "Why were you asking about him?"

    "Would you believe it if I said I''m an old girlfriend?" Ayda joked. The rightmost man laughed.

    "Nice try, but Xin could never nail a chick like you," he said. Any other time, Ayda would''ve taken that as a compliment.

    "What do you say we cut the shit, gentlemen?" In a fluid motion, Ayda drew her staff. Holding it horizontally behind her back in both hands, she stepped forward. "Sun Xin is a wanted man. He''s all over the news. I think it''s pretty easy to figure out why someone would be looking for him."

    "So, what, you''re some sort of bounty hunter?" The third gangster finally spoke up.

    "You could say that," Ayda briefly cocked her head to one side. "What are you gonna do about it?"

    "I don''t like hitting girls," the center man said. From his pocket, he produced a slim folding blade. "But the boss wouldn''t like it if we just let you get away."

    "Seriously?" She cocked an eyebrow. "That''s it? No baseball bats or brass knuckles? And here I thought my first street fight would be more exciting." She gave a devilish grin. "I''d be lying if I said I didn''t feel like hitting something right now. So come on," Ayda assumed a ready stance, "indulge me."

    The men hesitated for a moment, exchanging uncertain glances. Likely no one¡ªmuch less a woman¡ªhad ever actually challenged them to a street fight before. They were probably more used to ambushing targets from within dark alleyways. They recovered within a few seconds, though. At a quick order from the center assailant, the two at his flanks closed in.

    They had a good idea to attack her from both sides simultaneously, but these poor souls had no idea who they were dealing with. Ayda watched them both as they approached, awaiting the perfect moment to strike. They made their moves at almost the same time. The one on the left attempted to grab her, with the other cocked his fist back. Pathetic.

    Lazily, Ayda tapped the ground with the end of her staff. A blast rippled through the ground. It was rather weak, only traveling a few inches, but more than enough to halt them both. They stumbled to remain upright. Each man gave her confused looks. Ayda simply smiled. This would be fun.

    She jabbed the man on the right just underneath his chin. While he reeled, she leveled a horizontal strike and blast into the other. He sailed through the air a few feet and landed hard on his shoulder. She swung back the other way and aimed a blast low. The remaining man''s feet collapsed out from beneath him and he plummeted face first into the asphalt.

    While this had been going on, the third gangster thought he would be sneaky and charge her while she was occupied. A good plan, but it would never work. Ayda spun her staff long before he got in stabbing range. She hit him twice, once on the right side of the head and then again in the same elbow, each one accentuated with a small burst. Surprisingly, he remained standing. This one had some fight in him. Ayda thrust at his wrist to dislodge the knife. An explosion sent it to the ground. The man followed shortly after it with a blast to the kidneys.

    The first man she''d knocked over recovered at this point. Foolishly, he decided to attack yet again. He threw a big haymaker at her face. Ayda dodged with a sidestep. A light jab at his hip turned him around. Ayda brought her staff back and stabbed him right in the spine with a loud burst. Bone audibly cracked. He tumbled along the ground, stopped only by the pub''s outer wall. He slumped over on his face, motionless.

    The second man Ayda had put down was beginning to stir. He''d made it onto his hands and knees, and tried to stand up completely. A swift kick to the head put a stop to that. He rolled over onto his back, unconscious. As only her own strength carried the attack, he was most likely just knocked out.

    The last man got to his feet. Although he hadn''t the foresight to regain his weapon, he did have the smarts to refrain from blindly rushing her again. He stood vaguely like a boxer, buttoned up and coiled to strike. However, he clearly lacked an amount of training.

    Ayda sized him up for a moment. While this stance he took well protected his cranium, it left his lower half wide open. A simple upward stroke between the legs was all it took to disable him. He cried out and clutched his groin in a most undignified manner. As he fell forward, Ayda grabbed the cretin by his neck. He was powerless to resist as she dragged him forward. None too gently, Ayda pinned the man against a car in the parking lot. Their faces were close. His breath smelled of alcohol and onion rings. His aura reeked of fear.

    "Wha¡ªwhat are you?'' the man stammered.

    "Me? I''m just a normal girl, but as far as your concerned I''m a god." Ayda dropped her staff and laid a flat hand against his stomach. "Now, why don''t you be a good little peon, and tell me where to find Sun Xin?"

    "Why don''t you go fuck yourself," he menaced. His loyalty was admirable, but misplaced. Ayda pushed against his torso. A blast tore through his body. He screamed in brief agony.

    "You''ve asked enough questions. It''s my turn now." She tightened her grip around his throat. "Tell me where to find Sun Xin."

    "Up your ass," he joked. Ayda sighed. She didn''t really feel like mincing words with him.

    "Do you see the guy up against the building over there?" She physically turned his head, just to make sure. "He''s dead. I felt his spine shatter. Now, the other guy is just knocked out. Do you know what that means? It means I have another hostage perfectly willing to tell me everything I want to know. In other words, I don''t need you. I already killed your friend, and I don''t mind adding one more to the body count."

    For emphasis, she sent another blast through his body. The man cried out yet again. Calm fear quickly turned to frenzied panic. He seemed able to deal with quite a lot of pain, but the threat of death was another matter entirely. He had no reason to believe such a ruthless madwoman entertained any reservations about dropping him as well.

    "I don''t know where Xin is, I haven''t seen him," he blurted out all at once.

    "Don''t lie to me." Ayda pressed her hand deeper into his midsection, but didn''t actually hurt him. He yelped in fear.

    "It''s the truth, I swear!" he insisted. "The boss had him relocated after he killed that girl. He''s probably set up in one of our safe houses, but I don''t know where any of them are. That''s way above my pay grade."

    He spoke at a mile a minute, desperate to escape from these dire circumstances. Despite his obvious fear, Ayda could see in his eyes that what he said was factual. He was probably too afraid to lie.

    "Okay, then tell me who would know." She applied even more pressure to his middle, again without actually hurting him.

    "A guy called Lo Feng. He''s one of the big wigs, takes care of all our witness protection projects. He''s probably the one who handled Xin''s case."

    "I need more than that. Where can I find Lo Feng?"

    "I don''t know. He''s real secretive."

    "Give me everything you do know." Ayda was losing her patience. She sent a small blast through him.

    "Golf!" The man croaked between pained gasps. "He plays golf every Thursday at the country club on the west end of town. Everyone knows not to bother him then."

    "See, was that so hard?" Ayda released him. He fell to his knees, coughing and sputtering, a hand across his stomach. "Just so you know..." Ayda knelt down on her haunches. With a finger under the man''s chin, she turned his face toward her. "I''m nice enough to let you live right now, but If I go to this safehouse of yours and Sun Xin isn''t there, I''ll know someone blabbed, and I''ll start with you. If we have to have this conversation again, I won''t be so nice. Got it?"

    The man frantically nodded.

    "Good." Ayda grabbed her staff and stood. She rammed her boot into his face just to knock him out.

    Never mind what she''d thought before the fight, this trip turned out far more lucrative than she could have ever imagined. The exact location of her prize remained a mystery, but she had the next best thing, the means with which to acquire it. She had a new person to interrogate, and then it would be right on to her ultimate goal. For now, though, the only thing Ayda worried about was how she would contain herself until Thursday. For truly, it would be a day of reckoning.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 19: On the Scent

    Thursday. The Sunny Greens Country Club, a place where old rich people went to play golf and complain about other old rich people, all the while pretending they aren''t bored out of their minds. Truly, the pinnacle of American society. It was a country founded on complaints, after all. First it was tea and taxes, and now folks complained about pretty much everything. Ayda would never say she remained immune to such folly, though. In truth, she bitched and moaned just as much as anyone else when circumstances didn''t particularly suit her.

    For instance, why did it have to be a country club? Of all the places this guy could choose to spend his Thursdays, why somewhere like this? Even in the parking lot the pretentious attitude was so thick, Ayda thought she could reach out and grab it. Every inch of the place gave off a holier than thou aura. It almost seemed warmer for the energy of greed and opulence which surrounded it.

    Suffice it to say, she absolutely despised places like this. They made her feel heavy, as if the snobbish expectations of high society were a physical weight on her shoulders. It wasn''t just the country club, either. Fancy stores, expensive restaurants, sports car dealerships, all of them suffered. Even her high school felt uncomfortable and exclusionary on occasion, but most of the time the students were too busy to make it much worse.

    In reality, the locations themselves weren''t really what bothered her. The people provided the true meat of the problem. After all, buildings don''t care about their inhabitants. No, the turned up noses made her blood boil more than anything else. Perhaps because she hadn''t always been rich. There was a time in her life when she literally had nothing. None of these hobnobbers had the faintest idea how fleeting their wealth really was. In an instant, it could all be taken away. If they just showed a little gratitude, maybe then these folks wouldn''t get under her skin.

    The moment Ayda pulled into the parking lot, she wanted to leave. The atmosphere, the sport, the people, she hated all of them with a burning passion. Out of pure spite, she gave her motorcycle one last loud rev before switching it off. Hopefully, someone missed their shot because of that disturbance. She dismounted and replaced her helmet with a pair of sunglasses. Her outfit was much the same as her last data collection outing, although this time she sported a salmon tank top instead of a black one. She felt as though it made her look less intimidating. Before beginning toward the entrance, she extracted an orange plastic clipboard from her saddlebags.

    Most situations, regardless of how negative, were rarely at a lack for humor. This was true even with Ayda''s current predicament. An elderly couple stood near the entrance to the main office. Ayda hadn''t noticed them until she''d started to make her way toward the building. They both gave her disapproving looks and then continued to speak in hushed tones, glancing occasionally as she walked.

    Now, she couldn''t be certain whether this had to do with the bike, the leather jacket, or the color of her skin, but that detail seemed irrelevant. The reaction was what mattered. Ayda couldn''t help a little chuckle upon walking through the entrance.

    While the attached golf course was by far the main attraction, the country club was not without more domestic accouterments. It featured a large main dining hall, a few smaller rooms for private parties, and several sitting areas. They all followed the same sort of motif with warm, middle tones, fancy chandeliers, and a lot of natural light.

    The place opened up immediately to a large square foyer. This was where Ayda found herself. At the far end stood a receptionist, a pretty redheaded woman in her thirties. Most of her was obscured by a long rectangular desk much too tall for her. The room lacked any other prominent features. Mostly, it served as a hub for the areas toward the front end of the building.

    Ayda walked over to the receptionist. Awkwardness between them could be cut with a knife even before she reached the desk. The receptionist probably thought she looked out of place, which was absolutely the truth.

    "Hey," Ayda greeted. She leaned an elbow on the desk. "I''m here for the golf course?" She hadn''t the faintest idea how to start this conversation, but that seemed as good an opener as any.

    "Certainly, miss," the receptionist practically sang. "Are you a member?" She typed briefly on her keyboard.

    "Um, no, I''m not," Ayda said. Dropping Bernard''s name may have gotten her in, but it would also draw a heap of undo attention.

    "Okay, there''s an entrance fee for non-members to use the golf course," replied the receptionist.

    "Of course there is." Ayda rolled her eyes. She produced a wallet from her right rear pocket and handed her credit card to the woman. The receptionist took it with a smile.

    "And can I also interest you in an equipment rental?" Asked the redhead, sliding Ayda''s card through a table mounted reader.

    "No, I''m just meeting someone, so I don''t need any clubs." This had already gone on too long. The more Ayda talked, the less believable her story became.

    "Okay," the receptionist said after a moment. "Your total is three-hundred dollars, is that alright?"

    Ayda''s heart sank. Three-hundred dollars to play golf? Once!? That''s highway robbery! This place had already wormed its way under her skin, but now she despised it with an indescribable intensity. Were she not so financially endowed, she would have knocked the woman out and gone in without paying. No. Deep breaths and cooler heads. Ayda nodded. The receptionist smiled and hit a few more keys.

    "Okay, you''re all set." She handed Ayda back her card followed by a paper receipt.

    "Just one more thing," said Ayda. "I''ve never actually been here before. Could you, maybe, give me directions or draw a map?" She turned over one of the sheets of paper on her clipboard for emphasis.

    "Oh, well, we have directories for sale if you would¡ª"

    "Lady, I just spent three-hundred dollars to not play golf. You''re not getting another cent out of me." Ayda starred intensely over the rims of her sunglasses. Unbelievable. This place wanted more money out of her. The Belmont family was clearly in the wrong business.

    The receptionist paused, a bewildered look in her eyes. This was probably the first time anyone had tried to intimidate her into drawing a map. There was little to worry about, though, as long as she followed instructions. When the novelty of the moment wore off, she gave her best fake smile.

    "Of course, ma''am." The receptionist removed a pen from a black wire cup and leaned over the clipboard. "It''s mostly a straight shot from here..."

    The moment she had her map, Ayda fled from the foyer. She wasted no time at all on her voyage through the building. The less time she spent there, the better. It seemed like a nice place, but she never gave herself the chance to look around. She wanted to be done with it, to go absolutely anywhere else.

    In what was sure to be a new record, she made it out onto the golf course. Looking out upon the endless sea of impossibly green grass, Ayda realized for the first time how daunting her task would be. Before her stretched eighteen holes of pure monotony. Seriously, they all looked exactly the same. Thankfully, no one played golf at noon so there weren''t many people, but that wouldn''t help if Ayda was unable to locate her prize. Perhaps a cart rental would have been a sound investment after all. With a sigh, she set about her task.

    Okay, time for some critical thinking. This Lo Feng fellow seemed like a rather detail oriented person. Otherwise, how could he have a job making people disappear? That in mind, he probably kept a tight schedule. It was about twenty minutes after noon right now, which meant he couldn''t have gone far. Ayda just had to find an effective way to search.

    Her attention was immediately drawn to a tree several feet ahead of her. While most foliage in the park looked to be about the same height, this one stood a bit taller. Elevation would give her a lay of the land. If nothing else, it would tell where Lo Feng currently was not. Anything which helped narrow her search was a welcome development.

    Ayda stood at the trunk for a moment. She stared up at the finely manicured branches. It dawned on her that she''d never actually climbed a tree before. She hadn''t the time to figure it out now. A shortcut would be required. She took a few steps back and then kicked the ground. An energy blast sent her rocketing upward. The teenager sailed through the air, arms spread wide in preparation to grab hold of the trunk.

    "Wait. Oh, shit!" Ayda cursed as she approached the tree. The flying girl realized this would not be quite as simple as she''d imagined. There were far more branches at the top than expected. Already airborne, it was far too late to change course. Ayda winced. This might hurt.

    She put her hands up. A the last possible moment, Ayda produced a small blast. It was weak, enough to move the branches without actually damaging them. The little shockwave made a perfect pocket for her to slide right into. She collided into the trunk and hugged it with all her might. A few leaves fluttered comically to the ground below. Ayda took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. This was turning out to be a day of fresh experiences. First time in a country club, first time on a golf course, and now first time climbing a tree, although she kind of cheated on that last one. What other exciting new things awaited her? Hopefully none.

    From her perch, Ayda scanned the landscape. Some of the area remained obscured by trees in the rough, but many of the nearby fairways were plainly visible. It didn''t really make a difference, though. All she could see was a whole lot of nothing. There were a few distant figures, but none of them jumped out to her. She took them down as possible search locations, but something told her a man important as Feng wouldn''t travel out in public alone. He would have at least one bodyguard. So, Ayda had to be on the lookout for a suspicious group of people.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    She shimmied around the tree, taking footholds where she could, but mostly she used the trunk itself for grip and leverage. Confounded thing. Ayda was quickly discovering a new animosity for trees. She prayed no one would come around to see her. Exaggerated motions eventually led her around to the other side.

    Here the story was much the same, scattered people which didn''t draw attention to themselves in any way. There must have been some appeal to playing golf alone, but Ayda couldn''t for the life of her weasel it out. Old folks were weird.

    At this distance, most of her vision was based completely on motion. The dots were too easy to miss when static. Her enhanced reflexes came in most handy. Nothing escaped her gaze for long, especially not those caught up in various feats of athleticism... or whatever the equivalent for this was.

    This movement based sight had its downfalls, however. Ayda was about to descend when something new caught her eye. Far off in the distance, a particularly small figure made its first move. This would not have been remarkable on its own, were it not for the four other individuals in the same area. That was certainly different, and it aligned perfectly with her hunch.

    Ayda let herself fall to the ground, softening her fall with a downward blast. She still landed on her hands and knees, though. Next time, she''d be sure to think of a better way down before going up into a tree. She stood and dusted off her jacket. With focus like a laser, she started toward her target. They probably wouldn''t still be there upon arrival, but they''d be close. That was good enough for her.

    Greenery within the course still provided Ayda with ample assistance. Now, instead of height, she used them as cover. At a normal walking pace it would take her a very long time to catch up with her current objective, especially considering the substantial mobility bonus from their golf cart. It may not even be the right group of people. Feng would only be there for so long, even if it did take quite a while to play a round. She could not afford to waste any time.

    Concealed by the leaves and branches, Ayda ran along propelled by little blasts underneath her feet. Quicker than any normal person could run, it still was not fast enough for her. She had to make concessions for sound. No amount of clever hiding could keep people from hearing her. Multiple shotgun blasts coming out of the thicket would probably cause some alarm. Hopefully, this slower speed would not prove too great a hindrance.

    When Ayda reached the spot where she''d last seen the fishy group, she found her suspicions were completely unfounded. Golf was a slow game, after all. They had only moved on up to the next hole, and seemed to be about halfway through completing it. Not that she had any idea what the process of playing the sport actually looked like.

    From here, she walked out in the open. Ayda did her absolute best to seem as nonthreatening as possible. She wanted to be just a regular young woman, no danger nor cause for concern. If she couldn''t get close, this would never work.

    Her spirits soared as she approached. This group continued to tick off boxes in her assumptions list. First off, all but one of the guards were Asian. Since she was looking for Chinese gangsters, this detail was rather important. Of the five total individuals, one of them swung a club. He was a middle-aged Chinese man with short dark hair. He wore a light blue striped polo and khaki shorts with white shoes, a pale visor upon his head. The other four all wore identical suits and sunglasses. Each openly carried pistols at their hips. They were the most obvious bunch of bodyguards to ever exist.

    The goons made no move to intercept her as Ayda approached, but doubtless they were aware of her presence. In the last few feet she tugged at her jacket and straightened her hair. Outward appearances had been the last thing on her mind, but she realized just how much damage running through a miniature forest must have done. First impressions were everything. This may fall apart if she didn''t look good.

    Despite the massive uncertainty of her current predicament, however, she felt rather calm. Her heart beat at even intervals. Her breathing was normal. No amount of anxiety gnawed at the back of her brain. Ayda recognized this feeling, of course. It was the calm before the storm she always experienced right before a good brawl. She clenched her eyes for a moment in an attempt to banish the notion. Probably not the best mindset to be in right then.

    One of the bodyguards put up his hand a bit before Ayda came within arm''s reach of him. She took the hint and stopped in her tracks. End of the road. Moment of truth. She took a deep breath to center herself emotionally. Wearing her best artificial smile, Ayda put her plan into action.

    "Um... Mr. Lo Feng, sir?" Ayda began. The older man completely ignored her and went about lining up his shot. "My name is Sandra, I''m with the El Puerto University student press." Another chance for rebuttal was met by silence. "I''m¡ªuh¡ªdoing a story about successful minorities in business. I was wondering if you wouldn''t mind answering a few questions?"

    "No," the man replied simply. This response carried more weight than he thought, however. If he weren''t Lo Feng, he would have said so. Ayda had him now.

    "I know you''re a busy man, but it won''t take very long," she insisted. "I think you''re the best candidate for my story."

    "Go bother someone else, kid." Feng grimaced. He took a practice swing as if to demonstrate just how much he cared about her little project. Now, Ayda knew a lost cause when she saw one. Time for plan B.

    "You know," Ayda heaved a big sigh, "I don''t even know why I thought this would work." She tossed her clipboard to the wayside. "I had a bunch of great questions lined up, too."

    Next, she stripped off her jacket to fully reveal the spaghetti strap salmon tank top beneath. The coat was also thrown away. By now, the guards had picked up on the tonal shift. The two in the back fidgeted in almost identical wasy, much like a cowboy about to grab his gun. The duo in front gave her scathing looks she could feel even through their glasses.

    "And to think, I actually wanted to resolve this whole thing peacefully." She shrugged. "Oh well."

    In a movement faster than the eye could see, Ayda lashed out with both her fists. Each one buried into the gut of either guard in front of her. Two strong blasts echoed through the quiet course. The men sailed backward through the air. One of them completely cleared the golf cart. Both landed well behind it. They would not be getting back up any time soon.

    The reaction of the other two guards was instantaneous. They drew their weapons at almost the exact same time. Experienced trigger fingers laid impressive fire down upon the attacking girl. Unfortunately for them, Ayda had dealt with much worse.

    Again, she dedicated a hand to each assailant. Their bullets had no effect. Ayda met each and every one with a burst which either shattered or¡ªoccasionally¡ªredirected them. The men carried identical pistols, a capacity of thirteen slugs loaded into the weapons. Each shot was a wasted opportunity. Ayda almost felt bad for them. They were trying their hardest, but it meant nothing. They could never in a million years break her defense. At least they were decent marksman. Every round was aimed somewhere at center mass, and none missed. They just couldn''t actually get through to her.

    The bullets dried up. Ayda grinned. Her turn. A pair of blasts beneath her feet rocketed her forward. Hunched low, she used all this force to drive her fist into the left guard''s midsection. He cried out and doubled over in surprised agony. The other swiped down at her with his gun. Ayda stood to avoid the attack. It whiffed harmlessly. Ayda punched him once in the ribs and then again in the face. The second hit carried a blast which send him spinning into the distance. Surprisingly, the first guard was still on his feet, albeit bent down. Ayda raised her foot high up in the air, and brought down a vicious axe kick into the back of his neck. An explosion smashed his face into the ground.

    A gunshot from a new location grabbed Ayda''s attention. The bullet whizzed not even an inch past her head as she turned toward its source. Lo Feng had produced his own firearm and trained it on her. He shot again, but this time she intercepted it. Ayda began to walk toward him. He continued firing, but at a much slower pace than his cohorts. Shaky hands could nary acquire a target. Most shots missed, and those which did fly true met no measure of success.

    Ayda closed the distance. She backhanded the weapon from his grasp without the need for her powers. Immediately, the teenager followed up with an open-palm strike to the center of Lo Feng''s chest. A blast sent him backward to collide with the rear of the golf cart. Ayda propelled herself over to him. With her forearm just below his neck, Ayda pinned him against the vehicle. Their faces were close. Briefly, it struck her just how similar this situation was to the last time she fought the Triad.

    "Alright, dickweed," she began, "I lost my patience when I walked through the door to this place, so why don''t you just tell me where to find Sun Xin and I''ll leave you alone?"

    "Sun Xin?" Feng wondered aloud. "Never heard of him." He kept a straight face despite obvious fear in his eyes. Ayda grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him against the cart.

    "Don''t play games with me," she warned. "I already spoke to some of your goons. I know you''re in charge of witness protection for the Triad, and I know you handled Sun Xin''s case. I promise I won''t hurt you, if you tell me where he is."

    "After what you just did to my men? No, I don''t like Xin, but he''s better than you. Go fuck yourself."

    Ayda blinked once. "Do you know how many bones are in the human body?" She changed the subject.

    "What?"

    "Two-hundred and six by the time we reach adulthood," Ayda answered.

    Without another word, she grabbed Feng''s right hand. She held the tip of his index finger between her own thumb and forefinger. A tiny blast rippled through his flesh. Lo Feng gave a horrendous scream, the kind of thing nightmares were made of. His entire body went limp with pure suffering. Ayda was the only thing holding him up. She let his hand fall. The tip of his finger flopped in the wind. Where once had been bone was now nothing at all.

    "That''s two-hundred and five for you, now." Ayda let him go. He fell to his knees, clutching his injured appendage. "I used to be able to locate and destroy most of them¡ªexcept for the really small ones¡ªbut that was a long time ago. What do you say we review, just the two of us?"

    "You... crazy... bitch!" Lo Feng yelled through pained gasps.

    "I''ll take that as a yes." Ayda touched the second joint on his mangled finger. Another blast turned it to dust. "Two-hundred and four."

    Again, Fen cried out. He slumped over on his side, curled up into a hapless little ball of misery and pain. Ayda knelt down next to him. He glanced up at her, terrified pupils wide with anticipation.

    "Now, I''m gonna ask you again. Where is Sun Xin?"

    "What do you want with him?" Amazing. Feng still had the mind to ask questions. Loyalties ran deep among lowlifes. It was almost admirable. Ayda touched the last joint on his limp finger. "No, wait¡ª" A blast cut him off. He screamed bloody murder.

    "Two-hundred and three. I''m asking the questions, Feng. I want an address and a description of the building." To reiterate her point, Ayda pinched the first joint on his right middle finger.

    "407 Merchant Street!" Feng blurted. "The industrial district. There''s an abandoned apartment building. Xin is in number two-zero-eight on the second floor."

    "There," Ayda said softly. She brushed his cheek with gentle fingertips. He flinched at her touch. "I knew you''d come around." She retracted her hand. "Now, I hate to do this, but I have to threaten you. If, for any reason, I don''t find Sun Xin, I''m coming back and we''ll continue our little study session. Got it?"

    Feng slowly nodded his head. Tears fell upon his face. Pathetic. Ayda smiled sweetly.

    "You''re a good student." She stood and began to walk away. "I sincerely hope we never see each other again."

    Ayda gathered up her jacket and slung it over her shoulder, followed by the clipboard. The day''s business was far from finished, for she had a new parameter. Everything she had been working toward the past week was about to come to fruition. She had all the pieces, now to put them in place. One way or another, Sun Xin would not see another moonrise.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 20: Sun Xin

    Time. Ever since her crucial decision to pursue justice, Ayda had been running on a very specific schedule. While fortunate events led to an acceleration of her plans, there had always existed a strict table with which to adhere. In the beginning, she only had so long before word of her search spread and Sun Xin hightailed it out of town. After a stroke of luck at the bar, the thugs she beat up would never be able to hold their tongues forever. Honestly, she was surprised Lo Feng hadn''t been tipped off.

    Lo Feng. He was the reason she felt in such a rush now. Unlike the others, his silence could not be so easily bought. Doubtless, he answered to some very powerful people. Said individuals would be disappointed if they found out he''d so freely given away important information, even if the conference had been about a low-level gangster. He would open his mouth at the first opportunity, and then use his own skills to vanish for good.

    Feng would blab. Ayda knew no amount of torture nor threats of violence could stay the tongue of such a powerful man, especially when he had strong friends. Someone in charge would find out. Deep down, Ayda knew this even before she tried to keep him quiet.

    She had a few hours tops to find Sun Xin and be done with him. Factoring in the time it would take Lo Feng to get in touch with someone and then how quickly the Triad could feasibly mobilize, she refused to believe any greater window existed. They could even act sooner, if the right people were put on the job.

    Ayda had to reach Merchant Street, and fast. The only problem, it was in the industrial district on the complete opposite side of town. After all, no city planner would smack the highest of classes right next to the factory workers. She needed to cross the great concrete and steel expanse of El Puerto in a short amount of time.

    In this, she was more thankful than ever for her choice of vehicle. El Puerto had easily some of the worst traffic in the country. Not that she had anything to compare that statement against, but it must have been true. American cities would never accomplish anything, otherwise. The time of day only served to worsen matters considerably. The city was just grinding back to motion after its collective lunch break. Many thousands of people were on their way back to work, congesting the streets with metal and exhaust fumes.

    Traffic meant absolutely nothing to her. The little motorcycle she rode weaved between cars, splitting between lanes to bypass any jams she may encounter. Ayda even dared to play loose with the speed limit on this occasion. Hopefully, there were no police. The last thing she needed was armed interference when her time already ran so short.

    There was, however, one inevitable factor Ayda could not avoid no matter how hard she tried. Traffic signals. She''d never noticed just how many El Puerto had. Even taking care to choose the longest streets possible, she still met with a near endless tide of red, yellow, and green. They put a damper on her progress, resetting all of it effectively back to zero with each idle revolution of her engine.

    The temptation to further fudge the law was strong. Upon every occasion when lights made her stop, Ayda wanted nothing more than to gun it through the intersection. Her reflexes were certainly fast enough to make it through unscathed. She could not say the same, however, about her bike. It was a sporty little thing, but made more with everyday travel in mind. It likely couldn''t manage the rapid directional changes necessary to navigate such treacherous waters. There were also the other drivers. The intrusion of a girl on a motorcycle may force them to lose control of their own cars. Ayda was only interested in having one death on her hands.

    It was a slow slog through the midday streets. The cars all around and tall buildings on either side were like constricting walls which threatened to close in at any minute if Ayda slowed down for even the slightest of unnecessary seconds. To her ears, unprotected by glass and metal, the city was loud and boisterous. Engines drowned out most sounds. Between the rhythmic low rumbles an occasional voice rose up, although the words fizzled to incoherent babble.

    The further Ayda distanced herself from the city center, the more highrises disappeared. With them, so too vanished the traffic. It was a slow transition, a gradual change from congestion to freedom. Of course, neither left entirely. Instead, they grew increasingly rare until one could count the seconds between either. The streets themselves also became noticeably slimmer. Instead of a constricting sense, it felt like liberation. Leaving the city proper meant she crept ever closer to her goal.

    This was exactly what she''d been hoping would happen. Ayda punched it. The front wheel of her bike popped up momentarily in response to the sudden speed. A high-pitched scream of gears and pistons echoed off buildings and down alleyways. Like a missile Ayda accelerated down the newly opened road. Now she was starting to make progress.

    As it always did, the scenery in this part of town blended together while she traveled. When the city had been established, the industrial district was its heart. Right next to the docks, any and all raw materials passed through here, and many finished products were produced in the numerous factories. It was a booming, wealthy part of town where honest men and women came to earn a healthy living.

    But that time was over. Through the years, El Puerto slowly changed over from industry to commerce. Just like many American cities, as wealth moved in, the diminishing middle class moved out. With every new skyscraper, another factory closed. Cushy office occupations and shoddy imports were more cost effective than domestically constructed goods. The honest men and women lost their jobs. The world moved on. With the advent of cheap foreign labor, it had little need for them. Of course, Ayda hadn''t been around for any of this, but Bernard often spoke highly of the good ol'' days.

    Now, Ayda never spent much time in this particular part of town. She hadn''t much reason to visit. These streets, however, were not completely unknown to her. Elliot''s apartment was somewhere around here, a fact she detested. He could afford to live in a more savory neighborhood, but was too cheap for it. She wouldn''t have to worry about him so much if he would just get a decent house. Maybe the two of them would have another little talk about it after this was all said and done.

    After a while, the scenery blended together even more. Urban decay could only take so many forms. The dilapidated structures lost definition. It was hard to tell them all apart. They all looked exactly the same, more or less. Were it not for the advent of smartphone GPS, Ayda would have been hopelessly lost long ago.

    But, modern technology was there to guide her. Within forty minutes she arrived at her destination. Abandoned didn''t even begin to describe it. Taller than it was wide, the rotting apartment complex stretched five stories into a cloudless blue sky. Many windows were broken, and what few remained were impossible to see through for the impenetrable layers of grime. Once red bricks long ago faded to a dull brown, yet splotches of color popped up at random locations. Some had fallen out, leaving only gray mortar behind. Likely, Triad influence was the only thing which kept the city from demolishing it. What''s worse, it wasn''t even the most rundown thing Ayda had seen on the way there.

    Ayda parked up in an alley across the street and shut off her bike, careful to place it as much in the shadows as possible. The decision to leave behind her staff was a difficult one, yet necessary. A long weapon would be a hindrance in tight quarters. She probably wouldn''t need the boost it granted to deal with Sun Xin, anyway.

    She crossed the near barren street and tried the front door. Locked. Predictable, but worth a shot. It would be stupid to not at least try the most obvious entrance. Funny, everything else in the place was likely in some sort of disrepair, but the lock worked just fine. That wasn''t suspicious at all.

    The door, however, presented a much more substantial barrier than it at first seemed to. Of course, Ayda could get through it with little trouble, but doing so would be loud. This was a quiet area, and an even quieter building. The slightest sound may tip Sun Xin off that something was amiss. She did not come all this way just to let him escape.

    Ayda placed her index finger where the door met with the jam at roundabout the spot she assumed the latch would be. A tiny blast shattered the surrounding wood, creating a hole more than large enough to swing the latch through without any need to turn the handle. Ayda winced as she opened the door. That was still much louder than she''d expected. At least the main stairs were covered.

    The staircase was the most predominant feature in the lobby. The only other attraction was a metal and glass door in the far wall. Likely, it led to some sort of office for the landlord. This place was so cheap, it didn''t even have an elevator.

    With a shake of her head, Ayda began her descent up the stairs. As the teenager walked, she realized just how rapidly her heart beat. Normally she was calm before a fight¡ªand this would certainly end in conflict¡ªbut this time she could barely keep her emotions in check. Everything she''d been working for was about to come to a head. The only thing she''d wanted for almost two weeks now lay just a few steps ahead. Her hands trembled with anticipation. She didn''t know whether to feel happy, anxious, angry, or some combination of the trio.

    The second floor. To say it needed a little love would be an understatement. The drywall was beginning to rot and peel. The struts could be seen in spots. Many of the ceiling tiles had fallen, covering what was left of the carpet with dust and rubble. The floor had completely dropped out toward the end of the corridor. The entire place smelled of urine and mold. None of this was to mention the old building codes it likely adhered to. Sun Xin probably would have died of asbestos poisoning had Ayda not tracked him down.

    The number plates for most rooms were missing, but the appropriate domicile was not hard to find. Only one of the doors remained closed. Indeed, most didn''t even have doors at all. Ayda shook her head again. This was almost too easy. She started toward apartment 208.

    She stopped at the precipice. This was the moment she''d been waiting for. All the feelings threatened to rush back all at once. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Now or never.

    With assistance from a modest blast, Ayda kicked in the door. Splinters flew as the latch crashed through the wooden jam. The door itself swung all the way around and smacked into the wall hard enough for the knob to stick into the aging drywall. Ayda stepped through and opened her mouth to give an epic opening lined, but stopped short when she saw the interior.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Empty. There was no one inside, no furniture nor living necessities. It didn''t even have a refrigerator. The structure mostly mirrored the rest of the building. The walls were peeling. Rot had begun to set in. The floors were dirty, but most of the ceiling tiles stayed properly suspended. It would have appeared completely untouched, save for the picture frames. There were three in total sitting upon a broken shelf on the east living room wall. They clearly were out of place. Almost no dust gathered on them. Someone had been here recently.

    Ayda slowly combed her way through the ruin. The apartment opened up immediately to a perfectly square living room, surprisingly large for the size of the home. An opening in the far wall led to a small kitchenette. Through a hole she could see a hallway before it. It was possible Sun Xin simply wasn''t in the main area when she made her entrance. There were a lot of corners, numerous places for someone to hide. She didn''t like it.

    Head on a swivel, she headed straight for the hall. There was nothing to see in the den, anyway. Just as she''d predicted, it was quiet. Even death itself would make an ungodly racket. The air stood still. The only movement was her own. It sent prickles down her spine. The whole place felt¡ªfor lack of a better term¡ªhaunted.

    The kitchenette was tiny. It could be inspected with a single glance. Clear. Ayda looked left and then right down the hallway. There were rooms at both ends, a closet to the east, and what must have been a bathroom to the west. Being only one person, she had to choose a direction. As it would be easier for someone to hide in the lavatory, she turned left.

    Her footfalls were slow and meticulous in an attempt to make as little noise as possible. She didn''t want to tip Sun Xin off to her approximate location. Her efforts, however, were only somewhat successful. The ancient boards creaked like an old lady''s joints. Making a move with zero sound was almost impossible.

    Even so, through the cacophony she created, nothing escaped her trained senses. Something was indeed wrong with the place. Internally, she kicked herself for failing to notice it sooner. The shadows concealed many secrets. Still, though, it was probably good she''d turned left instead of right. Otherwise, the footsteps creeping up behind her would have had a perfect ambush. She stopped in her tracks and let them approach a few feet more, until whoever they belonged to was almost in striking distance.

    "Never stab down," she said suddenly. The steps abruptly halted. Bingo. "If you were a fighter you''d know to never stab down because, if you do," she turned, "your opponent will block."

    There, standing petrified a few feet away from her, as a petrified young Asian man with a narrow face and dark hair. He held a kitchen knife high above his head, poised to plunge it between her vertebrae. The expression on his pathetic mug was a priceless mix of shock and pure panic.

    "Hello, Sun Xin."

    Ayda gave a sinister smile. Of course, she recognized him. His picture¡ªstupid goatee and all¡ªhad been burned into her eyes from the moment she saw it on the news. This was the man she''d been looking for. This was the villain who ruined her life, sent her into a spiraling pit of despair the likes of which she''d only felt once before eleven years ago. This was Sun Xin.

    The Asian man glanced at the knife in his fist. In an impressively smooth roll of his fingers, he flipped to an upward dagger grip. From the hip, he thrust it forward. The attack was laughably slow. Ayda quarter turned to dodge. As the point sailed harmlessly by, she grabbed his wrist. A harsh yank pulled him off kilter. Their faces were close. Fear already stained his eyes. Ayda met them with untempered fire.

    "Not that how you stab really matters."

    She planted her free fist right beneath Sun Xin''s ribs. All the air escaped his lungs as a blast compressed them. He lifted into the air. The strike was not as powerful as it could have been, though. The man came to rest just before the other end of the hallway. About halfway between, he dropped his knife. Miraculously, he managed to catch himself on the wall and remain upright. Full of surprises, this one.

    Ayda immediately closed the distance. The last thing she wanted was for him to recover his weapon. When she was close enough, Xin pushed himself off his meager support and threw a wild haymaker at her face. She intercepted it with her wrist. In almost the same motion, Ayda hammered a punch into his kidneys. She dropped her block and re-purposed it into a jab at the sternum. Finally, Ayda hit with a monstrous backfist to Xin''s right ear. The ensuing blast slammed his face into the wall which had previously been holding him up. He slid slowly to the ground, trailing saliva down the faded paint.

    She wasn''t done with him, not yet. Ayda grabbed the dazed man by his black hoodie and dragged him to the opening in the wall. A burst kick to the ribs sent him flying. Sun Xin soared all the way into the living room and smacked against the far wall with enough force to dislodge the trapped door. He landed hard on his hands and knees. Ayda began a slow walk toward him.

    "I''m here to kill you, by the way," she quipped. "Probably should''ve mentioned that."

    From where he knelt on the ground, Sun Xin gave her a minacious sneer. Suddenly, he shot upright. The villain bolted at her, an old piece of wood brandished above his head. It must have wiggled loose when he hit the wall. Ayda let him approach without making any sort of motion to defend.

    He swung diagonally downward from his right shoulder. Ayda sidestepped and turned to avoid it. Sun Xin redoubled and struck laterally at her face. She ducked and it passed smoothly over her head. The cudgel smashed through each of the picture frames in rapid succession. Glass sprayed everywhere as they crashed around the room.

    When Ayda stood back up, Xin tried to come straight down with his new weapon. Ayda made an upward scissoring motion with her arms to meet it. A blast tore through the wood, reducing it to splinters and sawdust. Xin recoiled from the blow, taking a step back right into perfect kicking range. Ayda hooked a heel behind his head with a crafty bend of her knee. She only used her own power, though, as anything more probably would have broken his skull, and where''s the fun in that?

    Xin tumbled forward. He hit the ground and rolled over onto his back, wincing in pain. There would be no respite. Ayda went straight for the mount. She straddled his midsection, holding him down with superior strength. She drew back her fist.

    "No, no, wait," Xin pleaded, putting up his hands in defense.

    Ayda didn''t care for his petty groveling. She accelerated her hand toward his face. Unassisted by her power, her knuckles made a terrible impact. She lifted her other fist and let it fall right after the first. Again and again she punched him, nary a pause in her assault. Every hit made an awful slapping sound, fell like cinder blocks upon his face. All Sun Xin could do was lay there and accept his punishment. This was his recompense. This was his fate.

    "You want me to stop?" Ayda screamed as she hit him. "You want me to show mercy? You should''ve shown mercy!"

    She would not relent. If anything, she hit him harder. Blood dribbled from his broken nose and ruptured lips. A cut sprang up on his cheek as Ayda dealt and accidental glancing blow. She was not in control of herself. Without blasts the punches rained down like hellfire, but Ayda felt no connection to them. The only thing which spurred her on was pure, unyielding rage. Before her was the man who took away the first thing she''d allowed herself to love in such a long time. She would not leave until he knew every ounce of pain he had caused.

    "What do you have to say for yourself, huh?'' She shouted between hits. "Any last words?"

    Ayda may have been on a murderous mission, but she was not without courtesy. She let up to allow him a moment to catch his breath. A doomed man should at least make a statement about his death.

    "Why?" Gurgled Sun Xin, likely chocking on his own blood.

    "Why?" Ayda breathed. "You want to know why?" She hit him once. "Jacqueline Belmont? Blonde hair, green eyes? Sound familiar?"

    She gave him a second to respond. Xin slowly shook his head right to left, but remained silent.

    "You mean, you really don''t know?" Ayda punched him again, but her wrist fell limp.

    "She was my sister!" She screeched. Wet splotches appeared on Xin''s shirt, and Ayda realized they were her tears. "She was my sister and you killed her! How can you say you don''t know?"

    "I''m... sorry," Xin struggled to say through swollen lips.

    "You''re sorry?" Repeated Ayda. "Do you think sorry is good enough anymore?"

    "I was afraid. My mask fell off, I didn''t know what to do." Sun Xin continued to explain between wheezing breaths, as if anything he said would save him at this point.

    "No," Ayda said simply, her tone inexplicably calm. The tears dried up. He shoulders relaxed. "No, you weren''t afraid. You didn''t even know what fear was. Let me show you."

    Again, she drew back her fist. Sun Xin closed his eyes and looked away, unable to fight back anymore. This was what he deserved for messing with the wrong people. Criminals always got what was coming to them. He would not be an exception.

    Ayda embraced her powers. Explosive strength coursed through her veins. So much energy built up, her fist glowed purple. There would be nothing left of him when she was done. The world would never even know he existed. The name Sun Xin would mean nothing, not even a footnote on the annals of history. She dropped her fist.

    The blow never landed. Something caught the corner of her eye. Ayda stopped short, suddenly enraptured by this new thing which consumed all of her attention. Sun Xin looked at her, clearly confused but still more afraid than anything else. Ayda let her hand fall to her side. The glow faded. She leaned over and dug the object of her obsession out from underneath shattered glass.

    A photograph, an old picture of a middle-aged woman pushing a young boy on a backyard swing set. They were both of Asian descent. The two wore wide smiles, each having the times of their lives. They looked so happy, blissfully enjoying their lives without a care in the world. The boy was what really grabbed her. They had the same eyes. This was an old picture of Sun Xin. She flipped it over. There was writing on the back, faded ink she could barely make out.

    Do you remember your old swing set?

    Sometimes I wish you were still that young.

    You''ll always be my little boy.

    Love, Mom.

    "You''re not the cause," Ayda breathed. "You''re the symptom." The realization racked her brain. She dismounted, opting instead to sit beside her former target hugging her knees.

    It was like a bombshell on her consciousness. This man, whom she''d only ever seen as evil, had family. He was once a little boy, free and innocent of the world''s corruption. This despicable degenerate was not his first state, and would not be his last. Moreover, someone out there loved him, and he loved them back. This man was not evil. He was a human being.

    In her quest for justice, Ayda had become blind to the real malice right under her nose. Every day she spent chasing Sun Xin, someone''s sister died at the hands of men like him. But he wasn''t behind the gun. There were always weak men willing to do bad things. Ayda thought she was making a difference. She thought she was doing the right thing, but it was all just a waste of energy. Whether or not he lived or died made no difference. Removing one man from a pool of hundreds¡ªif not thousands¡ªwouldn''t matter. The world continued to turn. People went on with their lives. No one cared. Everything she''d done up until this point was ultimately and absolutely pointless.

    "I''m done," she said, after a moment. "I''m done with this. I''m done fighting you. I''m just..." She let out a long sigh. "I''m just done."

    Ayda stood. She remained still for a second. Gently, she wiped the remaining tear tracks from her face. After running fingers through her hair, she started toward the exit. All the determination left from her walk. She moved like a woman defeated, a lost soul devoid of hope or meaning. She stopped just short of the outer hallway to call back into the apartment.

    "Turn yourself in or don''t. Whatever. I don''t care anymore." And with that, she departed.

    Never once did Ayda turn back. Never once did she contemplate returning to finish the deed. The only thing she wanted to do was put this all behind her, to forget it ever happened. El Puerto moved on, and she needed to as well. Her life needed a new avenue.

    On the slow ride home, lulled by engines and soft music, a new purpose entered into her being. Even though she let Sun Xin go, a part of her still wanted justice. She wanted to make the people responsible pay for what they did to Jackie. But that wasn''t Sun Xin. He was just a pawn in a grander scheme, an unfortunate plaything for the ones who pulled the strings. Sun Xin and men like him were nothing but a side effect. Treating them would do no good.

    Ayda had been going about this all wrong. The loss of one man could not rectify the death of her sister. The loss of one man could not prevent others from suffering a similar fate. Her enemy was not one man. Her enemy was the entire Chinese Triad.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 21: The New Deal

    Ayda stood in her bedroom, still adorned in her nightwear despite the midday sun. A comfy light blue t-shirt hung from her shoulders, while solid gray pajama shorts stretched down almost to mid-thigh. Her hair had not yet been brushed and was a pillow-tossed mess. It was the weekend, and no one could expect her to get dressed until she¡ªon the off chance¡ªdecided to leave home.

    She peered aimlessly into her closet, inspecting the garments which either were suspended in the air on technicolor hangers, or found themselves tucked into a corner, although most of the latter group didn''t fit anymore. Thus, why they''d been stowed away. Her dresser was already full enough. Anything she couldn''t wear had no business occupying any more space. One day, she''d get around to taking the old clothes to charity. It would not be this day, though. She had more important things to do.

    Her jacket and boots, of course, were already picked out. The former lay flat on her bed, with the footwear on the floor next to it. One of the boots had fallen over. Along with the sunglasses, these items were non-negotiable. Everything else, though, remained up for debate.

    So, Ayda found herself in this current predicament. She wanted to wear something which would look good, yet diminish the intimidation factor from other pieces of the ensemble. The salmon tank top from the other day would do the job, but it was too soon since she last wore it. Sporting the same outfit as when she beat up a prominent business man risked an instant giveaway. She''d never accomplish anything if the jig was up within the first five seconds.

    In the end, she decided to go with a purple t-shirt with a big white daisy sketched on the front, little petals made of fat lines. It wasn''t a garment she particularly liked, and hadn''t worn for quite a while, but it was very different than anything she''d gone out in thus far. It would keep her from getting recognized. However, this would probably be the last time she ever wore this particular shirt, for any reason. Along with it she selected a pair of light blue jeans.

    Ayda quickly dressed, adorning the articles in a timely fashion. Next, she moved on to the bathroom. Here, she began with a brush of her hair. Now, she''d worn her locks at various lengths over the years, but it was doubtful she''d ever grow them out much longer than they already were. A straight style which just barely stuck down below her chin, it was easy to manage, not like the unruly mane she had just a few years ago. It certainly made the process of going out much easier.

    Next came the makeup phase. Ayda seldom wore much, certainly not like some of the girls in school, but she did enjoy looking pretty just like any other woman. ...Not that she thought she needed makeup for that. It''s a complicated subject, even for someone so rooted in reality like her. Besides, this particular mission required her to appear some level of presentable.

    As it always seemed to, getting ready took longer than she wanted, but not nearly as long as it possibly could. When finally satisfied with her appearance, Ayda made her way down stairs. On her way, she noticed the dust which hung in the sunbeams streaming from the windows above the stairs. It looked so magical whenever light formed visible streaks like that; a calm moment to start off her newest adventure.

    She hit the bottom of the stairs. The house had a certain stillness about it. There wasn''t a whole lot going on, this lazy Saturday. Bernard, who had been working harder than usual during the week, was probably in the living room relaxing. He may have even still been asleep, which was good. He deserved a little rest. Ayda would not pretend none of this worked out in her favor. The indolent attitude made it easier for her to slip out. Or, at least that''s what she thought. As she reached the door, a sweet voice stopped her in her tracks.

    "Oh, Ayda, dear," said Emma. "I thought I heard you coming down the stairs."

    Ayda paused with her hand on the doorknob, tightening her grip in partial agitation. So close, and yet so very far away.

    "Hey, Emma," she replied, dropping her hand to turn to the woman. Her adoptive mother stood about halfway between the kitchen and the front door, a white towel in her hand. Likely, she''d just been wiping down the counters in an attempt to alleviate the dust problem. The older blonde looked from the teenager, to the door, and back again.

    "Are you going out again?"

    "Yeah. If that''s okay," Ayda added quickly.

    "Of course," smiled Emma. "Just, where are you going?"

    "I don''t really know," Ayda lied. "I''m just... getting restless sitting at home all day, you know? I wanna get out of the house for a bit." That part, at least, was true.

    "Do you have your cellphone?"

    "Yes, I have my cellphone," Ayda said, sounding exactly like a seventeen-year-old would in this situation.

    "Okay." Emma smiled again. "Don''t get in too much trouble."

    "No promises," Ayda joked. The poor woman had no idea.

    "Goodbye, hun. Drive safe," Emma said with a sweet little wave.

    "Thanks, I will." Ayda waved back.

    She opened the door and quickly slipped through it. Once on the other side, the girl leaned back against it for a second. A long breath escaped her lungs. She hated lying to Emma like that. It was necessary to go about her business unhindered but that didn''t mean she had to derive any sort of pleasure from it, especially since she was pretty sure Emma knew it was all a ruse. Mothers have impeccable bullshit detectors. That was something Ayda relearned the hard way upon coming to America.

    Ayda crossed the yard and entered the garage. There, waiting for her, was the motorcycle she so adored. It gleamed in the sun as immaculate rays caught its matte black panels and the glossy red stripe down the middle. Ayda skipped wearing a helmet this time. She mounted the beast and switched it on. The motor roared to life. A moment later, it carried her out and on toward her predetermined goal.

    ...

    The slums, a wretched hive of scum and villainy, the place where unfortunate destitutes came to live out lives of poverty and transgression. Located on the outskirts of the industrial district¡ªbetween it and the docks¡ªit formerly was where many of the factory workers and dockhands lived. They couldn''t afford a fancy suburbs home, so inner-city housing sufficed for many of them.

    It was just as rundown as the rest of its partition, although it enjoyed a more lived-in aura. Compared to the barren streets and shady deals found further in the murky depths of the industrial district, the slums were practically bursting with activity. Of course, it couldn''t even come close to competition with the city center. It functioned more like a small town than a part of an actual city, albeit much less wholesome. Here, the American Dream died long ago.

    It wasn''t always like this, of course. The death of these homes was a slow and painful one. When the jobs disappeared, the people stuck around for a time. They had no reason to leave. El Puerto was full of work, and the district sat at a reasonable distance from the new city center. For a time, an outsider wouldn''t even be able to tell anything was different.

    However, the area which would become the slums met a similar fate to the factories. As the honest men and women moved out, less desirable individuals took their place. Criminals, addicts, all form of lowlifes and roaches infested the old homes. Some of them became undesirables through a lack of opportunity, just like the criminal syndicates. Others were newcomers looking for a cheap place to settle down. The slums were definitely cheap.

    Still, the slums were not without hope. The people making their lives maintained it much better than the abandoned structures on its border. It looked like a viable piece of society. Although the low-rent portion of El Puerto, there were clearly people living and working. This was a community, no less worthwhile than the commercial centers and skyscrapers.

    Even moreso depressing, then, was the undercurrent of crime which ran through it. Invisible on the surface, anyone who prodded around long enough could find bountiful evidence of malcontent. This was contested ground. If any sort of conflict occurred between the major gangs, it rose up in the slums. No one wanted to give it over. The desperate druggies were easy income for organizations founded upon the merits of dirty money.

    There was murder on every corner, drugs and theft behind every door. Innocents were caught in the crossfire. These people did nothing to deserve a war. It was not Ayda''s goal, but if taking down the Triad could save them from a reality of terror, it was a cause she would gladly accept.

    In order to pursue any sort of justice, however, Ayda needed a starting point, a place to kick off her crusade. Thankfully for her, there were any number of spots to choose from. As by a mile the Triad was the largest gang in the area, it had its hands in pretty much everything, but most of all, the sale of drugs.

    It was common knowledge the Triad controlled a vast majority of crystal meth distribution in El Pureto. If someone wanted some ice, they needed only to track down a Chinese gangster. While she didn''t have the specific numbers, the dealers must have provided a decent chunk of revenue for the Triad, and this made them the perfect starting point. No organization could operate without money, and gangs were no different. Ayda would attack their bottom line, and the first step in doing that was figuring out where to find a dealer. What better place to start, than the people who bought from them?

    To that effect, she pulled into a wide open parking lot belonging to the remains of an old motel. The Ultra 6, the first name in sub-par temporary living. The enterprise consisted of three tri-story buildings, much longer than they were tall, arranged in square U pattern. It had once been an adequate establishment, a place for traveling businessmen to sleep on a budget. But, a terrible fire in one of the buildings put a stop to it. There wasn''t money to fix the damage, and the whole thing went under. Now, it was nothing but a burned out shell.

    Despite the inferno, the place remained in relatively good condition. When the corporation moved out, it became permanent housing for all manner of squatters from drug addicts to the homeless. Anyone who lived in the city for any amount of time knew about this place. The city council did nothing about it. The land was owned by no one, and it provided a place for the less fortunate to get out of the proverbial rain. While squatting was not exactly legal, these people weren''t hurting anyone, either. No one in charge of El Puerto had the heart to tear it down.

    Ayda chose a spot at random to park her bike. She was extra cautious to lock both the handlebars and wheels. She would be angry beyond the realm of human comprehension if she came outside to find her baby missing. Hopefully, this wouldn''t take long.

    It didn''t really matter which of the three buildings she chose to enter first. As such, the one straight ahead of her was as good as any. This was the one which had caught on fire. In truth, she looked forward to investigating it the least. Who knew what sort of structural damage the blaze had wrought? She wanted to minimize her time spent within, and just maybe avoid a collapse in the process.

    Upon entering, Ayda stopped in her tracks and blinked a couple times. She honestly hadn''t been sure what to expect, but this was probably it. The interior was completely devoid of any interesting features. In many places only wooden struts remained, but wherever wall still stood it was black and peeling. She''d seen pictures of fire wrecked structures, and this one fit them all to a tee. Well, a lack of distractions at least made her job easier.

    The lobby must have been in one of the other buildings, because this one opened up immediately into a hallway lined with doors. There were stairs off to the left, so Ayda went right. She could start at the far end and work her way to the second floor, looking for anyone to shakedown for information. It didn''t really matter who she found, as long as they seemed weak willed enough to cough up the correct data. She couldn''t, however, take on the entire tenement without raising an alarm. So, a level of discretion was called for. She had to carefully choose her targets.

    The majority of hovels she could see into¡ªwhich was most of them¡ªwere empty. A few played host to residents, but she paid them no mind. None of them had the look of an addict. She hated to so blatantly profile people, but in this situation it was necessary. The only group of note was that of four men playing poker on the floor in one of the last rooms. They were all burly gangster types, clearly not members of the Triad though they probably belonged to some other syndicate.

    Ayda reached the end of the hall without finding any good quarries, which was more or less what she thought would happen. It seems most people had the same instinct about the burned building. She knew almost without a shadow of a doubt more people lived on this property, just not in the damaged part. All three floors would get a thorough inspection, of course. She just didn''t expect to find anything much.

    She turned around and made her way toward the other end, but didn''t make it far. When she was about to pass the room with the four men in it, one of them stepped out to block her path. He was a brute of a man, more than a whole head taller than her with arms the size of most people''s legs.

    The man outstretched stretched his left arm and pressed his palm against the wall. Clearly, this was meant to both surprise and intimidate Ayda into stopping. He only achieved the surprised half of the equation, though. Ayda stopped. She seriously hadn''t foreseen any resistance at this early stage. When, after a second, the shock wore off, she crossed her arms in agitation. Brilliant.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    "Hold up there, little lady," the man said. "Don''t you know it''s dangerous to walk around a place like this alone?"

    After he spoke, his other three cohorts entered the hallway. They were of a similar build, although the instigator here was clearly the biggest. Each one was a walking stereotype, like they learned everything about crime from crappy 90''s films. They boxed Ayda in, each standing at a corner relative to her. She watched each of them in turn.

    "What brings a pretty little Arab girl to our neck of the woods?" Asked the thug to her left with a slippery tone. She shot him an acrid glare.

    "I''m Persian you dick!" She snapped. He wasn''t the first person to make that mistake, but it still pissed her off every single time someone did. Why could no one in this damned country tell the difference? It wasn''t even that hard.

    "Ooh, she''s got some fight in her," the same degenerate commented.

    Ayda sighed and facepalmed. "I know what you guys are doing." She returned her gaze forward.

    "Really? What do you think we''re doing?" A man behind her chimed in. Ayda glanced at him briefly, but continued on without paying him further mind.

    "Any other day I''d try to talk my way out of this, but I really don''t have the patience right now. So, I''ll give you to the count of five before I bust your asses. One..."

    Of course, they made no attempt to move. These idiots were far too entertained to interrupt. They didn''t know her. To them, she was just another helpless girl who wandered into the wrong part of town. Their mistake.

    "Two..." Still no movement, no shift in the atmosphere. They were definitely planning to see this through, no matter how badly it turned out for them.

    "Three..." The duo behind her began to close in. They took a few steps closer, tightening the circle. All this really accomplished was to put them in easier striking range.

    "Four..." Ayda gave the one who had instigated all of this an annoyed look, as if to say this was his last chance. He returned with a sly smile. The man standing next to him idly flexed his fingers and widened his stance. These poor fools. They had no idea the world of trouble they were in. Ayda almost felt bad about beating up hapless idiots. Almost.

    "Hey," a voice called out from behind the scene. "There you are! I''ve been looking all over for you."

    In unison, five heads all turned to the source of this brand new disturbance. Ayda didn''t know whether or not to laugh.

    Approaching them was the single most stereotypical junkie Ayda had ever seen. Now, the mooks cornering her weren''t exactly the most unique of fellows, but they had nothing on this guy. Whiter than his stained wife beater, disheveled brown hair, covered in old scabs, and about ninety pounds soaking wet, he walked with an ever-so slight hunch. Seriously, she''d seen tougher looking pigeons. Nonetheless, he had a confident look on his face, like he presumed to actually make a difference. Ayda embraced her powers, something she probably should have done a while ago. Her mission had a new objective, keep this guy from getting his teeth knocked out.

    "I thought I heard you pull in," he continued. "You should have told me you were here." Without batting an eye, this man entered the circle and stood perpendicular to Ayda''s left shoulder.

    "You... know this chick, Allen?" Asked one of the thugs of the newcomer.

    "Yeah. She''s my cousin. Right, Casey?" said Allen with all the confidence in the world.

    "Uh... yeah," Ayda did her best to play along.

    "She''s your cousin?" A different gangster raised an eyebrow.

    "Yeah. I have a big family." Gently, Allen put his arm around her shoulders. "Come on, Casey."

    The pasty gentleman led Ayda out of the group. Together, they moved at a brisk pace away from the group of malcontents. The thugs made no attempt to pursue further aggressions. Although clearly confused, none of them followed. Perhaps it was this confusion which stayed their feet. Ayda couldn''t really be bothered to figure out the reason. It wasn''t important. What mattered was she got away from it without any cracked skulls.

    Ayda looked over her shoulder to find the would-be assailants slinking back into their hole. Mentally, she let out a sigh. That could have been a distraction she hadn''t the time or the patience for, but a conflict had been avoided, and it was all thanks to Allen.

    "Alright, they''re gone." Ayda said while she shrugged him off.

    "That''s good." Allen glanced just to confirm. "I know they''re big and scary, but they''re not really bad people," he explained. Ayda had an indescribably difficult time believing any bit of that.

    "Eh, I couldn''ve taken ''em," Ayda joked with a shrug.

    "I bet you could," Allen agreed. "I''m Allen, by the way." He presented an open hand to her.

    "Sandra," lied Ayda, recycling her assumed name from when she confronted Lo Feng. They briefly shook hands.

    "So..." Allen trailed off. "I don''t want to sound just like those guys, but what are you doing here?"

    "Well," Ayda began, "The diamond salesman I usually go to got shut down the other day, and I''ve been looking for a new hookup. I figured a place like this would be a good place to start."

    "You''re here to buy drugs?" Asked Allen, an incredulous look on his face.

    "I was more just looking for a few tips, but I did bring my wallet." Ayda said with a forced air of hope. This could be the goldmine she''d been looking for, and she couldn''t afford to let it slip from her grasp.

    "Well, you''re in luck. If you want to come up to my place, I can dip into my stash for you." Allen smiled, flashing gross yellow teeth.

    "Alright, sounds perfect," Ayda responded. Yes, perfect indeed.

    "Follow me, then. It''s on the second floor."

    With that, Allen began to usher her toward the staircase at the far left of the hallway. They remained abreast, but he was clearly in charge. Ayda was more than happy to let him lead. This was a great chance for her. Although she liked to be the one in command of any given situation, in this instance a subordinate role made more sense to reach her ultimate goal. Or, at the very least, get her closer to it.

    They walked the somewhat short distance to Allen''s abode in relative silence. Allen didn''t necessarily strike her as the most talkative of chaps, and while Ayda could be in certain scenarios, this was most certainly not one of them. She harbored much more concern for her mission than any sort of menial conversation.

    The scenery improved little as the duo climbed the stairs. If anything, it worsened just slightly. Being the second floor and at a greater vulnerability to natural effects such as wind and gravity, it suffered noticeably more damage. There were scattered small holes in both the floor and ceiling, but none that made walking overly hazardous. The walls had seen better days, more charred and ruined than those below. Very few rooms¡ªincluding Allen''s¡ªhad doors. Ayda was starting to get massive flashbacks to the apartment where she fought Sun Xin. She could never live in a place like this, with no privacy nor cleanliness. Or, at least, never again.

    "This is us," Allen said immediately before hanging a right into a room.

    There were three things of note in this space: the surprisingly intact couch and the two people sitting upon it, who looked up at the new arrivals when they entered. Other than that, there was absolutely nothing to see. An intact door separated the room itself from the lavatory, which doubtless no longer worked. A green duffel bag sat against the west wall. Other than these few things, the room was a burnt desert.

    "That''s Tino and Miguel on the couch, there. Guys, this is Sandra." Allen made the appropriate introductions.

    "Hey."

    "What''s up?"

    Tino was a large man of African-American descent, his curly hair cut short. The blue couch sagged under his weight. In contrast, Miguel was a Cuban man of average height and build. His head had been shaved. Somehow, he managed to wear a tan winter jacket without roasting to death. With the addition of Ayda, this was now the most racially diverse room in all of El Puerto, and possibly the entire state of Texas.

    "Sandra here," continued Allen, "is in the diamond market."

    "For real?" Tino raised an eyebrow. "Well, you sure came to the right place."

    "Yeah, I guess I did," Ayda agreed, resisting the temptation to awkwardly scratch the back of her head.

    "Just make yourself at home, I''ll see what I can come up with," Allen instructed before moving over to the duffel bag.

    "Um..." Ayda looked around the room. The only place to sit was the couch, and although it had three seats, she didn''t feel like nestling between two strange men. To not accept Allen''s invitation may have been seen as suspicious, though. So, she chose the only other opening available to her. Ayda sat on the floor between him and his friends. She crossed her legs in a vain attempt to get comfortable.

    "So," Miguel said the moment she had sat, "Sandra, where are you from?"

    "Oh, I''ve been around, but Texas is my home, now," replied Ayda simply. It was not technically untrue.

    "And what made you think to come here for a little ice?" Prodded Tino further. This was beginning to feel like an interrogation, but this level of caution was more than understandable.

    "As I was telling Allen on our way here, my usual dealer got taken out a few days ago. I figured this would be as good a place as any to start looking for a new guy."

    In response to her explanation, Tino shrugged and Miguel jerked his head to one side. Ayda assumed these were affirmative gestures. All the while, Allen continued to rifle through his bag. She could feel herself running out of time. If this went on, she may end up actually being offered drugs. Now was the moment to accelerate her plans.

    "So, I know I probably shouldn''t ask, but where do you all get your stuff from?" Ayda said in the most innocent way she knew how, which meant she sounded more sarcastic than anything else. All three junkies gave her puzzled looks. Allen ceased his search entirely.

    "You''re right, you shouldn''t ask." Allen turned to her and slowly stood.

    "I''m not trying to step on your territory or anything," Ayda made a defensive wave of her hands. "I''m just wondering so I can maybe get some for myself. Is it really so bad to ask?" This was a genuine question. She didn''t know the first thing about druggie etiquette.

    "Depends on the person," Allen said.

    "You seem pretty well off," explained Tino further. "We can''t have you snatching up all the best deals, you see?"

    "It''s not personal, just business," Miguel added.

    Ayda sighed. "So, that''s how it''s gonna be?" She gave them a chance to respond. They did not. "Why do I even try? I mean, I want to be nonviolent, but every time I go looking for information, it turns out like this. Fine, whatever." She stood. "Have it your way."

    She embraced her powers. In the same instant, Ayda rammed her foot underneath the couch. A stronger than required blast sent it toppling backward, Tino and Miguel along for the ride. Their feet dangled comically in the air as the furniture teetered over it''s back legs. They both hit their heads when its back came down.

    Nary had a beat dropped before Ayda unleashed upon Allen. A kick to his hip spun him around one-eighty. She planted the same foot in the small of his back. A little burst smacked him against the wall. Ayda closed the distance, pressing him into the structure, a smash of his head into it for emphasis. She positioned her knee right between his legs. Any movement from the waist down would be... unpleasant. The pressure against his torso and shoulders kept him from moving any other part of his body. Allen had no hope at freedom, not until Ayda said so.

    "Okay, okay, okay," Allen sputtered, shaking with fear. "Just take whatever you want and leave."

    "Shut up, Allen," said Ayda. "I''m not here for your drugs."

    "But, you said¡ª"

    "I lied, imagine that. Now, Allen, I''m not your enemy, but I don''t have to be your friend, either. I''m not afraid to hurt you. But, if you just tell me where I''m most likely to find a dealer, we can all walk out of this unscathed."

    "But, that''s not how it works," Allen argued.

    "How what works?" Ayda demanded

    "This, any of it! That''s not how it works! What, you think dealers just set up a tent on a street corner and wait for a junkie to wander by? It''s all private meetings and shit."

    Ayda considered this for a moment. "Alright." She let him go. "Walk me through the process, then."

    Allen turned around and bent over, deep breaths through suddenly uncompressed lungs. Ayda glanced behind her, but found she had nothing to worry about from the other two men in the room. Both Tino and Miguel hid behind the upturned couch, cautiously peaking over it. Allen still caught his breath. This was taking too long.

    "Talk, Allen." Ayda flicked him on the forehead with a miniscule blast, just to get his attention.

    "Well, um..." he collected his thoughts for a moment. "It... it starts with a phone call. I call one of my guys, we set up a meeting place, someone brings the stuff, I bring the money, we exchange and then part ways. The whole thing takes, like, ten minutes."

    "You just call people?" Ayda raised an eyebrow. "That seems really unsafe."

    "Sometimes. It depends. Single, rogue guys won''t sell to someone they don''t know, but if you''re dealing with a gang or something, you actually talk to a middle-man who sets up the meeting for you." Allen explained.

    "That''s a lot of steps just to get high," observed Ayda.

    "It''s a vetting process," Allen said. "Keeps the cops away."

    "Hmm..." Ayda trailed off, annoyed. "I guess you would know better than me." She sighed. "Well, shit. There goes my entire plan."

    Perhaps she''d seen too many bad movies, but that wasn''t even close to how she thought drug dealing went down. She assumed it was all street deals. The pusher walked around looking for people whom he magically knew were junkies, and waved a dime bag in front of their faces. In retrospect, it sounded absolutely ridiculous, but that was the image American media promoted. However, as it always did, reality had a much different view of things.

    "So, what do I do now?" Ayda thought aloud.She could pose as a buyer. She wasn''t a cop, but it shouldn''t have been too hard to convince theirvetting process.That seemed like a good start. "Alright. Phones, all three of you," she ordered of the men. Predictably, they hesitated. "Phones, now!" She made a small blast above her open palm just to get her point across.

    Hastily, the three men produced their cellular devices. Ayda collected them. She placed two on the ground at her feet and held the last in her left hand. With her right, she extracted her own cell. Fleet of thumbs, she began to copy down contact information.

    This particular set belonged to Allen. His contacts weren''t all illicit, of course, but the relevant ones were easy to distinguish. He''d gone through the trouble of listing a drug next to each listing. These weren''t actual names, but instead random jumbles of letters. Ayda was only interested in methamphetamines, so she copied those numbers and no others. They would help her find a few, but what was she supposed to do about all the other dealers in town?

    Tino had more contacts than Allen, and while he hadn''t given each one a drug, he did seem to use actual names. Ayda only took down the Chinese sounding ones. It was terribly racist, but also effective. Likely at least a few of these were the same as Allen''s. That was a bridge she''d have to cross when the time came. She transitioned to Miguel''s phone and was about to start copying when an epiphany hit her like a ton of bricks.

    She didn''t even need to find the dealers. All she had to do was go after the buyers, and they''d lead her right to them. She could do exactly what she was doing, just on a larger scale. More phones, more junkies, an entire network of stolen contact information.

    The teenager swiftly finished transferring Miguel''s data to her own device. He didn''t have as many contacts overall, but he assumedly used their real names just like Tino. Of course, the possibility of red herrings was ever-present. If a lead bore no fruit, Ayda would move on to the next one. Simple as that. When finished, she tossed it to him. He reacted in barely enough time to catch it.

    "Okay, that was all I needed." She began toward the exit. " Thanks for the info, guys. I''m sorry I broke your couch."

    "Oh, don''t worry. It''s not ours," Miguel called after her.

    "Dude!" Tino shouted before audibly smacking him. Ayda just smiled. She didn''t even come close to caring where or how they got it. After all, the room didn''t exactly belong to them, either.

    To say she was excited would be an understatement. In the space of not even a half hour, she''d gone from having no clue what she was doing to a clear and concise mode of operation. Her mission to take down the Triad was beginning to take shape. All the avenues for doing so were lining up in front of her. The drugs were just the start of it. Soon, she''d move on to bigger fish worth even more money and influence than simple street pushers. For now, though, getting some crystal off the streets would more than suffice. The Triad wouldn''t even know what hit them. Her name would become synonymous with destruction, and it was all thanks to a trio of hapless addicts. Allen, Tino, and Miguel were alright, in her book.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 22: First Strike

    Darkness fell over the tall buildings of El Puerto, Texas. While, like most cities, it never slept, this one did certainly slow down. With most of the blue and white collar establishments having closed their doors hours ago, the only remaining citizens up and about were the various night shift workers. These numbers paled in comparison to those amassed in the light of day. Illuminated by stars and streetlights, bathed in warm hues of white and yellow, El Puerto almost seemed like a completely different place.

    The townspeople commuted to their various after hours employments, guiding their ways with headlights. They represented many walks of life, perhaps not quite as broad in scope yet no less important than those lucky enough to work with the sun. These people were fast food workers, gas station attendants, department store associates, night guards, and whatever various positions which required twilight hours. They were the ones who kept the city alive while remaining mostly unnoticed. In a way, folks like this were the true heart and soul of the entire nation.

    It was almost hilarious, in a way, the mass exodus which occurred every single day at around five o''clock. The amount of commuters far outweighed the sum of people who actually lived within the city. Such was the virtue of suburban systems. Gridlock on the freeway met anyone trying desperately to exit with all the others, while someone attempting to enter the city would find traffic rather lax.

    Ayda sped down a nondescript street in the industrial district. Everything she''d learned about fighting, about society, and about reality had come to a beautiful head. She''d used every trick in her book, and picked up quite a few fresh additions along the way. Now, just two days after her little meeting with Allen, Ayda was ready to put all of them into action.

    For the first time since losing Jackie, the path was clear. Ayda knew exactly what to do, how to proceed. Perhaps more importantly, she knew what impact her actions would have. Society would be rocked by her presence. This mission would change the world. This was her vision. This was her new deal. And it all started on this night with a single step, and a single Triad drug dealer.

    Not that the step would be a simple one. Setting up a simple meeting proved much more difficult than Ayda assumed. She chose a contact at random from those culled from the motel, and started a dialogue with him. For safety sake, she hid her number, and that was probably a bad idea. It took a few calls to ascertain his trust. Offering big bucks for a sizable deal got his attention, though. Enough money could persuade any man into taking a chance.

    Ayda would have preferred to take care of the entire ordeal in a single day. To shake down Allen and his friends, then follow that up directly with the bust of a drug dealer would have been a massive success; probably her most productive day ever. Her target had different plans, however. The Triad may have been nothing but a collection of scum, but no one could say they weren''t thorough. No professional thieves survived without excellent instincts.

    But that was all in the past. The hassle would be worth it in the end when this all worked out. Many hours of planning and stress had lead to this, her first act of war against the triad. It would be the shot heard around El Puerto and¡ªif everything went smoothly¡ªno one would ever know who pulled the trigger.

    Ayda made sure to park her motorcycle in a car lot a few blocks away from the meeting area. Not many people had her particular make of bike. It wasn''t a popular model. The sound and visage of it, as well as the license plate, could give her away. No one could know her true identity. War with the Triad could bring down fire and brimstone upon her loved ones if anybody found out. She could defend herself. Her friends and family weren''t so skilled. That was why she wore sunglasses to conceal her identity.

    The specific destination had actually been a suggestion by the contact. Ayda decided in a pinch to go along with him. It would build trust between the two, and he probably knew better how to conduct this sort of thing. The less out of the ordinary the scene appeared, the more advantage Ayda possessed. Besides, fighting on his terms sounded rather fun.

    She stuck the the shadows, scoping out the situation to the best of her abilities. She''d lingered around the area to be sure of arriving second. It just made more sense that way. Ayda stacked up in an alley across the street, concealing herself in darkness until her quarry arrived.

    The dealer, a man called Guang, which was most certainly not his real name, arrived exactly on time, almost down to the precise second. He stood at the mouth of a wide alleyway between two square buildings. To his right was a green dumpster behind a chain link fence. Punctuality must have been important for exchanges like this. When conducting highly illegal business, it was best not to linger. As such, he likely would not stay around very long if Ayda were overly late. To that end, she exited out the rear of her own corridor to end up a block opposite Guang. It would be weird if she emerged from an alley.

    Ayda looped back around and came up the street toward him. Despite the metal staff clutched in her right hand, she did her absolute best to appear completely normal. That meant, however, she could not embrace her powers right then. After all, a glowing purple staff would raise immediate red flags even for someone with nothing to hide. It made her feel unprepared, to willingly walk into a fight without her reflexes. She was capable of fighting without them, of course, but to do so felt like tying an arm behind her back. Although, she''d probably come out on top even if that were the case.

    Guang turned his head in her direction the moment she began his way. His behavior was the definition of shifty, all sidelong glances and quick nods, as was the norm for anyone trying too hard to act casual. Ayda could feel him giving her an ocular pat down, trying to ascertain if she presented any further threat besides the obvious weapon carried in her fist. She had a feeling that was his true reason for such caution. Likely, no one had ever tried to buy drugs from him while toting a metal bar.

    "Are you Guang?" Ayda asked when she was close enough to speak in a moderate tone.

    "Yeah, I am," responded the man. "You Sandra?"

    "Yeah," confirmed Ayda.

    She stood next to him and faced the road. This was something she''d seen on television before. Both parties speak without looking at each other, like they''re strangers who just happened to be on the same stretch of sidewalk. Guang offered no such consideration. He turned his whole body to her.

    In the few seconds before he spoke again, Ayda returned his previous favor and gave him a quick top to bottom. Guang was dressed nicely in a too-big black suit with a matching plain shirt underneath. He wore no tie, opting instead to keep his first two buttons undone. Even his shoes were fancy. More than a criminal, he looked like a professional business man, or perhaps a gangster from a classic movie. That was probably the point, though. The cops would be searching for anyone who looked like a thug. Wearing a suit effectively exonerated him. It did not, however, prepare him for conflict.

    "What''s, uh..." Guang trailed off. "What''s the stick for?"

    "Oh, my staff?" Ayda said, hefting the weapon. "It''s for after."

    "What? After what?"

    "After I do this!"

    Without warning, Ayda whapped him across the face. She used this momentum to transfer into her favorite fighting stance, staff held out in front at a slant from shoulder to hip, right foot out in front, elbows and knees slightly bent.

    Guang stumbled to catch his balance, holding the spot on his cheek where the weapon made contact. It hadn''t been a very powerful strike, just enough to clean his clock a little, but it got Ayda''s point across. Guang immediately figured out this wasn''t a drug deal, it was a set up. Ayda could see it in his eyes, he was about to run. She had to put a stop to it before her target fled. Not that he wouldn''t be a simple catch, the teenager just didn''t feel like chasing him.

    On her next flurry, Ayda did not hold back. She struck high forehand, then spun the staff around her head, and came back from the same direction. Transitioning into a spin, she swung for a third time from the right. Every attack was accentuated by a blast more than powerful enough to put him on the ground. And yet, at the end of it all, Guang remained standing. He displayed simply impressive speed. The dealer managed to right himself and backpedal away from all three hits. Ayda''s staff whizzed harmlessly through the air. Her blasts met nothing but wind. Guang came close to pining himself against the fence, but he was safe.

    Ayda stopped to observe him closer. So stunned was the girl, she let her weapon hand fall relaxed at her side. True, those weren''t her best attacks, but they still should have been far faster than a normal crank vendor to ever even pray to avoid. Dumb luck. That was the only explanation. Guang was just a thug, same as the triads she''d beaten up before.

    "So, you''re the one," Guang said with a sickening smile. "You''re the chick who beat up Feng and his goons." He paused. "They said you were weird, but I didn''t believe them until just now."

    "You... you know who I am?" Ayda''s shoulders sagged.

    "Oh please," Guang scoffed. "Every crook in El Puerto knows who you are. You have a reputation."

    Ayda needed a moment to process this. Of course, it made perfect sense. There had been news articles about her, and doubtless the first group of guys she interrogated let spill at least a few details about their encounter. Someone would connect the dots eventually. It was inevitable. She just didn''t expect it to happen so quickly. Something else about the situation bothered her, though.

    "So, you know who I am, and you know what I can do, but you''re still here," she said. "I think most people would''ve run by now."

    "Are you kidding?" Guang walked forward a few feet, away from the fence. "Do you have the slightest idea how much the boss will pay me for bringing you in? That''s a risk worth taking."

    "You''re actually gonna fight me?" Ayda couldn''t believe what she was hearing.

    "Not unless you want to just give up and come quietly," Guang quipped. At least they matched wits, if nothing else. He put up his dukes.

    "Alright. It''s your funeral." Ayda resumed her own readied stance. She expected to square off with him for a moment, but that would not be the case. He opened the bout immediately.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Guang charged full force at her, fist cocked back for what was sure to be a vicious strike. Such telegraphing, however, wouldn''t even work on a child. Ayda quarter turned. His strike whiffed and he ended up a step behind her. Ayda twirled her staff and hit him laterally across the back. A modest blast sent him tumbling forward. Guang managed to recover, though. He tucked into a roll and landed in a kneeling position.

    Ayda pushed her advantage while he was still down. She closed in and brought her staff straight down. Guang straightened and narrowly avoided the first strike. The ensuing blast cracked the concrete, but not a human skull like intended. Ayda spun completely around and came down again. Guang stepped out from under this one as well.

    Now Ayda was the one in a kneeling position, and Guang had all the momentum. He closed in and aimed an overhand punch at the back of her head. Ayda shuffled back while still on her haunches. With danger successfully avoided, she rose, and as she did, struck upward with the back end of the staff. Her ascension lent power to the strike, but it was short ranged and slow. Guang sidestepped out of the way. As the weapon sailed past his face, he leveled a left hook at the teenager. Ayda saw the strike coming, of course, but her arms were far too out of position to block. She couldn''t step far enough back to get out of the way. His fist made contact right behind her ear with a hollow sound.

    Ayda stepped to the left and then back to get out of his striking range. He hit her. He actually managed to hit her. Through all her experience and overwhelming speed of reaction, this ordinary man got in a good strike. Unbelievable. Simply preposterous. She was better than him in every conceivable way. Younger, stronger, faster, and smarter, there was no reason for her to take a hit. And yet, the throbbing on the side of her head proved otherwise. Sheer dumb luck. That was the only explanation.

    "Not quite as good as you thought, huh?" Taunted the man.

    "Why don''t you find out?" Ayda fired back, an admittedly weak rebuttal.

    His initial success filled Guang with confidence. He closed the distance and attempted a side push kick. Ayda backed out of the way. Guang transitioned immediately to a spinning, inside crescent kick. Ayda knelt below it and swept his ankles with a blast. His feet slipped out from underneath him, resulting in a backwards fall. Guang smacked his spine against the concrete. Ayda stabbed down at him with the back end of her staff. He just barely rolled out of the way. The weapon dug into the ground. Ayda wrestled with it, wriggling the thing back and forth to dislodge it. This gave Guang just enough time to get back on his feet.

    He had no time to rest, though. The man was too close, well past Ayda''s optimal striking range. She chocked up on her staff and threw out a wide lateral swing. Guang ducked underneath. From his downward position, he lashed out with a low kick at her front-most knee. Ayda attempted to step back, but for all her lightning fast reflexes, her body could only move so fast. The only thing she accomplished was to line herself up perfectly with his toe.

    He made contact. The kick was rather weak, but still carried just enough force to buckle Ayda''s affected knee. It bent sideways. She winced in pain at not the blow itself, but the hyperextension it caused. She took a hobbled step to the left before bearing down on the hurt leg with a grit of her teeth.

    The look Guang wore on his face was absolutely despicable. He seemed to derive some twisted pleasure from this. Whether it came from hitting an opponent for the second time, or from beating up a woman, Ayda couldn''t be certain. However, she chose to believe the latter. It made fighting him much easier to justify. She snarled at him like a cornered beast. This man had progressed far beyond simply getting on her nerves. Ayda tried not to hate her opponents, but there were rare exceptions.

    This entire time, she''d been somewhat underestimating him. A deadly mistake. It was time to go on the offensive. She stepped forward a swung laterally. A spin, and a second strike from the same direction, both with blasts. Guang predictably dodged both. He retaliated with a swift hook kick. Ayda widened her grip and blocked with her staff. She twisted the weapon upward and hit his inner thigh right on the femoral artery, a burst for emphasis.

    These kinds of arterial strikes hurt more than most people realized, even without Ayda''s blast which may have been enough to cause internal bleeding. Guang fell to one knee. This was her chance to end it. Ayda twirled her staff behind her back and brought it around for an attack both terrible and stylish. Solid metal and a good explosion smashed into Guang''s temple. The Triad lifted into the air for a moment before crashing down on his side. He did not move after landing. His chest, though, continued to rise and fall with the rhythmic repetitions of normal breathing. Not dead, but unconscious¡ªjust how Ayda wanted.

    Ayda relaxed. She held her staff at her side, put her feet in a more comfortable configuration. It was over and done. She sighed and slowly ran fingers through her hair. That had been about ten times more difficult than she''d expected. If all Triad drug dealers possessed that level of skill, then that would explain why they''d been so successful in the criminal trade. More caution would be required moving forward.

    But that was a problem for future Ayda to solve. Her present self had one more thing to do. She stepped out of the alley and dug out her cellular device, three swift keystrokes before pressing it against her ear. It still kind of hurt from where she got punched.

    "911, what is your emergency?" Said the operator, a woman with a nasally voice.

    "Um, yeah, hi," Ayda began. "I''m not sure if this is the right number to call, but I need to report a drug deal in progress."

    "Where is the deal taking place?" The woman prodded further.

    "It''s an alley between Wornick and Tenth, in the industrial district." As Ayda spoke, she walked back into the alley toward the incapacitated countenance of Guang.

    "Hold on, I''ll transfer you to the right precinct."

    "That''d be great, thanks."

    Again, Ayda reached into her pocket. This time, she produced a white plastic zip tie. She grabbed Guang by the forearm and dragged him over to the fence. The girl threaded her new tool through the chain links and around his wrist. A quick pull attached him to it. With the criminal restrained, her job was done. Ayda exited the alley and started on the walk back to her motorcycle. The only thing to do now was let the cops take over. All tied up, Guang wouldn''t be going anywhere until they arrived.

    ¡­

    The very next day. The sun was just beginning its westward wax across the sky. Soon twilight would approach and send the city into a peaceful state of slumber. It was almost disturbing how calm the day seemed. People went about their business without a care in the world. Nothing changed, almost as if nothing mattered. These people were blissfully unaware of the war which blazed right under their noses.

    Of course, Ayda expected all of this. Nothing she ever conceivably did had the slightest chance of changing an entire population over night. It would take an incalculable passage of time to see any palpable effect. She knew this, and yet it still was weird, like her after-hours deeds were still sinking in. That, however, was the past now, even though it just happened. Ayda had more important things to do than worry about petty recognition.

    To that end, she found herself sitting in a break room at the Belmont International research and development labs, a place she had become very familiar with ever since emigrating to America. Dressed in the black tank top and capri yoga pants she usually wore whenever conducting business in this particular building, she teetered back in a metal folding chair. It balanced precariously on its two back legs while she rested her ankles on the long pressboard table.

    She was the only one in the room. There were several communal areas for employees to rest during the day, but this particular domicile suited her needs better than any. Farthest away from both the offices and testing chamber, it saw very little foot traffic. The workers didn''t have much time for leisure to begin with. Few wanted to waste any second of it walking to a break room. This relative isolation meant Ayda could most assuredly enjoy a moment of peace and quiet.

    Well, relative quiet, anyway. A small CRT television hung in the far left corner from the door. Ayda had flipped it to the local news, a program she normally did not indulge in. Most of the important things that happened in and around El Puerto she learned on the internet just moments after they happened. Why bother watching these same stories on the news possibly several hours after the fact? Curiosity drove her on this occasion.

    A pale, dark haired woman droned on about some menial story Ayda cared nothing for. It was the end of a segment. The one she wanted to see was about to start. The camera cut to a different angle of the same person. She slowly turned her head to spike the lens.

    "And now, for Crime Watch," she said in an ominous tone. After a beat, a garish cinematic played. Tones of red and blue meshed in the background while white letters danced over top. They smashed together to form the name of the segment. It was, quite possibly, the most outdated graphic in all of television. It, thankfully, was brief. The station cut back to the anchor.

    "Our top story today: An anonymous tip led to the apprehension of wanted Chinese Triad drug dealer Guang Fung Wa." A picture of him appeared to the presenter''s left. "He was found handcuffed to a chainlink fence in the industrial district, severely wounded. After questioning, Guang revealed he had been attacked by a teenage girl with strange abilities. He is the latest in a string of Triad members to make such a claim, with the most notable being Sun Xin, who turned himself in to law enforcement with a similar claim. Local police admit there may be a vigilante on the loose, but are passing off any supernatural allegations as nothing more than urban legend."

    "Severely wounded my brown ass," Ayda jeered at the screen. "He''s fine." Still, though. She got the top story. It was an honor. And, the police were covering up her deeds, which saved her the trouble of doing so.

    "Who''s fine?" A familiar voice said from outside the open break room door.

    Ayda turned just in time to see Elliot enter. She smiled instantly at his presence. While this was the second time that day the two had met, they hadn''t seen each other for weeks prior. Ayda failed to realize just how much she missed her friend. So taken aback was she at his sudden appearance, she didn''t respond to his question right away.

    "Another Triad guy got beat up last night," she explained. "The news is trying to pass him off as just an innocent victim of some crime."

    "You don''t think he is?" Asked Elliot just before he pulled up a chair across from her.

    "A victim of a crime, sure, but he''s certainly not innocent," Ayda clarified. "These thugs play with fire every day of their lives. We shouldn''t be surprised when they get burned." She forwent to mention who had been the fire in this case.

    "That may be true," Elliot agreed with a cock of his head. This clearly wasn''t what he''d come to talk about. "What are you still doing here, anyway?" He changed the subject. "The test ended over an hour ago."

    "I know, I just didn''t feel like going home yet," said Ayda, a completely true statement. "I''ll get around to it, don''t worry."

    "Yeah. I was pretty surprised when you said you wanted to start testing again. I never thought you''d actually volunteer for it."

    "It is kind a weird, isn''t it?" Ayda said. "I don''t know, I was just so restless sitting at home all day. I wanted to start doing things again, you know?" Another factual assertion, although this day hadn''t been the real start of her return to action. "I''m going back to school tomorrow," she added as an afterthought.

    "That''s good." Elliot suddenly wore a grim face. "How are you doing, really?" His voice was soft and solemn. He leaned in closer.

    "Better," Ayda responded after a moment. "I just," she sighed, "I needed time. I needed to process everything. But I think I''ve had enough time. Jackie wouldn''t want me to sit around wasting away, so I''m not going to."

    "I''m glad to hear it." Elliot smiled and leaned back in his chair. "We didn''t really talk much for a while, so I was worried about you."

    "Aw, how sweet," Ayda quipped, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

    "Shut up, you know what I mean." Elliot dismissed her joke. "I''m glad to see you''re starting to bounce back."

    "So am I," she agreed. There was a short pause, only long enough for Ayda to get a new idea. "Hey, are you on your lunch break?"

    "Not necessarily, but I could be. Why?"

    "Alright, then, come on." Ayda rose and walked around to the head of the table closest to the door. Elliot, however, remained seated.

    "Where are we going?" He said with drawn out syllables and narrow eyes.

    "I am taking you out to lunch," Ayda said with a hint of satisfaction. "Think of it as an apology for going radio silent."

    "Ayda, you don''t have to do that," Elliot said with soft eyes.

    "Yes, I do," she insisted. "Just come on. You''re not getting out of this one, Howard." The use of his middle name let him know she was serious.

    Elliot sighed. "Fine, fine." He stood and began toward her. "Where are we going?"

    "Wherever you want." Ayda fell in behind him and they exited the room. "Nothing spicy, though. I''m not really in the mood."

    "Well, at least that narrows things down," Elliot shrugged.

    "Oh, and you''re driving. My bike isn''t really made for two people."

    "It''s funny you think I would ever get on that thing."

    Ayda jogged a few steps to walk beside him down the hall. This was the start of what she hoped would be many more good days. Punching a gangster in the face always made for a fun time, but after about two weeks of doing that nonstop, what she really needed was good food with a good friend. Such things were good for the soul.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 23: Continued Offensive

    For a time, everything was great. The operation ran more smoothly than Ayda could have ever imagined, even in her wildest of dreams. For a time, the city was her oyster; its criminals, her pearl. They were eating out of her hands. She led them likes lambs to the slaughter, like lemmings off a cliff. Nothing they did could stop her. She was the baddest badass in town. For a time, Ayda was on top of the world.

    After the first little hitch with Guang, she changed her approach just slightly. It wasn''t realistic to believe all of the Triad''s pushers possessed the same level of martial prowess, but it also wasn''t impossible. She had to look at every enemy as a real threat, instead of just some lowly street thug. After all, the gang would''ve never succeeded if its main form of income couldn''t remain afloat. The dealers had to be able to defend themselves, at least somewhat.

    Armed with that knowledge, Ayda put a modicum of caution into every scenario. However, her method remained mostly the same. She would use a nifty app which scrambled her phone number to arrange a meeting, show up in costume, and proceed to put down her targets. Each one ended with an anonymous call to the police, often with the criminal''s phone to prevent a trace on her own device.

    That last measure, while unfortunate, was necessary. A few prominent city politicians had taken up a rather hostile point of view. They vehemently opposed her actions. The police should handle matters of justice. The humble citizens had no place taking the law into their own hands. Never mind the very visible undercurrent of transgression and debauchery which ran rampant throughout the town. If the cops were truly effective at preventing crime, then this current would not exist. For some reason, the powers that be seemed incapable of understanding this.

    Ayda had momentum on her side, but it couldn''t possibly last forever. Eventually, her unstoppable force would meet with some immovable object. When the clock hit zero and she was at her wit''s end, Ayda would have to think of a solution. But that night wasn''t this one. She still had time. She still had resources and the means to acquire them.

    The resources, in this case, were connections. Her entire method relied upon duping drug dealers into a trap and then beating the snot out of them. She couldn''t do this without one all important facet, phone numbers. Without contact information, the setup of meetings became completely impossible. This was the only method she''d managed to think of which actually produced reliable results. Without it, her entire plan fell apart at the seems.

    The numbers from Allen, Tino, and Miguel ran out long ago. Ayda had been persisting entirely on information gathered from phones of the dealers and buyers she tagged. This was not a reliable source. Most were smart enough to keep that sort of thing out of circulation in any way, shape, or form. She needed something better, a more lucrative way to gather the information she so desperately desired.

    That was a bridge she would cross when the time came. For now, her way produced results. Ayda trolled around the streets of the industrial district at a modest speed, usually a hair below the speed limit, which doubtless aggravated many a hapless driver unlucky enough to be stuck behind her. In these cases, she''d been sure to turn off and let them pass. Which streets she explored didn''t really matter. Her experience in the past weeks taught her a drug deal could go down literally anywhere.

    That''s what she was looking for, a drug deal. If Ayda could interrupt one, then she''d be able to both put a pusher behind bars as well as mine the buyer''s phone for contacts. To spot a deal in progress was much harder than tracking down a lone addict, but the prospect of killing two birds with one stone was far too tempting a fruit to pass up.

    The credit for this strategy could not go to her, however. Allen and his friends deserved most of the credit. All this time later, and she still thanked them for their contribution. Their first encounter had been a fount of useful information, and much of it still remained relevant. Ayda gained some much needed knowledge from those three buffoons. She should probably get around to paying them back properly, one of these days. Maybe a haircut and a toothbrush?

    Experience proved, perhaps, her most valuable tool. All her time spent organizing, staking out, and attending drug deals taught her what to look for. She knew what forms they took. To a normal person, these sorts of exchanges appeared to be nothing more than a quiet conversation, strangers or even friends simply passing the time. To trained eyes, however, they stuck out plain as day.

    Or, at least, that was the theory. As with pretty much everything Ayda did, this particular endeavor seemed much more difficult than she''d planned for. In concept, it was simple. Ride around looking for any suspicious gatherings, break them up, and steal a phone. In practice, however, it didn''t pan out quite so simply.

    Of course, that made sense. Dealers and addicts didn''t want to be found. They''re main goal, other than the exchange of merchandise, was to remain hidden. She''d learned not to underestimate druggies. Despite their bad habit, most were quite intelligent. Those who weren''t, at least seemed street smart. They had to be to support their impure practice, which was hard to do behind bars.

    The mission clock would tick over to two hours any minute now. That''s how long she''d been doing this with no palpable results to show for it. There were plenty of people, of course, just not the right kind. These were just normal citizenry, going about their¡ªmost likely¡ªperfectly legal business. They weren''t undesirable types.

    A few were quite obvious users. Their clothes, dirty hair, gaunt skin, and even the manner with which they walked gave them away. Some may have even been high right at that moment. Now, Ayda could single out one of them to follow for a while, but that was a gamble. If they weren''t out to buy more crank, then tailing them would be an absolute waste of time. Time was not a commodity she could afford to waste.

    So much attention had Ayda been paying to the people, she actually managed to get herself lost. She slowed to a crawl and peered around her surroundings. These buildings were unfamiliar to her, although everything in the industrial district appeared the same if you stopped looking hard enough. Needless to say, this place lit no light bulbs in her brain. There was an intersection up ahead. If she knew the street names, she could get her bearings.

    Ayda drove up to the T in the road. Green street markers bolted to the top of a stop sign slowly grew into focus. In a few more feet, she''d be able to read the words written upon them. This wouldn''t actually help her complete the task at hand, but she at least would acquire a sense of direction once again.

    She''d had every intention of reading the sign, but upon coming closer to the intersection, something else grasped the easily distracted teenager. Up ahead was a public basketball court, little more than two hoops and some flat concrete within a tall, chain link fence. Normally such a thing demanded little attention from her. She disliked sports which didn''t involve punching. But this occasion was different.

    Two people stood on the right side of the court underneath a hoop. A shadow cast by a nearby building concealed them. The men themselves were visible, but their actions could not be seen. Ayda was immediately suspicious. Her paranoid mind knew things were rarely convenient without a reason. These two must have known they were standing in shadows. Unless they''d'' been there long enough for the sun to move and cast the shadow over them, this placement was on purpose. At the very least, it warranted investigation.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Ayda turned the corner right and parked her motorcycle in an alley and got off, grabbing up her staff before she exited it. She didn''t bother with looking both ways before crossing the street. There weren''t any other vehicles to worry about. Any pause was a waste of time. If this was a drug deal, it would be over quickly. In the city, people could disappear in the blink of an eye. She had to get there fast.

    She didn''t just stop and stare at the fence. No, that would be much too obvious. She kept walking like a normal citizen. Although, the staff in her hand was a bit of a dead giveaway. Thankfully, the two men inside the fence were too engrossed in their own business to pay much mind to her.

    Ayda gave them a long sideways glance as she passed. They were dressed in dark clothing, one in a baggy hoodie and the other a tight black tank. Both were Caucasian, but the latter was noticeably more built. They certainly looked the part. It still wasn''t necessarily a drug deal, though. That is, not until an exchange was made.

    It was a quick motion, the sort of prestidigitation made by experienced fingers. Without any verbal communication, the two quickly reached out their hands in almost perfect unison. The movements were low and slight, almost unnoticeable by the naked eye. Ayda''s perception, however, could not be fooled. Objects clearly changed hands. Although she failed to see what exactly happened, a flash of pale white was all the evidence she needed to pounce.

    The fools had left the gate open. This was probably to further divert suspicion, but all it did was give Ayda an easy access point. She slipped through without a sound. Impromptu, she hadn''t yet decided on a plan of attack. Remaining quiet kept stealth on the table. Though, as she approached, Ayda realized such care was a bit overkill. Plus, it was boring.

    "Hey!" She shouted, a hint of a growl in her voice. Her staff glowed purple.

    Both heads turned to her. Their reaction was instantaneous, and shared between the both of them. It was something Ayda had been encountering more and more as word spread. Their eyes tripled in diameter. Muscles tensed up. Each of them floated between fight and flight. This was recognition. This was fear.

    The buyer, a scrawny little White boy, bolted for the opposite end of court. There was no gate in that direction. He probably planned to climb the fence. Ayda didn''t feel like chasing him. Instead, she hefted her staff, switched to a reverse grip. Holding it over her shoulder like a spear, she launched it at the fleeing suspect. Propelled by a blast, it rocketed toward him. The metal implement hit him square in the back of the head with a hollow thud. He tumbled face first into the cement, and there he remained, motionless. That throw could''ve knocked a horse unconscious. Likely, this guy wouldn''t be waking up for quite a while.

    With one half of the equation dealt with, Ayda transitioned to perpetrator number two. His eyes flickered from Ayda to the grounded druggie. Clearly, he hadn''t the faintest idea how to proceed. Should he run away, or take his chances and fight? Ayda decided for him.

    The girl slapped him across the face. It was not accompanied by a blast. This strike was meant as an insult, and also to get his attention. On both accounts, it succeeded. The man gave her an acrid glare and put up his dukes. His stance, while not perfect, conveyed at least some level of training. He, at the very least, had been in a fight before.

    Ayda also assumed a boxing formation. She wanted to fight on his terms for sheer entertainment value. They stepped around each other a few times, jockeying for position, a time to strike. Ayda could have lashed out at any time, but where''s the value in that? She gestured for the man to approach, smirked at the fire behind his pupils. Brave. Stupid, but brave.

    The dealer aimed a right hook at Ayda''s temple. The move had a good deal of power, but lacked almost entirely in speed. Ayda crossed over with her right hand and grabbed his wrist, pulling him off line. When his balance slipped, she jammed a fist into his ribs with a blast just strong enough to accentuate it. The dealer bent over and took a few steps back.

    He looked up at her with unfiltered hatred. All Ayda could do was level a cocky smile at his pathetic feelings. The man charged at her. He loosed two quick jabs. The teenager avoided them with sly movements of her head. She tapped him in the heart, a light blow meant to stun.

    Her next punch careened into his cheek. So enraptured in the over-confident thrill of an easy win was she, Ayda failed to notice the purple glow in her fist. The horrible shattering of bone and squishing of muscle echoed off the nearby buildings, audible even over her blast. The dealer fell to hands and knees. Blood dribbled from his destroyed jaw.

    Ayda''s heart skipped a beat. Her breath caught. A hand covered her mouth.

    "Oh my God, I''m so sorry!" The young woman exclaimed. She dropped her hand. "I didn''t mean to do that, you have to believe me!" That strike wasn''t even meant to end the fight, much less permanently disfigure a man. Ayda had no love for criminals, especially those belonging to the Triad, but this guy didn''t deserve such harsh treatment. When had she lost control?

    Gently, she took his hand. The dealer offered no resistance as she dragged him the short distance over to the fence and sat him comfortably as possible against it. From her pocket, she produced a zip tie. Hand down at his side, she strapped him to the chain links.

    "I have to do something real quick, but then I''ll call the cops and they''ll bring an ambulance, okay?" She did her best to speak in a comforting tone. The man slowly nodded, too sick with pain to manage much more. "I''m really sorry. I just¡ªI didn''t meant to, I really didn''t. I''ll pay your medical bills, I swear. I''m just... I''m so sorry."

    There was nothing more she could do for him except ensure medical attention arrived as soon as possible. To that effect, she jogged over to the still passed out junkie. The rational part of her brain said he was just fine, but she bent down to check his pulse just in case. His heartbeat was slow and strong, like someone sleeping peacefully. Likely, he had a concussion, but would make a full recovery.

    Ayda rifled through his pockets in search of her real quarry, a prize more valuable than gold. His front two produced no results. Was this the one guy in all of El Puerto under the age of thirty who didn''t carry a cellphone everywhere? If she went through all the trouble of not only finding him, but seriously injuring someone, then rage wouldn''t even begin to describe her state of mind. Her spirits were about to plummet, until she checked his back pocket. Inside was his cellphone. It was an old fashioned flip phone, the kind someone could buy for ten dollars at any electronics store, which would explain why he felt comfortable sitting on it.

    Quickly, the girl took down all of his relevant contact information into her own device. Much like Tino, he used actual names to denote each person. Ayda targeted the Asian sounding monickers, again feeling dirty at the blatant racial profiling. This entire situation had gone to utter shit in the blink of an eye. How was it even possible for something to end so badly so fast?

    She stood. For an added measure of security, Ayda pocketed the addict''s phone. Leaving it behind would make it evidence of a crime, one the police could take fingerprints off of. A pair of gloves would be a sound investment for the future. She filed that little tidbit as important and shuffled it around to the back of her mind. At the moment, it meant nothing.

    As she left the scene, Ayda navigated to the call function on the druggie''s phone and dialed the emergency authorities. Paramedics, as well as police officers, were on the way and would be there shortly. She''d made extra sure of the first one. Ayda would have to pay close attention to the news in order to get this dealer''s name. He would find all of his expenses paid, as well as an anonymous deposit into his bank account.

    She couldn''t get the sight of him out of her mind. The sight of his misaligned jaw, limp on one side, dripping blood, was burned into her retinas. She cursed herself. This lack of control, this thirst for blood, she hadn''t felt it since first acquiring her powers so long ago¡ªback when anger was the only thing that fueled her spirit, and when Dr. Vahlen controlled every aspect of her life.

    Restraint was one of the many things which separated her from the thugs she so relentlessly chased down, both from a moral standpoint and as something she''d never been allowed to have while in captivity. She dealt justice in appropriate amounts to each and every opponent she went up against. Failure to do so put her one step closer to being just another menace to the world, exactly what her creator had wanted. Ayda wouldn''t revert back to that helpless little girl. She refused to.

    She derived no joy from hurting people, from killing them. Indeed, since her brush with Xin, murder was something she actively avoided with every fiber of her being. She was a good person, and the men she fought weren''t necessarily all bad. Ayda had to remind herself of both points. She was better than an unnecessary maiming. She had more control over her powers than that.

    To use only the right amount of force a the right time, that was the thin red line which kept her divided from the degenerates of the world, from what she herself could have so easily become. Crossing it made her no better than them. She crossed it on this night. Never again. Moving forward, the only people to receive shattered jaws would be the ones who deserved it.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 24: Axis

    Another night, another rousing expedition into the criminal underbelly of an American metropolis. As she had done every night since taking up her mantle, Ayda rode through the streets in search of crime and debauchery. The piercing screech of her motorcycle echoed off the decrepit walls of the industrial district. It was an announcement of her presence, a sign she was on the case.

    Ayda did not ride alone, however. At least, not in a spiritual sense. The sounds of late night radio programming accompanied her on this evening excursion. It was not something she usually took part in, if only because of how loud it had to be to drone over the engine, but it seemed like a fitting choice on this especially quite weekday night.

    This station in particular wasn''t one she''d ever listened to at such an hour. Doing so proved an incredible moment of valid judgment. It had only been about twenty minutes, but she already adored this D.J. As a song ended, he segued into a brief interlude. Music faded out as he spoke.

    "Alright, that was Nirvana with ''Lithium,'' my personal favorite of theirs. I am, as always, Casey Calamity. Now, I swear this wasn''t on purpose, but it''s fitting our last song should be a drug reference, because that''s what my next news report is all about. Specifically, I''m talking about crystal meth. Last night the E.P.P.D reported yet another member of the Triad drug gang was found badly beaten and zip tied to a street light. Those paying attention will know that brings the current total to an even thirty in a little more than as many days.

    "The cops and blowhards of this fine city are quick to dismiss events like this. ''There are no vigilantes in El Pureto.'' They tell us it''s all just hysteria and urban legend, but that''s a load of horseshit. You and me, the real citizens of this town, the ones who go to bed every night wondering if we''ll get mugged on our way to work? We know the truth. There''s someone looking out for us. We have a friend in this city. I don''t know who you are, mystery woman, but you have my thanks. Thank you for putting your life on the line every single day. Thank you for making our home just a little bit safer."

    The station switched over to a song Ayda didn''t recognize, but she cared little for it. All she could do was smile. She''d heard voices in support of her actions before, of course, but never to this level. To know she had the support of such an outspoken personality¡ªand, presumably, a good chunk of his followers¡ªdrowned out any opposition she may have encountered. It was all the young woman needed to validate her daily exercises. To make the city safer and to find justice for the men who wronged her were the only things she wanted.

    Ayda would have loved to continue on listening to this radio program, but it was time to go to work. She neared her destination. With the radio switched off she slowed down, both measures to minimize the noise of her vehicle. The object of her desire lay around the block, hopefully waiting next to a fire hydrant. Ayda parked her motorcycle behind the corner where it could not be seen. With a press of a button to kill the engine, she stepped off.

    This was an unfortunate measure she''d adopted in the past few days. The Triad was not stupid. As word of her actions spread, they took measures to prevent them. Not all, but many dealers now worked in teams. One man would carry the package while the others waited in a nearby vehicle. If anything went wrong, the latter group took off with the remaining product still inside. This way, the only loss was a single footman instead of his whole supply. Ayda had lost a few battles to this tactic. Arresting the man himself did no good if his product remained on the streets. It could just be assigned to someone else. So, even though she abhorred the idea of keeping her precious bike so close to the action, it was a necessary risk.

    As the teenager rounded the corner, she did indeed find her quarry waiting next to a fire hydrant, one of the more obscure locations she''d been forced to deal in. Hydrants weren''t exactly a rare find, so locating a specific one was potentially a daunting task. Knowing the street made it easy, but no less ridiculous.

    Members of the Chinese Triad seemed to fall into two distinct archetypes. Some looked like regular thugs, while others dressed like professionals. This man definitely fit into the second group, dressed in a black suit and matching shirt. In her experience, the professionals were slightly harder to take down, but still provided little in the way of actual challenge.

    As she approached, the man turned to her. His body language said it all. He froze in place momentarily, halfway between a full sprint and sheer shock. His eyes were noticeably wide, even from this distance. It was a wonder his knees didn''t rattle. This disorientation only lasted a brief moment. When it wore off, the man craned his neck around and cupped his mouth.

    "Guys, she''s here!" He shouted behind him.

    The moment her target had begun to speak, Ayda was on him. With two substantial blasts at the bottoms of her feet, she launched herself forward. The distance between them was rather short, only about half a block. To leap such a gap was easy, simple child''s play. Ayda collided with him while his back was turned. A midair burst put the dealer on his face.

    An engine roared to life several feet away. Ayda looked up for a split second. She could not see the vehicle to which it belonged, but it would be in the street any moment now. Quickly, the girl fished around in her pocket for a zip tie. When extracted, she hastily bound the dealer''s wrist to a chain hanging from a cap on the fire hydrant.

    As she did, a black sports car emerged from a nearby alleyway. It zoomed onto the road with a slick right hand turn. The car zipped down the street away from her, its high performance engine whining with the signature hiss of a supercharger. It was fast, much moreso than anything Ayda had chased down so far.

    "Shit," cursed the girl.

    She straightened and took off back up the block, headed for her motorcycle. Two big bounds brought her around the corner. She skidded to a stop, sliding on the flats of her feet. A short sprint put her within arms'' reach of the bike. All in one fluid motion, Ayda mounted the beast, pushed the ignition, and turned it on. The motor hadn''t even time to idle before she took off. Her front wheel lifted off the ground a few inches from the force of pure acceleration.

    Ayda moved as fast as she possibly could in order to reach her bike. Despite her best efforts, the target vehicle was already well on its way. She turned onto the street just in time to watch it disappear around a corner. She gunned the throttle even harder, desperate to catch up. This added velocity amounted to little, however, as she had to slow down around the turn.

    It was in this that the car had a distinct advantage. More horsepower meant faster acceleration coming out of the turns. However, this faded away after a second, and the balance shifted back to Ayda''s court. As long as those four wheels avoided long straight stretches, they could eventually lose Ayda entirely, and the driver seemed to realize this. He did an excellent job mixing things up.

    The driver never stayed one course very long. He bent a curve at almost every single block, working his machine''s strengths to that of his pursuer''s for all they were worth. Put bluntly, it was infuriating. The vast majority of opponent''s Ayda went up against were both woefully outgunned and lacked basic intelligence. Why did this particular guy have to be the exact opposite of both features? One or the other she could handle with no problem, but not the two combined.

    Normally, the unusual lack of traffic would be a good thing. On any given night, the fewer cars she had to fight through, the better, even when just going about the business of a normal citizen. On this occasion, however, it served as only a detriment. One of a motorcycle''s biggest draws was its ability to weave between commuters far more effectively than a bulky box on wheels. Without cars to weave through, that strength was negated entirely, and only added to the difficulty of this chase. If the enemy vehicle barely ever had to slow down to avoid another car, which only made Ayda''s job far more difficult.

    At first, the driver''s behavior seemed erratic, turning down random streets with no rhyme or reason. However, as the chase wore on, Ayda noticed a distinct pattern. Although the routes he took were quite roundabout, he always looped back to the same path eventually. At times the direction would change, but the method remained the same, almost as if he weren''t actually trying to escape.

    Curiosity peeked up in the back of her mind. What was this guy playing at? He already portrayed the presence of mind to play to his strengths. What if he had a plan? It didn''t seem as though he wanted to get away. Honestly, he probably could have done that by now. If Ayda didn''t know any better, she''d say this man were leading her somewhere.

    Every fiber of her being protested. Each and every shred of common sense she possessed screamed at her to reconsider, to either end it now or turn around and go home. But the warrior in her could not be swayed. The driver would only try to lead her somewhere if there were something significant waiting on the other side. Ayda wanted to see what it was.

    What started out as a chase transformed into more of a convoy. The odd duo raced through the mostly empty streets of El Puerto''s industrial district. Ayda slowed considerably, going only fast enough to keep an even distance with her target. She sat up in her seat as opposed to leaning forward in concentration. The driver, again displaying impressive instincts, must have realized she no longer wanted to catch him. He also maintained a consistent speed.

    The two of them continued like this for a few more blocks. The absurdity of it was not lost on Ayda. Where once they were mortal enemies, the two now had an understanding. It was one born of puzzlement and necessity, but neither wanted to harm the other anymore. They''d turned into a game of follow the leader. When this was all over and done, Ayda would likely think back to this night and laugh.

    The cat and mouse game ground to a somewhat abrupt and almost disappointing end. As they approached their newly shared destination, Ayda realized she hadn''t actually made it too far from where she started out. All that driving amounted to little in the way of progress. This immediately raised a red flag. She knew this was probably a trap, but why was it so close by? Things seldom were ever so convenient.

    The black sports car slowed almost to a complete stop and hung a sharp right into the wide open front garage door of an abandoned warehouse. It was the kind of entrance designed to facilitate large vehicles, so such a tiny automobile slipped in unhindered. Ayda had an even easier time following him in. She also slowed to a crawl, but out of caution more than anything else.

    Inside, the warehouse was pitch black. No outside light was aloud admittance through years of grime caked on the old windows. Almost none leaked in from the open door. The only source of illumination was Ayda''s headlight. It cast a narrow cone of white over the darkness so complete it seemed to almost swallow up the light as it traveled.

    She inched her way further into the decrepit facility, sweeping her front wheel left to right. The lamp revealed a couple old conveyor belts, ancient grease stains, the ruins of some big machines Ayda had never seen before, exposed rebar where concrete had fallen away from the walls, but no black sports car.

    "Alright, you dicks," she called into the void. "I know you''re in here, so why don''t you come on out and we can do this the easy way?"

    Predictably, her offer was met with only silence. Criminals never wanted to do things the easy way. It was like they had conflict hard coded into their brains. Surely, some did. Not that she really minded. The easy way was boring. More direct methods meant she got to crack some heads, which provided exponentially more entertainment.

    She progressed further into the bowels. As her light swept eastward, she observed the back wall. This was it, the final inches of the warehouse, or, at least, all of the areas big enough to fit a car. Going back the other way would have to reveal the suspect vehicle. Sure enough, as she brought her front around to the left, the cone of illumination caught the glint of a taillight. The vehicle had been switched off, its driver side door swung open. Just beyond it lay an open personnel door to the outside.

    "Dammit!" Ayda slammed her palm against the center of her handlebars. She sighed. "Well, at least I can check the car." Leaving her bike on for the sake of illumination, she dismounted and made her way over to the vehicle. "I should probably call the cops and tell them about the other guy, too. What street was that even on?"

    Idly, Ayda switched her staff from one hand to the other and moved it around behind her back. She held it diagonally with her arm relaxed. Its tip missed scraping against the ground by only about an inch.

    This maybe wasn''t a complete loss. Presumably, this car was used to transport whatever goods the dealer team planned on selling that night. Even if the driver had an accomplice, which he didn''t appear to, there''s no way the two of them could ever empty out all of it and leave before Ayda arrived. Whatever they had was most likely still on board. In the end, the removal of crystal meth from the streets was the ultimate goal. In that, she may very well have succeeded. This thought filled her with confidence as she approached the abandoned car.

    All at once, every light in the building flickered on. Ayda went through many stages of surprise over the next few seconds, the first of which being astonishment that the lights even still worked. If not for her sunglasses, the sudden illumination would''ve been temporarily blinding. Now fully lit, this place had obviously been sitting around for quite some time. The electricity should have been shut off long ago. And yet, the fluorescent tube lights were on. This problem seemed trivial after what happened next.

    "So, you''re the one," suddenly said a gruff voice to Ayda''s right. She turned and instinctively assumed a fighting stance. "I thought you''d be older."The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    The source of this voice was a middle-aged man. He stood upon a loading platform raised a few feet off the concrete floor. Just under six feet in height, he had swept back dark hair and a goatee, gray splotches in both. A strong jaw and square features combined with blue eyes made him quite the silver fox. He wore urban military fatigues and a combat harness on his chest, which added to his already considerable muscle mass. He did not want for weapons, either. A sheathed short sword hung from each hip. A pistol sat in its holster just below his right sword. A knife was strapped to his left boot. He looked like a man ready for war.

    "You clearly know who I am," began Ayda, "so who are you?"

    "My friends call me Tahoe," replied the man. Ayda had failed to notice the first time he spoke, but he had a distinct New Zealand accent.

    "Your friends, huh?" Ayda raised an eyebrow. "So, what can I call you, then?"

    "They said you were a sarcastic little shit," observed Tahoe matter-of-factly.

    "Okay, Tahoe. Why are you here?" Ayda changed her angle of attack.

    "I''m here because the two of us have business. We need to talk."

    "What makes you think I wanna talk to you?"

    "Because I''m the leader of the El Pureto chapter of the Chinese Triad."

    Ayda''s heart plummeted straight through the floor. Of all the things he could have possibly said, that was not even on the list of what she''d expected. A bounty hunter or hired gun, maybe, but not the big dog in charge.

    "You''re the leader of the Triad?" Ayda raised an eyebrow. "But, you''re not Chinese. ...You''re not even Asian."

    "Yes, well, that''s a long story, one I don''t have patience for right now." He paused. "I''ve been following you, you know? I read about your exploits in the paper, I hear about them on the news. Every day more of my men fall to your pointless brand of justice." He hopped down from his pedestal. Ayda planted her feet. "You''ve been a thorn in my side for much too long, now."

    Tahoe drew both of his swords, extracting them from leather scabbards in a crossing motion. He stood with each one held at hip level, their points facing outward. They were thick bladed, single edged designs similar to machetes with little serrations toward the hilts. All of this was probably meant to intimidate, but all Ayda could do was chuckle at him.

    "Dual swords, really?" She scoffed. "What is this, a book?"

    "Laugh all you want," fired Tahoe right back. "I like it when my opponents are arrogant. It makes them easier to kill."

    "So, you actually want to do this?" Ayda let the question hang in the air, as if that would actually make him reconsider. Unsurprisingly, Tahoe remained silent. She shrugged. "I don''t really want to hurt an old man, but have it your way." Ayda removed her cropped leather jacket and threw it off to the side somewhere.

    The atmosphere in the room shifted. It turned from confusion to tension in a fraction of an instant. This was no longer a conversation between strangers, it was a battle of two warriors who were both sure they would win. But only one could come out on top. Ayda was determined to be the one.

    Most fights had a sort of calm before the storm, a time when each combatant sized up the other. Not this one, though. Tahoe leapt into action. He closed the distance with impressive speed and leveled a vicious strike straight down at Ayda with both swords simultaneously. Ayda took a wide grip on her own weapon and intercepted the blades. Tahoe followed up with a low kick. The teenager disengaged and slipped back out of the way, narrowly avoiding the blow.

    This backpedaling put Ayda on the defensive. She attempted to make up ground by spinning her staff vertically in a series of quick strikes, each one accentuated by a blast. In total, eight attempts were thrown. Tahoe dodged each one, walking rearward at a steady pace. This wasn''t working. Ayda transitioned from the twirls to a backhand lateral strike. Tahoe ducked underneath it and stepped forward. He tried to slash diagonally upward, but Ayda blocked it with the rear end of her staff. Using her distinct leverage advantage, she cranked the rest of her weapon downward toward the man''s shoulder. Tahoe quarter turned and again stepped forward, this time to within arm''s reach. He smacked her across the face with the pommel of a sword.

    Ayda took a step back and stupidly cupped the place on her cheek where the hit had made contact. He was strong, and faster than she expected. At this point, many of her aggressors knew of her, and what she could do. It put her at an odd sort of disadvantage. Most knew not to block, and Tahoe was no different. However, she never possessed information about them. It made situations like this uncomfortable to be in. No playing around. No underestimation. She''d already made that mistake once with Guang. This had to end soon.

    Ayda stepped forward and brought down a heavy overhead blow. Tahoe slipped back and it smacked the concrete with a blast. The girl raised her staff up in what was a mix between a slice and a stab. Again, Tahoe dodged. He retaliated by sweeping both weapons horizontally, one right after the other. He spun around and came back with both in unison at the same level. Ayda avoided all three attacks.

    She twirled her staff and then kicked forward. Tahoe didn''t even have to dodge, as it missed completely. He countered with a strike over his left shoulder. Ayda blocked. The man attempted to run her through the midriff. She narrowly avoided the blow, breaking off from the bind. Tahoe lowered one of his swords to strike, and in doing so left his right arm wide open.

    Ayda brought her weapon around and hit him right on the elbow with a powerful blast. He soared across the warehouse, completely clearing the dais he''d started on. The only thing which stopped him was the wall. Tahoe landed in a sitting position. His right arm hung at an unnatural angle, bent outward in the middle.

    The teenager smirked. Not as tough as he thought. Her expression faded, however, when she realized Tahoe''s matched her own. Arm broken and clearly losing, he still found reason to smile. He must have been crazy. Anyone who stood to her was. The man slowly rose, and as he did, Ayda saw he wasn''t crazy at all. No, the only word she could use to describe him was impossible.

    His right arm... changed. Ayda really didn''t know how to describe it. The limb quickly transformed from flesh and skin to some sort of gray semisolid. It seemed to seep right out from his pores. It consumed his entire arm, even the clothing and sword in his hand. The substance almost appeared metallic in nature. It shifted in constant motion, reminiscent of the surface of a lake blowing in the wind. A sickening, squishy sound like flowing corn syrup accompanied the movement. All Ayda could do was stare in petrified awe at the spectacle which unfolded before her.

    After a few seconds, the semisolid faded away. It retreated back into Tahoe''s body. It left in its wake not a broken arm, but a brand new one. Anybody who didn''t know any better would have no idea he''d ever been hurt in the first place. Tahoe gave his new fingers a slow flex as if testing unfamiliar joints.

    The gray substance returned for a brief moment, this time in the palm of his hand. It formed into the shape of a sword. When it retracted, what remained was a new weapon identical to the first. He grasped it.

    "I... how did...what was..." Ayda stammered as he brain struggled to comprehend all it had just witnessed. Tahoe laughed at her confusion, a low rumble from deep in his core.

    "Did you really think you were the only one?" he said. "The only one with... gifts? No. Far from it, little girl. You''re just another chapter in a long story. Corrupt governments have been running human experiments ever since the First World War, all in an attempt to create the perfect super soldier. It''s what I was, and if I had to wager, it''s what you were."

    Tahoe clearly had more to say, but he stopped, as if to give Ayda the chance to respond. She did not. The teenager had a million questions running through her head, but could form none of them into actual words. It didn''t make sense. Even though she''d seen it with her own two eyes. Even though she herself were capable of similarly amazing feats. It simply didn''t make sense. Seeing that his now captive audience would not offer any sort of rebuttal, Tahoe continued.

    "You hear about it, every now and then. A man just walks away from a ten story fall. A woman convicted of a dozen arsons with no starting point. People who claim to fly, or lift buildings, or run at the speed of sound. The governments of the world pass them off as miracles, or psychos, or urban legends, but we know the truth. People like you and me? We''re out there. All the proof you need is right here." He made a wide, all-encompassing gesture.

    "But... but that''s impossible," Ayda challenged. "Someone would have found out. Someone has to know."

    "Oh, people do find out, but they have a strange habit of disappearing. And even if they don''t, who would believe them?"

    "Why are you telling me all of this?" Ayda changed the subject. "Why go out of your way to bring me here, fight me, and then reveal all of this? Don''t tell me this was your real goal."

    "I knew this would happen if we ever met," Tahoe said with a nod. "I''m telling you this because you deserve to know the truth¡ªthe real truth¡ªabout what you really are."

    "You don''t know me. You can''t tell me what I am." Ayda took on a defiant tone.

    "Is that right?" Tahoe said with a cock of his head. "Let me guess: you were taken from your loved ones at a young age, and they were probably killed. Or, maybe you were an orphan or a street rat when they came for you. Some team of scientists ran experiments on you and, one way or another, you got abilities you never wanted. Now, either someone rescued you, or you rescued yourself, but somehow you ended up here. Am I close?" Tahoe asked. Ayda''s melancholy silence was all the confirmation he needed. "The story is always the same. There are variables, of course, but they amount to the same thing. Capture, experimentation, and rescue, in that order. For me, it was Chinese smugglers. We''re not all that different, you and I."

    "Bullshit!" Ayda defied. "We''re nothing alike. I''m trying to stop you."

    "And I''m trying to stop you. See? We''re similar, just on opposites sides."

    "Shut up! Just, shut up! I don''t want to hear anymore of your bullshit! Stop pretending like you know me."

    "Did I say that?" Tahoe began. "No. You were the one who¡ª"

    "I said shut up!" Ayda cut him off curtly. "Even if everything you just said is true, I don''t care, not right now. All I want to do is kick your ass."

    "I knew you would say that." Tahoe chose his words carefully. "We don''t have to fight, you know? People like you and me? We''re the real powers in this world. We deserve to be in control of everything, and yet no one knows we even exist. The people would never know what hit them. You can go back to pretending you''re one of them, You can even fight crime on the other side of town. I don''t really care either way. Don''t step on my empire, and I won''t step on yours. When all of this is mine I may even give you a nice apparment, or something."

    "I don''t have an empire," asserted Ayda. "And I''m here to make sure you don''t either." She channeled more energy into her staff. It glowed an even brighter purple luminescence.

    "I appreciated your dedication. It reminds me a lot of myself at your age." Tahoe laughed at her grimace upon the comparison. "You wanna pick up where we left off? Fine." He assumed a fighting stance. "Come and get me."

    Ayda let loose all her rage in a primal scream as she charged at the man responsible. Tahoe smiled and widened his stance, ready to receive her. When she was still several steps away Ayda kicked off the ground. She flew through the air for a moment, on a collision course with her target. Still, Tahoe stood motionless. As she came down, Ayda smashed a terrible blow at the man. Tahoe finally sprang into action. He jumped to his right, clearing an impressive distance for an unassisted leap. Ayda''s staff sliced only through air before smacking concrete. An immense blast cracked the raised floor, but did no damage to either fighter.

    Tahoe closed the moment the blast dissipated. He struck downward at Ayda with both is swords. She blocked with staff held high. The girl retaliated with a shin kick from her kneeling position. This attack did not hit, nor was it meant to. Its only goal was to buy her enough time for an escape. Tahoe stepped out of the way, and in doing so allowed Ayda just enough time to stand up. She lashed out, a horizontal cut from her right side. Tahoe''s reaction was not what she expected.

    He made no attempt to avoid the blow. The liquid metal seeped out from under his skin. In the blink of an eye it covered his neck and head. It molded to his body, a second skin of impenetrable metal. Ayda''s attack and the ensuing burst made contact with a brief ringing. Tahoe was unmoved. He showed zero reaction to the blow; only grinned in sick satisfaction.

    Ayda froze, stunned beyond the realm of human comprehension. That was an excellent attack, more than enough to crush the roof of a modern automobile. And yet, Tahoe took it without batting an eye. He retaliated with a push kick to the body. So completely stupefied was Ayda, she didn''t even try to avoid it. She took a couple wobbly steps back from the impact.

    She barely had enough time to get her balance before the Triad bigshot pressed further. He swung left, right, and then left again, alternating his blades, but was blocked. Ayda swept laterally with the butt end of her staff at the man''s exposed side. Tahoe raised his free sword and turned his entire arm into metal beneath his shirt. This allowed him to block the attack, blast and all. However, the surprise of this wore off swiftly. Unfazed, Ayda sliced upward with her staff''s fore end. Tahoe kicked it away with a metal foot in his black boot, completely redirecting the blast in the process. It pushed the staff back faster than it would have gone with just a kick alone.

    Tahoe cut diagonally downward with his right weapon. Ayda sidestepped the attack and tried to jab through his defenses. Again, Tahoe didn''t even try to defend as her offense met a metal shoulder. Every time that happened, it took her just a little bit off guard. Tahoe knew this. He could see it in her eyes. The man batted her staff away with his left sword and then cut back the other way with it. Ayda leaned back. The tip missed her neck by fractions of an inch.

    This avoidance required a huge dedication to movement. When Tahoe send another body push kick her way, Ayda could not get the required balance to either deflect or avoid it. A metallic foot planted firmly in her midsection. She had been fighting close to the edge of the raised section the entire time. This kick was just enough to send her over. The girl twisted at the last second in a desperate attempt to stay upright, but it was all in vain. She toppled off the lip. Ayda hit the floor shoulder-first. Gravity added considerable force to an already devastating impact. She slid a good few feet along the slick dust and gravel.

    The man hopped down. Slowly, he walked over to Ayda. She swiftly got to her feet, pushing herself up with her hands, ignoring the pain in her arm. Nothing was cracked or in any way broken. The discomfort would pass in time. Right then, she had more important things to worry about. Tahoe reached her in just a few steps. She took up her favorite ready stance, staff held in front of her slanted from left shoulder to right hip.

    Tahoe struck downward with each blade and spun, arms like a lacerating windmill of death. Ayda blocked both with staff held flat and grip wide. Coming out of his rotation he sliced vertically once again with a single blade. Ayda pushed back to meet it with a blast. The sword was knocked up and away. It clattered behind Tahoe. Ayda swiftly cut high, forehand. Tahoe dodged. Ayda passed the staff behind her back with a twirl before coming again from the same direction. This time, her opponent blocked with one sword. He reformed his other sword and cut low. The teenager slipped back. Once the blade passed, she came down with a straight strike. The man blocked with crossed swords high above his head.

    For a third time Tahoe kicked her in the body. This time his foot made contact with her left hip with such force she spun around a half rotation. Tahoe struck at her exposed back. Cold steel bit into her flesh, cutting her at an acute angle from shoulder to shoulder. She cried out in stinging pain and fell to her hands and knees. Blood seeped from a mangled wound on her back.

    "You can''t beat me, little girl," Tahoe menaced, towering over her. "You should just give up, it''ll be easier that way."

    He was right. She couldn''t win. This man bested her at every turn. He was an opponent she couldn''t hurt, a fighter she hadn''t a snowball''s chance in hell to overcome. She was outmatched. This fight was over, but Ayda would not just roll over and accept her punishment. She''d come much too far.

    In a sudden outburst of rage, Ayda spun around and sliced at Tahoe''s ankles. Assuming he''d won the battle, he was not ready for any sort of retaliation. A strong blast knocked both his feet out from underneath him. He fell face first, slamming his chin against the hard cement floor. Stars danced in his vision, but he would not be down for long.

    Ayda scrambled to her feet. Her motorcycle was still in the warehouse, and still running, for that matter. She sprinted over to it. She didn''t care to slide her staff into its loops on the saddlebags, opting instead to lay the thing underneath the handlebars. The girl mounted the bike and pinned the throttle. With all her weight she threw the thing into a tight U-turn, rear wheel kicking up a cloud of dust as it spun against the ground. Ayda took off out the big door, disappearing from view.

    As the dust settled, Tahoe could only smile.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 25: Allies

    The outskirts of the industrial district, not necessarily close enough to see the more affluent parts of the city, but a short trip to exit it. Ayda pulled into a parking lot to the left of a four story brick building. Considerably taller than it was wide, its windows were at an equal distance. All but very few of them were dark, including the one she came for. It was night time, after all. Most folks weren''t up at this hour. Ayda dismounted her bike and detached a saddlebag to carry with her. Luggage in hand, the teenagers went around the front of the building.

    The lobby of the structure served only as a housing for the staircase. It was cold and cramped and obviously hadn''t been swept in quite some time. Landlords in this part of town probably had bigger problems to worry about. None of this really mattered, though. Ayda''s destination was on the first floor. These things were merely idle observations by a mind desperate for distraction.

    Ayda opened the sesame to enter the ground floor proper. It led immediately to a somewhat narrow hallway, four pressed mahogany doors on either side. Fine blue carpet covered the floor; the white paint on the walls long since yellowed with age. It smelled with just a hint of mold. For some reason, this corridor always made Ayda feel just a little bit uncomfortable. In an attempt to lessen her time within it, she progressed to the third door down on the left hand side.

    For a second she paused, a deep breath followed by a long sigh. No version of this would ever go well. She had no idea how to approach this scenario. Most of the things she could say would only make it worse or, at least, in her head. Predicting how someone would react to any given situation was almost impossible. Fights were so much easier than dealing with people. Another deep breath and she knocked on the door, a few harsh rasps to get the attention of those who dwelt within.

    "Elliot?" she called through the door. "I know you''re in there, I saw your car outside." She knocked again. "Look, I know it''s late, and I''m sorry, but I really need your help right now." A third series of knocks.

    Ayda paused for a moment to allow Elliot a chance to respond. To show up so late and knock so loudly on his door was the absolute definition of unreasonable. She would not blame him if he decided to ignore her entirely and just go back to bed. But she had to try. She really needed his help. So, again she knocked.

    "Elliot, come on," Ayda pleaded. "I promise I''ll explain, just, please open the door." She couldn''t stop an exasperated note from entering her voice. It had been a long day.

    Another pause with much the same result. The rest of the hallway was deathly silent. Any stirrings from inside the apartment would easily leak through the thin walls. Nothing came. Not a single sound betrayed a conscious presence from behind the door. This wasn''t working. Ayda didn''t have the time to mess around like this. She kicked the door in aggravation.

    "Come on, Elliot. I''ve had one hell of a night and I do not have the patience for this." Another pause out of courtesy. "Okay, we''ll do it the hard way. If you don''t open this before the count of three, I''ll break it down. One way or another, I''m coming in. One..."

    When all else failed, a blatant threat often prevailed. Experience dealing with criminals taught her that. Of course, she held Elliot on a pedestal such scum hadn''t a prayer to reach, but this moment in time required a more direct approach. She''d have to apologize later.

    "Two..." Ayda trailed off, cocking her stance to one side. "Come on, man, just open the door. I really don''t want to¡ª"

    "Alright, alright, I''m coming!" Elliot''s voice blared through his door. "Christ, Ayda, let me put some pants on first. What are you even doing here? Do you have any idea what time it¡ª" he opened the door, "¡ªis?"

    Standing before him was the object of his ire, covered in dirt and blood, skin still slick with sweat. She looked the very definition of annoyed. Any malcontent he felt faded immediately. His eyes widened, and expression sagged.

    "Oh my God," he breathed. "Are you okay?''

    "No," Ayda answered bluntly. "Can I come in?"

    "Of course, of course." Elliot turned to allow her entrance.

    Ayda strode into the apartment and stopped in the middle of the living room. The fighter in her instinctually took in the surroundings. The living room and kitchen were all one area, separated by a little bar where gray carpet gave way to white tile. The latter space was just large enough for a refrigerator, oven, a few cabinets and about one person to stand in.

    Just to her left sat a rectangular metal and glass coffee table, a pale couch behind it. Against the opposite wall hung a big flat screen television flanked by two tall speakers. Ahead of her was an open door which led into a dark bedroom. Further in was the dining area, a simple ovular table with four chairs placed at each cardinal direction. Finally, west of the table, was another door which she knew to be the master suite. The entire apartment was literally exactly the same as she remembered.

    Ayda continued staring into the room to momentarily collect her thoughts. Eyes clenched tight, she scratched her brow with a finger. Her heart racked itself against her ribs from a mix of stress and adrenaline.

    As silently as possible, Elliot closed the door. He turned around and audibly gasped. It was then that Ayda became painfully aware¡ªboth physically and mentally¡ªof the cut on her back. She pivoted and found Elliot standing bolt upright, hands clapped in front of his mouth, holding his breath.

    "Oh my God," he repeated, voice muffled by his fingers. "I..." he dropped his hands. "What happened?"

    "I got in a little bit of trouble." Ayda spoke in vague terms.

    "Yeah, I gathered that much." Elliot joined her in the living room. "What kind of trouble?"

    "I''ll explain later, I promise." Ayda waved her free hand. She placed the recently liberated saddlebag down upon the coffee table. "Right now, I just really need your help."

    "My help?" Parroted Elliot. "No, Ayda, what you need is a doctor."

    "No, Elliot, no hospitals," Ayda rejected firmly. "Hospitals ask questions. I can''t have that. It would just get me into even more trouble." She rubbed her left eye. "Please, Elliot. You''re the only person I can turn to."

    He sighed. "Alright, fine. It''s not like I could ever say ''no'' to you, anyway." He paused. "What do you need?"

    "It''s nothing too difficult, I promise," Ayda said. She unzipped the bag and began to rummage through it. "Have you ever sewn before?" Asked the girl while she extracted a black pouch, which was placed on the table.

    "What?" Elliot inquired, clearly caught off guard.

    "Sewing, like needle work," clarified Ayda. "Have you ever done it before?"

    "I mean, I''ve watched my sister do it before, but I never have myself. Why?"

    "Well, you know what they say," Ayda placed an unopened box of latex gloves on the table. "There''s a first time for everything."

    "What are you getting at?" Elliot gave her a sidelong glance.

    Ayda unzipped the pouch and paid it flat on the glass surface. It was an emergency surgical kit, complete with a scalpel, tweezers, sutures, and a few different pairs of tiny scissors, everything someone would need to close up a wound in a pinch. This certainly was a pinch.

    "I need you to stitch me up," Ayda said flatly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

    Elliot hesitated. "Okay, you''re gonna have to run that one by me again."

    "I would do it myself, but I can''t reach," Ayda explained further. "It''s not as hard as you think it is."

    Elliot considered this for a moment. "But, don''t you heal fast anyway? Why bother with stitches?"

    "It''ll just keep opening up and getting worse if it''s not stitched," began Ayda. "The sooner I get this taken care of, the sooner I can get back to it. Besides, all the scabbing would be a nightmare to take care of. Trust me on that one." She spoke from experience.

    "Alright," Elliot sighed. "Just don''t blame me if I mess it up."

    "You''ll be fine," Ayda reassured.

    Without warning, Ayda reached up behind her back and began to gather up her tank top. In a slow, careful motion, she pulled it over her head. The vesture was not removed entirely, however. She kept her arms inside the garment so the cloth draped over and completely concealed her front side. Actually, she was more covered up like this as compared to wearing the top normally. Despite this, when her head popped out of the garment, she found Elliot with his back turned, hands balled into fists, shoulders tensed up.

    "What are you doing?" She asked with a squint.

    "Well, you were taking your shirt off so I didn''t want to... you know?" He sounded absolutely flabbergasted, like he''d just seen a ghost.

    "Oh my God, how long have you known me?" Ayda shook her head. She was losing her patience. "Elliot, turn around. I didn''t actually take my shirt off."

    Slowly, Elliot turned to face her. The sight of a girl who was not only underage, but also his friend, standing half-topless in the middle of his living room took him considerably far aback. He refused to meet her eyes and shifted his weight awkwardly. He eased into it after a second, though, and straightened his posture.

    "This is all I''m doing, alright?" She began. "You see me in less every time we go swimming. I''m gonna lay down on the couch, too, so I''ll be perfectly covered."

    "Yeah, but why?" Elliot demanded a better explanation.

    "I need to expose my back so you can stitch me up, but I can''t take my shirt all the way off because one of my bra straps got cut. So, unless you want me to walk around with my tits hanging out, this is the best solution." Ayda hated to be so crass with him, but she didn''t have the time to his petty misgivings. She paused to let him respond. His only answer was a simple nod. "Okay, thank you. The needle is already strung up in the plastic case, there. Just put gloves on first."

    "Okay," Elliot said slowly. He walked over to the coffee table and took the aforementioned case in his hand. It was a clear, flat, square box a little bigger than his palm. "Is all of this sterile? I don''t think I have any rubbing alcohol."

    "It doesn''t matter," Ayda rejected flatly. "I don''t get sick, remember?"

    "Oh yeah," mused Elliot. "That must be nice."

    "It has it''s perks," she quipped.

    Elliot put the case back down on the table. While he went about donning a pair of clear gloves, Ayda took her place on the couch. She slowly laid flat on the cushions, face down, arms crossed beneath her. The air on her bare back felt wet and cold, just like outside. This position proved much more uncomfortable than she imagined. She shifted slightly in a vain attempt to alleviate the pressure on her elbows.

    "Hey," Elliot said as he popped open the suture set, "it even comes with instructions."

    "It''s designed for emergencies, in case you don''t know what you''re doing," explained Ayda.

    "Well, that''s convenient, isn''t it?" Elliot joked.

    A strange quiet fell over the room. Elliot sat down on the table, directly across from Ayda''s wounded skin. To his left spread the instruction sheet, a large piece of laminated paper creased by multiple folds. He awkwardly pinched a thin straight needle between his right thumb and forefinger. He looked multiple times from it, to the instructions, to Ayda''s cut, and then back again. This repeated multiple times. A need to get it right led to procrastination.

    "I''m getting cold, here," Ayda prodded to inspire action in him.

    "Right, sorry." He leaned forward. "Here I go... I guess."

    With slow, uncertain fingers, Elliot lowered the point to Ayda''s skin. He paused at the edge of her wound. The teenager could feel the the frigid metal against her flesh. She pressed her forehead against the couch arm. With a quick breath in, and then out, Elliot plunged the needle in. It passed cleanly into the thin upper layer of skin. The sharp instrument went through the wound channel and pierced the other side of the dermic wall. Just like the instructions said, he finished this motion by pulling the thread a good length all the way through. At this point, he stopped.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    "Did that hurt?" He asked.

    "It''s worse when you stop," Ayda said through unnecessarily gritted teeth. That was a lie, but it would make him work faster.

    "Oh, sorry," Elliot apologized quickly.

    Again, he consulted the instructions. The man crossed the needle in the air back across the wound, behind the other side of the thread to form a loop. He then fed the needle through the loop and pulled tight. This formed a knot all the way down to the skin, which pinched a small portion closed. He gave it a confused look.

    "So, it''s really just a square knot?" He puzzled. "I thought it would be more complicated than that." He made another fastening over the first for added security. Doctors on T.V always did that.

    "See? I told you." Ayda echoed a previous statement.

    Moving slowly once again, Elliot went in for another stitch, this one just a short distance up from the first. Although careful, he progressed this time with much more confidence. Seeing how simple it really was set his mind at ease. He put the needle through the cut, made a loop with the thread, and pulled it tight. More of the girl''s skin came together.

    Silently, Elliot got to work. He made careful motions, gentle as possible so as to avoid causing his patient too much undue harm. Occasionally blood would seep form the open wound, which he wiped away with his little finger. Ayda''s resilience allowed for such a concession. Zero risk of infection meant he needn''t bother with a sanitary cloth.

    He went on at a steady interval. After getting the first few stitches under his fingers, the rest became muscle memory. Television shows always made stitching out to be an exhaustive and dextrous process. While it certainly required a heightened level of concentration, Elliot found it not nearly so difficult, which was good.

    All the while, Ayda did her best to hide the pain. Her friend was already under quite a bit of distress. Seeing her so beat up, doing something so delicate for the first time, and the possibility of hurting her doubtless compounded in his mind, although he didn''t show it. The least Ayda could do was keep her mouth shut about the discomfort cold steel caused as it scraped against tender flesh. She''d had much worse before. Compared to injuries from her past, this was merely the bite of a flea.

    The entire process took longer than it maybe should have, but advanced much quicker than Ayda expected. Elliot had always been a quick learner. He was the first one to completely wrap his head around her powers when Ayda first came to America. He had also been the first one of those in the loop to look past them, to see the girl underneath. The fact that he picked up on stitching a wound so swiftly didn''t really come as a surprise.

    "Alright, then," Elliot drew out the words in concentration. He snatched up one of the little pairs of scissors. Holding the thread tight, he snipped it with one decisive motion. The limp string fell against the girl''s back. "I think we''re done. How''d I do?"

    "Your bedisde manner sucks," Ayda joked.

    "Shut up. I was concentrating," Elliot fired right back. "I meant the stitches."

    "I don''t know." Ayda laid her chin on the couch arm. "I can''t exactly see it. I''ll take a look a little later."

    Ayda sat up on the couch, tank top still draped over her front. She and Elliot exchanged a quick glance, little more than the meeting of their eyes. This was incredibly awkward. Ayda wanted to don the garment once more, but felt she should give some consideration to present company.

    "Now you can turn around if you want to," she instructed.

    Like a bolt of lightning, Elliot sprung up from the table and walked around to its other side, back-to the girl. With shake of her head, she put her shirt back on, speaking as she did so.

    "Not that it really matters to me. We''ve known each other long enough at this point that I don''t think a little extra skin is such a big deal."

    "Yeah, well, speak for yourself." There was a detectable hint of strain in Elliot''s voice. Ayda couldn''t help but giggle at him.

    "I''ve never seen you so bashful before," she observed with a grin. "Alright, it''s safe."

    Slowly, and with great vacillation, Elliot spun back to face her. Almost as if his trust wavered, he squinted his eyes so he could barely see. Thankfully for him, he needn''t have worried. Ayda had, indeed, covered herself up. His muscles relaxed. He all but let out a sigh.

    "I think I just lost a year off my life," Elliot joked as he took off his gloves, each with a respective snap. He balled them up into one another and threw them¡ªinside out¡ªon the coffee table. Probably not the best place for bloody gloves, but the teenager kept that one to herself.

    Ayda took a deep breath. "I guess I owe you that explanation, now."

    She patted the couch cushion next to her. Elliot accepted the invitation to sit, but instead of right next to the girl, he instead sat at the far end of the furniture so a single cushion separated them. In a way, this made it easier to talk. Ayda eagerly accepted anything which made the situation more comfortable. This would not go well, no matter how she spun it.

    "I guess I should just be blunt." Ayda paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. Time to take the plunge. It was now or never, and better this all happened on her terms. "You know the vigilante that''s been running around beating up the triad? That''s me. I''m the vigilante."

    Elliot considered this for just a second. He looked her square in the eye, a blank expression on his face.

    "Yeah, I know," he said matter-of-factly.

    "What!?" Ayda went rigid. Her eyes quadrupled in diameter. "What do you mean you know?"

    "Oh, come on, Ayda. A Middle-Eastern chick with a staff, a bike, and purple explodey powers? It''s not that hard to figure out."

    Ayda turned her head away from him. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and stared out into space. He knew. All this time, Elliot knew, and he said nothing. Ayda thought it was a secret. The teenager thought she''d done a good job keeping everyone in the dark, but clearly that couldn''t be further from the truth. When did he put two and two together? How long had he known? The news report after her very first excursion mentioned strange abilities. He could have been in the know for an entire month, and she was none the wiser.

    Elliot wasn''t the only problem, either. There were other people who knew about her. If Elliot figured it out, then doubtless these others had as well. What would Bernard say? What about Colonel Hammond?Everything she''d been working toward for the past few weeks just became exponentially harder. How would she cover her tracks now?

    "But I think it''s good," Elliot interjected.

    "You do?" Ayda looked at him with relieved bewilderment.

    "Yeah. I live in the industrial district, Ayda. I know what goes down in these parts. Someone has to put a stop to it, and while I wish you weren''t putting yourself in danger, I have to admit you''re definitely the better equipped to deal with it."

    "Thank you so much, El," Ayda brightened immediately. Everything about her, from posture to aura, lightened. The approval of one of her closest friends meant more to her than any word known by mankind could ever hope to encapsulate. She paused as another thought entered her mind.

    "There''s... actually something else I wanted to talk to you about. I think now''s as good a time as any, since we''re already talking," she said, attempting to transition to a new topic.

    "Alright, shoot," Elliot approved with a nod.

    Again, Ayda needed a moment to collect herself. She took a couple deep breaths. This was miles ahead of schedule, something she hadn''t planned on doing for several months, but no one could control the hands of fate. A life without risks was not truly lived. This was a chance she had to take. With one more inhale, she let loose.

    "I want you... I want you to help me," she began.

    "I''m sorry, what?" Elliot said, leaning forward in disbelief. "Did I just hear you right?"

    "I serious," affirmed Ayda. "I need you to be my eye in the sky, the Jarvis to my Iron Man. You''d be the one who runs down leads, hacks computers and cameras, monitors for gang activity, that sort of thing."

    "Ayda, do you even hear yourself right now?" he stood up and took a step toward the dining room. "This is crazy!"

    "Elliot please! You''re the only person I can trust with this." Ayda begged, pleaded for him to understand. So far, this was going exactly as well as she predicted. He whipped back around to look her square in the face.

    "Assuming I even want to help you, which I don''t, what makes you think I can even do any of that?" He questioned. "What makes you think I''m cut out for this sort of thing?"

    "You''re the smartest person I know, Elliot," she said simply. "No one understands computers and stuff better than you. You programmed all the software used to test me, that speaks miles of what you can do."

    "Writing software is one thing, Ayda. What you''re talking about is something different entirely," Elliot argued.

    "But, isn''t hacking just programming in reverse?" Ayda said with a raised eyebrow. The befuddled expression Elliot returned made her feel less than an inch tall.

    "... I won''t even begin to explain what''s wrong with that," he said.

    "Just hear me out, okay?" Ayda held up a hand to calm him down. It at least got his attention. "As much as I hate to admit it, I can''t do this alone. I''m just running in circles. There''s no shortage of idiots looking to make a quick buck. I need your help to make things happen. I need your help to cure this city."

    "Saving the city isn''t my fight," Elliot growled. "I would say it isn''t yours, either, but I know I''d just be talking to a wall. Why don''t you work with the police or something?"

    "The police?" Ayda couldn''t believe her ears. "Are you fucking serious? Elliot, when was the last time the cops did anything to stop organized crime? They''re all in the pocket of the triad. Don''t act like you don''t know."

    "Yeah, well, they''re still better equipped to deal with this than I am," refuted Elliot.

    "I found Sun Xin, Elliot. That was me. I didn''t need any help from the cops. Think about what we could do if we worked together!"

    Ayda let this statement hang in the air for a bit. She wanted Elliot to respond, to argue another point she could put down, but he did not. All he did was look at her, dark brown eyes boring deep into her skull. He was angry, flustered, and even a little sad all at once, but she could see something else behind his gaze. Temptation. Ayda had become good at reading people. It was a necessary skill she picked up while learning to fight. Elliot was not completely opposed to the idea. Somewhere deep down, in a place he may not have even known existed, he thought she was right. This was her only chance to win him over. She had to keep talking.

    "When I tracked him down, I wanted to kill him. More than anything, I wanted to see him dead. It was the only thing I''d wanted in what felt like forever. I had him on the ground. I was about to do it, but I found a picture of him as a little boy with his mother. He was so happy and full of life, not the beaten down addict he became."

    "People change, so what?" Elliot interrupted. "What are you getting at?"

    "I mean, I realized he isn''t to blame. Sun Xin is just a victim of the crime and violence that rules El Puerto, that rips families apart and turns good little boys into bad men. Together we can stop it, Elliot, all of it. We can make sure no more fathers lose their daughters to a botched robbery. There are a million people living in this city. We have the power to save all of them, but only if we work together."

    Elliot stared at the floor as all of this information entered his brain. Of course, he knew who the father and daughter reference was referring to. Ayda watched his face as he did some mental math. Her tracking down Sun Xin, the mention of her family, of course they were connected. Finally, he at least began to comprehend what Ayda had been fighting for. She continued on with her little speech.

    "The people in this city have lived in fear too long. It''ll only get worse unless someone takes a stand. Please, help me fight back. Help me make the world a better place."

    Alright, that was a little too ambitious, even for her tastes. The world? She didn''t even know how to micromanage of a few city blocks! How could she save an entire planet? This was what happened when she ran her mouth. She really needed to learn when to keep her trap shut. Elliot, though, seemed unfazed by the scope of it. He had other concerns.

    "I know nothing I say can stop you, so I won''t even try, and even though I approve of this crusade of yours, what makes you think I would ever consider joining?"

    "Because I know you," Ayda responded gently. "You''re a good person, Elliot, and so much stronger than you realize." She paused. "You once told me you wanted to make history. This is your chance."

    "I meant as an inventor, not a crime fighter!" Elliot said, as if such a late clarification meant anything.

    "So, what? You invent a new phone or something then live happily ever after? But what did you really accomplish. What difference did you make? Eventually, whatever you make will become obsolete, and the world will forget about you. I''m giving you the chance to change the world. Nothing will be the same once word of our accomplishments get''s out, but I can''t do any of that without your help."

    A very long stretch of silence filled up the room. They both had a lot to think about, after all. Elliot faced a life changing decision. And it wasn''t just his life at stake, either. His choice effected both of them in a massive way. Elliot held both their fates in his hands. Ayda was dead serious when she said this couldn''t be done without him. If he refused her offer, then she didn''t even know where to go from here.

    Of course, she knew exactly who she sounded like. His words echoed in her head, like a song on repeat. He was the man ultimately responsible for all of this. She sounded like Dr. Cyrus Vahlen. Their sales pitch was nearly identical, right down to the part about changing the world. She felt sick deep inside, like something died in the pit of her stomach. She had lived long enough to see herself become the villain.

    But there was one distinct difference between them, one thing which separated her from the man she hated more than anyone or anything in the entire world. She wasn''t forcing Elliot into service. She didn''t kidnap him and murder his family. There were no soldiers or research facilities involved. Not on her side of things, anyway.

    While they both wanted to change the world, their goals couldn''t be any more different. Vahlen wanted power. He wanted fame and fortune. He was selfish. Ayda wanted to change things, to make history for a better tomorrow. Her intentions were noble. She was good, not the pure evil of her creator. He wanted to destroy the world. She wanted to save it.

    For all the time Ayda spent reconciling this in her head, Elliot fought his own mental battle. She couldn''t read his mind, but strife was painted all over his face. He started off by pacing, walking back and forth just beyond the couch. Ayda neglected to mention how nervous this made her. It didn''t last long, though. After not even a minute he sat down, and there he stayed for quite a while, head in his hands, breaths long and slow.

    Neither of them had any way of knowing how much time passed like this, how long they spent trapped in their own respective thought cages. They hadn''t exactly been watching the clock beforehand, so looking at it now made little difference. They both knew, however, it was quite late. Ayda stifled a yawn.

    After what seemed like forever, Elliot spoke.

    "You''re right," he said quickly. Elliot lifted his head and stared out into space. "Everything you said is right." He gave her a smile. "And I can''t say it doesn''t sound cool. Okay." He nodded. "I''ll help you. I''ll join up with this crazy idea of yours, but strictly behind the scenes. No one can know we''re working together."

    "Elliot, I don''t..." Ayda began, but words failed her.

    All of the thoughts that ran through her head turned to mush the moment she tried to form them into words. At a lack of anything meaningful to say, she instead threw her arms around him. Elliot sat upright, caught off guard by the sudden grasp.

    "I don''t even know how to say how grateful I am," Ayda admitted. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

    At that, Elliot returned her embrace. He looped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. They stayed like that for a brief second. Through his ribcage, Ayda could hear his heart beating out of his chest. He was nervous, and rightly so. Elliot just made the biggest decision of his life. The fact that he hadn''t had a mental breakdown yet was quite astonishing, and proof that he was¡ªindeed¡ªcut out for this line of work.

    When the moment passed, they separated. Ayda looked at him with soft eyes. She had one more favor to ask, albeit a much smaller one.

    "Do you mind if I use your shower? I need to wash some of this grease off," she said.

    "Uh..." Elliot trailed off. "Yeah, sure. It''s the closed door in my bedroom." He pointed over his shoulder for emphasis.

    "Thanks," Ayda said simply as she got up and started toward the master suite.

    "I don''t have a change of clothes for you, though," Elliot called after her.

    "No big deal, I''ll just wear this."

    "Oh, Okay. I guess." Elliot sank into the couch, not really sure what to do with himself.

    As Ayda stepped into the small bathroom, she was absolutely amazed at how quickly this night turned around for her. What started out as a crippling defeat ended in a glorious new beginning. With Elliot at her side, nothing could stop her. They were the dream team, the single driving powerhouse which would put an end to the triad once and for all. As she ran hot water, her mind raced. The possibilities were endless, but they all started on this night. It was her journey of a thousand miles, and this was her single step.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 26: Changing Direction

    Much later that night, upon returning home, Ayda found it difficult to sleep. Her entire body was heavy with sleep. Her eyes were impossible to open, arms and legs tied down with lead weights. Even her hearing faded in and out in random spats. Despite all of this, she remained awake. Her mind whirled at a mile a minute, an endless hurricane of thought bursting at the seams with possibility. It made even the motion of sleep a far off possibility.

    Adrenaline didn''t help matters much. Having stayed up far past any sort of relatively decent hour¡ªand far longer than her excuse could account for¡ªAyda had been forced to sneak back into the Belmont mansion. Her abilities were not exactly geared toward stealth. Most of the time, her objective was to go through an enemy, not around. So, her ninja skills were quite lacking

    Her motorcycle proved the biggest problem. She did love it so, but the thing made an ungodly racket. The ritzy hills were often quite silent after the sun went down. These were mostly old folks with no use for a nightlife. The sound of an engine would rip like gunfire through the peace and darkness. Ayda had to be careful.

    Of course, she reminded herself this wasn''t necessarily different from any other night. Sure, the hour fell much later than normal, but the recently aslumber were none the wiser. In reality, no further caution was justified. She could do the same thing as always and get away with it. Even though Ayda knew this in the back of her mind, she still pulled slowly up to the house in an attempt to keep the volume at a bare minimum.

    Once inside the homestead, the rest was rather easy. She sometimes left her boots next to the door inside, so doing so on this occasion raised little suspect. Steps in her stocking feet made little sound. At times she felt uncomfortable with a bedroom right next to the stairs, almost as if it were on the edge of a cliff. A dumb fear. On this night, however, Ayda thanked her lucky stars. She could get up the flight and flash right into her room without missing a single beat.

    And that brought the teenager to her current status, drifting somewhere between sleep and awareness. It was late, well into the early morning. Ayda and her new partner in anti-crime, Elliot, had stayed up far past their respective bedtimes conversing their alliance. They had a long way to go, and a lot to learn, but both were excited about the prospect of working together as a dynamic duo. He was the brain, and she was the brawn. Together, they made a perfect pair.

    Excitement was just the beginning of her problems. The cut on her back was still sore. She was strong enough to largely ignore such minor aches, but they made sleeping difficult. Most of the time Ayda slept on her back, but that wouldn''t be possible. Any attempt to do so shot fiery spikes up and down her spine. She always woke up sore from laying on her stomach during the night. So the only available option was to turn on her side, which would eventually make her arm fall asleep. Funny, the comic books and movies never mentioned this particular part of the whole vigilante thing.

    But a tired body always found its way around to rest, one way or another. Sleep would come, as it always did. After what felt like an eternity¡ªbut was really about thirty minutes¡ªAyda fell away to the rolling seas of slumber. Exhaustion gripped her, dragging the girl down a pit of relaxation. No dreams filled her unconscious consciousness. None that she remembered, at any rate. It was probably better that way. A dream would just give her another thing to think about on what was sure to be a busy day.

    Ayda skipped school the following day. She woke up far too late for those kinds of shenanigans. Not that education really fit into her plans anyway, regardless of how early or otherwise she got up. School would only serve as a distraction. In reality, anything unrelated to her mission was a distraction. For the next day at least, her devotion would be single-minded.

    The sunrise hours were a blur. Ayda spent mostly the entire time waiting for night to fall. As such, she occupied her time doing a whole lot of nothing. She didn''t want to spend much time training, since that ran the risk of either burn out or injury. She needed to be in prime condition. These were the most important operations she''d ever run, and couldn''t risk compromising herself. That would just be irresponsible.

    The hours trickled by at a rather nominal pace, despite the complete lack of anything to do. To think, she expected to wish she''d actually gone to school. That was not the case, though. The day progressed no quicker nor slower than any other, which Ayda found honestly surprising. Maybe it was put down to the fact that she simply wasn''t used to having nothing to do. She''d been going all out for a month. If it wasn''t school, then she spent her time patrolling the streets. A day to relax gave a nice buffer to all the work, only if she would be going out at some point later. Ayda never realized the virtue of rest before, but perhaps a day off would help her focus; to recharge her batteries, so to speak.

    The only real obstacle to her short sabbatical was Emma. Her adoptive mother allowed the teenager to remain home without asking any questions¡ªwhich was a relief¡ªbut it would be quite suspicious if Ayda left late at night after abstaining from school. She could always sneak out, but in her experience, lies gave way to the truth after a while. She didn''t want to be caught. It would be a rather awkward conversation, and one she didn''t really want to have. Emma had no idea even about her powers. To find out Ayda wasn''t a normal girl, as well as a vigilante, would possibly shatter the woman. Ayda didn''t need that on her mind.

    However, sneaking out was pretty much the only option open to the teenager. She could never come up with a satisfactory excuse to get herself out of the house without raising undue suspicion. It wasn''t preferable, but nothing else, theoretically, worked. Good thing her bedroom window was only a two story drop.

    Eventually, the sun went down, casting brilliant hues of red and orange across an endless sea of fluffy white clouds. The city slowed down, gradually grinding to a more casual pace as the commuters left for their respective suburban homes. Slowly darkness gripped the streets and buildings. A distinct chill ran under the heavy air. A slight fog rolled in from the docks, a bit of a rarity in El Puerto. It was a rather nice night, a perfect time to crack a few heads. Although, if luck prevailed, she would only need one head.

    When the time came, Ayda ended up skipping the window dive. She could survive the drop just fine, but the ensuing blast to cushion the fall provided too much of an issue to deal with, far too great a disturbance to pass off. Instead, she opted to just use the back door. It was further away from the living room, and made less noise to operate.

    Once outside, Ayda made her way straight over to the Belmont family motor pool, also known as the garage. Inside she found her motorcycle, a beautiful and dormant beast. She walked it into the road. When the two were roughly a block away from the mansion, a press of a button brought it roaring to life. A spin of the throttle took her away, a screaming demon set to prowl the night. This would be fun.

    As it had on many a similar evening, her route brought her into the industrial district. Dilapidated buildings passed her by, interspersed occasionally by a person or two shuffling along the sidewalk. The place usually filled her with a sense of distinct dread, and this occasion was no different. How any responsible city leader could allow such a large section to fall into horrible disrepair was far beyond her. It seemed almost impossible, and yet she saw evidence of it every single day.

    The people she passed were what really set her off, brought her blood to a boil. They had no purpose, no hope. It was terrible. These people had been oppressed by the city leadership, and the organized crime presence only exacerbated the problem. Before starting her campaign, Ayda had little love for these people, but after a month of dealing with them on a daily basis, she was sure. Justice still fueled her fire more than anything else, but she would save the industrial district from itself. Both goals required the same objective, the elimination of the Chinese Triad.

    To that end, Ayda pressed on through the barren streets and moldy walls, destined for a sting against her greatest enemy. It would be yet another step in removing the gang threat altogether, in liberating the citizens from their oppressors.

    Briefly, a breeze kicked up. It ruffled Ayda''s clothing. This time around she wore a slightly different outfit. The cropped leather jacket she usually wore had been left behind during the fight with Tahoe. In its place, the teenager sported a charcoal grey hoodie, which made her look quite a bit like the thugs she normally chased down. The garment was not quite as baggy as those she''d seen on her opponents, though it still flapped uncomfortably in the wind.

    Her destination neared. It was just another in a long line of nondescript meeting places, a spot relatively out in the open which garnered neither suspicion nor a second look. Specifically, the place in question was the mouth of an alleyway somewhere just outside the industrial district center. The Triad seemed to prefer the openings of alleys. Most of Ayda''s deals took place in analogous locales. There was probably a valid reason for this, but she hadn''t the gumption to figure it out.

    This particular occasion allowed for a brief and yet all too welcome return to form for her. Instead of riding her motorcycle dangerously close to the deal, Ayda parked it a few blocks away. It felt absolutely liberating to stash her most precious of possessions a safe distance away from the action. That weight off her shoulders alone filled her soul with confidence.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Ayda deactivated and dismounted her bike. She began walking down the street, and pulled her phone from her pocket. The girl quickly dialed a number but did not wait for the recipient to answer. Instead, she stuffed it in her front right hoodie pocket.

    A minute or two of walking brought her within sight of the meeting. True to form, a single man waited at the mouth of the destined alley. He fit into the professional archetype, wearing a black suit, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal a sliver of smooth, toned skin. With sharp features, he was rather good looking, for a criminal. Something about his face, though, made Ayda want to punch it.

    The dealer looked from left to right, first up the road, and then down. At first, he completely passed over Ayda, disregarding her as just another citizen. The long metal staff in her hand should have been a dead giveaway, but it was not. Her sudden change in outfit took the blame on this one. The rest of her looked exactly the same, but the hoodie was just different enough to conceal her true identity, if only for a moment.

    After glazing over her once, the dealer did a swift double take. His head whipped back around. They locked eyes. Ayda gave him a sly smirk. Now he knew what kind of trouble he was in. Now he knew his life of crime was over. He''d lost control of the situation. This was no longer his fight. Instead of the pusher, he was the product.

    This thug''s next move came as a surprise. It showed forward thinking and an element of adaptability. Instead of yelling somewhere off in the distance, from his right jacket pocket he produced a walkie talkie. The man brought it to his lips, thumb held down on the talk button.

    "Guys, it''s a set up," he rushed to say. "She''s here! Get out!" The dealer let off the button. Whoever resided on the other end responded, but Ayda couldn''t tell what was said. The dealer pushed the button again. "Yeah, I know, but I''m looking right at her. Just get off your ass and go!"

    The man did not give his compatriots a chance to respond, instead stuffing the device right back in his pocket. Ayda knew what came next, of course. He''d try to run. She would not allow him that chance.

    Propelling herself on blasts on the bottoms of her feet, Ayda dashed over to him. His eyes grew wide in astonishment. He attempted to posture up in some sort of fighting stance, but hadn''t nearly enough time. Ayda planted a side kick firmly into his liver. The dealer stumbled backward a few steps, then teetered onto his rump. He hit the concrete sidewalk with a grimace and an oof.

    Somewhere in the distance¡ªconcealed by buildings to the left¡ªa big engine roared to life, likely belonging to some type of sport utility vehicle. It revved and sped off away from the scene, tires squealing as they searched desperately for traction. Ayda paid it little mind. Her target was right in front of her.

    This ignorance confused the dealer. As he got to his feet, the man peered from the source of the sound, to his aggressor, and back again. He balked, turning paler than a ghost in the process. His little criminal mind simply couldn''t comprehend the situation which played out before it. If the vigilante was not here for the drugs, then what did she really want?

    Ayda decided to put him out of his misery. She closed the distance. The dealer barely had time to raise his hands, but exposed his lower half in doing so. Holding her staff with both thumbs facing each other, Ayda struck diagonally upward into his right kidney. Immediately after, she brought the other side of her weapon downward against his opposite shoulder. Neither strike featured explosive assistance. In a smooth motion, Ayda followed through with the diagonal attack into a low guard. She jabbed the man right in the sternum, finally using her powers for offense. Again the dealer took unsteady steps back, but did not fall over like last time.

    Every hit brought him closer to the bombed out building at his back. Still holding her staff with thumbs facing each other, Ayda gave him a little jab with the middle of her weapon. He reeled back, and right into kicking distance. She hit him with a front push kick in the stomach. This attack put him against the wall. He collided with it butt-first.

    The teenager gave him no time to recover. She pounced on the cornered man, placing her staff just below his chin. The force from the impact knocked his head into the wall. Stars swam temporarily through his vision. Still restraining him, Ayda pressed her right hand flat against his midsection.

    "Alright, dickbag," she began. "Just answer my questions, and I won''t hurt you."

    "You won''t get anything out of me!" Yelled the dealer as if he were quoting a movie. Immediately after he spoke, an unimpressed Ayda sent a sharp shockwave through his body. He yelped in surprise and pain.

    "I can do this all night. How about you?" Ayda stared him straight in the face. The question lingered like fog in the air. She slammed him against the wall. "Where do you get your product?"

    "What?" The dealer begged. Ayda slammed him again.

    "The meth. Where do you get it from? Who''s your supplier?" Ayda shouted in his face. The dealer just laughed.

    "I''m not telling you that," he said through giggling spurts. Again, Ayda sent a blast through his middle. He gritted his teeth, but offered no utterance. "Nothing you can do to me is worse than what the boss would do."

    "Wanna bet?" Ayda raised an eyebrow.

    She shifted her grip up just slightly. Instead of his stomach, she hovered her fingers above the lowest of the man''s left side floating ribs. He raised his eyes to meet hers. They were wet with fear and anticipation. Ayda released a small blast. The rigid bone fell away from her touch. A strained cry escaped from the dealer''s mouth. He crumpled from the agony, but Ayda held him upright, kept him from gripping his side.

    "Ooh, I bet that hurt," Ayda mocked. "You know, I''ve always wondered what happens when all of someone''s ribs are broken. Why don''t we find out, just the two of us?" She moved her hand to the next bone up, intentionally brushing her fingernails against the already wounded area. "Now, where do you get your meth?"

    The dealer broke out in a cold sweat. He looked Ayda in the face, his expression twisted with both horror and pain. His eyes flickered frequently from her to the ground. Although visibly afraid, he did not speak. Something held his tongue. It fell to Ayda the task of dislodging it. She loosed another burst into his chest. Again, the dealer screamed. His muscles went even more limp than before. Ayda actually had a hard time keeping him upright, but she managed. Doubtless, the struggle to retain his restraint only deepened his suffering.

    "Talk!" Ayda yelled at him, pressing on each of the broken ribs.

    "It''s a dead drop!" Shouted the dealer to the heavens. "Whenever I need more, I text a courier with the amount, and we arrange a meeting."

    "And what do the meetings look like?" Ayda pressed. She moved up to his next rib for emphasis.

    "It''s always in a park somewhere." The dealer spoke quickly to avoid more pain. "We use high traffic areas. A guy drops a brown paper bag in a trash can, and I get the bag."

    "Who makes the drops?" Ayda knew she didn''t need to threaten him any further, but a bit of pressure on the vulnerable bone reminded him of the stakes, and what happened when his answers weren''t satisfactory.

    "I don''t know. It''s always someone different, and I don''t ask questions." The dealer refused to meet the eyes of his attacker, instead looking at the ground to her right.

    Ayda considered all of this for a moment. Dead drops conducted in a similar fashion were not uncommon, according to her research. Confidentiality between courier and seller also made sense. If one was compromised, it would not lead to the other. A brown paper bag and suspicious attitude were enough to go on for identification, anyway. It was a believable story, one that¡ªmore or less¡ªlined up with what she''d heard about these sorts of things.

    As with all things these days it seemed, this process also involved a cellular telephone. Ayda quickly looked her captive up and down. His fancy pants made it quite easy to discern which pocket his mobile device resided within. With deft hand she extracted the thing and stored it in her own pocket. Dealers''s phones were always a valuable resource, and this one was no different.

    "Well, wasn''t that a nice little chat?" Ayda said, her tone dripping with condescension. "You''ve been very helpful."

    With that, the teenager punched his lights out. A purple explosion assisted fist to the temple sent the man to the floor, unconscious before his limp body hit concrete. She gave a shake of her head and a sigh before setting about the task of leaving him for the cops. She dragged the knocked out man out onto the side of the street and zip tied him to a street light, her most common form of restraint. Utilizing his phone, she very quickly made a call to the authorities. This part of the process had become largely automatic, to the point where she barely had to think about it anymore.

    When the call had been placed, and the police dispatched, Ayda fled the scene on foot. She went down the block back toward her bike. At the end the girl turned an unnecessary corner. She''d get back on track later. Removing the situation from her sight made the entire thing feel more final. Once around the sidewalk, she extracted her own phone from the hoodie she wore, and brought it up to her ear.

    "Did you get all that?" She said without precursor.

    "Jesus Christ, Ayda!" The familiar voice of Elliot leaked through the device. Ayda pulled it away from her ear momentarily in response to his volume.

    "What?"

    "I mean, I knew you were rough, but you straight up tortured that guy!"

    "Did you get the info or not, El?" Ayda reiterated her opening question. She had absolutely zero patience for this argument.

    "Yeah, couriers and parks, and shit," Elliot dismissed. "But seriously, though. What the fuck was that?"

    "These gangsters have some stupid sense of loyalty to their leaders. I think it''s a cultural thing," Ayda added. "Sometimes it takes a lot to make them talk."

    "Okay, but was all of that really necessary?" Elliot continued to question her methods. "Did you have to break his ribs?"

    "He''ll live," Ayda said flatly. "I did something similar to Lo Feng, but you didn''t complain then."

    "I was still trying to figure out if it was you or not!" Elliot fired right back, pointing out the fallacies in her logic. "Plus, that was a news report. It''s different when it''s in my ear."

    Ayda sighed. "I knew you wouldn''t be comfortable with this part of the process. I''m sorry. Maybe I can just right stuff down afterward, or something? As long as I can retain the information." She spoke as if that were any sort of consolation. Predictably, Elliot did not respond. "Look, can we talk about this later?"

    "Yeah, sure," Elliot agreed. From his voice alone, Ayda could tell he never wanted to touch the subject again, which worked for her.

    "Okay," she nodded. "How about we meet up tomorrow and go from there?"

    "Sounds good to me," Elliot confirmed. "I thought that''s what we were gonna do, anyway."

    "Alright, I''ll see you then." Ayda paused for just a second. "Goodbye."

    "Bye." He hung up, and Ayda did the same. She adjusted her jacket in an attempt to alleviate the pressure on her back wound. It didn''t work. She probably should''ve waited longer than a day before hitting the streets again.

    Again, Ayda sighed, and returned her phone to its pocket home. That went about as well as she thought it would, all things considered. Elliot was a good person with a kind and gentle soul. Her modus operandi was bound to clash with his sense of morality. It was a conversation she foresaw coming at some point, just not this soon. Hopefully it wouldn''t be the nail in the coffin. Tonight was the first step in a much larger plan. Ayda needed his help for the next phases.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 27: Planting the Seed

    Of all the enemies Ayda had faced down during her brief seventeen years, this was¡ªby far¡ªthe most tenacious. She''d taken out megalomaniacs, trained soldiers, super powered children similar to herself, and vicious criminals, but none posed so great a threat. No, threat was not the right word. Problem fit much better, in this circumstance. No opponent gave her such an insurmountable challenge. It was fitting, then, for this to be the smallest of all. Ayda''s greatest nemesis was a stupid little cellphone.

    The device itself did not present any sort of tangible difficulty. Just like many drug dealers, the one from the other night carried an old-fashioned phone. This make was of the flip-up variety, a broad brick of a thing barely able to send text messages. Elliot said this trend persisted because older phones were harder to trace, as they had no constant connection to the internet.

    The issue at hand was not getting into the phone itself. It had no inbuilt security measures to speak of. The problem lay with the messages themselves. Every contact was just a series of seemingly random characters. Although clearly in English, and not forged in a code of any sort, the bodies of the messages did have a certain form. Locations were almost never mentioned by name, but instead a series of coordinates which were quite obviously latitude and longitude.

    But that wasn''t the only problem. The messages themselves had no rhyme or reason, the times between them sporadic. Likely, the message frequency depended on when the dealer ran out of product, which could be a week, a month, or just a couple days. It should have been quite obvious, in retrospect. Ayda knew from conversing with the man his supply was on a sort of on-demand basis. Inconsistent drops were the only logical conclusion to draw. It seemed like a good gig, honestly, unlimited access to copious amounts of drugs with just the push of a button. Any junkie in town would kill for such power.

    This had to be perfect. A single character out of place, and the entire plan fell apart. The Triad were a superstitious group, even before Ayda''s interference. They had to be. Otherwise ran the risk of detection. No criminal syndicate could survive without covering its tracks. Dealers had fallen before. The news covered such events every once in a while. Any gang in the city would be quick to cut ties with an employee who went under.

    This problem was what found Ayda in Elliot''s apartment two days after acquiring the phone. Between attending school and work for each of them respectively, all their time was spent trying to figure out a new approach. They had the phone, they had the messages and an understanding of how they were formatted. All of the data was in place, but the method still eluded them.

    When Elliot called to say he had a possible solution, Ayda rushed over. Many of her nights, which normally would have been spent patrolling, instead took up roost inside the apartment. Dedicating another one of her days to such a place bothered her little, but the hope of a possible solution filled the girl with boundless hope. If whatever Elliot had planned worked, she could finally move forward once again.

    Upon entering the domicile, she found him in his office, hunched over in his rolling chair, face just inches away from the cellphone on his computer desk. The phone was connected via micro USB to his desktop computer which, in turn, was wired to a tablet. He was a tangle of cords and technology, a ridiculous cocoon of silicon.

    She paused in the doorway, somewhere between laughter and confusion as the scene played out before her. Elliot pressed a few buttons on the phone, then tapped furiously on the tablet before looking at the computer monitor. He was a feverish flurry of actions per minute. All the while, he never noticed the new arrival. Ayda thought his perseverance admirable, but almost felt bad for him.

    "Hey," she called to get his attention. Elliot glanced up at her for only a moment before returning to his work.

    "Hey," he said while tapping on the tablet.

    "What, uh..." Ayda trailed off, "What are you doing?" She took a few steps into the room. Elliot sighed and sat up, pushing himself away from the desk a few inches.

    "Okay," he began "you remember all the trouble we''ve been having with this damned phone, right?"

    "I mean, we''ve only been dealing with it for two days now, but sure."

    Ayda quipped sarcastically as she stood at Elliot''s right shoulder. She leaned forward to get a look at the mess of devices, but their respective displays meant little to her, jumbled numbers and icons on interfaces she didn''t understand.

    "Alright." Elliot took a deep breath. "We can''t make a call on this phone because the Triad knows it''s compromised. There are other dealers'' names in here, but the phone doesn''t have caller id, so we can''t view their numbers. But, the calls have to be logged somewhere. If I can break the factory encryption on it, then I can extract the data, and get one of the numbers."

    "And that''s what you''re doing right now?" Ayda straightened and looked at him.

    "It''s what I''ve been doing for the past..." he glanced at his watch, "five hours."

    "But you got home five hours ago," asserted the teenager.

    "What''s your point?" Elliot said before returning to his work. He hunched forward again and hit a few tablet icons.

    Ayda hesitated before asking another question. Dead silence hung heavy in the air between conversation. It made her uncomfortable, to say the least, as if she were a third wheel in an otherwise lucrative business. For once, she was the one not doing anything.

    "So, what''s all of this, then?" She made a sweeping gesture to encompass the workstation. Elliot explained while he worked.

    "I jury-rigged a scrambler app on my tablet to work as a sort of decrypter, but the phone is too old to sync with it, so I have them both going through a virtual line in my computer."

    "So..." Ayda rocked awkwardly back on her heels. She could feel another uncomfortable silence coming on, and wanted to avoid it at all costs. This setup was impressive, to say the least. She knew Elliot was smart, but to accomplish all of this in just a few short hours blew her away. Choosing him as her partner was definitely the right decision. Having said that, this situation seemed a bit of a strange setting for her.

    "Do you need my help with anything, or am I just here to watch?" She asked. The teenager understood exactly none of what was going on. She couldn''t help but wonder why her presence was needed in the first place, if Elliot had it handled.

    "I called you because I think..." he pressed a button on the phone. "I''m almost..." a few taps on the tablet. "Done!"

    At his declaration, words and numbers scrolled across the tablet screen. They made absolutely zero sense, had no observable pattern. Elliot seemed excited, though. He threw his fists into the air above his head with a celebratory woo!

    "That''s what I''m talking about," he shouted. "I am the greatest hacker who ever lived!"

    An amazed Ayda grabbed up the tablet and held it close to her face. Doing so helped little in making sense of the numbers. They continued to scroll by with the same seemingly random configuration, no discernible pattern to them. She squinted in skeptical observation.

    "Is there really a phone number in here somewhere?" She handed it off to Elliot.

    "Yeah, somewhere," he confirmed. "I''ll run it through a program to translate and sort it all, and then we can set up a meeting."

    "That''s amazing!" Ayda finally joined in his excitement. "You''re the best, El." She gave him a playful tap on the shoulder. The only reason why he didn''t react was because he''d been on the receiving end of many a little punch.

    "It wasn''t all that hard once I hooked everything up," he deflected, as was human nature to do.

    "We make a pretty good team," Ayda continued. "Although, I think I''ll leave the message part to you."

    "Me?" Elliot raised an eyebrow. "Aren''t you the vigilante, here?"

    "Yeah, but, you''re the personable one. I don''t think I have the patience to deal with all the formatting," Ayda argued.

    "I guess you''re right," agreed Elliot with a shrug. He sighed. "Alright, I''ll send the message."

    And so, it was decreed. Elliot continued to work behind the scenes as a technical expert and, now, a human relations specialist. Doing so allowed him to work to his strengths, while Ayda remained the foot soldier. She was serious when she said the two of them made a good team. They complimented each other nicely. Each evened out the other''s weaknesses. Together, they were two sides of the same coin, an unstoppable machine of justice. Mostly, though, she just didn''t want to send the message.

    ¡­

    And then came the worst part of the job by a long shot, the waiting. It seemed like every time Ayda made a big move, it always came back around to waiting at one point or another. She didn''t have time to wait. Her goals were mountains to climb, journeys to conquer. Resting while the remainder of the world shifted around her was counter-intuitive in the most basic sense of the phrase. She wanted to move forward now. Why was that so hard?Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    Of course, Elliot did a brilliant job composing the text message. He copied the format to a T, perfectly emulating the lingo of a real drug dealer. The wording went through several different versions, which both members scrutinized. Eventually, they decided as a team which one sounded the least suspicious.

    The number chosen to fake was taken from dealers the phone''s original owner had been in contact with recently. Ayda and Elliot had no way of knowing who''d been taken into custody, though, as the code for the contact names hadn''t been deciphered. Using a number from a compromised party would immediately raise suspicion, and ruin the entire plan. A recent correspondence minimized the chance of a mistake.

    They couldn''t go too recent, though, or risk that particular pusher having not feasibly run out of product. Ayda was glad she''d pushed this part of the job onto her partner. While Elliot hadn''t exactly a way with words, he managed much better than she ever would have. He was an invaluable member of the team, one which made her wonder how she ever got by without him. The correspondence would never have worked without him.

    The courier took the bait. A meeting was set up. It followed the same basic setup as had been described during the acquisition of the phone. The courier transcribed a set of coordinates and a date. Elliot argued with neither. He didn''t want to take any sort of unnecessary chance and risk ruining the mission, not after they''d come so far. The courier would be wearing a brown jacket, blue scarf, and dark sunglasses.

    So, with all of that done and over with, the only thing left to do was wait. The courier had chosen a Sunday afternoon to conduct their business. The logic behind this was pretty obvious. Parks around town would be quite full with all the folks just getting out of church making pit stops on their ways home. Bigger crowds made for better cover. It also complicated Ayda''s job considerably, but that wasn''t a problem. She''d faced worse.

    It was painful to slog through, but time passed as it always did. Ayda laid low in the meantime, mostly to give her wound time to heal. Miraculously, she hadn''t popped any stitches in confronting the dealer only a single day after her defeat at the hands of Tahoe. She''d been certain the cut would require further care, but luck was on her side.

    Instead, it only served as a stark reminder, a memento of a time when she wasn''t good enough. She let an opponent get the better of her, and it cost her both time and dignity. This would be another in a series of permanent marks on her body, yet it carried more weight than the others. It was the first scar she''d acquired since coming to the United States. It was bound to happen eventually, but that didn''t mean Ayda had to be happy about it.

    Occasionally, his words came back to her, the way he spoke about government corruption and conspiracy, like a lunatic shouting at passersby. He seemed so convinced, so sure of himself. Tahoe spoke as if from experience, not conjecture. What if he was right?

    No. Mustn''t dwell on the past. That was a bad habit. She could never change that which had been done. Instead, the wise thing to do was direct her energy toward making sure it never happened again. That was why she changed her plan of attack, why she brought on Elliot. If taking down the Triad''s footmen made no impact, and going after their leadership was impossible, then the only remaining course of action was to strike somewhere in the middle.

    But time passed, like it always did. The hours and days of the workweek oozed by, slowly giving way to its reprieve. The world turned, blissfully ignorant to the tides which shifted on its surface. Soon the day came. The sun waned in the sky, just starting the way to falling below the horizon. It was now Ayda''s turn to take the spotlight. It was her time to shine.

    She sat on a bench made of dark pressboard in the middle of a rather large park, strangers to both her left and right. Several seats lined an asphalt walkway. Many people, most of them couples, passed by between them, quietly conversing or simply basking in the glow of cloudless sunshine. Screens of trees partially concealed this center area from both the bordering road and the rest of the park. The sounds of children playing could be heard in the distance. Somewhere, a dog barked. Occasionally, gurgling hints of the fountain far off to the left cut through the cacophony as people cast wishes into it. It was a beautiful day, with people unaware of the business conducted right under their noses.

    Ayda lounged in silence, among the general populace but not acknowledging any of them, the sort of public solace so strangely common in today''s society. Most people on the benches messed around with various smart devices, a few read books, and one old lady flipped idly through a newspaper. They were all together, and yet alone. The sadness of such situations was not lost on her, but she welcomed the lack of distraction.

    The teenager did her best to blend in. She wore a lilac hoodie with white strings¡ªa faded "City of El Puerto" logo on the front¡ªa blue baseball cap pulled down over her eyes, and denim shorts rolled up at the hem; not an outfit she would ever wear on any normal day, and that was exactly the point. No one would ever even come close to recognizing her as a staff toting vigilante. She was undercover; like a cop, but with fewer rules.

    Still, she felt weird. Her heart pounded at a mile a minute. The back of her head tingled. To say this certain scenario was not her forte would be a grievous understatement. The young crime fighter was completely out of her element. This was not an infiltration or interrogation like Ayda had done before. Those kinds of things she could handle. This objective was pure deception, something which¡ªagain¡ªher powers were not exactly tuned for.

    She subtly turned her head toward the fountain, just enough to get a good look in that direction. Swift eyes scanned the crowd. It was early, yet, and not quite time for the proverbial shit to hit the fan. Predictably, her target had not yet arrived. She looked back the other way, but again observed nothing but a sea of meaningless faces. There were garbage cans in both directions, but Ayda didn''t expect him to approach from the right. The fountain on the opposite side drew attention to itself, providing extra cover in plain sight. It''s what she would do, were it up to her.

    Perhaps that was the root of what really bothered her. For the most part, Ayda had zero control over the situation. Again, it all came down to waiting. She waited for the courier to arrive, waited for the optimal time to strike. Seriously, every little thing she did came back to waiting sooner or later. It was infuriating.

    Ayda relaxed for a moment, leaning back with hands in her pockets to stare at the ground between black and white sneakers. Doing so deflated any suspicion looming over her head... theoretically. It made her feel better, which was really what mattered.

    After a long, slow breath in, the teenager peered back toward the fountain to her left. Doing so brought its sounds to the forefront of her senses. Water ran in the background, like someone left a faucet on. The crowd of people here was largely the same. Folks liked to linger around the fixture. It was the most interesting thing in this particular park, and drew the most attention. While the individuals in this group probably had their own stories to tell, they weren''t at all important to her. Ayda was about to look away, when a flash of blue caught her attention.

    He stood out for a few reasons, not the least of which was the jacket her wore on a day much too warm for it. He was an Asian man just about in his mid thirties with shaggy black hair. Sunglasses concealed much of his face. The fellow conducted himself in a somewhat drawn in manner, shoulders hunched, gaze downcast, hands in his pockets. A turquoise scarf hung from his neck.

    It was him. It had to be. The courier. He matched the description without a single flaw, from his clothes to the color of his skin, although Ayda hated to racially profile him. She subtly glanced at her watch. He was early, only by a few minutes, but early nonetheless. But still, who else could it be? Unless this were some cruel, cosmic coincidence, her target was in the open.

    Ayda did her best to watch him from the corner of her eye without actually looking in his direction. He moved somewhere between a casual jaunt and a jog, noticeably faster than most other people. This man had a purpose, a goal to accomplish, much like most people in this city.

    The man walked around the left hand side of the fountain, weaving between people as he went. His fleet footwork was, quite honestly, impressive. He clearly knew how to handle himself, which made sense for someone in his position. Couriers likely faced greater danger than the merchandisers. As far as Ayda could tell, they worked alone. Fighting skills were a necessity. If all went well, she''d never have to witness them.

    Once past the watery obstruction, the fellow continued on his way toward the line of benches. Ayda kept her eyes trained on their beginning, on the object which lay there. The man approached it at a steady pace. Not long now. She''d have all the proof necessary within the next few steps. Another glance at her watch. Still early, but only by just a few seconds, now. By the time he reached the benches...

    This had to be it. He fit the description, and certainly seemed in a hurry. All signs pointed toward a positive outcome. If it wasn''t, the Ayda didn''t know what she would do, how to proceed. This had to work out because there wouldn''t be another chance, otherwise.

    The man reached what Ayda considered to be his destination. The breath caught in her lungs, heart skipped a beat. The entire world spun to a stop. Everything stood still. Nothing else mattered. This was a shared moment between two people, cat and mouse, spy vs. spy, hero and villain.

    From his pocket, the man produced a brown paper bag. The Earth spiraled back into motion. Ayda became painfully aware of her surroundings, all the people around her, but the man most of all. Without even the slightest look or cessation of movement, he dropped his parcel in a garbage can. Ayda glanced at her watch. It was time.

    She stood. Hands in her hoodie pockets, hat pulled down over her eyes, she walked toward the man. The distance between them was rather short, and grew even more so with every step. There wasn''t time to think, to consider, only to act. In a few brief seconds, it would all be over.

    They converged. Ayda hoped he didn''t notice she held her breath. A nervous heart pounded like drums in her ears. He would hear it, without a doubt. Everyone around her could hear it. How could something so loud go unnoticed?

    The two of them were only feet apart now. Ayda looked away from him, pretending to look at a car as it passed by. She wasn''t paying attention, and neither was he. The teenager embraced her powers. Anything to give her an edge. It was something she should have done eons ago. Everything snapped into focus. She was aware of everything around her. She took a miniscule step to her right, a movement almost unnoticeable. Ayda bumped shoulders with the courier at the same time as deft hands deposited something in his coat pocket.

    "Sorry," she muttered and quickly turned to him.

    "Watch where you''re going!" He shouted back, but offered no further retaliation as both parties went their separate ways.

    As Ayda left him behind, a grin spread along her lips. It was over. With one little moment, it was over. All her trepidation up to that point had been superfluous. It went off without a single hitch. Her heart still beat at a feverish pace, but it didn''t matter. She''d done it. Ayda dug her phone from her left hoodie pocket. Without dialing a number, she held it to her ear.

    "It''s done," she said simply.

    "Oh, thank God," the exasperated voice of Elliot said on the other side of the line. "I thought I was gonna have a heart attack for a minute, there."

    "You?" Ayda scoffed as she removed her stupid hat. "Imagine being me!" She gave her head a shake to put the unruly locks in place.

    "Yeah, you have a point," agreed Elliot. "And he''s none the wiser?"

    "I don''t believe so," confirmed Ayda. "I guess we''ll find out, though." There was a pause. "Hey, let''s talk about this later. There''s too many people here."

    "Agreed," said Elliot. "I''ll see you later, then."

    "Yeah, see ya." Ayda ended the call and returned the phone to its home in her pocket. All she really wanted to do was go home and take a nap.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 28: Domestic Intrusion

    "This guy is boring!" Ayda shouted to the heavens, voice echoing off the apartment walls. "I mean, he''s just make a drop, go home, all the time. At least go to a strip club or something, dude!"

    The aggravated teenager paced behind Elliot, who sat at his computer, idly rolling his chair back and forth with tiny foot movements. On his monitor was a map of the city, several green lines drawn upon it. While there was the occasional divergence, most connected two solitary points, an apartment complex and a laundromat. Most other locations were only visited once.

    "You actually want him to go to a strip club?" Elliot turned to give her a skeptical gaze.

    "He lives ten minutes away from one!" Asserted Ayda, gesturing toward the screen. "It''d be more interesting than this crap."

    "It hasn''t been that long," Elliot observed as he turned back around. "Maybe he''s just busy?"

    "He''d fucking better be," said the girl. She had to stop for a minute. Her own pacing was making her nervous. Ayda leaned back against the far wall, crossing her arms with an audible huff. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Calm thoughts. Happy thoughts. Bunnies, and blue skies, and shit.

    While she recovered from that little tantrum, Elliot leaned in for a closer look at his monitor. He turned it away from the midday sun streaming through the window, and also wiped away some dust with his hand. Neither had much effect on the glare. It was a Saturday afternoon, almost one week since their meeting with the courier.

    Silence fell over the room as Elliot lapsed into deep thought. For all her complaining, Ayda had a point. Courier seemed like a pretty active job. It didn''t really make sense for this particular specimen to do basically nothing for six whole days. It was perfectly possible he just didn''t have many deliveries, but that seemed unlikely in a logistical sense. With the estimated amount of product the triad pushed, they¡ªtheoretically¨Ccouldn''t afford to let a courier have such a light work week.

    "Maybe it''s the jacket?" Elliot observed offhandedly. "He might not wear it everywhere."

    "That''s a good point," conceded Ayda. "I''ll shove it up his ass next time."

    "Hey, I worked hard to make that tracker," he protested without looking at her.

    "Yeah? I''m gonna need you to make another one, too," Ayda added fuel to the fire. Elliot knew what she was doing. Sometimes, that girl just got in the mood for an argument. It was the fighter in her. Thankfully for him, he had the perfect ammunition to disarm her.

    "I already did," he said with a shrug. "I made you a spare, remember?"

    "Well, look at you," Ayda mocked sarcastically. She sighed. "Sorry. I''m just frustrated, you know?"

    "I hear ya," Elliot agreed, tracing one of the solitary green lines with his finger.

    "I mean, we spent all that time on the phone, and the planning, and what did we get? Jack shit." She glanced at him, and only then noticed his silent contemplation. Ayda popped off the wall and walked up behind him. "What are you doing?" She asked, leaning over his left shoulder.

    "Look at all these random single lines," he said, tracing a different one from before, "the ones that don''t fit any sort of pattern."

    "Yeah, those are probably deliveries," Ayda replied. "We already figured that out."

    "But what if they''re not?"

    "What?" Ayda leaned away and looked at him.

    "What if his job isn''t just bringing meth to dealers, but also delivering it to a bunch of different hubs?" Suggested Elliot. Ayda pondered this for a moment, squinting at the lines on the screen.

    "What, like distribution centers," Ayda asked. "Why bother with something like that? Seems overcomplicated, to me."

    "Maybe it''s supposed to be? If the meth is coming from more than one place, that would make it harder to track."

    "And it would spread out their supply, so losing one place wouldn''t ruin the whole operation," Ayda added her own idea. "You may be on to something." She thought for a moment. "Oh! And using distribution centers would also make it harder for the cops to find the labs."

    "Exactly," agreed Elliot. "Look at these three lines" He used fingers on both hands to trace out a trio of routes. "They all converge on the same spot. I thought those were just deliveries, but what if he''s actually getting product from there?"

    Ayda looked over all of the information Elliot just presented. It was a good deduction, on his part. Certainly, it was odd that this guy would go to some random location three times, especially if an assumed delivery followed immediately after. If only the trackers showed what direction the person was traveling in. Something to keep in mind for the next iteration.

    "Wait, I know that place. It''s just an office building" Ayda said as a lightbulb went off in her head.

    "And what could possibly be more innocuous?" Elliot responded, flexing his vocabulary muscles in the process. "It''s worth a shot, right?"

    "Yeah, I should probably take a look." Ayda slinked into an upright position and started toward the exit. "If this is just a waste of time, I''m gonna kick your ass."

    "Wait," Elliot stopped her with his voice. "You''re going out right now, dressed like that?" He pointed, indicating her blue jeans, sneakers, and black band logo t-shirt.

    "Yeah," she confirmed. "They''ll be expecting me at night, but if I go now and wear this, I''ll blend in. ...probably."

    Elliot cocked his head to the side. "I never thought of it like that," he said.

    "That''s why I''m the professional," Ayda joked. "I''ll call you when I get there."

    "Okay. Be careful,"

    "No promises," Ayda smirked, slipping out of the office, destined for the exit door.

    ¡­

    It never ceased to surprise her how many people wasted their time out and about on a perfectly good Saturday afternoon. It wasn''t quite the dinner rush yet, so hungry folks couldn''t account for many of the commuters. Yet, Ayda found herself in in traffic. It wasn''t at a gridlock level, but the density of vehicles certainly slowed things down. At times like these, Ayda was most thankful for her choice of transportation. She could thread between the bulky cars to keep a much more consistent speed than her much larger peers. It allowed for quicker arrival at her destination.

    The office building in question lay on the west end of the city, between the commercial and ritzy residential areas. The way she normally took into the city brought her around it, but she occasionally passed it by. From the outside, it looked like a normal two-story, rectangular building. Perhaps Elliot was right. No one would expect the pencil pushers to hide a pile of ice. In all likelihood, few of the employees knew, as well. All of this assumed the place was even a front in the first place. The possibility remained of this being a complete waste of time. Ayda hoped this was not the case. She could think of a thousand better things to do than pointlessly poke around an office.

    Through a mix of audacity and determination, Ayda reached her destination. It was not a bad trip, all in all. The weather was fair, not too hot or cold. The surprising level of traffic could be done without, but she complained about that even on light days. In reality, it posed little problem to her noble stallion. Had she not known any better, it would have seemed like a normal, casual weekend jaunt. But, no. She had a job to do, a location to scope out.

    The office was even more boring up close than in passing; two perfectly rectangular stories or absolute dullness. Nothing stood out about it. Nothing drew the eye nor demanded attention. Its windows were depressingly small. Anyone looking to peer inside wouldn''t be able to see much, which was probably the point. These sorts of organizations always kept secrets close to their chest, as if information were the more valuable commodity on the planet. And if the place really did double as a Triad front, then all the more reason to keep outside eyes from gaining admittance. Ayda hadn''t thought about it until right then, but that may prove a barrier to entry.

    The teenager rode slowly through the parking lot. These kinds of establishments usually had specific rules about where one could and couldn''t park. The signage was rather clear, though, so finding a spot required little in the space of time. She pulled around left to the front entrance and nestled in between a gray sedan and a bronze pickup truck. With a push of a button and a kick of the stand, Ayda dismounted her beast. She did not go straight for the entrance, however, opting instead to dial a number on her phone. It rang a single time before the recipient of the call picked up.

    "Hey," she said. "Yeah, I just got here. I''m in the parking lot."

    "Did you think of a plan on the way there, or are you just gonna go in the front door?" Elliot asked from the other side of the line, a hint of a joke in his voice.

    "No, I think that would draw too much attention. I''m gonna look for a side door first, or something," Ayda began walking as she spoke.

    "That sounds like a good idea. Are you gonna keep the call open?"

    "For now. You''ll be in my pocket, though, so you might not be able to hear me."

    "I''ll just listen really closely, then," Elliot quipped. Ayda rolled her eyes and put him away. With the device securely stowed, she made her way up to the building.

    A sidewalk ringed it, the purpose of which she couldn''t really ascertain. Why bother with a sidewalk around the place? Was it against the rules to walk through the parking lot? How would people get inside? She physically shook the notion from her head. There would be time for distractions later. Right now was the time for concentration.

    The lot continued around the right hand side and then behind the building. Ayda stuck to the sidewalk. It felt ridiculous to do, since the path served absolutely zero purpose, but something told her it''s the procedure any regular employee or guest would follow. Blending in was important. The longer she avoided detection, the better the chance of finding what she wanted, one way or another. Someone would catch on eventually, it was inevitable. How long she could keep that from happening would be one of many deciding factors.

    She encountered no one on her transit of the building. Just a little after the standard lunch time for most folks, everyone had probably already eaten and gone back to work, which suited her just fine. The last thing the intrusive girl needed was to initiate conflict before even entering the establishment. She''d have a hard enough time once inside.

    Moving around to the back of the building revealed a rear entrance, just as Ayda predicted. It was a pair of Plexiglas doors. A peer inside revealed they led not to any sort of lobby, but let out straight within a work space. Perfect. These people were all busy doing their respective jobs, evidenced by the torrent of typing and clicking. If quiet enough, she could slip in without anyone noticing.

    The moment Ayda walked inside, she felt her soul being sucked out. It was quiet, deadly quiet. The only sounds were that of manual computer operations, mice and keyboards. The employees, a diverse bunch of men and women, worked at long divided desks. Each person had his or her own workspace complete with two flat screen computer monitors, old looking towers, and everything one would need to work with them.

    A quick glance revealed almost every person listened to music through buds in their ears. Glued to their screens and sensorially deprived, not a single one of them noticed the unfamiliar young woman who walked in. She knew not to linger. The teenager made her way down a row of work stations, trying to move in a way which made little noise and drew no attention.

    While the pace with which the people operated seemed to indicate some sort of industrious focus, the occasional sigh betrayed the truth of their shared circumstance. They were bored. Beyond any words or rational reason, they were bored. The sighs were the most any of them could do in protest, because actual complaints led to firing. They hated their lives. This was not a place Ayda could ever stand to work. Just being within it threatened to drive her mad. She had to retrieve any relative intelligence and then get out. Otherwise, she''d have a breakdown.

    Set in the far wall was a series of doorways at random intervals apart. A few of them Ayda could see inside. One was a copier room. Another, a place for breaks, the third didn''t seem to go much of anywhere. The far left was what interested her. One thing was obvious; she would never find anything here, not in this room. If any passage led to a different area, her bet would be the far left.

    A quick glance to her left revealed not everyone sat quietly at their desks. A middle-aged woman¡ªwho was assumedly either tech support or a supervisor¡ªspoke with a random employee on the west side of the room, not far from the door for which Ayda was destined. Judging by the level of pointing from both parties, the conversation was most likely technical in nature, which meant it could end at any time. Ayda had to move quickly.

    The teenager strode within the lane formed by two separate lengthy work tables. She kept her eyes forward, chin up, pace moderate, all in an attempt to look like she belonged. And, for some reason or another, it worked out in her favor. The employees were simply too engrossed in their own responsibilities to give her a second look, although doubtless they noticed someone walking behind them. Ayda shot sporadic, quick glances at the two people carrying on a conversation. They, too, paid little mind to anything else other than their task.

    For a place with so little going on, it was a lot to take in. There were too many eyes, too many people to divide her attention between. Any one of them could rat her out with a simple phrase, a greeting or inquiry as to her purpose. Ayda had to get out of this room. She focused on the far left doorway, her destination. It took all of her power to avoid breaking into a jog.

    She didn''t even realize she''d made it out the door until the scenery changed. Instead of a work floor, Ayda instead found herself within what looked like to be a secretarial office. Three separate cubicles with computers and phones occupied the space, arranged in a perpendicular formation. The girl never stopped moving, but blinked twice. She needed to pay closer attention, to remember her environment as well as the objective, and not either separately. It was a stupid mistake, an amateur move which may have cost her the mission. It wouldn''t happen again.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    This area posed little problem. It contained only one old woman talking quietly on the phone. Ayda passed through it and into the next. This was another production space. Although less populous and much smaller, it was just as busy. She stopped to take a quick look around. As evidenced by the several displays, the work here was much different, more technical in nature. Experience with the previous space gave her confidence. Ayda strode through this one like she owned the place, nary a falter in her step. What interested her was the door to the east. She made way through it and into the hall outside.

    And here she stopped to rest a moment. A long exhale escaped her lungs. How long had she been holding her breath? The respite only lasted a heartbeat, though; just long enough to get back on track. Ayda looked left, and then right. The hallway was adorned with cherry tongue and groove on the walls and grey carpeting. A few doors broke up the walls at different points. Most importantly, it was empty. No one else occupied it. The teenager took advantage of the alone time to dig out her cellphone.

    "Well, I''m in," she said into the device.

    "Did you find anything yet?" Elliot said through the speaker.

    "Don''t be an ass," Ayda warned. "I don''t even know what I''m looking for."

    "Anything suspicious, right?" Elliot said.

    "But that''s exactly the problem." Ayda began walking to the left, down the hall. "They''re not just gonna leave a bag of the stuff lying around. I could look around here forever and not find anything." She was very careful to leave out any specific organizations or contraband from the conversation.

    "If they are storing... stuff there, then the two operations are probably completely separate," observed Elliot. "Different workers, data storage, and everything."

    "You''re telling me," Ayda agreed. "I''ve dealt with secret organizations before, remember?" At the end of the hall was a left turn. Ayda hung it without a moment''s hesitation, just like an employee would. Another corridor stretched off here, this one with noticeably more doors than the previous.

    Continuing on, Ayda chose a door at random to peer inside. Through the square window she could see four long, rectangular tables lined on both sides with colorful plastic chairs. There was a boring white refrigerator and two matching microwaves set in a wooden alcove next to it. While Ayda couldn''t see a coffee maker inside, there probably was one. Finally, left of the microwaves was a trio of vending machines, one for drinks and two for snacks.

    "I found another break room," Ayda commented offhandedly. "How lazy are these people?"

    "Is there anyone inside?" Elliot asked.

    "What, you want me to interrogate them or something?" She joked, resuming her walk down the hall. "I don''t think we''d have much to talk about."

    "Wait, talking! That''s it!" Exclaimed Elliot all of a sudden. "Ayda, this is gonna sound crazy, but I need to hack your phone."

    "What, why?" Ayda stopped in the middle of the hall and did a quarter turn.

    "Okay, stick with me, here." Elliot paused a second to catch his breath. "An operation like this would need to coordinate somehow, but I don''t think they''d use cellphones because they''re too easily traceable. So, unless they have a bunch of carrier pigeons, they probably use walkie-talkies. I can boost the transceiver in your phone to pick up on their radio waves, but to do that I need to hack it from here."

    "Elliot, you''re a genius," Ayda breathed. "Do it. But don''t go through my photos," she quickly added.

    "Don''t worry," reassured Elliot.

    A short silence followed as he got to work. Ayda could hear furious typing and mouse clicks from his side of the conversation. She periodically looked at her phone''s screen to see if there were any noticeable changes. She expected the process to at least kick her out of the call, but as the time stretched on, nothing seemed to happen. The teenager wanted to talk, to ask questions, but she couldn''t risk distracting Elliot, especially while he poked around in her second most treasured possession.

    Ayda was just beginning to get antsy. She looked up and down the hallway, tapping her foot a few times. Precious seconds slipped by while Elliot did his work. She knew not to rush progress, but a little hustle wouldn''t go remiss. The girl glanced again at the phone. It was still connected to the call, and suffered no visual changes. The thing did, however, feel markedly warmer in her hand. Perhaps that was a good sign? A few more ticks on the proverbial clock, and Elliot finally spoke up.

    "And... done! Holy crap," he said.

    "What, did you find something?" Ayda took a step and bent forward just slightly, pressing the phone even closer to her ear.

    "Well, let me put it this way, Elliot began. "It looks like someone is listening to twenty car radios all at once."

    "So there is something here?" Ayda insisted.

    "Yeah, something, but I can''t get a read on the frequency, we''re too far away. Try walking."

    "Alright." Ayda took off at a brisk pace toward the end of the hallway. "Just tell me if I''m hot or cold."

    She took a few steps in silence, heart threatening to throw itself from her chest, not from excitement or fear, but anxiety. This was the closest she''d ever been. Every bone in her body yearned for a discovery. To come all this way and go through so much effort for nothing would be a devastating setback. They''d be back at square one, probably to the point of shaking down another random dealer for his courier contacts. Ayda did not want to start over. This had to lead somewhere, because she didn''t know what to do, otherwise.

    "Well, you''re definitely closer," commented Elliot. "I''m not seeing a whole lot of change, though."

    "I''m gonna run into a wall in a second, here," Ayda said. "There''s a staircase to my left, going up and down."

    "Go down," Elliot said. "That sounds like a safer bet."

    "Yeah, I was gonna say," Ayda began as she started her ascent. "I don''t think there''d be a meth den on the roof."

    "We''ve both seen weirder things, though."

    "True."

    The staircase was rather short, moreso than she expected. When Ayda hit the bottom, she found herself in a dimly lit room. It had workstations and computers, but no people. She was completely and totally alone.

    The girl paused for a moment, looking left and then right. The room felt strange, in the same way anywhere which was supposed to have people, but didn''t. She strode into the empty room, choosing a direction at random. There were doors on the far and leftward walls. She''d go through them if necessary, but doing so would just take up more time. She still wanted to get out of this place fast as possible.

    "Whoa, stop!" Elliot said suddenly. Ayda froze in her tracks.

    "What, what is it?" She said, concerned.

    "The signal is super strong right there," he explained. "Where are you right now? Because you''re standing right on top of it."

    "I''m in another office space, but there''s no one in here. It must be for the night crew or something." She turned around to look for a second. "Are you sure this is the right place?"

    "Well, this is definitely a walkie-talkie frequency. Assuming the place has a basement, and compensating for whatever materials the signal would have to go through, I don''t think it can get much stronger."

    "So, there''s definitely something here, then," Ayda said. She needed to be extra sure, to hear him say it.

    "Again, assuming this place has a basement, yeah. I can''t tell what, though."

    "Still, something about this doesn''t make sense," mulled Ayda. "Why would they put something in the basement of a public building? You''d think someone would stumble across it, eventually."

    "Maybe the employees don''t know about it," guessed Elliot. "It could be a secret basement without access from inside the building."

    "Maybe," agreed Ayda. "But, this is starting to sound like a movie."

    "It makes sense, if you think about it. All the Wi-Fi signals bouncing around in there would help mask the walkie-talkies from a distance, and no one would ever think to look for a basement that technically doesn''t exist. Then, they''d only have to worry about moving the product around without raising suspicion."

    "You seem awfully good at this," Ayda observed. "Sure you''re not one of them?"

    "No, but I have seen Breaking Bad."

    "You''re an idiot." Ayda shook her head.

    "So, are you gonna try to go down there?"

    "God, no. Are you crazy?" Ayda asked as she made her way back toward the stairs. "They''d find me in, like, ten seconds." She began to ascend. "No, you gave me a better idea. The way I see it, I don''t need to find where they store the product, just how they get it out of here."

    "That..." Elliot mulled it over, "makes a lot of sense, actually. Got any ideas?"

    "Just one, but it''s a bit of a stretch," said the girl. She reached the top of the stairs and turned down the hall, back down the way she''d come.

    "Alright, lay it on me," encouraged her partner.

    "Okay. On T.V, buildings like this always have a mail room. It would be a busy place with access to the outside, and they could hide stuff in the packages, which no one else can legally open."

    "But, wouldn''t the whole post office have to be in on it?" Elliot asked.

    "Yeah, that''s why it''s a stretch." Ayda rolled her eyes. Even she thought the idea was stupid. "Hey, I''m gonna put you back in my pocket, alright."

    "You know, you should really look into a Bluetooth headset," commented Elliot.

    "I know, I just haven''t gotten around to it yet," she replied. "I''ll talk to you in a few minutes." And with that, she put the phone in her jeans.

    With conversation no longer impairment, Ayda once again focused fully on the task at hand. Her only lead was tumultuous at best, and the investigation of it left a lot to be desired, but it was still much more than she''d ever expected to find, especially in such a short period. Worst case scenario, the two of them determine there''s nothing here, and continue to monitor travel data from the tagged courier. Even if this wasn''t the place, he''d have to lead them somewhere eventually. From that perspective, all her previous doubts about the mission seemed quite stupid. A little faith worked wonders.

    Now, the average person in a similar scenario would most likely continue to bumble around inside the building to find the mail room. It was a perfectly logical course of action, and one which would invariably bear fruit before long. Ayda, however, did not have the patience for bumbling. She needed to use the most efficient method possible for locating the mail room. As she''d said to Elliot on the phone, the room would have access to the parking lot. The best way to find an outside door was from the outside.

    To that end, the curious teenager once again strode onto the pointless sidewalk. She''d followed the corridors around to the front of entrance. Walking back through the rear doors, past the employees she''d worked so hard to circumvent, would only raise suspicion. Even if this was toward the end of her quest, she still didn''t feel like dealing with any further problems. The front lobby, thankfully, took her outside the main office instead of through it. This design decision allowed Ayda to slip out completely unnoticed.

    Once outside, she turned left. Again, she seriously doubted anything worth seeing was on the westward side of the building, since the sidewalk didn''t wrap around that way. Although, that could be intentional, a misdirect. She''d make her way over there eventually, if the rest of the building proved a dead end. It hopefully wouldn''t get to that point.

    Sitting at the exact halfway point within one of the shorter walls¡ªit was a rectangular structure, remember¡ªthe front entrance was only a quick trek from the first bend in the sidewalk. Without a second thought, the girl turned around the corner. In all honesty, she wasn''t even paying attention. So, when the side of the building came into view, her heart skipped a beat. Acting on pure instinct, she whipped back around the corner.

    With markedly more caution than the first time, Ayda peeked around the wall, looking with only one eye to minimize exposure. Several feet from the corner was a light gray van backed up to a set of opened double doors. The rear doors of the van were also agape. Red letters outlined in white on the side said "El Puerto Delivery Service."

    The van wasn''t what gave her pause, though. Rather, the people around it did. Two men worked together loading and unloading unlabeled boxes from the van. One of them was clearly the driver, dressed in the blue shirt and jeans which made up his uniform, sleeves rolled up to partially reveal black tribal tattoos on both his arms. The other wore a black suit with a matching t-shirt underneath, no tie, his short hair slicked up in fine spikes. He turned around to put down a package, and Ayda saw a walkie-talkie hanging from his belt.

    The two of them worked diligently at a modest pace, clearly not in a hurry, but with no desire to stick around, either. Occasionally, they spoke to one another in what sounded like Chinese, swift quips which Ayda didn''t understand. A pair of Asian men with tattoos, moving around nondescript boxes, speaking a foreign language, and one of them with a device she''d literally just been stalking. Ayda hated to profile them in such a way, but they certainly fit the description of gangsters.

    The girl couldn''t see inside, but good money said this was indeed the mail room. Internally, she kicked herself. She''d walked right past it on her way into the building. It seemed so obvious in retrospect, even though the idea to use the mail room in the first place only occurred to her after an examination of the establishment.

    Ayda continued to watch them for a moment. Their work seemed rather mundane, but that was absolutely on purpose. Anyone walking or driving by would think they were just normal employees unloading a truck. They weren''t supposed to look suspicious. For that matter, Ayda had no way of knowing if they were up to no good or not. This could be a perfectly tame occurrence.

    She extracted her wallet and took from its bifold something which looked like a fat nickle encased in waxed paper. She fiddled with the thing in her palm, seeming to contemplate its very existence. This object was the extra tracker Elliot had made for her on the off chance she''d lost the first one when going after the courier. Now, she had a decision to make, but it really wasn''t much of a choice. This could be her only chance, and only an utter fool would pass it up. With a deep breath in, and then out, she slipped again around the corner.

    In the most natural way possible, like someone just walking through the parking lot, Ayda made her way toward the vehicle. She looked left and then right, leaning forward just slightly as if to get a better look at something. Her chosen path led right around the front of the van, where she paused. Again, the teenager looked around, taking in every inch of the lot. The men had yet to notice her, which was exactly what she wanted, to blend in.

    With an unnecessary and audible sigh, Ayda leaned back, placing the palms of her hands behind her up against the front of the van. Her fingers curled around the edge of the hood to rest on the grill. She crossed her ankles and again peered around. All of this, to distract from her true goal. Well, hopefully, anyway. Deception was not her strong suit.

    And this was proven almost immediately. Ayda could not remain incognito forever, especially while within plain view. Whether it was the sigh or the lean itself was absolutely impossible to determine, but both the driver and his assistant were tipped off at Ayda''s presence in almost the exact same instant.

    "Hey!" Yelled the driver, charging around the vehicle toward her. "Hands off the car!"

    "Oh!" Ayda feigned surprise, popping off the vehicle as she turned to face him. "I''m sorry, is this yours?"

    The driver stopped in front of her, menacing down at the girl with a stiff posture, his hands rolled up into fists. Ayda flashed him a quick smile, her best effort to appear nonthreatening. It didn''t seem to work, though, as the driver remained on edge. She glanced to his right to see the other man staring at her. While he took no action, his keen observation denoted a willingness to intervene. Time to be done with this, then.

    "Yeah, I''m just trying to remember where I parked my bike," Ayda said. "I thought it was around this side, but I guess not."

    "Just get out of here, go," commanded the driver, pointing toward the road.

    "Alright, man, chill out, Christ." Ayda turned and walked away from him, giving a sly smirk as she left.

    That went about as well as it possibly ever could have. The only better outcome would be to have no conflict whatsoever, but that was probably her fault. She lingered just a second too long on the van, and it cost an inconsequential amount of time. But, all in all, she accomplished her goal with flying colors, a success by any measure. Ayda mounted the motorcycle which she''d fibbed about struggling to find, switched it on, and pulled out of the parking lot, a wide grin on her face.

    Once underway, she dug her phone from her pocket. The prospect of speaking while trying to ride a bike didn''t exactly appeal to her, but Elliot would probably be worried sick after all that. Plus, Ayda couldn''t wait to tell him.

    "Hey," she began, shouting over the bike, "I''m leaving the office, now, if you couldn''t tell by all the engine noise."

    "What was all that?" Elliot asked. "Who were you talking to?"

    "Elliot, I think I was right about the mail room, thing," she began. The teenager would''ve liked to continue, but Elliot spoke up before she could.

    "So the post office is in on it?" He asked, incredulous. "How is that even possible?"

    "It''s not the post office," clarified Ayda. "I found a van belonging to the El Puerto Delivery Service. Two guys were moving a bunch of plain brown packages around. One of them was a driver, and the other looked like one of the professional-type Triads I''ve run into before." This little blurb came out as a torrent of words, spurred on by an insatiable need to tell someone of her immense accomplishment.

    "A private package delivery service..." Elliot mused. "That would make a lot more sense," he agreed. "How do you know that''s how they''re moving product around?"

    "I don''t, but I slipped my spare tracker in the van''s grill just in case. I figure we can watch them for a little bit, and if it doesn''t lead anywhere, we can try something else." Ayda thoroughly explained her logic in that situation. It was a sound plan, at least in her mind, but she didn''t know if Elliot agreed.

    "That''s good," Elliot said. Ayda released a mental sigh of relief. "Not that I can really say anything about it. The field side of things is your area of expertise, not mine."

    "And that''s why we work so well together," Ayda affirmed, something she''d said on numerous occasions before. "Now all that''s left to do is sit and wait... again."

    More waiting, the thing Ayda hated the most in the entire world. It didn''t hit her until uttering the words what she''d just set herself up for. At least a delivery truck would be more interesting than the world''s most tame organized criminal. It may have sounded odd, but Ayda actually looked forward to seeing what kind of adventures a glorified mailman got up to.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 29: End of the Line

    The rumbling whine of a powerful engine. A torrid wind whipping through her hair, brand new cropped, black leather jacket flapping in the breeze. The mostly open road which stretched for miles on out in front of her. It curved unnaturally in the reflection of her dark sunglasses. The old people liked to joke that you could drive for miles in any direction and see nothing. This was that famous Texas wilderness, the endless abandoned prairies. It reminded Ayda of her birthplace, in a weird sort of way, right down to the comparable level of gun toting lowlifes.

    Idly, it dawned on her this was the farthest she''d been from town in quite some time, and most certainly the greatest distance she''d ever driven herself. Part of her regretted this, but a much larger portion cared little. There really was absolutely nothing out here, except for the occasional tiny settlement, random old house, or isolated small business.

    Not in the mod for music, and nothing else better to do, Ayda reflected on the circumstances which led her to this point. It had been eleven days, almost two weeks since the office job, two weeks of information gathering. In that time, Ayda and Elliot watched the tracker she''d placed in the El Puerto Delivery Service van, observed as its driver made stop after stop, both within and without the city.

    Eleven days may seem like a long time, and Ayda agreed. It was Elliot who suggested the lengthy wait. In an operation of this size, caution was paramount. This was a big move, and they had to be absolutely sure. Messing this up could mean an insurmountable setback. To that end, Elliot advocated to collect as much data as possible, and that meant waiting. He wanted to waste even more time, but Ayda wouldn''t have it. One-and-a-half weeks was the compromise they reached together.

    The teenager did not simply rest on her laurels during this time, either. The deep cut wound from her last encounter with Tahoe had more than healed, and dealings directly with the enemy resumed. Disrupting them posed no danger to the mission at large. That meant it was time for a return to form, to continue fighting the good fight. Ayda continued her operations against the Triad drug dealers. Her methodology was much the same, set up a fake meeting and then crash it.

    But the gang had not grown complacent in her short absence. They still used the method of keeping the product in a nearby vehicle on the off chance she showed up. This meant, more often than not, Ayda''s busts ended with a car chase. Once again, she was glad for her choice of vehicle. Small size and maneuverability allowed her to chase down her prey with minimal difficulty, even if the cars they drove were occasionally faster and more powerful. Speed meant nothing if they couldn''t turn properly.

    All of that was the past. Although successful, these events were just echoes of previous happenings. Ayda had much bigger problems to worry about, and they required her full attention. According to the GPS on her phone¡ªwhich she was amazed still worked out in the boonies¡ªshe was close, within a few miles. Soon, it would be time. Everything the team had been working toward was about to come to a hopefully violent and irreversibly destructive end. She needed to focus, to make sure everything was perfect.

    Which reminded her, she hadn''t done an equipment check in quite some time. This particular job called for a certain specialist tool. Ayda reached down with her left hand to grab her staff. The next required taking her eyes off the road. Grip tight on both the handlebars, Ayda twisted around in her seat just long enough to lay eyes on the second piece. Where her right saddle bag normally would have been was, instead, a jerrycan. Finally, both both eyes locked on the path ahead, Ayda lifted two fingers to her right ear, much like a stereotypical secret serviceman.

    "Can you still hear me, El?" She asked, speaking into a black earpiece hanging from her right lobe.

    "Loud and clear," said the disembodied voice of Elliot.

    "You''re still a little bit too loud, actually," Ayda said with a quick wince. "I''ll have to turn you down again when this is all over."

    "Hey, you just focus on getting out of there in one piece."

    "I''ll be fine," dismissed the teenager. "You worry too much."

    "No, no, I think I worry just enough," argued Elliot.

    The conversation died down after that. Neither one of them really felt like talking, although for different reasons. Elliot really could be a worry wart at times, but he had every reason to be. The things Ayda did were insane, and this one definitely took the cake. The girl herself, however, experienced only anxiety. Every bone in her body ached to get this started, like that jittery feeling right before riding a roller coaster.

    But the silence suited her just fine. It calmed her down, which she realized was pretty well opposite to the majority of people. Ayda never liked to talk through her anxieties. Doing so made her think about them, which which made her even more anxious. Most of the time, it was better to just keep her mouth shut.

    And that''s what she did. Throughout the entire rest of the trip¡ªwhich, admittedly, wasn''t all that long¡ªshe uttered not a sound. The only ambiance to keep her company was the engine, and the occasional bird.

    In time, Ayda arrived at her destination, or as close as she dared bring her bike, anyway. She parked the motor vehicle a little ways down the road, far enough to be well away from whatever action transpired, but not so far that she''d have to hike. This way all of her equipment was well at hand, yet her precious steed stayed well away from the conflict.

    Ayda made the short walk over to what she assumed to be the place. A swift look down at her phone confirmed this was, indeed, it. Not much to look at, though. Sitting before her on an unnatural expanse of dirt and bushes was a dilapidated old farmhouse. Specks of white paint remained, but mostly the boards had turned a dull grey color. A simple deck allowed entrance to the beaten up door, despite the hole in its middle The shingles sagged dangerously in the center. The roof would give way at any minute. The windows were absolutely impossible to see out of. Finally, the remnants of a shed lay in a heap to the right a short distance in front of the house, having collapsed long ago.

    Ayda sighed. "Here goes nothing, right?" She asked of herself.

    The teenager approached the house. She continually looked left and right¡ªhead on a swivel¡ªbut there was not a single person around. For all intents and purposes, it was completely and totally abandoned. Anyone driving by would believe nobody had set foot on this property in maybe decades. She was alone, and that was even more suspicious.

    She stopped several feet away from the porch stairs. Again, the girl looked around. Still no people, still equally as fishy. This was definitely the place, but why would the delivery van come out here on a daily basis if no one was around? What was he possibly doing?There had to be an answer, and her patience ran thin. Time to make something happen.

    "Hello?" She shouted at the house. "Anyone home?" Predictably, no one answered. "Hey, assholes, I know you''re in there. I''m already getting bored." For emphasis, she stabbed her staff into the ground, holding it not unlike a walking stick. A blast resonated from it, digging a small, shallow crater into the ground.

    She paused a little longer this time, hoping a little provocation would perhaps draw them out. However, it did not. It had to be pretty obvious who was knocking at their door. If the accent didn''t give her away, then the miniature explosion most certainly would. But still, not a creature was stirring. Ayda needed to draw them out. Fighting them inside would not end well for her. Distantly, this scenario reminded her a little bit of a scene from a movie. She smirked.

    "Oh Triaaads, come out to plaaay!" She mocked, realizing she didn''t actually know what movie that was from.

    In an absolutely astounding and almost feasibly impossible twist of fates, the front door flung open, followed immediately by the the exit of several gangsters, who spread out the moment they passed the precipice. But these weren''t the only men. People came around from behind and the sides of the house as well. There obviously was a back door, but the west wall must have sprung a leak, based on the angle the thugs from that direction curved around.

    "I can''t believe that worked," Ayda breathed in shock.

    "You''re telling me," Elliot spoke up randomly.

    "Shut up, I need to concentrate," chastised Ayda quickly.

    "Right, sorry." With that apology, Elliot shut his mouth.

    Ayda observed as the Triad gang members poured out of the building. There were already well over a dozen, and more continued to join the fray. These men fit an archetype Ayda hadn''t seen yet. Every one of them wore blue denim jeans and most sported t-shirts, although some were bare chested. Not a one of them wore a jacket or had long hair. While mostly Asian, they were a much more diverse group than she expected. Instead of thugs or professionals, they looked like blue collar workers, which Ayda saw as a positive thing, a change of scenery.

    After a short moment, the gangsters quit appearing. Ayda observed them in turns, flicking motions of her eyes. She hadn''t the time to count them, but there were a considerable few. They did not surround her, but instead gathered in fragmented clumps, groups of three or four, spread out all along the property between the house and herself. They at least knew how to form squads.

    Several pairs of eyes bared down upon her, some tense, others just plain curious. Ayda never made a hostile move, but returned the stares in kind. They didn''t like her, and she didn''t like them. They had an agreement of mutual hatred. The air sat in layers thick enough to be cut with a knife. Ayda decided to lighten the mood before it led to a possible loss of initiative.

    "Hello, boys," she mused. "Do you recognize me?"

    At almost the exact same moment, every single one of the Triads produced weapons. The vast majority hauled handguns from their pants, but some brought out knives or baseball bats, one even donned a pair of spiked knuckles. The guns were pointed at her, while the melee weapons assumed various ready positions. Instinctively, Ayda did the same, left foot forward, knees slightly bent, staff held out in front of her at an angle from right shoulder to left hip; her favorite fighting stance. Her weapon glowed purple.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    "I''ll take that as a resounding yes," she quipped. "So, if you know who I am, then you must know why I''m here," Ayda paused to let them speak but, of course, they did not. "I bet there''s a pretty big bounty on my head. Which one of you thinks you can take it?" She said with a sinister grin. "I''ll even let you have the first shot."

    Straightaway at her behest a shot rang out, solitary and sinister. Ayda pivoted just slightly to her right. A quick upward stroke and a blast intercepted the projectile. It shattered into metal dust, rendered inert under the weight of her powers. Ayda locked eyes with the man who had fired it, betrayed both by the stunned look on his face, and the steam rising from his handgun. Their moment, while shared, could not last.

    Spurred on by this bout of heroism, the other gangsters opened up in relative unison. A hail of bullets rained down upon Ayda. She met them with equal bravado and overwhelming force. Although it had been a very long time since she''d had to defend against so may bullets, the teenager remembered the skill quite well. With her power, what would have been a deadly encounter for a normal person became mere child''s play.

    Of course, that''s not to say a few random dealers hadn''t managed to get off a potshot or two during some of her many drug busts. While noble, these attacks always ended the same way, with the projectiles deflected and the dealer in custody. Doubtless, the men firing at her right now heard the stories. One would think they''d have learned by now, but apparently not.

    From where she stood, Ayda saw all. Every leaden projectile which sped at her appeared clear as day. Her movements were fluid and precise, light years ahead of any and all threats. The attacks of the Triad were utterly useless. They could never pray to thwart her defenses. Ayda was infallible. She was in control. This fight was hers to lose.

    The metal maelstrom lasted until, gradually, the gangsters ran out of ammo. They carried a wide array of makes and models, so some went dry at different times. But, before long, each and every man ceased firing, although not for lack of trying, of course. Many hollow clicks were heard in a vain attempt to carry on the assault. When the proverbial dust cleared, two men were on the ground. One lay motionless on his back, the other sat nursing a ghastly leg wound. Likely, both took shrapnel instead of redirected bullets, but that would be cool.

    A stagnant silence hung in the air, an unsettling contrast to the violent cacophony of gunfire which preceded it only moments before. The men wore terrible expressions, most of them somewhere between shock and fear. Ayda chuckled at their dismay.

    "Is that all?" She addressed a captive audience, which did not speak nor interrupt. "Alright, then. My turn."

    Without warning, she kicked off the ground. A blast propelled her figure to the right, and drove shoulder straight into the chest of a Triad. He stumbled back in both pain and surprise. He was part of a trio. Ayda quarter turned and laid into the second member of this little group. She struck up with the fore end of her staff, spun it around her head, and then came down from the same direction, each hit accentuated by a blast. The target crumpled in a heap.

    The third combatant finally caught on to the danger. Ayda jabbed him in the sternum with her staff''s back end before he became a threat. With the other side, she sliced up at the first man, who was just beginning his recovery. A blast under the chin lifted him up off the ground. Ayda brought the weapon high above her head and smashed it into his collar. Bone audibly snapped as he hit the dirt. Finally, as almost an after thought, she finished off the third man with a simple back kick to the stomach. A burst sent him flying.

    There would be no rest for the girl. One of the Triads again opened fire on her as soon as this little group was dealt with. It seemed some of them remembered to bring extra clips. Of course, his efforts meant nothing. Ayda blocked his projectiles and again propelled herself. The man hadn''t enough time to react. An explosive swipe from her weapon tossed the gun away. A push kick got rid of him.

    Two gangsters attacked her from either side, having abandoned their guns for fists. Ayda turned and toppled the one to the left with a blast to the head. As he tumbled, Ayda continued her rotation to strike the right man''s knees. His feet swept out from underneath him. While he was in midair, Ayda struck upward from the opposite direction. A powerful burst lobbed him into the roof shingles.

    One of the combatants touting a melee weapon chopped straight down at Ayda with an aluminum baseball bat. She widened her grip and blocked above her head. Using his weapon as a pivot, Ayda rotated her own around to smack him in the temple. An accompanying blast sent the poor chap face first into the ground.

    A chorus of gunfire filled the air. Three thugs managed to line up and start shooting, not unlike the British soldiers of yesteryear. Although they probably thought this allowed them to more easily concentrate their fire all it really did was make them an easy target. Ayda blocked the first few bullets, swatting them away as if they were mosquitoes.

    With an annoyed snarl she once again dashed forward, but this time stopped short. The men ceased their joint attack, expecting to enter close combat. Instead, Ayda smacked the ground with her staff. A shockwave emanated from it, consuming the lot of them. All three men flew backward, one of them colliding with the house, while the others landed somewhere in the field. Ayda straightened with a stifled groan. Although effective, those kinds of attacks required a lot of energy. She tried to avoid them whenever possible.

    There wasn''t time to worry about any of that now, though. She still had a fight to win. A Triad came at her with a knife. She dodged the slash and knocked him away like nothing. Ayda then transitioned to another group, dashing in to hit them with her weapon. Four strikes for an equal number of simple knockouts.

    The enemy numbers were thinning now, and those left standing knew they had little chance of victory. A few ran. They were the smart ones. Ayda had no intention of chasing them down. Her objective right then was to clear the area. If they did so themselves, well that just saved her the trouble of doing it.

    Whether subconsciously or otherwise, the remaining six grouped together. Some kept their pistols trained, but a few others at this point realized it was no use, and opted instead for little pocket knives. The gunmen opened up, for what little good it did. Ayda deflected their projectiles but did not dash toward them this time. She walked at a normal pace. They would reflect on the error of their ways, before the end. They would know fear.

    The girl approached her victims, moving with the cool calm of an assassin. She withstood the leaden tidal wave, not a scratch on her body nor falter in her step. Closer and closer she came, a menace to all foolish enough to stand in her way. Again, the gangsters slowly ran out of ammunition. Those who ran dry bothered not with reloading, as it would provide little assistance. The final man ceased his attack just as Ayda reached the group.

    The front-most of them took the initiative with the most telegraphed punch in human history. Without slowing an inch, Ayda batted him away. A blast into his ribs sent him into the field somewhere. With his failure, three men attacked in unison, standing in a skewed inverted triangle. Staff held horizontally in both hands, Ayda punched forward. Each end of her weapon collided with the face of a Triad simultaneously. Blasts sent them reeling, but not down or out. In their stead, the third came up. A front toe kick doubled him over. The girl whipped her weapon around, smacking one of the first two upside the head. She spun into a low strike to the knees of the second. Both crumpled to the ground. Ayda rose up, adding momentum to the strike which caught the bent over bloke in the forehead. He uprooted and crashed backward into the dirt, head over heels.

    At this point, the last couple of men finally joined the fray. One of them cut at Ayda, a very good strike with great power, but not fast enough. Ayda slipped back, out of the way. She could not, however¡ªeven with all her speed¡ªdodge the attack from the other person. A left hook rocked her. The punch turned her face away. She took a step to maintain her balance. Rage boiled inside her. This man just signed his final will and testament. For him, mercy was forfeit.

    Understandably, the gangsters pushed their offensive. Ayda jabbed the knife-wielder in the throat. He dropped to his knees, instantly descendent into a sputtering fit, labored hacks through a collapsed windpipe. Unable to bring her weapon around in time, Ayda dropped it and caught with her bare hands what would have been another left hook from the final fighter. She held him in place, despite his desperate attempts to be free. Ayda leveled a vicious punch into his stomach. While he still cried out at the pain of bruised organs, she smashed and overhand fist straight into his forehead. The girl released her captive.

    He stumbled back. Ayda finished him off with a jumping, spinning hook kick. She did not hold back. A loud blast filled the air. Red mist sprayed from cracks in the man''s skull. He fell. His blood painted the soil. As Ayda walked away, she recovered her staff. Her final act was to kick the coughing gangster still on his knees, just to keep him from getting back up.

    "You still there, El?" Ayda asked, idly fingering the headset miraculously still in her ear.

    "Yeah," he barked through the device. "Yeah, I''m still here."

    "I took out the Triad here, so I''m moving on to the next step."

    "Alright, just tell me when you do," Elliot requested. "I don''t feel like blowing out the speakers on my phone."

    "Sure, I''ll let you know," agreed the teenager.

    She allowed the conversation to die after that in favor of the task at hand. Ayda made the trip back to her bike which¡ªaccording to plan¡ªwas completely undamaged. There, she retrieved the most important part of this entire operation, the bright red jerrycan. Without it, all of this meant absolutely nothing. Luggage in her right hand, same as the staff, she walked back to the house.

    Once back, Ayda took a quick moment to survey the destruction, just to make sure none of the defeated cronies had awoken. They remained in a state of forced slumber, exactly where she wanted them. With the coast currently clear, Ayda approached the house.

    This was where she sort of lost the plot, just a little bit. She wanted to make sure there was enough time to get away, but too much time increased the chance of failure. Where best to start? In the end, she decided on a point which was about three quarters of the distance between the road and the house. Ayda placed her free hand on the bottom of the jerrycan and tipped it up. Gasoline spilled onto the dirt.

    Slowly¡ªgreat care taken to form a consistent line¡ªAyda worked her way into the old home. Fuel splattered onto her shoes and jeans as she trailed it up the stairs and onto the porch. This feature posed the greatest obstacle. Getting the flame to travel up them could potentially be a hassle. She made sure to oversaturate this area, just to be safe.

    But, that was a bridge she''d cross only at the right time. Right now, the bigger issue was just finishing the job. To that effect, Ayda proceeded through the conveniently open front door, trailing gas behind her all the while. The smell of it stung her nose. All the more reason to be done with proper haste.

    The ancient house opened up immediately to a long, narrow hallway, stairs to the second floor against the far wall, and four rooms¡ªtwo on either side¡ªwhich led to areas she didn''t care about. Whatever color the walls may have had faded long ago, replaced by various shades of dull grey. It smelled of heat and mold. Breathing this kind of air for too long probably wasn''t good for her lungs.

    A few feet through the door, Ayda paused pouring. She had no idea where the target was, and only so much fluid to spare. No need to waste it while wandering aimlessly. She did have a rough estimate, though, as to the location of the finish line. She''d bet half of her considerable inheritance it was in the basement, if this house even had one.

    So, her current job was to find the descendant stairs, and the natural place to look was near the steps going up. Ayda kept a brisk pace toward the end of the hall. The men outside, while incapacitated, could wake up at any moment. A sneak knife to the back would really kill the mood. The quicker she could get in and out, the better.

    Everything looked fine. The coast was completely clear as she approached ever closer to the corridor''s end. Her progress, however, would be suddenly and stupendously impeded. From the left walked a hulking figure, a tall man broad and the shoulders and bristling with muscle, a single-edged shortsword in each hand. Donned in grey and black urban camouflage, he was a little bit hard to see in the dimly lit house. A harness hung from his shoulders; a pistol firmly strapped to his hip. Dim light reflected off his silvery skin. He stood at the mouth of the hall, menacing down upon her. Ayda stopped in her tracks. Suddenly limp fingers lost their grasp on the jerrycan. It fell to the rotten floorboards with a loud metallic clang. Tahoe.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 30: End of the Line Pt. 2

    Impossible. Even thought she saw it with her own eyes, Ayda refused to believe in the validity of this moment. It simply made no sense whatsoever. No version of reality or logical thinking could rationalize this moment, and yet she stood face-to-face with it. Her heart sank and mind raced, a million thoughts running through her head. She was a tornado of emotion, angry, anxious, and afraid all at once. More than anything else, however, what she felt was dread.

    "No," she breathed, slowly shaking her head. "It can''t be. What... what are you doing here?"

    "Waiting for you, of course," replied Tahoe in his disturbingly familiar New Zealand accent.

    "But, how?" Ayda demanded. "How did you even know I''d be here?" She could not keep despair from entering her voice. At her question, Tahoe only laughed, a low and gritty sound like sandpaper on tree bark.

    "You must think you''re so clever," he mocked. "Or, maybe you just think I''m stupid?"

    He allowed the question to hang in the air, waiting for an answer. Ayda could form none of the infinite, tumultuous thoughts running through her head into coherent words. At a lack for a response, Tahoe continued his little monologue.

    "I had the delivery van disassembled the moment my driver said someone may have messed with it. We found your little tracking device and I let deliveries continue as normal because, sooner or later, they would lead you here."

    "And you''ve, what, been waiting for me the whole time?" Of all the questions Ayda could think to ask, why that one? There were a million better options. Why was that what came out of her mouth?

    "I think of it like a mini-vacation," Tahoe confirmed. "It''s nice to get away from the office once in a while."

    "And you''re men outside? You were willing to just let them die?" Ayda purposely let disgust creep into her voice.

    "Their orders were to lead you through the hole in the side of the house. Clearly, they didn''t do a very good job." By his tone, he felt nothing for his fallen underlings; a remorseless enabler.

    "Is this even a meth lab, then?" Now that was a question Ayda should have been asking, instead of wasting time on the how and why.

    "But of course," Tahoe nodded. "You''d have no reason to stick around if it wasn''t. These drugs are rather important to my fledgling empire, and I won''t let you jeopardize them." He pointed with the tip of a sword, as if that were supposed to intimidate her.

    "Good," Ayda replied, "because I came looking for a fight."

    The battle stance she assumed, here, was different than normal. She held her staff off to her right side just above the hip, top end pointed at the center of Tahoe''s chest. Her advantage in this fight was reach, and a thrusting posture allowed her to freely abuse it.

    Tahoe stayed in the same position with his sword also pointed toward the opposition. He did not lack for motion, however. The skin on his face changed. Liquid metal overtook it, very much like boiling mercury flowing downhill. It over took every exposed inch of his expression until not an ounce of flesh was left, replaced by solid steel.

    This was his superpower, the thing which allowed him to rival Ayda, to withstand her attacks. A wave of dread washed over the girl. Standing before her was the first person to beat her since entering the States, the man responsible for the long scar on her back. She could still feel the way his cold metal ran through her flesh. Beads of sweat gathered on her brow. She took a ragged breath in, and then out.

    Just like their first encounter, Ayda was amazed by Tahoe''s ferocity. There was no jockeying for position, nor sizing up of the competition. He charged straight into combat with little care for tactics or his own personal safety. Ayda attempted to assume a defensive posture¡ªto raise her staff over her head¡ªbut the weapon collided with the walls on either side at an awkward angle.

    She fought with the thing, but it was no use. She couldn''t maneuver efficiently in such a tight space, and Tahoe was getting closer. In a last ditch effort, Ayda widened her grip at held the staff as high up as possible. It hit the ceiling, but also protected her. Tahoe slammed down with both swords, a strike with such raw power it forced Ayda to take a step back or else topple over.

    The two stood there for a moment trying to gain leverage, but Tahoe was not interested in binding with the girl. He disengaged and started a flurry of vertical attacks, spinning around for slashes one after the other, a lacerating windmill of death. Ayda was barely able to block them. In such tight quarters, she resorted to batting each away with the top of her own implement. In the end, Tahoe ended up striking five times.

    Ayda had to fight back. She was losing momentum. Tahoe left no opening after his attacks, but it didn''t matter. The teenager just had to get points on the board. She jabbed forward three times, each at a different height and accompanied by a blast. They were solid attacks, easily enough to take out any normal combatant, but Tahoe blocked them as if they were nothing. Her blasts had literally zero effect.

    Tahoe countered with a similar technique, using both his weapons to stab rapidly all over the place. Ayda deflected all of them. She thrust low at his ankles. He stepped back, out of the way. The girl used the accompanying blast to kick her point off the floor and accelerate it into a vicious uppercut. Tahoe barely manged to avoid it. He threw a neutered sidekick¡ªwhich Ayda blocked¡ªthen followed up immediately with a lateral face slash.

    Ayda disengaged and faded back, coming to rest against a door jam behind her. Here she paused for a moment to consider her options. She was quite limited in this hallway, and while Tahoe was as well, his weapons fit the situation much better. Something had to be done to at least attempt an acquisition of advantage.

    Tahoe came forward. He sliced at her neck with a movement of mostly elbow and wrist, a motion he barely had enough room to complete. Ayda slipped out of the way, and into the room behind her. She expected the man to immediately follow, but he did not. His weapon had become lodged in the old wood. He wrestled with it, desperately trying to remove the thing. He was off-balance, open.

    Ayda seized the moment, leveling a full-force push kick into his hip. Without his strength fully centered to keep him grounded, the ensuing explosion tossed Tahoe not just into the rotten wood behind him, but through it entirely. The metal man crashed through in a dazzling display of dust and splinters. Ayda followed without a moment''s hesitation, even before the smoke settled.

    They ended up in the dining room, a mostly wide open square space. When Ayda arrived her opponent was just getting up from the pulverized remains of a long, rectangular table. The teenager charged in and accelerated her staff straight down. At the last possible moment, Tahoe got to his feet and stepped out of the way, but could not avoid the shockwave. He braced against the impact, sliding backward as chairs and debris flew around the room.

    While he regained his balance, Ayda pushed the offensive. With an upward sweep, she launched a mostly intact chair at Tahoe. The man hunched at the impact, but it seemed to have little palpable effect on him. He began to walk. Ayda threw another chair. This time Tahoe did not react at all. The furniture splintered against his chest. The only sign of damage was a rip in his shirt, which revealed only cold metal below. Ayda stepped to her left and tossed a third and final projectile, with exactly the same result. Tahoe reached her. She prepared to fight.

    Tahoe struck diagonally downward twice in an X pattern, one sword and then the other. Ayda blocked both, taking a step back each time. Her back hit the wall, but she did not retaliate. This clearly took Tahoe off-guard, as he paused for a second as if gearing up for her counter. He gladly accepted the lack thereof, however. He came down diagonally again with both blades. This time, Ayda slinked out of the way. Without a flaw, the girl ducked right under his arm. The blade met only aged wood.

    The man went to extract it, but found he could not. His weapons lodged themsleves firmly into the wall, biting only deeper with each pull. It was an exact repeat of last time. Also, like last time, Ayda capitalized on the moment. She whapped Tahoe on the kidney. The accompanying burst separated him from the weapons, but also dislodged them from the wood. they went flying out into the hall somewhere. Ayda paid it little mind. She''d accomplished her goal of disarming the foe, which was all that really mattered.

    Aware of his sudden and complete disarmament, Tahoe popped away from the wall. Ayda pushed her advantage even further. She stepped forward, spun around and twirled her staff to build momentum. Tahoe planted his feet. Ayda channeled all her strength into the staff. It glowed an even brighter purple than usual, almost blinding in its brilliance. With everything she could muster, she struck at Tahoe''s head. He put a metal forearm up to intercept the blow.

    A deafening blast filled the room. The entire house shook. Chairs and rubble inside the dining room slammed against the walls and broke through the windows. Somewhere upstairs glass broke. A calamitous clatter fell somewhere on the far side of the house as part of the ceiling collapsed. Cracks formed in the walls while boards within audibly shattered. All this, from the shockwave Ayda imparted through Tahoe and into the structure below him. The only immovable objects were he and Ayda. The latter bared down with all her might. The former stood stalwart and still, completely unaffected by the attack.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Unaffected. He took no damage, showed no sign of wear and tear. While not quite her absolute strongest, that was one of the most powerful attacks Ayda could manage under normal circumstances. And yet, Tahoe didn''t even flinch. All that effort, all that energy, and it meant nothing. Ayda''s heart fell to the ground. Her mind went blank. She didn''t know what to do.

    Tahoe took advantage of the girl''s momentary petrification to kick her in the knee. Ayda''s leg bent at an awkward angle and she took a step back. Instinct overrode everything else. She lashed out with a lateral slice, but Tahoe ducked under. Ayda transitioned smoothly into a downward chop. Tahoe rose and blocked with crossed forearms, deflecting both the blast and the object itself. The girl recoiled, fighting the redirected momentum. At almost the same time, Tahoe slammed an overhead punch into her jaw. Ayda wasn''t anywhere near fast enough to avoid the blow. She reeled back, off-balance but not down and out.

    The man closed the distance with a quick jab-cross combo. Ayda blocked with her staff in much the same way she had in the hall, batting away each hit. Upon each defense, she felt herself grow more desperate. She attempted to check him with a short range swipe, little more than a ploy to break his momentum. Palm turned outward, Tahoe squarely caught the swing. The blast echoed with a strange hollow sound from inside his fist. With his free hand, Tahoe planted a trio of uppercuts into Ayda''s stomach, each more devastating than the last. Ayda grunted at each impact. Air escaped her lungs. Tahoe released the staff. The girl stumbled back, gasping to catch her breath.

    "Ayda!" The voice of Elliot suddenly shouted through her earpiece, but she ignored him entirely.

    The teenager took a few deep inhales before rushing her opponent with a primal scream like a creature possessed. Exhausted arms made for sloppy work. Tahoe sidestepped the charge, allowing the girl to run past. He kicked her in the back as she did, more to add insult to injury than anything else. She put up her hands, barely stopping herself from smacking the wall.

    "Ayda, stop! Please!" Again, Elliot begged. Again, he received no response.

    Because it worked so well on the first attempt, Ayda came at her opponent a second time. On this occasion, Tahoe stood still. Ayda wound up for a big hit, and opened herself up for a perfect counter. Tahoe gave her a horrible backhand to the face before the strike could ring true. Ayda lifted off her feet, flew straight through the open door, and hit the opposite wall in the corridor. Stars swam in her vision as she fell forward to rest on her stomach. The girl did not get up, but simply laid there in a daze of defeat and pain. Tahoe laughed at her misery.

    "I should''ve just done this in the first place," he mocked.

    "Ayda, listen to me," Elliot said quickly through the earpiece. "You don''t have to beat him. All you came here to do is blow up the meth lab."

    "I can''t," Ayda argued, caring not if Tahoe overheard. "Not with him in the way. He''s just so much stronger than I am."

    "I bet he''s not faster." Elliot said after a moment''s consideration.

    Ayda''s eyes flew open, wide with realization at his words. She thought back to their first encounter, how easily she got away from Tahoe. The girl looked up at her opponent from where she lay to see him approaching with pistol in hand. He pulled back the receiver to chamber a single round.

    "I want you to know this isn''t personal," Tahoe said, inspecting his piece. "I always hate killing people like us¡ªthe uniquely gifted¡ªbut I''ll be damned if I let you destroy everything I''ve worked so hard to create, especially not when I''m so close to taking what''s rightfully mine." He held the gun just inches from her head. This was the moment to act. Ayda ran out of time. It was now or never.

    Tahoe pulled the trigger. Ayda pushed off the ground. A blast to the right propelled her in the opposite direction. She sailed just a few inches off the floor, catching herself on hands and knees about halfway down the hall. Tahoe''s bullet met only wood. In the clear, Ayda rose to her feet. All of this, in a matter of split seconds.

    No time to waste. Accelerating herself with blasts, in two long bounds Ayda cruised to the end of the corridor. Tahoe''s head whipped from where his target once had been, to where she currently was. He raised his weapon and fired two shots in her direction, but Ayda whipped around the corner just before his bullets tore through the wall where she''d been. With an audible growl, Tahoe barreled after her.

    The girl did not stop at the stairs to see if they went down as well as up. She could tell by the separation in the floor as she approached that they indeed did. Ayda gripped the bannister with one hand, holding on for dear life. Her body whipped around this anchor point. With a blast out behind, Ayda flung herself down the flight without ever touching the floorboards. A downward burst cushioned her impact with the concrete floor at the bottom. She landed with a bend of her knees, and immediately took off into the new area.

    But it was not what she''d expected. At the bottom of the stairs, what Ayda found was not a normal basement, but instead an entire laboratory. Longer than it was wide, it extended far beyond the boundaries of the house atop it. There were beakers, test tubes, and all kinds of chemistry gear, but the most impressive pieces of equipment were the several huge brewing vats. They were grey coated steel, each one extending almost all the way to the floor above. They whined with electric machinery, the sound of liquid churning barely audible over it. They were each connected to other bits and baubles Ayda didn''t really understand. She knew little about the process of making crystal, but this was a meth lab if she''d ever seen one.

    Hard soled boots clambered down the stairs after her. Ayda returned to her senses. There was still danger afoot. She dashed into the room proper, entering the jungle of vats and tubes. From here, the objective was pretty much the same as when she''d started, reek as much havoc as possible. The presence of a powerful enemy didn''t really change that.

    Tahoe made it to the bottom floor. He immediately fired several shots at her, but Ayda was a whirlwind of motion. She never stopped moving long enough to draw a bead on. Every footfall was followed by an explosion as she pushed off, rocketing herself toward another part of the room. Back and forth she went, bringing destruction with her all the while. Tahoe was good, but not that good. He had no hope of ever hitting such a nimble target.

    Now, Ayda didn''t even try going after the vats themselves. Experience with assumedly similar metal grades taught her just how strong it could be. Her powers would eventually break through it, but only after a lot of time and effort had been spent. Time and effort were not luxuries she could entertain, not with a madman taking potshots.

    Instead, she targeted the soft spots. Hoses, connectors, anything thin and brittle enough to be broken with a single hit. She launched over to a vat, slicing away its tube as she went. Clear liquid and pungent gas leaked into the room. Ayda touched the floor just long enough to throw herself in another direction and repeat the process.

    Tahoe ran into the center of the array. He spun this way and that, watching as his target zipped around him. He raised his weapon to take a shot, but only succeeded in poking a hole in a vat, and unintentionally furthering her agenda. That clearly wouldn''t work. So, instead he sunk to predicting her movements. She skirted close to him and he reached out to grab her, but missed by a wide margin. No matter what he did, Tahoe couldn''t get a hold of her.

    The basement began to stink of chemicals. Ayda knew how toxic all of these gases could be on their own, and especially when mixed together. The first symptom, as with many cases of inhalation, was lightheadedness. She had to leave before it got to that point. If she could actually smell the gases, then that probably meant there was enough in the room, anyway. Right? Time to be gone.

    Ayda severed a final tube, which made for almost all of them. She hit the ground and pivoted, kicking off back toward the stairs without missing a beat. Tahoe again began to shoot at her now that she was more or less coming right toward him. Surprisingly, even the leader of the gangsters wasn''t smart enough to learn how useless bullets were against her. She nullified them on the move, barely an effort on her part.

    The teenager blew by him, smacking a vat as she passed just for the fun of it. The metal deformed at the touch of her staff. Ayda dashed over to the stairs, Tahoe hot on her heels¡ªor, at least, as close as he could manage. Ayda had to stop at the base of the steps, just long enough to reorient herself. Tahoe took a shot. Ayda blocked it with her palm and then leapt up the stairs.

    In three solid bounds, she reached the summit. A quick turn started her back down the hall. She could see the exit, the light at the quite literal end of the tunnel through the open door. Her heart fluttered as she accelerated toward it. The finish line was in sight. She just had to reach it.

    Somehow, miraculously, her jerrycan was still in the hall, more or less where she''d left it. She slowed to pick it up. As Ayda ran, she dumped gasoline out behind her. The trail was inconsistent, but did a decent enough job of topping off what was already there.

    In a blink of an eye, she was outside the house. Here she finally paused, right around where she''d poured the first fuel track. She could see Tahoe charging down the hall. He raised his gun and began shooting, as if that would actually do anything. Holding her staff in one hand she blocked the projectiles. With her other, she reached into her pocket to retrieve a simple, green disposable lighter. She lit the flame, dropped the lighter onto the gas, and then bolted away from the house.

    The fuel went up behind her, traveling at the speed of fire toward the rotten home. Ayda ran away on purple blasts, quick as she could. She reached the road and turned right in the direction of her motorcycle at the same time as Tahoe exited the building. She could see her vehicle in the distance. Reaching it would not be a problem, but she''d like to be far enough away from the fire which burned toward the home all the while.

    She was close to her bike when the fire entered the house. All of the work she''d done in the basement paid off. The chemical soup released within the home immediately caught alight as soon as it made contact with the flame trail. Fire now clinging to the walls tracked through the hall and down the stairs, where it met the source.

    Ayda mounted her motorcycle and kicked it to life. She revved and took off down the road, but only made it a few feet before it happened.

    It was the loudest noise Ayda had ever heard as combustion and chemistry came together in one spectacular reaction. The house exploded. A voluminous ball of flame shot into the sky, blanketed by black smoke. Glass and splinters and metal flew in every which direction, propelled by the kinetic force of a chemical bomb. A visible shockwave rippled through the soft ground. Ayda could feel the heat even from where she stood.

    Her ears rang. Concussive force clouded her judgment. For a second she forgot what she was doing, even though she stood clutching handlebars. As Ayda''s hearing quickly returned, so did her perception of the moment. She just blew up an entire meth lab, and its owner likely still gave chase. She had to leave, right now. Ayda mounted her beast and kicked it to life. A peg of the throttle took her away from the scene, a smile on her face.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 31: Aftermath

    Low hung the sun over the horizon. Brilliant hues of red, and orange, and yellow cast over the sky, while specks of pale blue shone in the cracks. Between tall buildings¡ªwhich gradually grew more and more dilapidated¡ªoccasional golden beams streaked through stagnant air, illuminating both the people and cars as they passed by on the street below.

    A slight chill ran down Ayda''s spine as she rode through the tinted light, perhaps a bit faster than she should have been. It would be a frigid night, or, at least, as close to cold as Texas ever fell. A cool evening sounded good, a decent change of pace from the heat, both literally and figuratively, of earlier that day.

    Even though it had been about an hour of driving at this point, her heart still beat fast, though not quite as much as before. Adrenaline still pumped thin streams through her veins. She was awake and alert, despite the exhaustion which gripped her bones. Simultaneously Ayda wanted to bungee jump and take a nap. Both at the same time probably wouldn''t work out, though. But, it would be an impressive feat.

    No. Focus. Her mind felt like a beehive, buzzing constantly with uncontrollable activity. Eyes on the road. Fingers on the handlebars. Control the throttle. At least try to go the speed limit. Even though it just happened, dwelling on it would not help her. She had to live in the moment, the absolute current time and place. There would be time for much revelry momentarily.

    She hung a left onto a very familiar street, a route she''d been down many times in the past week. She wasn''t even at her destination yet, but her heart swelled with a warm, comfortable feeling. The promise of camaraderie and friendship filled her with an insurmountable joy. She pinned the throttle just a bit further. Hopefully no police crossed her path along the way.

    In the distance a brick building appeared, taller than it was wide. Ayda knew it well. It was a place of belonging, of happiness, and¡ªsometimes¡ªof solitude. Of course, her home also served all these purposes, but she needed to calm down before going there. This was the perfect place to calm down.

    Ayda parked her bike in the lot, switched it off, and made her way through the entrance. The long metal bar hanging from the vehicle was probably suspicious, but she didn''t care at all. Once inside the main hallway, she progressed to a door on the left. Quickly, the girl fished through her pockets to extract a key, which was promptly inserted into the lock. Without knocking or any indication of her presence, Ayda opened the door and stepped inside the apartment.

    There, she found Elliot sitting at his desk, hunched uncomfortably forward as he typed away at his computer, a bad habit of his. The man perked up immediately after seeing her entrance. He stood from his chair and took a few steps toward her.

    "Hey, you''re back," he said. "Are you alright? You didn''t really talk much on your way here and¡ª"

    Elliot''s words swirled uselessly around the room as Ayda pounced. Again without warning she leapt forward and wrapped her entire body around him, holding herself up on his shoulders while her legs gripped his waist. Elliot stepped back to brace himself against the sudden, and surprisingly heavy, weight on his shoulders. That second part he kept to himself, though. The slightly older man returned the embrace in kind, pulling her even closer into a hug so tight it almost hurt.

    "I did it," she nearly whispered in his ear. "We did it, El."

    "We did, didn''t we?" Elliot said, as if the reality of their accomplishment just hit him. "We really did."

    Ayda lowered her feet to stand, mostly because hanging from Elliot far too much effort after the day she''d had. Otherwise, she would''ve stayed like that. The hug was nice, and exactly what she needed. But this was nice, too.

    The embrace maintained a moment longer, each participant taking solace in the contact of the other. Ayda''s breaths were slow and relaxed. The adrenaline slowly drained from her body. Her heartbeat lazed to a normal rate. But she wasn''t the only one. Ayda could hear Elliot''s heart also slow. He must have been anxious while waiting for her return, and she knew it made him nervous whenever she fought. She could only imagine what such a large, harrowing battle did to him.

    With a deep breath in, and then out, Ayda released her friend. The two separated at the same, uncommunicateded moment. She raised her brown eyes to his. There was gentleness in the latter set, mixed with concern and kindness, but those two were always present. That may have been what Ayda liked most about him. Elliot wouldn''t hurt a fly, much different from many of the men she usually interacted with, but that wasn''t a fair comparison.

    "Are you really okay?" Elliot asked, gesturing toward a visible bruise on her right bicep.

    "I''m fine," reassured the teenager. "A little banged up, but I''ve had worse." Ayda plopped down on the couch, more of a fall than an actual sit. The furniture shifted back about an inch at the sudden weight. She let her head crest over the back cushion to stare at the ceiling.

    "And are we gonna talk about what happened?" Eliot continued to prod, stepping around the front of the couch. Ayda lazily turned her head toward him, still on the cushion.

    "What do you mean?" She asked.

    "You know very well what I mean," said Elliot. "The fight, with Tahoe. It didn''t go well. He had his way with you."

    Eliot knew he was treading on thin ice with this line of conversation. Not only did he bring up an embarrassing loss, he also¡ªif indirectly¡ªinsulted the form of a vainglorious warrior. Add on top of that Ayda''s boundless confidence and superpowers, and Elliot set himself up for potential disaster. It was a talk, though, they desperately needed to have, and sooner rather than later. Nothing had been done since the previous encounter between Ayda and Tahoe, and this last fight proved just how little progress had been made in circumventing the problem.

    His fears in broaching the subject were quickly revoked. Instead of fire, all Ayda felt was acute self-pity. With a sigh she leaned forward, letting her head hang just slightly. She cradled her right cheek in the palm of her hand.

    "I don''t know how to beat him, Elliot," she admitted. "I mean, my entire combat strategy is ''hit it until it breaks.'' What am I supposed to do when that doesn''t work?"

    "You beat our A.I training program a while back, remember?" Elliot quickly recalled a previous test in which Ayda fought against a hardlight projection which she also couldn''t physically hurt.

    "That fight had rules, El. Tahoe is trying to kill me. There are no rules on the battlefield."

    Ayda covered her face with both hands and let out a long breath. Elliot know what this gesture meant. The girl made this exact motion whenever she was frustrated, and needed a moment to think. To her, this was not a complete victory. She may have destroyed the meth lab, but the fight was still lost. Her pride was hurt.

    Elliot sat gently on the couch next to her. He placed a soft hand between her shoulder blades and made slow circular motions, all in an effort to comfort the tense and trialed teenager.

    "We''ll think of something, okay?" He said lowly. "Tahoe''s tough, but he''s not invincible. No one is."

    "Tell me about it." Ayda said, voice muffled by her palms.

    Elliot did not respond, opting instead to place his hand on her opposite shoulder. As soon as he did, Ayda lowered her hands and held them palm up in front of herself, another show of vexation.

    "It would''ve been easier if my staff wasn''t getting in the way," Ayda said, dropping her hands.

    "Your staff?" Elliot questioned, straightening as his hand fell to his side.

    "Yeah," Ayda confirmed. "It''s too long. It kept getting caught on stuff. I mean, he had the same problem, but it was still annoying."

    Elliot considered this for a moment, a cursory scratch of nonexistent facial hair as he did.

    "I might be able to do something about that," he said. "Just give me a little time."

    "Sure, whatever," Ayda agreed, probably not really hearing him. She stood up and walked toward the kitchen, but did not actually enter it.

    "I bet," began Elliot, chasing after her, "kicking the snot out of some more drug dealers would make you feel better. Want me to set up a meeting for tomorrow?"

    "No, not yet," Ayda denied. "I think we both need a break." She turned to him with a half-smile, the most she could do to reassure him. "We''ve both earned a day off."

    "Really?" Elliot raised an eyebrow. "That''s not what I expected you to say."

    "I just blew something up. I think that deserves a break." Ayda clarified, sliding by him and back into the living room. As Elliot turned, he rolled his eyes. He was getting tired of following her around.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    "Alright, I get it. Just keep me in the loop, okay?" He said.

    "You''ll be the first to know if anything comes up," agreed the girl. "And I''ll call you tomorrow to talk about our plans moving forward." She hadn''t the faintest idea what to do next, but he didn''t need to know that.

    "Okay," nodded Elliot. Ayda returned the motion, then turned around and headed for the hall. "Where are you going now?" He called after her.

    "To use your shower," she shouted back. "I can''t go home looking like this."

    ''"Oh," Elliot looked away awkwardly. "Alright. Go ahead, then."

    He slowly made his way around to the couch and sat upon it. Having an underage girl naked in his apartment always made him a little nervous despite how well they knew each other, even if she were on the other side of a locked door.

    ¡­

    Late the next night, well after the sun sank below the horizon, Ayda found herself¡ªperhaps strangely¡ªin the garage belonging to the Belmont family. Or the hangar, as she liked to call it, for all the vehicles inside. Just like she''d said to Elliot, the teenager took the entire day off. She did literally nothing except sit in her room watching internet videos and occasionally playing a video game. But the time for inaction was over. Finally, in the wee hours of the night, she had something to accomplish.

    All around her in the garage were vehicles, most of which were never actually used. Like many aging and unfathomably rich gentlemen, Bernard had a collection of classic automobiles. A red Mustang, blue and white Bel Air, green Dart, yellow Diablo, and a bunch of other old cars, many of them more expensive than some low-end houses.

    There were other, more practical vessels as well, most notably the now somewhat old Phantom still used as a family car. The space also played host to a black SUV, and a grey pickup truck Bernard used for work on extremely rare occasions.

    These cars occupied a large chunk of real estate and many had been acquired for a hefty sum. The vapidity of owning so many valuable objects when others had so little bothered Ayda to no end. She still remembered the poverty of her home country, and what it felt like to live as a prisoner with literally nothing. While she was appreciative of her considerable wealth, Ayda tried to moderate her spending, only buying the things she needed. There were no twenty-thousand dollar handbags in her closet.

    The most expensive thing she owned was her precious motorcycle, against which she now leaned, ankles and arms crossed. The tail end of a modern Metal song blared out through a singular speaker, not the best sound quality but usable in a pinch. Ayda had come all the way out to the garage with the express intention of listening to the radio. She hadn''t a stereo in her room, and using the one downstairs would likely awaken her family. As for the transceiver in her phone, she''d never used it before and lacked the patience to figure it out now. This was all around the easiest option.

    The song was not one she''d ever heard before, as was often the case with these late night radio stations. The further one traveled from prime time listening hours, the more eclectic became the soundtrack. She didn''t care about the music, anyway. Her intentions lay elsewhere, in something with considerably greater substance.

    As the song ended, it was replaced by a quite familiar DJ, a fast talker with a slightly high-pitched voice, not unlike the standard college station fare. This man¡ªwho went by the handle Casey Calamity¡ªwas far and away her most ardent supporter in town. Perhaps Ayda was a bit biased, but this was her favorite radio program on the air.

    As Casey''s voice replaced the humdrum melody, Ayda turned around, placing palms flat on the seat of her motorcycle. Her ears attuned to the sounds of speaking, an attempt to digest every word individually, as if they all were of great import.

    "And that was Monster Force with Yarn, an oldie but a goodie," said the DJ. "Before we get on with more music, there''s something I''d like to talk about. By now, I''m sure you''ve all heard about the meth lab explosion out in the boonies," he said. Ayda shifted closer to the speaker. "It''s old news, right? I mean, it happened yesterday, so why am I talking about it now? Because, dear listeners, my good friend inside the police department has let me in on some juicy bits of info the general public doesn''t have access to yet. I''m sure you''ll hear about this in the coming days, but as of right now this story is exclusive. I am the first one to report on it, and I may be the only one to give a hard, honest opinion."

    He paused, audibly shuffling around papers through the speaker. Ayda again shifted her weight, but this time from genuine discomfort. He as talking about her, about what she''d done. This was what Ayda had been waiting for.

    "Reports from yesterday said details were scarce, but the explosion was said to have been the result of gang-on-gang violence. One of the gangs in town clashed with the Chinese Triad and apparently won, blowing up the lab in the process. I''m sure I don''t have to tell you how fishy that sounds. Looking at the data presented to me here, there a quite a few holes in the plot.

    "Firstly, if this was an incident of gang crime, why were so many left alive? The confirmed death toll is only three. Wouldn''t a rival gang be more intent on outright killing an enemy? Speaking of injuries, I find the nature of them a bit odd. Almost all of the gangsters displayed signs of blunt force trauma, not the kind caused by a shockwave, mind you. They appear to have been hit by a very heavy and broad object. If this were two gangs fighting, wouldn''t they be just shooting at each other?

    "And that bring some to my third point, the bullets. Or, rather, complete lack thereof. The collection of slugs and casings found on the scene is simply scarce, not nearly enough for a pitched firefight. Let''s also talk about the status of the recovered bullets. Most of them are either flat or shattered, as if they hit a wall, yet they were found out in the open, nowhere near the house, almost as if the wall they hit isn''t there anymore. So, either this fictional rival gang charged into battle carrying riot shields, or something else is going on."

    Involuntarily, Ayda balled her hands into loose fists. This was it. He was about to mention her. Her breathing slowed. She kept completely motionless, for any sound may drown out part of the segment.

    "I think this is an obvious police cover-up. There''s something they don''t want us knowing about. I think our leather-jacketed hero is involved. We know the vigilante has had it out for the Triad drug dealers for a while now, and going directly after their supply is a logical next step. It would explain the lack of deaths, the blunt force trauma, the strange bullets, and the overall efficiency of the job. To me, all signs point toward her.

    "If you''re listening right now, vigilante, I just want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. I want to thank you for everything you do to keep the city safe, for putting yourself in harm''s way night after night. Organized crime is a blight on these streets, and it''s time someone took a stand. I would encourage all citizens to take a more active role. Report suspicious activity whenever you see it, and be on the lookout for anything shifty. The vigilante is doing her part, and we can do ours."

    After that, Casey faded away to a moderately tempoed electric guitar arpeggio. This was a song Ayda recognized, one she''d heard on the station before. A wide smile stretched across her face as she straightened, still peering at the source of the sound. As always, Casey delivered a riveting and truthful report, a glowing review of previous events.

    The teenager always enjoyed listening to his opinions, again for perhaps biased reasons. She realized this was, at least partially, a stroking of her ego, but that''s not necessarily a bad thing. In the shadows was the safest way to conduct her work, but it could be taxing at times. A little recognition went a long way. Casey reminded her she was not truly alone, that plenty in the city supported her cause. She hadn''t exact figures, but if Casey''s listeners were anything to go by, her advocates numbered in the thousands.

    His call to action was also appreciated. The fans she had in El Puerto likely outnumbered the Triad. As Casey said, they were all citizens of the same city, and everyone was responsible for keeping it safe, to an extent. Ayda wished not for the common folk to put themselves in harm''s way, but reporting possible crimes to the police would be an aid insurmountable.

    Ayda would have continued listening to the radio, at a lack of anything better to do, but at that moment her phone rang. She quickly turned the radio down until it became background noise. She dug into her pocket to extract the device, checking the caller ID before allowing a response. A swift swipe to the right and a lift to her ear answered the call.

    "Hey, El," she greeted the person on the line. "Did you listen to that DJ I told you about?" She smiled, knowing she''d got him before he even spoke up.

    "What the..." Elliot trailed off. "How did you know that''s what I was calling about?"

    "Because you called immediately after his segment about me ended, on the same day I told you about it in the first place," Ayda offered a somewhat long winded explanation. "It''s not that hard to figure out."

    "Yeah, but still..." Elliot thought about this for a moment, but dropped the topic. "Anyway, it sounds like at least someone''s on our side."

    "There are a few reporters and bloggers out there, but he''s definitely the most vocal," agreed Ayda.

    "He seemed pretty well informed, too," commented Elliot. "Some of the stuff I''ve seen is blatantly wrong."

    "Yeah, it helps that his information is mostly factual," said the teenager. "Word''s getting out, slowly but surely." Distantly, Ayda wondered whether that was a beneficial thing or not.

    "Hey, about that," Elliot began cautiously, "the whole thing about word getting out? I''ve been thinking, and¡ª"

    "Oh God, not again," interjected Ayda, feigning concern.

    "Shut up, I''m serious," Elliot fought back. He cleared his throat before continuing. "I''ve been thinking, if you''re gonna be in the public eye, you should have a codename."

    "A codename?" Ayda raised an eyebrow and took a step away from her bike.

    "Yeah, like Wolverine, Captain America, or Spider-Man!" Elliot said. "It''s to protect your secret identity."

    "And let me guess, you already have something in mind." This was not a question from the girl, but a statement of fact.

    "Alright, stick with me on this one." Elliot didn''t even try to deny it. "What do you think about Pulse?"

    "Pulse?" Repeated the teenager, face contorted in pure puzzlement.

    "Yeah!" Confirmed her friend. "It makes sense because your powers are like little pulses of kinetic energy."

    Ayda gave a small chuckle. "El, do you hear yourself right now?" She paused to let him respond, which he did not. "What, are you gonna tell me to prance around in fluorescent spandex next?" Even though he was not there, the teenager could feel him wilt through the phone. "I don''t need a codename. Even if they know about me, no one knows who I am. I''m fine as just Ayda."

    "I... kinda thought it was a good idea," Elliot almost whispered, voice small as his spirits.

    "Your heart was in the right place," Ayda offered as the closest she could muster to condolences. There was a short pause, as neither was really sure how to continue the conversation, although Elliot probably didn''t feel much like talking. "Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?" Asked the girl.

    "No, I don''t think so," Elliot said, sounding considerably brighter now that the moment of rejection passed.

    "Alright, I''ll talk to you later then, okay?" Ayda smiled.

    "Okay, goodnight," dismissed Elliot.

    "''night," echoed the teenager, hanging up the call.

    She replaced the phone in her pocket and made for the exit of the garage. A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over her in the process. This had been her first proper day off in a very long time. Ayda hadn''t realized how tired she was until just then. Her lids felt as though leaden weights pulled them down. In this moment, the only thing she wanted to do was sleep like a rock. Upon reaching her room, she didn''t even bother changing into more appropriate sleepwear before collapsing on the bed. Even superheroes needed their super sleep.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 32: New Toys

    What was supposed to be just one day of rest and relaxation turned quickly into three whole days of absolutely¡ªand quite literally¡ªnothing. It happened quickly, long before Ayda even really knew what was going on. The moments strung together into one mostly incoherent mass. The only thing she really could gleam was it started on a Wednesday, but what exactly happened and when was a big blur.

    For three days, Ayda sat on her laurels. For three days, she occupied her time with everything except crime fighting. She talked with friends, payed stupid video games, watched television, even did homework, pretty much all of the stuff she normally spared no conscious for. Now they fought for real estate inside her cranium.

    It felt kind of good, not having a care in the world. These things were mundane, even a little boring at times, but it was a boredom she welcomed with open arms. For a short span she felt normal, like just another seventeen-year-old American girl living a life of school, friends, and fun.

    But it was weird. By the end of the second day, an inescapable scratching formed in the back of her mind, a constant nag she couldn''t quite pinpoint. She''d relaxed for far too long, remained idle for a greater span than she had in what at least felt like a very long time. In the several weeks since taking up the mantle of vigilante, her brain had became used to the stress of fighting the Triad day in and day out. Without that source of stimulus, she didn''t know what to do with herself.

    It had become a part of her, an inescapable side of her personality. Almost like a second skin, this persona clung to the teenager with a grip impossible to break from. She was the vigilante, and the vigilante was her. They were the same person, expressed through radically different means. How could one exist without the other? What was she supposed to do with herself?

    Through all of that, though, she remained calm. A lack of stress, while strange, was also refreshing. Ayda thought with a level of clarity she''d not experienced in a very long time. She was relaxed and completely calm. Her mind and body made the necessary adjustment almost immediately, a reallocation of mental resources to things other than actual work. Distantly, Ayda realized this was how a weekend felt. It had been so long since her last extended period of time off, she''d forgotten.

    When the sun rose on the fourth day, Ayda had already decided this would be her entrance back into the fray, her return to form. Instead of dread or dissatisfaction at returning to work, she felt anxious. For how refreshing her little break was, its appeal wore thin by the end. The energy in her young body yearned to get back out there and fight the good fight once more.

    Ayda couldn''t help but wonder, then, why she found herself walking the halls of the Belmont International Research and Development labs, as opposed to resting, or training, or literally anything else. She strode a pace behind Elliot, dressed in his white lab coat and a green sweater he looked absolutely ridiculous in. "Preppy" was not his style.

    The silence between them was... uncomfortable. Elliot had a generally excited air about him. He didn''t show it, of course, but the poor man was about to burst. He gave off an aura almost disturbing in its intensity. Ayda couldn''t stand it.

    "So, why am I here?" She asked as the two of them walked the narrow metal hallway.

    "I''m still not telling you," replied her friend. "It''s a surprise."

    Ayda''s shoulders sagged. "Come on, El. You know I hate surprises."

    "You''ll like this one, trust me." Elliot did his best to sound reassuring, but the current atmosphere made him sound almost pretentious, like he lorded some grand knowledge just out of her reach. In a way he technically did, which only annoyed Ayda further.

    That was probably about the forth or fifth time she''d asked. In her experience, most people broke down around that number of questions and either gave her whatever information she wanted, or dropped a hint which allowed her to figure it out. Admittedly, though, most of that experience came from her time interrogating thugs. Elliot was far smarter than to fall for her petty schemes. She also didn''t have a show of force helping to loosen is tongue. So, for the time being, the teenager dropped the subject.

    The pair walked on for a few minutes more, the sound of footsteps the only accompaniment to their travel. Ayda divined long ago where the journey would end. This particular corridor provided access to many portions of the research facility, but the only time Ayda ever used it¡ªespecially if actual employees were involved¡ªwas to enter the testing chamber. It was the obvious destination.

    This little nugget of knowledge made her just the slightest bit anxious. Necessity provided the only logical reason why Elliot would bother presenting his surprise all the way out here, and especially in such a secure room. What could he possible have to show her which required such precaution? Part of her didn''t want to know, but a much larger partition needed to find out.

    After an appropriate amount of time, the two stopped before what appeared to be a simple dead-end wall. Elliot did the honors of opening it up. He walked over to it and slid up a hidden panel in the wall immediately to its right. Swift fingers entered a lengthy series of numbers, a sequence Ayda idly recited to herself. She''d keyed it enough times herself to know that code better than her own birthday, which was... sometime in summer? Ayda hadn''t thought about her birthday since, well, the last time it came.

    The moment Elliot pressed the final button, the dead-end before them parted, a quick separation right down the middle. It gave way to a perfectly circular, white padded room. Pillowy squares adorned the rounded walls. Thick foam covered the ground. It felt like densely packed sand beneath her feet as she followed Elliot inside.

    Whenever Ayda entered this space, it usually contained some sort of sciencey poppycock, machines and electronic devices she couldn''t even begin to understand. These things were used to measure her abilities. She''d become used to them. So, to enter and only see a small metal table caught her off guard.

    An object lay upon the table, clearly also made of metal and about a foot long. It was cylindrical in nature. Polished to a silvery shine, it reflected the artificial overhead lights in a similar fashion to a fun house mirror. It cast no glare, but instead showed a greatly distorted image of the ceiling.

    Over the years, Ayda had become quite accustomed to having mostly free reign over this room. Since tests within it were conducted completely and without compromise on her terms, she had the final say on any and all equipment and procedures. She was used to inspecting everything without question nor challenge. This instance was no different. The girl walked up to the object and took it in her hand, no hesitation to be had.

    She expected a solid metal cylinder, but upon handling it found this was not the case. Just by the weight alone, this thing was quite clearly a hollow yet sturdy construction. Not too heavy to lift, it bore a solid weight upon her palm, more than she''d expect for something so small.

    Now in closer proximity, she could see this was not a single piece. Rather, a quartet of ringed scallops were carved out of each end, very much like a telescoping police baton. Flat metal disks capped off either side. Ayda turned it around in her hand, trying to make heads or tails of it. While she did, Elliot sheepishly held out a hand to her.

    "I was hoping you wouldn''t do that," he said in reference to to how she just charged right in.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    "What is this thing, El?" She asked, completely ignoring him.

    "Your surprise," answered the scientist simply. "I wanted to present it to you, like a gift. Maybe I should''ve wrapped it?" He added offhandedly.

    "Alright..." Ayda trailed off. "So, then, what is is?" Repeated the girl.

    "Well, remember how you were complaining that your staff kept getting stuck on the walls in the meth lab?" Elliot began, drawing out his syllables in a sly way.

    "Yeah..." Ayda gave him a sidelong glance, not sure where he was going with this.

    "And how you always say how difficult it is to ride your bike with a metal pole hanging off the side?" Continued Elliot in the same tone as previous.

    "Yeah, I feel like I''m always pulling to the left." Just the mention of this topic was enough to irritate the teenager.

    "Well, I took it upon myself to fix all of those problems, and made you that," Elliot pointed to the little rod in her hand for emphasis.

    "Really?" Ayda looked down at the thing with renewed interest. "What does it do?"

    "It''s a collapsible staff!" Exclaimed Elliot, unable to contain his joy any longer.

    "Seriously? No way!" Ayda finally joined in his excitement. "So, what, do I just pull on the ends?" She began fiddling with one of the disks, twisting and pulling on it in a vain attempt to extend a side.

    "No, even better," clarified Elliot. The girl stopped to look up at him. "I was hoping you could use your powers to blast the sides in and out. That''s what the disks on the ends are for."

    "Oh, okay. That makes sense." Almost instinctively, Ayda held it in a ready position. She pivoted a quarter turn and lowered it to her hip line. "So, does it work?"

    "I don''t really know. I know the pieces slide pretty easily, but I can''t really test it without you," admitted Elliot.

    "Alright, I can do that," she said with a smirk. "Stand back."

    Before she even gave the order, Elliot had stepped far out of the way. She didn''t have to tell him twice. At this point, he knew better than to be anywhere near her explosions, even tiny, localized ones like these would likely end up.

    Ayda focused for a split-second. Power flowed through her veins. The world shifted into focus, an instantaneous change. The feeling of pure life coursed warm and firm under her skin, and she distantly wondered why she ever chose to spend any moment of her life away from these sensations. The staff glowed purple at her touch as energy rushed into it. The connection was strong. This was, by an enormous margin, the most pure metal she''d ever channeled into.

    The task required little in the way of effort. Ayda''s aim was pinpoint, accurate down to the millimeter, not that it necessarily needed to be. The girl let loose what she assumed was an appropriately sized blast, directly under the disk pointed away from herself. In one movement, the four links slid outward, extending with a pointed click. A mechanism inside locked them in place. A smile stretched across her face as she repeated the same motion on the other end with an exactly similar result.

    At full extension the weapon was the same length as her old staff, although noticeably heavier. There was a distinct taper on either side, necessary for the telescoping action. With both hands, Ayda gave it a sturdy shake. The points flexed and bent, snapping around their structural base just like a single, contiguous piece would.

    Elliot said she could both extend and collapse the sections with blasts. To test the theory, Ayda produced blasts on the opposite ends of the disks, this time simultaneously for the pair. A quick clink of sliding metal accompanied their shrinking form, back down to the little, compact form. One more time the girl produced blasts, and once again she held a full, five foot implement of war.

    For an even further test¡ªand to get quality assurance out of the way right then¡ªshe struck with a few practice swings, spinning it multiple times as she lashed out just to see how it performed in fluid motion. A few of the strikes were accentuated by small explosions which echoed off the ceiling, but not the soft walls. She came to an abrupt stop and held the thing horizontally in a loose grip in front of her, expression a mix of awe and pure delight.

    "This is amazing," she breathed. "Thank you so much, El!"

    Without a moment''s hesitation¡ªand still holding the staff in one hand¡ªshe threw her arms around him, a motion which he returned in kind. The embrace was brief, little more than a show of gratitude. Distantly, Ayda was aware this was the second time in less than a week she''d hugged him. These things became more frequent by the day. That was good, right? She had nothing to hide from him, especially after all they''d been through. Elliot deserved a hug every now and then.

    After a second, she released her hold on him. The two individuals took tiny steps away from each other to stand at a more appropriate distance for conversation. Ayda peered back down at the treasure in her hand. It''s construction marveled her to no end. She saw Elliot smile out of the corner of her eye, a knowing twitch of his lips.

    "You haven''t even seen the best part, yet," he said. "Twist it." At this order, Ayda gave him a curious glance. He gestured toward the object. "Go on, twist and pull."

    The movements Ayda made were slow and puzzled. What viable goal would twisting a piece of solid metal achieve? Still, the girl did as she was told, trusting Elliot had a good reason. She adjusted her grip toward the center of the thing. Wrenching motions with each hand in opposite directions manipulated the thing. It offered some resistance, but to her great surprise, it rotated at the perfect half-point. One spun up, and the other spun down in tandem to the control of their respective fists.

    Ayda stared down at it for a short moment before remembering the second part of the instructions. She pulled them apart. The two halves tore asunder, leaving her with a shorter metal rod in each hand, pointing opposite directions in a reverse grip. A confused interlude immediately was broken by a joyous grin.

    "That is so fucking cool," Ayda said.

    Simultaneously, she flipped the dual rods into orthodox grips, points facing upward toward the ceiling. At the same time, Ayda fell into a fighting stance. Her right stick went just slightly above her head, while the other remained parallel with her hip. Both menaced upon a shared focal point, her hypothetical enemy''s heart.

    In this stance she remained for a breath, but dropped it before long. The weapons fell to her sides. She needn''t test them. Since they were part of the same whole, their structural integrity and performance would be roughly the same as in staff form. Any further trials, while fun, only wasted her time with redundancy.

    "Now you don''t have to worry about fighting in close quarters," Elliot said.

    "Yeah, I think you just solved all of my problems," agreed Ayda. "I''m assuming I just put them back together and twist the opposite direction to go back to the staff?"

    "Yep," Elliot nodded. "If you look closely at the ends, you''ll see a bunch of little metal tabs. Those interlock so it won''t come apart when you''re fighting, unless you want it to."

    Ayda held one of the rods to her face. Indeed, just as Elliot claimed, each one had a series of metal teeth on thinner offset columns. These slotted right into little hollowed out portions on the opposite sticks. When spun together, the teeth interlocked much like the zipper on a coat. Ayda put the weapon back together and gave it a few hardy tugs, just to test the rigidity of it. It felt just like a single piece of metal, which was exactly what she wanted.

    It was perfect, everything she never knew she ever wanted. This one little tool really would solve all of her problems. No more avoiding alleyways or leaving it behind whenever venturing inside. She could even bring it to school, just in case of emergencies. It was an elegant weapon, a fine design by a master craftsman, which raised a question she hadn''t considered until just then.

    "When did you even have time to do this," she asked of Elliot, still opting to look at her new toy instead of him.

    "Believe it or not, I convinced Bernard to let me work on it on company time." Elliot stood a little straighter when saying this.

    "Seriously?" Ayda now diverted her attention to him with a raised eyebrow. "How''d you swing that?"

    "I don''t really know," he admitted with an awkward rub of his nape, "something to the effect of ''better equipment will make our tests more efficient.'' I didn''t think he''d actually go for it."

    "But we haven''t tested in weeks," countered Ayda.

    "I know," Elliot said. "I didn''t argue with him."

    "Good thing," Ayda said. "I wouldn''t have this, if you did."

    "Yeah," Elliot agreed. "Metallurgy isn''t really my forte, but I think it came out alright."

    "Shut up, it''s perfect."

    "Thanks. I''m glad you like it."

    At this point, Ayda could feel the conversation dying down. By the sudden change in atmosphere around Elliot, he felt it as well. It was time to leave, to move on to bigger and better things, to the rest of their respective days.

    "I can''t wait to crack some skulls with this bad boy," she said, pushing past him toward the exit. He pivoted around and fell in behind her.

    "Maybe you could just knock them out instead?" He suggested a more controlled solution. "Though, I''d be lying if I said I didn''t want to see how it performs."

    "Then it''s a good thing I''ve already scheduled a bust tonight," Ayda said as the two of them exited the room. Elliot stopped to quickly close the door, and the girl lingered in wait for him. When he was done, they resumed their trek out of the building proper.

    He was, perhaps, more excited than she was to test it out. Do what you love, and love what you do, right? It was just a small thing, but this little weapon¡ªand the versatility it provided¡ªhad the potential to completely change the game. Now Ayda could go anywhere and do anything unhindered by the implements she chose to wield. Criminals no longer had anywhere to hide.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 33: Call to Action

    A little more than a week passed by. Ayda quickly fell back into her old routine. On the first day back, she had been a little bit nervous about returning to form, especially after what felt like such a long time away. Old habits, however, died hard. Immediately after getting behind the handlebars of her mighty steed, everything slammed back. She remembered the best ways to negotiate and set up meetings, how to approach a situation, the quickest solution when the dealers tried to run, and everything useful she''d learned during her time as a semi-professional crime stopper.

    But old tactics accounted not completely for the ease back into a productive workweek. New tools assisted greatly in the process. Her new staff¡ªso expertly handcrafted by Elliot¡ªprovided ample opportunity to switch up her strategy, and finally fight just a little more on her terms. No longer did she have to avoid tight environments.

    A whole world of possibilities opened up to her, including alleyways and abandoned buildings. Drug dealers were certainly more receptive to meeting in secluded areas, and confined spaces made it harder for them to run. She could hide her motorcycle much closer by, making it easier to chase down any accomplices who tried to flee in their own vehicles. Ayda knew not the statistics involved, but by her untrained estimate, her efficiency rose by exponential figures, all thanks to a collapsible, separable staff.

    Time away from the front lines did more than refresh her body and mind. It instilled her with a new found appreciation for calmness, those mundane moments that comprise everyday life. With her first ever major goal accomplished¡ªblowing up a meth lab¡ªAyda found herself with something she hadn''t had for quite a long while: Free time. She could relax. She could take a step back, admire the little things, and the people who made them possible. Without a relentless end to pursue, Ayda finally had time.

    For the first time in what felt like forever, Ayda did things. She actually enjoyed going to school, hanging out with people her own age, filling her spongy teenage mind with knowledge. A break from battle, no matter how short, demonstrated beyond any shadow of a doubt the importance of balance, of breaking from routine. Everything in her life had importance. She had to pursue action, while cherishing peace.

    One such cherished moment was lunchtime, the twenty minute block each and every day where the students of her high school gathered in a cafeteria to break cheap, yeasty bread together. It was one of the only moments in a normal day she got to spend time with her other best friend in the whole wide world, Rudolph Steiner.

    Rudy sat a few chairs away from her, the only other occupant of a round table meant to fit eight. The angle and distance between the two of them was strange. Rudy was not quite next to Ayda, but not across from her, either. He lingered just outside of arm''s reach, though she could still lean over and grab him if the need arose. They''d arrived at the table in different moments. This configuration persisted because both were too stubborn to move.

    Ayda idly chomped on a chicken finger, while her friend bit down on a turkey sandwich he brought from home. They''d arrived early, and as such, people were still filling in around them. They congregated in groups, most only a few to a table, and allowed the two of them the same luxury. The sounds of rowdy chatter filled the air, slowly building as more people entered the space.

    For many of them, this would be the only free time they had for the duration of the school day. A little boisterous fun was well deserved. Ayda, however, did not dedicate much time to her studies. She had other things to do, things these people didn''t even know about. She could relate to their lack of empty moments, though.

    "Hey," Rudy said, lowering his sandwich. Ayda glanced up at him. "Did you hear about that party yesterday?"

    "You mean the one we weren''t invited to?" She joked, plopping a soggy french fry into her mouth.

    "That could be any party," Rudy quipped right back. "The cops got called and everything. I hear Ricky''s in a lot of trouble."

    "Who parties on a weekday, anyway?" Ayda asked, turning her full attention to him. "I mean, at least don''t come to school the next day if you''re obviously hungover. You''re just asking for trouble."

    "Not everyone''s responsible enough to figure that out," Rudy mused. "Fucking rich kids."

    Ayda rolled her eyes. "Don''t even get me started." Never mind the fact they both fit firmly within that age group.

    The conversation died down after that, but it was not a silence either minded. This was how it went for them. Little talks sprung up sporadically, interspersed with quiet moments. Being such a small clique, and neither of them particularly talkative¡ªthough not strong, silent types, either¡ªconstant communication was hard to come by. But they were comfortable around one another, even in complete quiet. They didn''t need to talk to feel close, to know the camaraderie of friendship. Simply being in the same space was more than enough.

    Her phone was on the table to the right of her meal. Rudy displayed a similar setup. She made not a habit of preferring technology over people, but a distraction every now and again didn''t hurt. If anything, access to a limitless knowledge base only spurred further conversation. The device vibrated. Ayda tapped the notification that popped up.

    The words which scrolled across the screen froze her heart in an instant. She read them twice, and then again, just to make sure they were correct, and not a result of misleading sentence structure. But they were cut and dry, words more horrible than she ever expected to see. "Active shooter situation at Persimmon Elementary School."

    Every ounce of color left her face, a considerable feat for someone of her complexion. Her heart skipped a beat, as she hadn''t the faintest idea how to respond to such news. All of this, however, was momentary. Anger replaced shock. In an instant, she knew what had to be done.

    "Hey... Rudy. I''ll... I''ll be right back, okay?" Her diction was slow and drawn out, brain struggling to divide attention between intervention and covering her tracks. Before the boy could respond, Ayda gathered up her phone and started toward the exit.

    "Oh, okay," Rudy called to her back. "I''ll be here, I guess." Confusion painted his face, but he went back to eating without further questions.

    A pair of doors led from the cafeteria out to the west side of the building. Coincidence played a part in the choosing of a table within a reasonable distance from them. It was simply the first empty place she saw upon entering the room. As Ayda made her way toward the exit, she was thankful for the circumstance. It certainly removed a layer of stress from the current endeavor.

    As the teenager drew a B-line to her goal, she set a pace somewhere between a casual gait and proper jog. Her mother would refer to this as a power walk. It looked ridiculous, but the locomotion was not an uncommon sight within these halls. Students used it quite often when in a hurry, yet unwilling to break the no running rule. Ayda entertained little affection for the rules, but sprinting across the cafeteria floor would¡ªif nothing else¡ªdraw undue suspicion. That was the last thing she needed.

    The facade kept up until she made it outside the building. The moment Ayda was through the doors she took off southbound, headed for the parking lot. She refrained from using the powers, though. Most students probably weren''t used to explosions on school grounds. Her full run was more than enough, though.

    While she moved, deft hands fished into her skirt pocket to extract the phone she didn''t remember putting away in the first place. With two button presses, Ayda dialed the first¡ªand only¡ªnumber on speed dial. The recipient picked up almost immediately.

    "Ayda," said the familiar and slightly distorted voice of Elliot. "Is this about the school shooting?"

    "Yeah," responded the girl. "How did you know?"

    "It just came across that news app you told me to download, so I guessed," he answered, followed by a sharp inhale. "Are you gonna do something about it?"

    "You''re goddamned right I''m gonna do something about it!"

    "Okay, so what do you need from me?" In direct contrast to his cohort, Elliot was calm and collected. One of them had to be, after all.

    "Persimmon is a rather new school, so I''m assuming it has some sort of camera system. I need you to hack it and send the feed to my phone. Can you do that?" This was the closest thing she had to a plan at the moment. It would have to do.

    "You got it," Elliot confirmed. "I''m at work, though, so it might take a minute or two," he warned. "Are you going bluetooth?"

    "When I get out to my bike, yeah. I''m putting you in my pocket in the meantime."

    Elliot offered a simple response, but Ayda missed it as she stuffed the phone in her pocket, just as promised. She continued to run on, focused entirely on the goal ahead of her, the parking lot. One step at a time. That was the only way she could get through this. Cross all the bridges in order, just like anything else.

    She made it out to the lot in record time, considering she couldn''t move with aid from her abilities. A glint of red caught her eye, and she dashed toward it. Without a single pause or slowing of pace, Ayda leapt up onto her motorcycle, lit the ignition, and peeled out through the empty space in front of her. The helmet which she hadn''t bothered with clattered to the pavement. It would have to be recovered later. There were bigger problems to attend to.

    The teenager didn''t even check for traffic before pulling a swift left turn to begin on her way to the crime scene. She only made it a few blocks, however, before pulling into a narrow alleyway. This was a maneuver she''d rehearsed rather extensively, an exit strategy just in case anything came up during school hours. It never hurt to be prepared after all, as this day proved. Ayda put down the kickstand and quickly swung her right foot off the vehicle, using the momentum to step in front of a saddlebag.

    From it, she first extracted a pair of black jeans. Ayda kicked out of her school shoes and swiftly slid the pants on underneath her skirt. One hand removed the now superfluous, latter garment with a zip and a tug. The other worked frantically at the buttons on her blazer. The coat flew off, followed directly by the blouse beneath to reveal a grey tank top which had been hiding under all of it. Ayda slipped into her signature cropped leather jacket, and then the black boots covered in fancy straps, also vital to her look. The aforementioned bluetooth headset slipped around the girl''s ear. Finally, a pair of sunglasses concealed her identity. With the costume change complete, the teenager mounted her steed yet again and burst from the alley and into the street on the opposite end of it. This entire process took only a few seconds.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Absolutely zero regard was paid to the speed limit as Ayda tore through El Puerto. The screeching roar of her engine echoed off the cityscape. Worried not was she about getting pulled over. Most of the city''s police presence would likely be at or around the school, which suited her just fine. Persimmon wasn''t necessarily far away, but every second she spent away could cost another young life. Fewer obstructions cut down on this risk by an exceptional factor.

    It amazed her how, in the face of such catastrophic tragedy, the whole city seemed so... normal. These people went about their individual daily tasks without a single care in the world. Citizens in cars grappled with midday traffic, while those on the sidewalk kept a normal, beleaguered pace. Surely such an important event already filled the radio airwaves, yet not an ounce of commotion showed in the drivers. There weren''t even any sirens this far out.

    Didn''t they care? Why weren''t they doing everything in their power to help out, even if it were just checking up on loved ones? Frustration and fury filled Ayda''s mind, not at the criminal she was doubtless about to face, but at the complete lack of action from those around her. Why, in a city of almost one million people, was she the only one capable of making a difference?

    Now, Ayda could''ve spend the rest of this ride stewing in her own thoughts, but as luck would have it, a distraction presented itself. All of a sudden, without so much as an interlude of ambient noise, Elliot''s voice filled her ear, flowing through the bluetooth headset over the sounds of the city.

    "Ayda, you there?" He said, speaking quickly as if to not waste her time.

    "Yeah. I''m on the move, if you couldn''t tell," replied the teenager.

    "Okay, I''m in. Sending the feed to your phone now."

    "Really?" Perplexity furrowed her brow. "That was quick."

    "You''re telling me," scoffed Elliot. "Their security system has no protection, not even a basic firewall. It''s like HBO for pedophiles."

    "Elliot!" Ayda couldn''t help but raise her voice at such an inappropriate comment.

    "What? It''s true," he asserted, but was met with only silence. He sighed. "Whatever. Open the screen sharing app on your phone, and it''ll take you to the security feed. The icons will be small, but you can switch cameras with the arrow buttons."

    "Can''t you switch on your side, too?" As Ayda recalled, screen sharing was just Elliot streaming his computer wirelessly to her phone. She could control the mouse by tapping the screen.

    "I''m at work, Ayda. I can''t just drop everything," denied her friend. "Do you need anything else?"

    "No, but I''ll let you know if anything come up. I''m keeping the call open in the meantime."

    "Okay," affirmed Elliot. "Just remember I might not be able to respond immediately."

    "Don''t worry about it," Ayda dismissed. "It''s just one guy. I doubt I''ll need your help."

    With that, the conversation died down. Both participants realized there wouldn''t be anything else to say on the subject, as all relevant information had been pretty well covered. As Elliot said, he was at work and hadn''t the time for idle chitchat. Ayda, on the other hand, harbored much more pressing concerns. She focused on the mission and drove on. Persimmon Elementary School was close.

    A pit stop had to be made on the way, a quick stepping stone between her and the final destination. Ayda pulled into yet another alleyway, this one only a couple blocks from the school. She switched off her bike and dismounted, leaving it behind in the slender shadow, but not before she grabbed up her staff in fully collapsed form.

    As much as she loved the bike, it was not the most common of models. Something so flashy and distinctive would stick out. Surely a crowd had gathered around the scene by now. Driving up with such a unique vehicle presented the possibility of someone tracing it back to her, and that simply wouldn''t fly. So, the teenager traveled the rest of the distance on foot, although it was a short trek.

    Persimmon was one of the fancier grade schools in town. A privately owned and operated establishment, it played host to only the most wealthy. Longer than it was wide, the building sat parallel with the road atop an unnecessarily long staircase of white stone. Brown siding covered most of the exterior, while white trim around the top and bottom edges fed into a pale, gently pitched roof. It had been a library at one point, but recently was bought and upgraded by a rich local family, who turned it into a school.

    Just as Ayda predicted, a throng of people gathered in front of the building, huddled around a perimeter cordoned off with police tape. She took a quick count of not the individual heads, but what kinds of folks the scene collected. She first noted at least three ambulances, but there may have been others around the sides of the school. One SWAT team accompanied the generous smattering of police officers but¡ªjust like the medics¡ªthere may have been more.

    What struck her was the quiet of it all. There were occasional murmurs from the people waiting there, or barked orders between officers, but otherwise the air stood stagnant. There were no sirens, no cries for help, no gunshots. Everyone simply looked on with anticipation and horror. They were helpless. An evil hand grasped at hundreds of small lives, and all they could do was watch in stunned silence.

    Ayda looked over the pedestrian crowd, and relief washed over her heart. There were adults mixed in, likely parents and teachers, but most of those who waited in the wings were children. They outnumbered the adults at least three-to-one, if not even more so. But, Persimmon was more than big enough to host a much larger student body. That meant there were still kids inside.

    The teenager paused for a moment, weighing her options. She could, of course, try to sneak her way inside. To find any portion not guarded heavily by police officers was wishful thinking at best, so that plan fell away. She could just bull rush them, push her way through before any of the cops had a chance to react, but that was liable to get her shot. The authorities wouldn''t just let her walk right in... or would they? Her actions as of late gained her some level of notoriety. Maybe they''d recognize her and accept the help of a lawless vigilante? No, it wasn''t a good plan, but it was the best she could come up with on such short notice.

    Ayda scanned the surrounding area. This would be easiest in a more isolated section, a place where the police cover was at least thinner by comparison. Most seemed concentrated around the center, where the civilians in need of protecting resided. Naturally, then, the wings supported a thinner load. Having approached from the west, Ayda was closer to that flank.

    Directly ahead of her were two police officers without an entourage of people or medical personnel. One was a Caucasian man in his mid-forties. The other, a tall African-American chap with broad shoulders, clearly the younger of the two. They appeared to have stepped off the set of a classic buddy cop film. Any other day, their presence would''ve been quite comical, but Ayda hadn''t currently the time for humor.

    She walked right over to them, head held high as if she owned the place, as if she belonged there. Confidence made every situation run more smoothly. Why should this one be any different? Hopefully she''d be able to get through without too much confrontation.

    The officer duo noticed her before she got too close, just as suspected. These were professionals at their craft, and likely had all their senses running on overdrive. The approach of a single person would surely register for them. The older man turned first, followed immediately by his partner. They both looked mostly unimpressed but also just a little curious. She watched their eyes drift from her face, to the weapon in her hand, then back again. Ayda would''ve paid them the same courtesy, but the men looked like just normal cops, no outstanding features or anything. No reason to pay them special mind.

    When she''d almost reached them, the older man took a step forward and held up a flat palm level with her chest.

    "I''m gonna have to ask you to stop, ma''am," he ordered. Ayda complied, halting just short of arm''s reach.

    "I need to get inside there," she said plainly. "I can put an end to this." A thick fog formed in her mind. There were a million other things she could''ve said, yet that was the only one which presented itself. She needed to get inside, to save these children. All sense and semblance was secondary.

    "You... what?" The white police officer wore the most purely bewildered expression Ayda ever saw on a human being. "This is a crime scene, you can''t just go waltzing in!"

    "I realize that, but I''m better equipped to deal with this than any of you," argued the teenager. "People will get hurt if you don''t let me in."

    "What are you gonna do, hit him with your stick?" The older man joked.

    "Yeah, that''s the plan. Do you know who I am?" Ayda finally asked the important question she should have opened with.

    "Wait, now that you mention it¡­" the tall, darker skinned man finally interjected. "The jacket, the staff, you''re that vigilante! The one who''s been beating up the Triad!"

    "That''s me," Ayda confirmed with a nod. "Are you gonna arrest me, or something?"

    "Prove it, then," challenged the old one.

    "What?" The girl retorted.

    "They say you have special powers or something, so prove it. Prove you''re the vigilante." The cop had a haughty air about him, like he''d just caught her in a lie. He had no idea.

    Ayda smirked. She raised her staff, still in small form, while presenting her free palm to the officers. She channeled an immense amount of energy into her empty hand. It glowed with her signature aura, slowly growing in brilliance as more power made its way into the appendage. She needed a lot of energy to make her hands light up like that. It almost felt like a waste.

    While the police officers watched on with wide eyes in their dumbfounded expressions, Ayda touched her free hand to her staff. It too began to glow purple, but even more intensely than her hand. It almost appeared stark white. Both cops looked away from it. Even through her sunglasses Ayda had a hard time starring directly at her own weapon.

    "I can''t demonstrate my blasts right now, because they sound just like gunshots and I don''t think the crowd would like them very much. So, this is all you get," Ayda explained.

    After a few seconds, she released her powers. The light from both her hand and staff ebbed away. She dropped them to her sides. The police turned slowly to look at her again.

    "Was that good enough, or do you want me to block some bullets next?"

    "Um¡­ no," the older cop said.

    "How''d you do that," inquired the younger. "Do you have an LED up your sleeve, or something?"

    "What?" Ayda honestly didn''t know how to respond to that.

    "Look, maybe you are the vigilante, maybe you''re not. Either way, we can''t let any civilians in or out until the area is secure," said the balding man.

    "It looks pretty damn secure to me," Ayda shot back, indicating the police presence. The cops were unmoved. "This is ridiculous! I am the vigilante. I can save everyone in that school! Just let me in."

    "Ma''am, we appreciate the offer," began the young cop, "but your help is unnecessary. We have the situation under control."

    "No you don''t!" Ayda kept her voice just barely below a yell. "If you had everything under control, the shooter would already be in cuffs but I don''t see him anywhere, do you?" She took a breath to calm herself down. "More kids are gonna die today if you don''t let me help, and then their deaths will be on you. Could you really live with yourselves?"

    The officers shared a glance. Ayda watched their unspoken conversation with a smug smile on her face. No one wanted the deaths of children on their conscience. She wished she''d been given telepathic powers, though, just so she could hear them mull it over in their heads. They turned back to her in almost perfect unison, and dashed her expectations.

    "I''m sorry, but we can''t let you in," said the older cop.

    "Seriously? This is bullshit!" Ayda threw her hands up in the air, then crossed her arms and quarter turned to stare at the school.

    "Let her through," ordered a sudden voice.

    Ayda turned toward the newcomer. Dressed in a police uniform complete with a hat, he must''ve been a whole foot taller than herself. He walked toward them with confidence in his ridged gait, made even more impressive by his muscular physique. Grey clung to his temples below light brown hair. A thick mustache decorated his lip. If not for the facial hair faux pas, he''d have been rather handsome for his middle age.

    "Captain?" Wondered the young cop aloud.

    "You heard me." The captain stopped just behind his underlings.

    "Sir, I don''t think¡ª" began the older officer.

    "I don''t care what you think, Lewis," the captain cut him off. "We''re under orders to stay back. She isn''t. Like it or not, she''s our best chance of getting everyone out of there alive. I''m ordering you to stand aside."

    Lewis, the older cop, looked from his superior officer, to Ayda, and back again. Ayda gave each of the men who''d stood in her way expectant looks, like a parent waiting for a child to do as they''re told. With a sigh, Lewis looked down at his shoes and stepped back. The younger cop hesitated for a second before doing the same, though he kept his gaze forward. Ayda didn''t even spare them cursory glances as she ducked underneath the yellow tape. She stopped for a moment in front of the captain.

    "Thank you, sir," she said.

    "All I did was tell the truth," replied the captain. "I don''t approve of your methods, but I can''t argue with the results." He held out his hand, which Ayda immediately shook. "Get my grandson out of there."

    "You can count on me, sir. I''ll make sure everyone is safe," Ayda said. No time to stand on ceremony. She released him and began toward the school.

    The presence of a new and somewhat familiar face within the crime scene caused a bit of an commotion. A murmur ran through the crowd. Press Cameras audibly snapped and she caught the flashes from the corner of her eye. Some of the people called out to her. A few even tried to shuffle closer, though the police put a stop to that much. Ayda didn''t blame them for getting a bit unruly. They were just parents worried sick about their children.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 34: Pulse

    Ayda stepped through the center of three sets of double doors. She paused just long enough to get her bearings. This must have been the front lobby, if this building followed modern construction trends. It was quiet and empty. Anyone left inside likely hid according to whatever their lockdown procedure was, which was exactly where she wanted them; out of both the way and the line of fire. No more children would die on her watch.

    In a flash, Ayda took in all the details of this new space. The front lobby was a mostly open space, outfitted with white on the tile, walls, and ceiling, while wooden details made up the corner accents. A staircase immediately right of the doors provided access to the upper floor. A small and mostly empty trophy case sat against the same wall about halfway between the stairs and a set of wood doors inlaid with glass which led to a long hallway. To her left was a pair of offices. Long glass windows allowed for sight into each, although they currently were abandoned.

    Ayda ducked into the closest one. Being within direct line of sight with the entrance made her feel uncomfortable. It was much smaller than it appeared from the outside, a room longer than it was broad with barely enough room for a long desk, a few filing cabinets, and a couple chairs for visitors. A nameplate on the desk designated this as the secretary''s office. There were two doors, one in the very back which led to the intercom station, and a closed one to its right.

    No time to catch her breath. Every second she wasted, the gunman got further away. So, while a quick pause would''ve been nice to get her heart rate under control, the teenager whipped out her phone and opened up the screen sharing app Elliot mentioned previously. Speaking of which...

    "Elliot, are you there?" She said, staring at her phone. "I''m in."

    "Yeah, I''m here," he responded after a second. "Nice job talking your way in there."

    "It''s all thanks to Captain Mustache," Ayda quipped.

    "Captain Mustache?" Elliot asked. Ayda could practically hear him raise an eyebrow.

    "You should''ve seen it, El. It was awful."

    "I''ll take your word for it," Elliot said. "Where are you now?"

    "I''m in the front office, trying to find the guy on the cameras," Ayda said while flipping through views on her phone. She held the thing lengthwise. There were arrow buttons on either side of the screen. A press of one initiated a short loading time before a transition to the next camera.

    "I''m not at my desk right now, so I can''t help you," Elliot said. "Sorry."

    "Don''t worry about it. I shouldn''t need you from here."

    Ayda swiftly scoured the cameras, staying with each view just long enough to tell what was in them. The displays were black and white and grainy. Clearly, no expense was spared in the security of these children. The cameras seemed to cycle in a linear fashion down each hallway. Ayda recognized similar landmarks from the previous view each time she switched. Although, she hadn''t the slightest idea where the first one was. It could be the other side of the building, for all she knew.

    About a minute more of searching passed, when all of a sudden Ayda'' s heart leapt into her throat. It was the only person she''d seen on the mobile monitor so far. A white man about in his forties, slightly overweight and balding. He jogged right to left out of the angle. Ayda switched and caught him in the next camera maintaining the same momentum. In his hands was a construction of wood and metal, fatter at the rear end tucked below his right arm. A gun; an old, Vietnam-era design. This was him. This was the shooter.

    All at once, Ayda was relieved. Finding him took only a couple minutes of looking. Hacking the cameras had been a great idea. Now all that remained was to confront and subdue him. Easy enough, especially against someone so obviously unfit.

    She looked around his environment. The quality of the film made much beyond him and the room doors difficult to divine. She looked for room numbers, a janitor''s closet, anything to give away his position. But the search was in vain. The picture was too dark, too hazy. She couldn''t see. Whatever relief the girl at first felt quickly was replaced by hysteria.

    "I don''t know where this is," she breathed. "This doesn''t help me, I don''t know where he is!"

    "Can you see the room numbers?" Elliot offered. "Is there anything else around?"

    "No, Elliot. It''s too grainy. I can''t¡ª" She cut off harshly as her eyes drifted from the phone to the open door behind the secretary''s desk. "Hold on, I have an idea."

    Ayda vaulted over the desk, knocking several papers and office supplies to the floor in the process. Rushing footsteps brought her into the back room with the intercom equipment. It was a massive switchboard propped up on a white card table, hundreds of buttons each labeled with a number which, assumedly, corresponded to a similarly designated room.

    The entire setup was daunting, to say the least. Ayda scanned through row after row of buttons. She figured out they started at the bottom left with the number one, and worked all their way up through a few hundred at the top right. Three, though, did not fit this pattern, and accordingly stood out. Bigger and round, as opposed to square, they lay on the table in front of the switchboard. From left to right, they were labeled as outside, inside, and both.

    Ayda leaned into stick microphone attached to the table. With one hand she swapped camera views until again locating the criminal, who hadn''t made it far. She cleared her throat. Laying her staff down on the table, she pressed the button labeled inside.

    "Hey, asshole!" She shouted into the microphone. The sound of her voice echoed through the building, reverberating off the hard walls. It was momentarily disconcerting to hear herself so loud, but no one was more surprised than the gunman. Ayda watched through her phone as he stopped cold in his tracks, looking up at the nearest speaker.

    "Yeah, I''m talking to you. I can see you, right now, in the cameras," she said. The gunman spiked the lens. Ayda looked directly into his eyes. "This is the vigilante speaking. You know, the badass bitch who''s been fucking the Triad? I bet you think you''re so fucking tough, waving a gun around at defenseless, terrified children. Well, I''m not afraid. And I''m not defenseless. I know you''re probably trying to make a statement, or go out in a blaze of glory, or something. What better way than killing someone like me? If that''s what you want, come to the front lobby. I''ll be waiting."

    With that, the girl released the button. She watched her phone intently as the gunman paused. He stood in the middle of the hallway, as if visibly weighing his options. Only for a few seconds, though. The murderer spun completely around and took off back the way he came. Ayda chuckled to herself, and let out the breath she hadn''t been aware of holding.

    "What a dumbass," she scoffed, shaking her head.

    "Ballsy move, Ayda," commented Elliot as his partner started out of the office. "Do you think it''ll work?"

    "Hopefully, but I''ll keep watching him, just in case." Ayda said while she walked out of the office and back into the lobby. "If it doesn''t seem like he''s coming this way, I''ll move on to Plan C."

    "Which is...?" Elliot insisted.

    Ayda hesitated for a moment. "I don''t know yet," she admitted with a downward glance to the right. "I kind of expected the camera thing to work, if I''m being honest."

    "I''ll be thinking of something," Elliot sighed. "Just stay safe, alright?"

    "El, I''ll be fine. I can take one old dude with a gun." Ayda did her best to reassure him. Whether he believed it or not, the conversation again died down.

    Ayda stood in the middle of the lobby for a moment. She looked right toward the entrance, and then left down the hall, idly spinning the collapsed staff between her index and ring fingers. The girl wasn''t really sure what to do with herself. Should she wait with her weapon out menacingly, or go outside and tell the authorities what''s going on?

    She purposely kept the challenge on internal channels to avoid outside interference. This way, no one else had any danger of being hurt. So, scratch that option. There was also no way of knowing how long the criminal would take in arriving, or even if he would in the first place. Standing in the middle of the lobby for God knows how long appealed not.

    Ayda gave a grimace, then walked to a spot just before the glass of the office. She gave one last look down the corridor, and then leaned back against the wall. Rooting around in her pocked produced a pair of white Belmont International brand earbuds. She plugged them into both her ears, and then the phone. A few deft taps brought up a music app. Ayda leaned over the phone, watching the criminal move through the school as the sweet sounds of her favorite song by her favorite band filled the silence: Animal I Have Become by Three Day''s Grace.Stolen story; please report.

    Ayda would''ve liked a moment to reflect, to prepare mentally for the coming bout. It''d been all go since she arrived; not a single opportunity to clear her head. Fate, though, made other plans. The wait was not a lengthy one. The song barely had time to finish before a middle-aged man turned the corner about a quarter of the way down the hall. He approached swiftly, with intent. The sun glinted off the recently polished barrel of his gun. Ayda shifted her eyes to watch him as he came.

    The gunman jogged into the front lobby, kicking open one of the wood and glass doors to make his entrance. The pathetic old sod probably thought that made him look cool. In reality, with his bright orange shirt, khaki shorts, and combover, the only things he looked like were washed up and strung out. When he entered, Ayda heaved a sigh and at a leisurely pace removed her earbuds. Shame, really. She quite enjoyed the next song, but it was time to go to work.

    "Hey!" The man shouted at the youngster who seemed to take no notice of him. "Were you the one on the intercom?"

    "You actually showed up," Ayda replied while wrapping the buds around her phone. "Gotta admit, I''m surprised." She popped off the wall and walked to the center of the room. "Maybe I misjudged you." She faced the killer. He kept his weapon in a lax posture, but continually flexed his fingers around the trigger guard.

    "I thought you said this would be a real fight. You''re just a girl!" Remarked the man. Ayda growled under her breath.

    "Don''t try to match wits with me," she warned, channeling her powers. The staff glowed purple. "You already lost one fight today." A small yet quite audible blast extended the top half of her weapon. "Don''t make it two." A second burst locked the other half into position.

    The man''s expression faded from sick confidence to anxious confusion at the sights and sounds before him. He shouldered his weapon, breaths shallow. A normal person like him could never understand what he just saw. The light around the staff glowed with an unnatural luminescence, and the explosions¡ªas previously established¡ªsounded just like gunshots. His eyes darted around the room. Ayda could practically see the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. Every sense in his body was on high alert. He obviously didn''t know exactly what was happening, and that made him afraid.

    "Don''t point that gun at me unless you intend to use it." Again Ayda cautioned the criminal against actions he would regret.

    The teenager immediately recognized the impasse both individuals faced. She couldn''t attack him from this distance, and he was probably more than happy to root her in place with the threat of gunfire, especially so close to an exit the police could access at any given moment. Someone had to inspire action, and Ayda wasn''t patient enough to wait. She took a step forward.

    The man pulled his trigger. A shot rang out. Ayda reacted with the least effort possible. A swift flick of the wrist and a blast were all she needed to deny the bullet with her staff. She hadn''t even needed to use two hands. The bullet shattered on contact with her power. Little bits scattered to her left as she continued to advance on him.

    The shooter waffled for a second, pulling his head back to get a good look at her, mouth agape and visibly sweating. Ayda sneered a sinister grin. The puzzlement on his face pleased her. She had him now. The girl crept ever closer at a normal walking pace.

    A second shot sprang up. Ayda deflected it with another leftward flick. A third bullet met a similar fate as Ayda swished her weapon back the other way. Again and again fire issued forth from the barrel of the man''s gun, but it had no effect. The defense of his assailant was impeccable, impenetrable. Every twirl of her staff halted his attack. Meanwhile, her own assault continued.

    Ayda never stopped nor slowed down, even as bullets assailed her. The projectiles hardly even registered as a threat. Ayda batted each and every one away with only one hand on her staff, paying them little attention. Instead, she locked eyes with her assailant, staring him down as she made a metered and menacing advance. The man took a step back, but otherwise held his ground. Ayda had seen this kind of thing before. Her opponents always held on to some slim chance of victory, fighting until the very end. She''d make him pay for his insistence.

    The two were within easy melee range, now, Ayda completely unharmed. The man took another step back. Ayda kept pace with him. She clasped her free hand over the gun. Her palm blocked the muzzle, while the barrel slid between tightly curled fingers. It glowed with purple energy at her touch.

    Instinct took over for the man. He pulled the trigger. Normally, Ayda deflected bullets by listening for the shot, as sound reached her ears processed stimuli quicker than her eyes. This time, though, she watched for any movement on his hand, the slightest twitch of a finger. As soon as the gunman made a move to fire, Ayda produced a blast from the hand covering the rifle. A shockwave resounded down the length of the barrel now influenced by her power. A series of metal clinks inside just barely rose over the dissipating blast.

    The shooter fired again. Ayda used another blast to destroy the projectile before it left he barrel. More metal shards filled the tight tube. A third time the man pulled his trigger, but this time was met only with a click. He paused for a moment, surprised at the lack of action. Frantically, he pulled the trigger again and again, willing it to function, but only produced dull snaps. All the while, a malicious leer worked across Ayda''s face.

    She struck him across the stomach with her staff, barely a tap, but the ensuing burst was more than enough to send him flying. The gun came loose from his grip, left to dangle in Ayda''s fingers. She dropped it to the floor. The shooter smacked his head against the tile once as he slid to a stop a few feet away.

    Ayda dashed over to him on a blast below her feet. She gathered up his shirt in her free hand and pulled the man''s face close. His breaths were quick and shallow, expression the personification of pure, unfiltered fear. His eyes darted around, desperate for any means of escape. He made a concerted effort to look at anything other than her. Ayda didn''t like being ignored.

    "Hey!" She gave him a shake. Their eyes locked, hers focused and his wide. Ayda channeled energy into her hands. They glowed purple. "Do you get it now? Do you know how fucked you are?"

    "Wh-what are you?" The gunman stammered, voice high-pitched as terror constricted his throat.

    Ayda leaned in even closer. She all but whispered, words meant for only the two of them.

    "I''m your worst fucking nightmare."

    She stood and released him. His head once again smacked the floor. He lay there for a moment, beaten and broken, resigned to his fate. Ayda smacked him in the temple with her staff. No blast accompanied the hit, but it wasn''t necessary to knock him out cold. With her prey unconscious, the teenager gathered up his collar from behind, lifted him into a sit, and dragged the motionless criminal toward the exit. A simultaneous pair of little blasts collapsed her staff.

    Exhilaration filled her heart, accomplishment spurred her step. She did it. She won. These kids were safe, and it was all thanks to her.

    The sun blinded her momentarily as she left the schoolhouse. She reflexively put up her hand¡ªstill clutching a now collapsed staff¡ªto shield against the offensive rays, but realized that was probably a good place for it with all the police officers outside. Hand up, Ayda pressed forward down the stairs. As she did, she realized it was not just the sun which obscured her vision, but also camera flashes.

    Almost everyone, including several of the cops, had dug out their phones and begun taking pictures as soon as she emerged from the building. Ayda paused for a split second on the stairs, taking in the scenario. She expected gasps and gunpoint, but instead was greeted with silence and bright lights. Most of the officers seemed on edge, ready to react, but none brandished weapons. Indeed, the atmosphere was almost receptive, like the people wanted her there. That must have been all in her imagination, though. She was a vigilante, a lawbreaker much like the monster in her grasp.

    Ayda blinked once, just enough to clear her head. The triumphant warrior resumed her descent toward street level. As she did, a single sound broke the silence¡ªthe distinctive slap of two hands coming together. Her keen senses zeroed in on its source immediately. An older gentleman in the crowd clapped with the stoney faced gusto of a man biting back tears.

    A wave swept through the crowd. Almost instantly, the onlookers burst into rapturous applause. Officers, medics, reporters, civilians; all joined in the cacophony, their celebration reverberating off the nearby buildings. A few cheered, but most stuck to simple clapping. It was almost enough to give Ayda pause once more, but she pressed on through the shock. It took all of her willpower to keep a smile from parting her lips.

    The applause continued as Ayda hit the bottom of the stairs. The moment she did, three officers rushed her. The girl stopped in place, ready to accept a pair of handcuffs. She take the law into her own hands, after all, among many other past offenses. They ran right past, however, tending instead to the man. The three rolled him onto his stomach and slapped shackles across his wrist, all of which seemed unnecessary, given his state.

    Ayda watched them for a moment, amazed she didn''t share a similar fate. She realized if there were ever a chance to slip away, this was it. Cautiously, the girl slinked over to the yellow tape barrier, eyes glued to the cops before her, and deftly ducked underneath it. Escape, though, would not be so simple.

    The moment she emerged on the civilian side, reporters swarmed her. Ayda froze in place, eyes the circumferences of golf balls. This also was a completely unforeseen circumstance. They launched questions her way, shouting over both each other and the continuous praise from the crowd. Ayda took a sharp breath in, and blinked several times in surprise. But the shock wore off after only a few seconds, replaced with mild annoyance. These people blocked her exit.

    She put up a palm in what would assuredly be a vain attempt at silencing them. The surprises continued to roll as¡ªin defiance of all logic¡ªthe press fell quiet. Their faces were eager, awaiting a word from the mysterious entity who just brought down a child murderer. But Ayda couldn''t oblige them. She began to walk forward. The crowd did not part, but instead followed along with her.

    "No questions, please," she said. "I need to get out of here before I''m arrested." A joke as, at this point, as the authorities seemed completely disinterested in her.

    "Can you at least tell us your name?" A lone female voice piped up before any of the others had a chance to.

    Again, Ayda stopped, instantly put into a defensive disposition by the question.

    "What?" She asked, honing in on a blonde woman.

    "Your name," repeated the reporter. "What should I call you when I write my story?"

    In that moment, Ayda remembered a brief conversation with Elliot, the one where he suggested she use a codename to protect her secret identity. It had faded into obscurity as another one of his brilliant ideas, but now it bubbled to the surface. He was right, of course. She couldn''t just give them her real name and sacrifice any semblance of a normal life. However, she had to say something, lest people use her refusal to do so as another reason to distrust her. In desperation, Ayda gave the first name that came to mind, the same one Elliot had suggested a week ago.

    "Call me Pulse."

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 35: Of Kings and Consequences

    A buzz ran through the city. The air practically singed with a quickly building charge. It spread like wildfire through the streets, affecting the thoughts on every mind and the words on every pair of lips. The children played imaginative games with their friends, while the adults had more civilized, contextual discussions. Although different in scope, both groups talked about the same subject.

    Ayda rode her motorcycle down a random, mostly empty street of the industrial district. She hadn''t a drug dealer to bust, and was instead on a general patrol. The bluetooth piece in her ear connected not to the open call with Elliot, but to the police scanner app on her phone. It was a quiet night, with little activity to report, certainly nothing the police couldn''t handle. And rightly so. The would be criminals around town were frightened. After Ayda''s demonstration just one day ago, none of them dared draw her ire. Or, at least, that was the theory behind the boring night.

    But, despite the lack of real action, the teenager did not want for entertainment. The tail end of a song, one she quite liked, issued forth from the radio in her bike. Heavy guitars and dire vocals punctuated the last few seconds. As Ayda hung a right turn, the music gave way to a familiar and most welcome voice.

    "Alright everybody, that was Disturbed with 10,000 Fists, my personal favorite of theirs. I am, as you know, Casey Calamity, and it''s time for everyone''s favorite segment...Vigilante Watch!" the DJ paused to allow a short jingle to play, which Ayda recognized as the opening riff for the X-Men theme song. "Although, I guess I shouldn''t call it that anymore. That''s right, ladies and gentlemen. The vigilante now has a name.

    "Around lunch time yesterday, the horrible news came in that some dickhead with a gun broke into Persimmon Elementary School and started shooting young, innocent children as well as faculty and staff. The police surrounded the building, and then proceeded to do nothing, as is the standard procedure in these situations. Then, in walked the vigilante. And I mean she just walked right in. The cops just let her through, probably because they knew she could take out the asshole easier than they could.

    "Long story short, she apprehended the douche nozzle and turned him over the the authorities. The press swarmed her, taking videos and pictures, and asking questions. When one inquired about her name, she responded with a single word, Pulse. Just twenty-four hours after the event, the story is everywhere. I even managed to find an article from Dubai. Dubai! Seems they''re big fans of hers over there.

    "There have been pictures in the past, but this is our first confirmed look at the vigilante, and it confirms a lot of rumors. To quote a journalist from the El Puerto Gazette: ''She is a young woman of Middle-Eastern descent, with short dark hair which falls just below a strong jawline. Roughly five feet and seven inches in height, her build is strong and fit.'' That''s a pretty good description, I think. She reminds me very much of a kickboxer.

    "Why tell you all of this? So you know her when you see her. And when you do, I want you to say, ''Thank you, Pulse, for keeping the city safe, for saving those children. No matter what the blowhards think, we''re better off with you here.''

    "Since I realized earlier today we haven''t done it for a while, I will be taking callers for the next few minutes. If you have a strong opinion about our knight in shining bo staff¡ªwhether in support or not¡ªfeel free to give us a call at¡ª" Casey was about to give out the radio station''s phone number, but cut off sharply. "Well, that was quick. Someone must have us on speed dial." He audibly pressed a button. "Greetings, Caller, you are on Vigilante Watch. What is your name and where are you from?"

    "My name is Greg, from El Puerto." The caller had a deep, southern-fried drawl. He sounded at least in his forties, if not older. Ayda winced from where she straddled her steed. Old people didn''t usually like her.

    "Well, Greg from El Puerto, do you have something to say about our Lady Pulse?" Casey crooned. Ayda shook her head.

    "I think she does some damn fine work," Greg spoke with heated enthusiasm. "She keeps those hoodlums off the streets, and keeps our children safe."

    "So, are you saying you support Pulse?"

    "Yes. Hell yes. Crime dropped way down in the city once stories of her started spreading. That can''t be a coincidence. The cops never did anything like that. If the police can''t keep us safe, someone has to."

    "That''s a point I''ve made before, Greg, but it always bears repeating." The DJ audibly pressed a button. "Next caller, you''re on Vigilante Watch. Who are you and where are you from."

    Ayda would''ve liked nothing more than to continue listening to the opinions of her adoring masses, but¡ªas fate would have it¡ªan interruption in the form of a text message came in. It''d been so long since any sound issued from her cellphone, she forgot that audio for the thing was currently routed through her headset.

    She perpetually struggled to get the volume of the thing correct, and this was no different. A pair of tones blared in her ear. A high beep phased quickly into a lower, drowning out all other sound for a brief second. Ayda grit her teeth and covered her ear in pain, which only created an echo chamber, amplifying the sound.

    But it was gone as soon as it came. The noise subsided, and with it so too left the discomfort. Ayda shook the cobwebs from her cranium. The vision, which she hadn''t realized blurred, slammed back into focus. She blinked several times, just to dispel any lingering fog.

    A part of her wanted to just ignore the message and just get on with her night, with matters surely much more pressing. Though, in the back of her head she knew that wasn''t really an option. It could be from Elliot or Rudy, which automatically gave it paramount importance. With a sigh¡ªonly somewhat frustrated by the interruption¡ªAyda pulled over and dug out her phone.

    A click on the text message inbox brought up the source. A long message thread consumed the touch screen display. Timestamps above each entry revealed long gaps between each correspondence. That in mind, this couldn''t be either of her friends, since they texted on a daily basis. Before reading the meat of the message, her gaze flicked to the heading. Bernard. Strange. What could he possibly want?

    "Can you come home?" The message said. "We need to talk."

    Ayda rolled her eyes, shook her head. Something stupid, to be sure. She loved the man, but he could be a worrywart at the best of times. He probably wanted to ask some sort of trivial question, the kind of thing he thought could only be addressed in person. Still, to leave him hanging would be rather rude. She could probably cut her patrol a little short. There weren''t any leads to chase down, anyway. Later, though. The night was still young... relatively speaking.

    The teenager was about to put her phone away, when another message from the same sender ticked by. This time, she froze in her tracks as the contents crossed her consciousness. The world faded away. The alert tone fell on deaf ears. For a moment it played king in her consciousness. A single word controlled her every thought and feeling.

    "Pulse."

    A maelstrom of emotions danced on her psyche. Confusion, anger, anxiety, concern, and a host of other washed over the girl like unrelenting waves on a shallow beach. She''d theorized this moment would happen, but never actually expected it to. Now that it arrived, no inch of her body nor soul knew how to handle it. She did know one thing, however. This couldn''t wait until the end of her patrol. Almost in one motion, Ayda pocketed the phone, spun the bike around, and launched off back down the street the way she came. A little puff of gray smoke rose where the vessel had been.

    Now, Ayda was not a stranger to hustle. Plenty of moments in the past required at least a modicum of expedience. She liked to reach all of her destinations in a timely manner, which was where a motorcycle came in handy. All of this, however, said nothing for the pace she kept on this occasion. If the bike had wings it would take off and fly, so extreme was her speed.

    Cars passing by on the left hand side of the road were little more than front lit blurs, while the ones she herself weaved between simply barred her path. To this effect, traffic picked up when she reached the heart of the city. At this time of night people were always up and about, and many of them congregated in the middle.

    But they only got in the way. Ayda fought a path in and around them. She considered taking a side street, going around the obstacle. That might not have solved anything. The shortest distance between two points was a straight line. Even though that straight line led through a series of moving roadblocks, it still provided the quickest avenue of attack.

    Before she even realized it, Ayda cleared the congestion. Lavish tall buildings gave way to lavish manor homes. It always startled her how this part of El Puerto could be so much quieter than the center it branched off of, especially when the two districts were so close. However, this evening, it seemed stiller than usual. No dogs barked. No night birds sang. Even her own heartbeat echoed not. This was a silence not of circumstance, but of the mind.

    She didn''t have to go. She could just turn around, pretend she never got the memo. Bernard might just drop the subject, then... only to bring it up later. No, best get it over with. Why the apprehension, anyway? She''d faced worse right? Right? Yeah. She could do this! As Ayda pulled in to the driveway of her estate, a creeping nag ran through the back of her brain. Maybe she couldn''t do this after all.

    The teenager didn''t even bother with the garage. She hadn''t the patience to park properly. The bike was abandoned right there in the driveway as Ayda went for the front door. A test twist, more out of habit than anything else, yet it swung open. The door was unlocked. But, Bernard always locked the door. A bad omen, if ever there was one.

    Ayda removed her sunglasses before entering the home. She looked left, and then right. She almost expected Bernard to be waiting for here there in the foyer, but¡ªof course¡ªhe was not. No, that would be far too simple. Nothing ever was simple. He had a few other haunts like the master bedroom and his study, but Ayda would kick herself if she didn''t check the living room first. She turned left and went through the empty doorway closest to her. Immediately on the other side, she froze in place.

    Found him. Bernard stood closer the other end of the longer than wide room, arms crossed, overhead light glinting off his emerald eyes. A pair of black leather couches¡ªa long wooden coffee table sandwiched between¡ªseparated him from the new arrival. The flatscreen television mounted on the wall behind Ayda had just recently been turned off. Latent static still charged the air, heightening her senses to the tension of the moment.

    The older man still wore his Belmont International lab coat, which was a bit odd. The garment almost never came home with him unless he forgot to take it off, in which case it would usually remain on for the rest of the day. Forgetting to remove his coat, and then not locking the door? The abnormalities continued to pile up, which Ayda could only take as a negative development.

    For a moment the two just stood there, Ayda wide-eyed and Bernard gruff. They shared a petrified indecision, completely unsure how to proceed. Ayda expected to get yelled at the moment she walked through the door. This silent treatment wigged her out. How did someone start a conversation like this? What would they even talk about? Bernard''s stiff and stern posture didn''t help things much, either. No version existed which didn''t start out almost unbearably awkward. Might as well just go for it.

    "You, uh..." Ayda trailed off. "You wanted to talk to me?"

    "Yes, Ayda, I did," replied Bernard. He gestured to one of the couches to his right. "Why don''t you sit down?"

    "I think I''d rather stand, if it''s all the same to you."

    "Alright, that''s fine." Bernard let out a long sigh, idly scratching his cheek. "I''m just gonna get right down to brass tacks, here. Ayda, I know who you are, and I know what you''ve been doing."

    "What are you talking about?" Ayda replied instinctually. Self-preservation overrode any logic or clarity. She still clung to the vain hope that maybe, just maybe, he didn''t actually know, and this was about something totally different.

    "Don''t mince words with me," warned the scientist. "You know exactly what I''m talking about!"Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Ayda shied away from his raised voice, realizing simultaneously doing so was ridiculous. What could he possibly to do her, to someone like her? Why was she so cautious of him?

    "How long have you known?" She asked, straightening out.

    "I had my suspicions when the stories first started coming out, but it didn''t take me long to put two and two together."

    "Yeah," Ayda agreed with a shrug. "It''s not that hard to figure out. I mean, a Persian girl with a bike, a staff, and purple explodey powers?" She smiled in a vain attempt to inject some much needed humor. Bernard remained solid as a rock. "Is that what you wanted to talk about?"

    "No, it''s not." Bernard shook his head. "Three people in the world know about you, and I''m not worried about Elliot or Colonel Hammond spilling the beans. No, what I''m worried about is you, Ayda."

    "Me?" Ayda wore a puzzled expression as she leaned back just slightly, giving him an angled glance.

    "Yes, you," the older man reasserted. "Do you have any idea how dangerous what you''re doing is? Not just to you, but to the people around you?"

    "I... I don''t think I follow you, here..."

    "They''re criminals!" Bernard paused for a moment. "Thieves, murderers, rapists! They''re bad people, Ayda."

    "I still don''t know what you''re trying to say." Ayda assumed a more normal posture. "Yeah, I know they''re criminals. That''s why I take them off the streets, to protect people."

    "But who protects you?"

    The atmosphere in the room noticeably shifted. Ayda could almost see the air grow thicker, as lingering electricity from the television whipped up between her and the older man. From the authority in his voice, one could ascertain this was the meat of the conversation.

    "No one protects me," Ayda said slowly. "I don''t need protection."

    "But how do you know that?" Challenged Bernard. "Just because you never needed protecting before, doesn''t mean you won''t later. Someone will get the better of you eventually."

    "You don''t know that!" Ayda fired his own points back at him. "I''m fine, Bernard. I''ve been fine. Nothing''s gonna happen to me."

    "Okay, but what happens when you''re not fine? What happens when you can''t protect the people you claim to fight for?"

    "What?"

    "Do you ever think things through, even just for a second? Your actions, these criminals you fight, they all have consequences. It''s not just your life at stake here."

    "What are you getting at?" Again, Ayda questions his motives. The topic transitioned pretty quickly from her own life, to those of others. What was Bernard trying to get at?

    "Seven children are dead, Ayda. How many more would''ve died if you''d failed?"

    "Are you serious?" Ayda couldn''t believe her ears. "What kind of logic is that? Bernard, I saved those kids. How long would that madman have kept shooting people if I hadn''t stepped in? The ones who survived got out because of me. I didn''t fail."

    "But what if you had?" Bernard fired back. "A lot more children would be dead, and you''d be one of them!" He took a deep, shuttering breath. "I already lost one daughter. Don''t make me lose two."

    Silence again took the room. Where once was hostility toward this unjust interrogation, Ayda instead reached out with sympathy. Bernard wasn''t playing the bad cop or the drill sergeant, here. He was just a father, scared to death of having the most important thing in his world taken away not once, but twice. Ayda knew how he felt. It was the same for her when Jackie died. But this was different. He had to see that.

    "I understand where you''re coming from," Ayda began gently, "but I''m okay. I''m better equipped to deal with these... these criminals than the cops are. We both know that. I''m not going anywhere."

    "Every time you leave the house," Bernard said lowly. "Every time I hear about the things you''ve done, my heart stops, and it doesn''t start again until I see your face, until I hear your voice."

    "I know."

    He shook his head. "I don''t think you do." The man averted his gaze. "I turned a blind eye to all of this, at first. You were mad about your sister, and you wanted justice. I knew that. I thought it was over when Sun Xin turned himself in. That was you, right?"

    "Yeah," Ayda nodded. "Yeah, that was me. I found him."

    "I thought that would be the end of it, but it wasn''t. You kept on. You took justice into your own hands, with no regard for the law or for restraint. I ignored it, but the school shooting was the last straw. I can''t just stand by while you put the lives of children in danger."

    There were several things wrong with that last statement. She never put the lives of children at risk. The police were the ones doing that by sitting on their asses instead of taking decisive action. Ayda could push the point, but she knew it was pointless. Bernard already made up his mind. Instead, she skipped by it entirely in favor of more important topics.

    "Is this the part where you tell me to stop?" She said bluntly. "Because you have to know I won''t."

    "No, Ayda, I''m not telling you to stop. I know my words would just go in one ear and out the other. If you want to continue you''re vigilante schemes, that''s fine. Do whatever you want, just like you always do."

    Bernard ceased talking for a moment to transition to a more nonverbal form of communication. He reached into his right lab coat pocket and produced a mostly flat, black leather square, about the size of his palm. Ayda''s eyes grew wide. She recognized it immediately. Her hands flew to her jean pockets, checking each one frantically. Empty. Of course. She always left it behind when she was out as Pulse. It wouldn''t do to carry around something with her name and photograph inside.

    "I didn''t want to do this, but you''ve left me no choice," Bernard said. "If you want to keep taking the law into your own hands, then you''re not gonna do it with my money."

    As Bernard spoke, he flipped open the bifold. Using one hand, he extracted Ayda''s bank card¡ªa green and white rectangle¡ªwith the deft fingers of the engineer he was. The case fell to the ground. With the other, Bernard again reached into his pocket, but this time pulled out a small pair of orange-handled scissors. Ayda watched on in sheer horror as Bernard opened the simple machine and placed the card, her livelihood, within it.

    A single motion. A poignant snip. Two unequal halves of plastic fluttered to the ground. Although their impact was silent, their rest made a bomb go off in Ayda''s brain. All she could do was stand and watch in paralyzed terror as her life for the past five years¡ªquite literally¡ªfell apart before her.

    "As of this moment, all assets under the name Ayda Belmont have been frozen. All funds and property you own will be turned over to me. You are officially cut off."

    "What are you¡ª"

    "You can have everything back the moment you hang up your jacket, but until then your trust fund belongs to me."

    His words pierced her very soul, seeming to echo though this room allowed for little reverberation. This can''t be happening. This has to be some sort of dream. She fell asleep behind the wheel, or maybe had been the whole time and would wake up any moment now. She''d be a rich girl again, not the pauper she had been her entire life before. Bernard would no longer be cross with her, and she could go out and buy anything she wanted. No more pain or poverty, just the luxuries of a first world life.

    But this was not a dream. Deep down she knew, even if every bone in her young, seventeen-year-old body rejected it. This was all too real. In a matter of seconds, she lost everything. All funds and property. Did that include the clothes on her back? Would Bernard strip her naked and cast her out onto the streets? He wasn''t that kind of evil, right? In that moment, Ayda knew nothing for sure.

    One thing, though, was abundantly clear. She had to leave, if not for her own safety, then for Bernard''s. Historically, she tended to have problems reconciling extreme emotions, and this was definitely an extreme time. She turned and walked out of the room.

    "Ayda!" Bernard called after her. She ignored him, and slammed the front door behind herself.

    Ayda turned her motorcycle around where it sat in the driveway and mounted the beast. A push of a button brought it roaring to life. The sunglasses returned to her face. She peeled out and turned right toward the city, no destination in mind except far away from there.

    For everything that just happened, her mind was remarkably calm. Normally, she couldn''t shut up the little voice in her head at even the best of times. It''d be wise to assume a situation like this would only exacerbate the problem, but that simply wasn''t the case. Ayda thought little. She felt almost nothing. It almost seemed unreal, like it never happened. Save for the task of driving, her mind was completely blank, and the sane part of her knew that wasn''t right.

    The scenery slowly blended together. Homes and trees and storefronts lost their definition, forming into one incoherent color. The rev of her engine was just noise. The rumbles and honks of traffic meant nothing to her. They were not a distraction or alert to possible trouble. They simply became part of the same cacophony.

    Every once in a while something would jump out at her. The bright yellow of a luxury sports car. The streetlight glint off a convenience store window. A piercing and out of place Bostonian accent shouting obscenities at another motorist. They were all just flashes, a parallel dimension phasing in and out with her own personal reality.

    As life passed her by, the teenager became increasingly aware of the weather. It was an odd thing. The air around her was warm as any other night in Texas, yet a constant chill ran through her muscles. She tried to convince herself how stupid this was. She should be sweating, if absolutely nothing else. But, try as she might, Ayda just couldn''t get warm. A hot exterior swirled around her, but all she felt was chilling cold.

    However, even that faded away. In time, it too mixed around with everything else, a garbled mess of sights and sounds, and the occasional feeling. She looked, but did not see; felt, but did not perceive. It was a mess of meaninglessness. Nothing mattered except the drive and the night. They distracted her from the truth, and made her forget about everything she''d just lost.

    Only God himself knew how long she''d been riding, or what paths she took in the mean time, but the girl did eventually come to. Like a battering ram to the brain, the world slammed into focus. Ayda took a long blink and breathed in sharply through her nose, as if jolted awake from an unpleasant nap.

    The motion¡ªand sudden awareness of the city¡ªcaused the startled teenager to lose concentration. She reflexively jerked her handlebars to the right. The bike dipped dangerously low. The tires slipped perpendicular to the pavement with a harrowing scrape. Ayda put one foot on the ground and pushed back against the gravitational forces bringing her down, all the while jamming on the brakes. Thankfully, her steed was a rather light creature. A tiny, little blast underneath her foot was all she needed to right it. Otherwise, she absolutely would''ve dumped it.

    Crises averted, Ayda pulled over to the side of the road, an exasperated hand on her forehead. That was dumb. Blatantly using her powers in the middle of the road like that was dumb. Even though she still wore her sunglasses, a random criminal¡ªor fan, for that matter¡ªrecognizing her at that moment would be very bad. Until she got her bearings, the last thing she needed was attention.

    The disoriented girl took a deep breath, a long draw in and out through the nose. She blinked and rubbed her eyes with thumb and forefinger. Had she always been this tired? Stinging pupils looked about the place, taking in the scenery to get at least a vague sense of direction.

    Dilapidated buildings in various states of disrepair, a startling lack of traffic, the occasional pedestrian on a late night stroll, this was definitely the industrial district. Why on earth would she come here, of all places? This was where she went to bust heads, to live in the moment, not escape from it, which she had assumedly been trying to do. Maybe her instincts were trying to blow off some steam with a good fight. This certainly was the right place to find one.

    And then it hit her. As the mental fog cleared, this particular street became very familiar. It was one she traversed almost every day in transit to the first step of most patrols. This was a path she''d taken many times before, one she''d chosen completely unbeknownst to herself, almost as if by habit. Her carnal senses really did know what she needed.

    The teenager dug out her phone and quickly dialed her one and only speed dial contact. Might as well let him know before popping in. The call''s recipient picked up just after the first ring.

    "Ayda," said the familiar voice of Elliot. "What happened, there? You just kinda went offline for a moment."

    "Yeah. Yeah, sorry about that. I...had something to do." Ayda couldn''t keep a breathy note of exhaustion from her voice, which her partner picked up on immediately.

    "You sound really tired," he observed. "Is everything alright?"

    "No," Ayda sighed. "No, Elliot, everything isn''t alright."

    "What''s wrong?"

    Elliot''s question was met with silence. Ayda''s heart sank. The grip on her phone tightened. The words formed on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn''t bring herself to say them. Doing so spoke life into them, as if giving in to the reality finally would cement the deal. Part of her still refused to believe it, even though the deed had been done.

    "Come on, talk to me," Elliot prodded. "You''re gonna make me worry, and I know how much you hate it when I¡ª"

    "Bernard cut me off," Ayda blurted, every syllable like a dagger to the brainstem. She physically winced. The words were simultaneously the most difficult she''d ever elucidated, and yet surprisingly simple to pronounce.

    "What?" Elliot said after a moment.

    "I got a text message saying we needed to talk. He knows, El. He knows who I am."

    "Yeah," Elliot shrugged with his voice. "If I know, he knows. We figured that out a long time ago. Why would he cut you off?"

    "I don''t know." Ayda pinched the bridge of his nose. "He said he was worried about me, and that I was putting my own life and the lives of others at risk, and I shouldn''t take the law into my own hands. Then he said something to the effect of ''you won''t fight crime with my money,'' and he cut up my credit card right in front of me."

    The whole story, albeit a paraphrased version, came out all at once. Ayda leaned forward, propping an elbow on the gas tank of her bike. Elliot''s side of the conversation fell mute for a moment. He clearly was taking in all of that information.

    "Did he say anything else?" Elliot asked eventually.

    "I don''t know, probably. It''s all kind of a blur."

    "And have you checked your bank account yet?"

    "No, El. I haven''t done anything yet. I''ve kinda been riding around for the past... I don''t know how long." She paused for a second. "Listen, can I come stay with you for a little while?"

    "What? Did he kick you out of the house, too?"

    "No, I just can''t be there right now." Ayda gave him a chance to respond. He did not, which made her nervous. "It won''t be forever, and I''ll pay rent, or something, I swear. I''ll stay out of your way, I''ll help out with chores, whatever. I just need some space to¡ª"

    "Ayda," Elliot interjected firmly. "Get your things and come down here. You''re always welcome in my apartment, you know that."

    "Really?" Ayda blinked a few times. "Are you sure?"

    "I''m sure," confirmed her friend. "I''ll leave the door unlocked. Which doesn''t matter, since you have a key. That''s not the point. Kust get down here, whenever you''re ready."

    "Thank you, El," Ayda breathed. "I''ll be there in a few minutes. I was kinda already on the way, I just didn''t know it at first."

    "What does that even mean?"

    Ayda chuckled, despite herself. "I''ll explain when I get there."

    And with that, she pocketed the device. Ayda sat up in her seat and pulled back onto the road, destined for Elliot''s apartment. When she''d been driving without any real purpose or direction, some undefinable force knew what she really needed, what would help dull the pain. Ayda didn''t need a distraction or to beat up a few gangsters, but instead the warm presence of a good friend. Elliot always knew how to cheer her up, even if he himself wasn''t aware of it most of the time. She''d been unconsciously working toward that comfort the whole time.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 36: Living Spaces

    The ride to Elliot''s apartment was a rather short one. Ayda''s incoherent daze took her quite close to the building. She was literally just a few streets away. Elliot probably wouldn''t be ready upon her arrival. She could drive around for a bit and give him time to prepare, but surprising him like this was much funnier. A laugh would do her some good, given everything that happened.

    A cold chill ran through her body. In great contrast it was, to the relatively mild night outside. Texas certainly experienced low temperatures at times, but the air swirled far from frigid. Ayda physically shivered, taking a deep breath against the ice in her veins. There was no reason to be cold. No matter how many times the teenager told herself this, she just couldn''t warm up.

    She knew the cause, of course. It happened the first time she broke a bone, when Jackie died... and when she murdered Eight, her first ever kill. Shock chilled her young bones. The realization came as sort of a disappointment. She''d been through so much in just the past year. Why did this effect her so profoundly? She was alive and well, moving forward as always. Her life wasn''t over.

    Except it was. She''d grown quite used to the lap of luxury in her short five years since coming to America. She wasn''t proud of that fact, but it was the honest truth. How could she go on without money? She had to at least put gas in her motorcycle. And what if another leather jacket got ruined? The jacket, glasses, and boots were all a part of her look. Without her standard uniform, would criminals even take her seriously? She could do exactly nothing without money.

    As Ayda rode through the mostly vacant streets, passing by partially ruined buildings in various states of disrepair, she could almost feel the doors in her life shutting. Now, plenty of high school students skated by on little to no income, but that had never been her. She didn''t know where to start, how to conduct herself without money. She didn''t want to ask for charity like so many other kids. The last thing she wanted was to pass the burden of her own living expenses onto someone else.

    She knew Elliot''s complex was pretty close, but Ayda still felt surprised when she turned onto the correct street. Heavy fog still persevered within her brain. She thought her senses mostly returned, but obviously not. Focus was hard to come by. She shook the cobwebs from her cranium while pulling into the parking lot, something she''d done countless times before. She had to recover her wits, sooner rather than later. The girl switched off the motorcycle, dismounted it, and walked inside the building.

    The moment Ayda crossed the precipice into the lobby, she stopped in her tracks. A wave of warmth washed over her. It had nothing to do with the building. This lobby, a dark little room with a staircase and nothing else, was always a little cold, even on the hottest days. No, this warmth was a mental thing.

    The brimming tension in her muscles released all at once. The clouds in her head mostly cleared, although unclear remnants remained. All that paranoia, the stress over the future, vanished. This building, she''d been here so many times in the past. It was like a secret hideout, a place where only those on the inside were permitted entrance. This place was like a second house for her, somewhere she could live without hiding her true self. In that way it was even more like home than the mansion, since Elliot knew her true identity. Ayda hadn''t even made it to his abode yet, but just being here reassured her. Everything was going to be okay.

    In markedly greater spirits than just moments before, Ayda made her way down the corridor. Fluorescent light bathed her in a slight yellow tinge, flickering randomly as one of them threatened to go out entirely. A sour scent filled her nostrils. The hallway always smelled just slightly of mold and urine. While certainly sour enough to turn her nose, the familiarity of it was strangely calming.

    Ayda traveled toward her destination, a dark pressboard door far down the left hand side, but hesitated upon reaching it. Would Elliot be upset or off-put by her sudden arrival? She''d shown rather shortly after calling. Maybe surprising him wasn''t a good idea after all. Regardless of any of that, he would definitely have numerous questions, most of which the girl doubted she could answer.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    She momentarily racked her brain for something, anything, to relieve the stress sure to come. A way to avoid it entirely would¡ªof course¡ªbe most preferable, but the only real way to do what was to vacate the premises. Where could she go, in that case? Rudy''s? No, she couldn''t inconvenience his family like that. This would be awkward, but it was her only option. With a deep breath in and then out, Ayda raised her hand to give the door three harsh rasps.

    The moment she did a commotion rose up inside the apartment. She could hear someone¡ªmost likely Elliot¡ªstomping around in there. His steps were quick and just a little frantic, judging by the way they zipped around. The teenager smirked, despite her current situation. He was such a dork.

    After a few moments, Elliot opened to door. Ayda blinked twice at the sight of him. He wore baggy gray sweat pants, as well as a white tank top which clung to the lean yet slightly toned muscles of his torso. Ayda had completely forgotten what kind of shape he was in, and certainly she didn''t expect him to answer the door in such a state of partial undress. It took her off guard for a split second.

    "Hey," Elliot greeted..

    "Um... hi," returned Ayda, his voice snapping her back to the moment.

    The air between them instantly grew thick. Elliot leaned with an outstretched arm against the open door. Ayda scratched the back of her head, averting her gaze from his. Neither one knew exactly what to say, how to approach the obvious elephant in the room.

    Elliot began to outstretch his arms for a big hug. The moment he started to move, Ayda slipped past him into the room without so much as even looking in his direction. The man stood there for a second longer, motionless and stunned. That didn''t work out, did it? He slowly closed the door and turned around to find Ayda faced away from him, looking aimlessly around the room.

    "You, uh... you got here pretty quick," he said.

    "Yeah, I was close by," replied Ayda without looking at him. Elliot stepped to a few feet away from her.

    "I hope you don''t mind the mess."

    "It looks the same as it always does." Ayda peered around the room, but not at him.

    Elliot sighed shortly. "How are you holding up?"

    Ayda hesitated. "I don''t know, El." She finally turned to him, but did not meet his eyes. "Pretty well, I guess, considering I just lost everything." She put a hand on her forehead, starring at the ground. "I don''t know what to do, Elliot."

    "No one expects you to have all the answers right now," Elliot offered gently, trying to comfort her.

    "That''s just it!" The girl made an exasperated gesture and turned away again. "No one expects anything from Ayda, but what about Pulse? I have an entire city depending on me. How am I supposed to save a million people when I can''t even afford to ride the bus?"

    "Those million people aren''t just your responsibility," Elliot said. "We''ve been over this before. There are cops and good people all over the place. You''re not alone in this."

    "But I''m the only one who really makes a difference. Besides, I don''t think the cops are interested in working with me."

    "I''m sorry," Elliot apologized all of a sudden, his voice falling to near a whisper. "I don''t mean to argue with you, Ayda. I know that''s the last thing you need right now."

    "No, it''s alright," she faced him again, finally locking eyes. "We''re both a bit tense right now. I''m sure you''re mad at Bernard, too."

    "You''re damn right I am!" Agreed Elliot with gusto. "But more than that, I''m concerned about you." He paused. "You know, if you need gas money or something, I could¡ª"

    "No." Ayda cut him off. "I''ve already invaded your home. I don''t want to be more of a burden to you."

    "Ayda, you''re not a burden. I make plenty of money and¡ª"

    "Elliot, please. I won''t have you doting on me. I can take care of myself."

    "Okay," Elliot conceded with a sigh. "Have you thought about what you''re gonna do about money, then?"

    "Yeah, sorta. That''s the only thing I have been able to think about, honestly." Ayda paused to allow Elliot a chance to respond, but he did not. "I mean, I don''t have time to get a job or anything, so I''ll have to go after other things."

    "Like what?'' Elliot pushed.

    "There are a few ways for someone with my skillset to make money in this town," Ayda replied mysteriously. "I just need to weigh my options."

    "Legal ways, I hope."

    "Yeah... mostly." Ayda added after a moment. Elliot raised an eyebrow at her. "More legal than what I''m already doing, anyway."

    "That''s more or less what I thought you''d say." Elliot shook his head. "Just don''t get yourself into any unnecessary trouble."

    "No promises." Ayda gave a sly wink, to which Elliot could only offer a sigh in response. She laughed at him. He didn''t even know it, but this was exactly what she needed. The company of a good friend lifted her spirits more than any kind words or offers of financial assistance ever could. It would be difficult, moving forward, but at least she had a companion to stand by her side.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 37: Zero Dollar Baby

    It looked like a rather nondescript building. Technically sitting in the docks section of town, it lay close enough to the industrial district to be considered part of it. It certainly fit the latter aesthetic. A single story flat-topped structure, it sat in a tiny strip mall to the left of two other businesses. It was painted green at one point but only a few specs of color remained, having given way to dull concrete beneath long ago. White letters along the top spelled out Petey''s Boxing.

    She''d heard about this place during her several excursions into criminal territory. A few of the Triad thugs she beat down had mention of it in their text messaging history as well. Now standing before it, Ayda wasn''t sure exactly what she expected. It was obviously the right place judging just by the name, but it struck her as odd. The exterior both met her expectations, yet simultaneously fell far below them.

    It was an interesting dichotomy she couldn''t quite wrap her head around. But she was wasting time just thinking about it. Ayda did her best to shake the cobwebs from her brain before entering through the glass and metal double doors. Immediately on the other side was a small entryway, a place for hanging coats and hats, though the rows of pegs on both sides were empty. Ayda ignored the space and walked through a second set of doors on the other end. These ones retained their green color.

    The first thing Ayda noticed was the smell which filled her nose, a combination of mold, sweat, and cheap floor cleaner. While not necessarily unpleasant, it wasn''t a scent she wanted to deal with for any protracted length of time.

    It was quite warm inside. It probably didn''t have an air conditioner at all. Most gyms she''d ever been insider were a little on the cold side, so she''d dressed in a purple hoodie and jeans with that in mind. Now that she were inside, however, that choice seemed erroneous.

    As she got used to the smell and the heat, Ayda took a gander around the inside. It was mostly one big room with a few doors set into the far wall. The plain concrete floor looked as though it had never been properly cleaned, and was likely the cause of the moldy aroma. The walls and ceiling were also cement.

    The vast open space played host to six boxing rings aligned in two columns. Around the edges were various exercise and practice implements such as sandbags, treadmills, sparring pads, and the like. It had everything an aspiring fighter could need, even if it lacked in presentation. Ayda could see herself training in a place like this.

    She wasn''t alone in the establishment, either. Random slaps of vinyl on vinyl betrayed a pair running combos in the center-right ring. A few others used various pieces of equipment, working out at their own pace. They all were good-looking young men, not much older than Ayda. Yeah, she could definitely see herself training here.

    While they were nice to look at, another person caught her attention. Also a man, he did not partake in any gym services. Instead, he stood at the far end. Dressed in a beige sweater vest, brown slacks, and a white button-up shirt, he watched over everything with a clipboard in his hands. He had an air of self-importance. Probably the owner, by Ayda''s calculations. She made a b-line for him.

    The man noticed her approach right off. He glanced in her direction a few times as she came, but made no move to intercept, opting instead to continue watching his patrons from afar. When she got a little closer, Ayda noticed he had no pen to go with that clipboard. In other words, it was just for show. She stopped at easy conversation distance, but was careful to remain outside his personal space.

    "Are you Petey?" She asked, straight to the point.

    "I am. And you are?" The man replied curtly, offering only a nod in acknowledgment.

    "A customer," Ayda said. "I hear you''re selling a lawnmower?"

    Where Petey had been before focused on the athletes, he now gave this new girl his full attention. His eyes snapped to meet hers and narrowed considerably. He ran his pupils briefly up and down her figure, trying to take her in all at once.

    "Yeah, you heard right. Why don''t we go in my office so we can talk more privately?"

    Ayda nodded and Petey turned around, headed for a green door directly behind him. Ayda followed, but kept her head on a swivel. Accompanying a strange man into a small, secluded room didn''t exactly appeal to her. Petey couldn''t hurt her even if he tried, but instinct said to remain on guard.

    Petey opened the door and slipped inside, new patron in tow. He walked around behind a blued steel desk smack dab in the center of the room atop a gaudy, multi-colored rug. A pair of matching file cabinets flanked him in the corners on either side. Other than the chair behind him, there were no other decorations in the room. It was the definition of barebones, which Ayda appreciated.

    "You''re here about the cage fights?" Petey said, skipping any semblance of formality. He leaned forward, bracing his palms against the desk.

    "Yeah, I am," answered Ayda swiftly. "I heard this is the best place in town to find a little action."

    "You clearly know some very intelligent people," Petey nodded with a grin. "Before we move forward, I''ll need to see your driver''s license real quick."

    "Why...?" The girl drew out the word, a suspicious sideways glance for her present company.

    "I need to make sure you''re not a cop. Don''t worry, I''m not gonna steal your identity right in front of you. I''m not that stupid."

    With great hesitation, Ayda reached into her right front pocket and extracted a slim black leather wallet, which felt much thinner in light of recent events. She''d rather not give up such sensitive and personally revealing information to someone she just met not even five minutes ago. Necessity, however, drove her fingers. There wouldn''t be a better opportunity than this. Quickly, as if to just get it over with, Ayda flipped the bifold open, removed the desired plastic rectangle, and handed it over to Petey.

    The middle-aged man took it. Light from the naked bulb overhead reflected briefly off its reflective surface, illuminating the gray flecks in in his chestnut hair. Brown eyes looked over its surface, while a single finger picked out letters on a grimy keyboard which used to be white. Ayda was convinced every single surface in the place lay under a solid layer of dirt. She''d have to take a shower when this was all squared away.

    Thankfully, Petey did not need very long to go over her credentials. He only typed once. Everything else he did involved a series of mouse clicks. It would''ve taken him considerably longer, otherwise. Ayda could only guess at what he was doing, but it probably involved running her name through several databanks, just to make sure she''s clean. The power of the internet expedited this process. After around maybe five minutes, Petey stood up, handing the license back to its rightful owner.

    "Well," he began, "not only are you not a cop, but your record is spotless. That''s rare around these parts."

    "Not the most wholesome of crowds?" Ayda quipped, retrieving her property. In a flash, she returned both it and her wallet to the appropriate pocket.

    "You could say that," Petey shrugged. "Well, you''re background checks out just fine. If you pass the trial fight, I can pass your info on to my boss and we''ll see about setting you up with a match."

    "That easy?" Ayda raised an eyebrow. "No application or review process?"

    "The trial fight is your application and review process. We''re not the most discerning of organizations. If someone wants to fight, we''ll let them fight; we just want to make sure they won''t get themselves killed."

    "That makes sense," conceded Ayda. Illegal operations like this probably had a much smaller clientele than she realized at first. They probably couldn''t afford to turn too many people away.

    "Having said that, there are some things you should know before you say yes." Petey cleared his throat before continuing. "There are no weight classes, and no gendered divisions. Anyone can challenge anyone. You don''t have to accept, but worse odds give you a better payout if you win."

    "Is that how it works? Fighters just call each other out? There''s no bracket or anything?"

    "Nope, no bracket. The fighters come to an agreement themselves and then the boss and I give them a fight date, usually within a week." Petey explained. "There are some rules of the ring, but we can go over those later. Are you okay with everything so far?"

    "Yeah, it seems pretty straightforward," Ayda answered honestly. "When''s this trial fight of mine supposed to be?" She realized this may have been pushing the issue a bit, but she wanted to get this over with sooner, rather than later.

    "The sooner the better. Are you free right now?"

    "Of course. Who''s my opponent?"

    "I am."

    "Seriously?" Ayda scoffed. "Alright. I mean, I''m ready if you are." She expected to fight one of the guys training outside, but not him. This may be easier than expected.

    "Great," Petey said with a wide gesture. "If you follow me out onto the floor, we can get started."

    Ayda nodded confirmation. Without another word, Petey slipped past her and out of the office. The teenager followed behind him. The same little group of people was still outside on the training floor, although they seemed to have retired from training. One of the two fighters patted off his neck with a white towel, while the other took a long drink from a blue sport bottle. The rest lazed around separately.

    Petey paid them no mind,. Instead, he brought his charge as far from them as possible to the leftmost ring closest to the door. This one was more or less identical to the rest¡ªred ropes tied to black posts, which matched the floor-sweeping skirt on the gray mat¡ªbut the entire thing seemed markedly tidier. Either it had been cleaned recently or, most likely, saw less use than the rest.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    The older man wasted no time stepping inside the ring. He stepped up on stairs at the far end of the ring and threaded his visage through the ropes. Once inside, Petey took off his stupid beige sweater vest and tossed it over the side. It landed on a heap on the concrete floor.

    "No gloves or anything?" Inquired Ayda from the ground. "Not even a mouth guard?"

    "You won''t have safety equipment in an actual fight, so you wouldn''t be ready if we used any right now," Peter responded, again making perfect sense. "Take off that sweater, though. Wouldn''t want to give me anything to grab onto."

    That was a piece of advice he needn''t bother giving. Ayda had planned on removing the garment, anyway. She unzipped the old purple hoodie and stripped it off her torso to reveal a spaghetti strap pink tank top beneath. As she did, an ounce of hesitation sprung up in the back of her mind. The skin around her scars began to crawl. She suddenly became uncomfortably conscious of each and every one of them, especially the horrid stab wound on her left shoulder.

    They usually didn''t bother her. Or, at least, not any more. What years of brainwashing convinced her were signs of failure, she now wore as badges of honor. Not all were medals of victory, but they stood as reminders of all the times she''d survived and grown stronger. It took more than their accumulated influence to bring her down. Something about letting this gang of ruffians ogle them set her at unease.

    She adjusted the left strap in a vain attempt to better conceal what lay underneath. This wasn''t like her. She normally was a bottomless well of confidence, but the unwholesome gaze of several strange men bored into the back of her mind. Maybe recent events had a more profound impact on her than previously assumed. Maybe she still wasn''t at one-hundred percent. Though, if Petey was looking for a true warrior, these numerous marks might convince him she''s the real deal.

    Doing her best to ignore everyone else in the room, to focus solely on her opponent, Ayda climbed the nearest set of portable wooden stairs and hung the hoodie on the post. Doing so drew some unwanted attention. One of the patrons pointed to her and mumbled something to his friend, who also looked. Had Ayda her staff, she would''ve thrown it at them. A cold glare was the best she could muster, but it seemed to do the trick. They jerked their gazes in opposite directions.

    Ayda entered the arena to find her opponent limbering up. Petey made wide swinging motions with his arms to loosen the ligaments in his shoulders. The teenager couldn''t tell before, but tight muscles bulged against his too small white button-up shirt. For his age, Petey clearly took care of himself. But, working out didn''t equal combat prowess. From what she''d seen in movies, the owners of these gyms usually weren''t great fighters themselves. This should be easy.

    "So, is this full contact or are we just sparring?" She asked, to that effect.

    "Nah, full contact," clarified Pete. "Show me what you got."

    "And you''re sure you don''t want a sparring helmet or anything?"

    "I''ll be fine." A statement Petey accentuated by assuming a fighting stance. "Worry more about yourself."

    "Alright, have it your way." Ayda did the same, and embraced her powers. She couldn''t use her blasts, obviously, but the enhanced reflexes would be a boon.

    Although there were no bell or announcement otherwise, with both combatants in ready postures it was understood the fight had begun. Ayda hung back for a moment¡ªin great contrast to her normal bull rush strategy¡ªto observe her opponent. He kept a typical, defensive boxing stance: left foot forward, a moderate base bent slightly at the knee, dukes up, chin tucked to protect his neck.

    Her own silhouette was similar, yet wider and looser overall as well as slightly lower to the ground, which amplified the height difference between them. It betrayed a more aggressive tendency. Ayda smirked. Most of the opponents she fought fancied themselves boxers. She knew exactly how to deal with the style.

    To that effect, Ayda charged at him, running full bore. Petey drew back a step and planted his feet, ready to either absorb or avoid a blow. But his opponent came up short. Ayda rooted to the mat, stopping instantly. Condensing her body like a spring, she flung herself up into the air, twisting on the way up. The girl came around with a vicious, jumping and spinning axe kick. Her right foot made an upward arc, then came straight down as she rotated toward the opposition.

    To her astonishment, however, the attack met only air before her heel slammed into the mat. That strike should''ve been almost impossible to read, yet Petey dodged it without a flaw. He leaned back to slip it by not even an inch.

    The moment Ayda touched ground, he was on her. Petey came forward with a double combo, getting right in her space. Ayda stepped back in time with him, parrying each strike barely. She offered a lofty jab in retaliation. It connected with his cheekbone, but accomplished nothing more than to halt his advance. The teenager attempted to follow up with a right hook, but Petey put up his hands in a cage block. The strike died on his forearms. He used this opportunity to take a big step back.

    At this point a crowd formed. The guys who had been hanging around before¡ªalong with a few fresh faces who must''ve just entered¡ªgathered around the ring to watch the spectacle. One of them shouted something incomprehensible, yet seemingly targeted at Petey. They bothered Ayda little. After years of testing at the behest of two scientists, she''d become more than used to people watching her fight.

    Ayda would not allow the enemy a chance to catch his breath. She went forward again, closing the distance between them with a single stride. In almost the same motion, she chambered her leg and kicked twice, once for his chest and then immediately again a little lower. Petey leaned back again to avoid both, but didn''t actually walk anywhere.

    Ayda leapt from one foot to the other, bringing the one which once was on the mat around for a terrible inside crescent kick. This one Petey ducked under. Again, he waited until the teenager hit the ground before leveling a counter. He swung out with a right hook to the body, which slipped right past Ayda''s defenses to collide with her kidney. She winced at the impact and took a few quick steps to her right, moving with the momentum transferred to her by the blow.

    The two separated. This wasn''t going Ayda''s way at all, and that was putting it mildly. Petey put up a much tougher fight than she''d even ventured to imagine. How she longed to use her powers, to give him a good blast rather than hollow hands and feet. But that was out of the question. No illegal fighting circle would ever allow someone with strange abilities to take part. It would be an unfair advantage, after all. Ayda had to win this under her own power, with sheer skill and tenacity.

    The combatants came together again. Ayda took a much more measured approach, exchanging blows with her opponent. Petey went for a quick lab-hook combo, which Ayda blocked. She answered with a low lick, but the older man raised his foot so the kick instead harmlessly hit his shin. He threw another jab, which Ayda dodged. She came back with an overhand hook, but missed completely. Petey had a considerable reach advantage. Ayda stepped back, out of the fray.

    Petey reinitiated combat. Again, he led with a left hook. This time, Ayda was ready. She stepped to her left and turned a quarter rotation. The punch sailed harmlessly past her. The moment it reached full extension, she grabbed the arm with one hand at the wrist and the other at the shoulder.

    The teenager bent her knees and pulled, an attempt to rip Petey from his feet. He would not be swayed so easily, though. The man widened his base. He slid a few inches, but remained indomitable. Recognizing the futility of her task, Ayda released his shoulder to instead give him a pair of blows¡ªone to the ribs, and another to the cranium. Petey broke free and quickly stepped for the ropes. Ayda attempted to catch him with a hook kick as he escaped, but whiffed by an inch.

    Petey whipped around as soon as he exited engagement range. He didn''t remain there long. The man came forward with a wild right hook that Ayda blocked without even really trying. At almost the exact same time, Petey kicked for her shins, an attack with barely enough range to reach her. Ayda brought her legs together and avoided the attack, but doing so put her just slightly off-balance. She realized too late this had been Petey''s intent all along. He struck out with a powerful uppercut. Ayda took it on the chin, but the worst part was the way her teeth clacked together. Perhaps she was the one who needed a mouthguard.

    The aggressor seized his chance. With his back foot Petey let out a surprisingly high roundhouse kick a man his size shouldn''t have been capable of. It may have caught a normal opponent off-guard, but Ayda was much too fast for it. She ducked low, well underneath the foot. With a swift arcing motion, she swept at Petey''s one leg still in contact with the mat.

    The man tumbled head over heels as his base was forcibly knocked out from underneath him. He landed flat on his back with an impact meaty enough to cause shockwaves through the canvas. The crowd let out an enthusiastic "ohhhhh" as he went down.

    For Ayda, however, it was not time to celebrate quite yet. She righted herself and dashed up to the shoulder of her downed foe. Petey was just starting to recover when a blue and white sneaker pressed against his neck. He went stiff against its influence, looking up at the one who pinned him there. Ayda stood sentinel over him, foot planted under his chin. She snarled down at him.

    Petey''s eyes darted around, searching desperately for an escape, but found none after a few seconds. He gave a weak smile and raised upturned palms over his head.

    "I give, you win," he croaked through a partially compressed windpipe.

    Ayda let up, taking her foot from his throat and onto the mat instead. Petey took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out in one sharp huff. The teenager reached out a hand to him. After a moment''s hesitation, he took it. The man righted mostly on his own. Ayda needed provide little assistance. As he stood, the crowd which had gathered slowly dispersed, seemingly disappointed at the abrupt ending.

    Hostilities having ceased, the two now simply stood in the middle of the ring, the older of them breathing at a slightly accelerated pace. This was awkward, unbearably so. Ayda normally didn''t parlay with the men she bested. They usually ended up either passed out or in custody well before the possibility of conversation presented itself. She had no experience with this kind of thing. Thankfully, Petey did. He spoke before the situation could grow much worse.

    "Do you know how long it''s been since I lost a fight that quickly?" He quipped.

    "Is that a bad thing?" Ayda fired right back.

    "No, I''m impressed. You don''t look like much, but you pack a wallop."

    "Thanks?" Ayda trailed off, unsure how to respond to something which was both an insult and a compliment.

    "If you''re still interested, I can see about setting you up with a match. Or, you can train here, if you want."

    "No¡ªno," Ayda denied quickly. "I''m still very much interested in a fight."

    "I had a feeling you''d say that," Petey responded matter-of-factly. "I''ll pass your information on to my boss, and if he likes what he sees, I''ll get in contact with you."

    "Sounds good to me," Ayda said, even though it didn''t. The idea of her personal information being tossed around so lightly made her heart sink. Although probably harmless, these men were still criminals. Handing them her identity was the height of folly¡ªespecially considering her occupation¡ªbut she hadn''t another choice. This was her only ticket in.

    "Perfect, Ayda," her name slithered off his tongue. "I''ll be in contact very soon, one way or the other. It''s probably best if you don''t come back in the meantime, though, just to keep the others from getting suspicious."

    "Good point," Ayda said as if she hadn''t already come to the same conclusion long ago. "I''ll get out of your hair, then." She turned to leave.

    "Stay safe," Petey called as she exited the ring. Although probably just a simple farewell, it almost sounded like a threat coming from him.

    Ayda gathered up her jacket and wasted no time in exiting the gym. The air outside smelled sweet compared to the interior she''d just come from. Hints of salt drifted up from the nearby ocean, mingling with heat and exhaust fumes. She took a deep breath before mounting her bike.

    As Ayda revved the thing to life, an odd sense of dread shivered down her spine. She''d accomplished exactly what she''d set out to¡ªand it was much easier than expected¡ªbut something about it struck her funny. No matter how she looked at it, she''s just thrown her hat in with criminals.

    It wasn''t the business itself which bothered her. Ayda had little problem with underground fighting rings. Rather, the likely clientele got under her skin. Who knew what kind of wretched villains gathered in such a place? Did willfully joining their ranks make her one of them? Ayda broke the law on a daily basis, but communing with criminals instead of busting them didn''t sit right. At least she''d get to beat a few of them up.

    She reminded herself of what brought on the current predicament in the first place. She only went to these degenerates because there were startlingly few other options. In a way, this wasn''t even her fault. Bernard shared much of the blame. In trying to keep his daughter from chasing thugs, he turned her into one.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 38: Up to Speed

    Ayda walked down a familiar hallway. All around her were metal panels of equal size. The walls, ceiling, and floor consisted entirely of them. Each long rectangle carried a slightly blue tinge, enhanced by the pure white fluorescent lighting which shone upon them. One of the bulbs up ahead flickered at irregular intervals. She''d fix it herself if she knew where to find the replacements. Oh well, maintenance could handle it.

    The teenager was dressed for a workout in a tight black tank top and matching capri yoga pants. Her white sneakers clashed brilliantly with the ensemble. One hand held her staff in its collapsed form, along with her phone. The other slung a small white towel over her left shoulder.

    Ayda made good progress down the passage. Save for the dying bulb, which now was behind her, the place was quiet. It was Saturday, and most people would be out enjoying their weekend. That included Bernard, something she was thankful for. A part of her was still mad at him, even though the rational part of her brain said not to be.

    It''d be a lie to say she hadn''t planned to do this on a Saturday specifically to avoid him. The space she journeyed to wasn''t exactly the most trafficked area in the Belmont International Research and Development Labs. There was little danger of finding it occupied, even on the busiest of days. Ayda was avoiding Bernard, plain and simple. Some small portion of her hated how childish that was, but most of her didn''t care. They''d talk when she was good and ready, and she wasn''t ready.

    She reached the end of the hall. To the passive observer, it looked like just a solid steel wall, but Ayda knew better. She walked over to the right hand corner and flipped up a hidden panel. Behind it hung a keypad. Swift fingers entered a code she knew like the back of her hand. When the sequence was complete, hidden hydraulics whirred to life. The dead end parted down the middle, each half sliding into the wall. The new opening revealed a round room with the walls and floor covered in white padding. The testing room.

    Ayda took a single step inside, then used her towel hand to mess with her phone. She hit a series of buttons, entering commands for her own benefit. A figure appeared in the center of the room. It was shaped like a man, six foot tall and well-built. The thing sacrificed distinguishable features for blue skin crisscrossed by a white digital wire frame. This was one of Belmont International''s prototype hardlight holographic projections, designed to train American soldiers.

    A scowl crossed her face. She so detested the things, but they were good to wail on. It had been far too long since Ayda had done any actual training. Most of her combat experience these days came from punching gang members. That was all well and good, but they couldn''t stand up to her powers. These projections, on the other hand, were more than capable of doing so. They made the perfect partners, even if they did make her skin crawl.

    The girl stepped out of the testing room for a split second, just long enough to set her phone down in the corner beyond the entrance. She felt relatively safe about putting it there. No one was around to steal it, and anyone dumb enough to try would be caught on the security cameras. She entered the testing chamber once again and lifted up both a section of padding near the entrance, as well as the metal panel beneath it. She entered the same code as before, and the hidden entrance closed.

    Ayda walked over to where the hologram stood, and stopped just out of arm''s reach. She gave it an unimpressed look. The thing had assumed a standard orthodox boxing stance, as per its default setting. Ayda could change this, but saw no reason to. Most of her opponents fought from similar positions.

    The teenager took a slight step back. She tossed her towel off to her left. It hit the padding and slid to the floor out of the way. She embraced her powers. The staff in her right hand attained the signature purple outline, indicating her energy flowed through it. A pair of blasts extended the formerly collapsed sides. Ayda brought it out in front of her and gripped it in two hands. A twist separated the halves. Now armed with kali sticks, Ayda assumed a fighting stance. She presented her left side to the hologram. The corresponding stick was held low at nearly a full extension of her arm, pointed at the thing''s face. The other weapon was supported in a grip further back and over her head, tip focused right between the enemy''s eyes.

    A deep breath in, and then out.

    "Begin!" She shouted. Voice commands, something she''d specifically requested be programmed into the hologram''s fight software.

    The hologram surged forward with a straight punch at Ayda''s nose. She blocked it with her front stick. In the same motion, she rotated her body and delivered two regular body shots with her opposite fist. The hologram gave a pain reaction just like an actual person would, even though it felt nothing. The thing stepped back and, after a second''s reprieve, launched a high sidekick. Ayda faded back, and the blue foot met only air.

    The moment the thing had its balance again, Ayda stepped forward. She lashed out with a pair of forehand strikes, alternating left and then right with her sticks. The hologram blocked both with its forearms. Ayda lept into an aerial spinning crescent kick. The hologram ducked underneath the attack, exactly like she wanted. Ayda landed and jabbed her right stick upward into its abdomen. A small blast, her first of the fight, send it stumbling backward a few steps.

    Ayda pressed her advantage. She closed the distance and threw a stomach-level side kick. The hologram slipped to the side and caught her heel. It attempted to use this as leverage to give her a good straight cross, but Ayda hopped back away from the blue fist. She stuck upward in broad motions with both sticks, once from the left and then from the right. The hologram matched her footwork, dodging each attack. It tried to give her a lead backfist, but Ayda sliced down at the forearm. A blast again sent the hologram stepping off. It did a complete rotation as it struggled to keep its balance, but remained upright. Not for long. Ayda advanced with a vile front kick. The ensuing blast caught the thing in the sternum. It uprooted from the floor and came down on its back a few feet away.

    "Ha!" Ayda celebrated. That crescent kick combo was one she''d thought of the night before. Good to see it worked.

    The hologram got to its feet and went back into a boxing stance. It would not receive a moment''s rest. Ayda charged at it. She stopped within striking distance and immediately cut right than left with her lead left stick. Again, she had the hologram backpeddling out of the way. She spun into a slash from her back right stick, but missed. As he came out of the spin, the hologram went for a big overhand right. Ayda crossed her sticks over her head and caught it. She gave the hologram a push kick to the knee. The joint buckled. Ayda used the momentary unbalancing to strike diagonally downward with both sticks. The hologram did a solid faceplant.

    Ayda let out a quick huff and stepped away from the downed machination. That exchange didn''t actually go the way she wanted it to. Her opponent wasn''t supposed to counter punch. She''d forgotten just how fast these things were. A normal person probably wouldn''t have, though, and she would be able to front kick out of the spin like she wanted. Another combination that worked in practice.

    The hologram stood. Ayda took a deep breath in, and then out through her nose. This next set might not be fun. She closed the distance. The hologram threw a quick jab, but she leaned back out of the way. The moment the threat passed, Ayda pressed forward, stabbing both sticks in rapid succession. The hologram dodged to one side. In the same instant, it went for a mean right hook. Ayda saw the attack coming. She tried to get away, but was too far forward. She took it on the chin. A few quick steps saw her out of range.

    Just like she thought, stabbing with both sticks not only overextended her, but also made it difficult to raise up for a block. This was exactly why she bothered with training at all. She had very little practical experience using kali sticks, even considering the times she''d taken down thugs with them. The weapons served her no purpose if she didn''t know how to use them properly.

    The hologram came again. This time, Ayda improvised. Remaining on the ground, she sent a crescent kick toward its head. It ducked. She planted the foot she''d just attacked with and sent her opposite toe soaring upward. The hologram put it''s hands down and stopped the kick halfway. That was the second front kick she''d used. The thing was probably getting used to them. The hologram sent an uppercut right up the middle. Ayda redirected it with her lead stick, but barely. She was beginning to notice the weapons made it harder to block punches, since they were much thinner and less stable than her forearms. An important note, to be sure.

    No time to dwell on this, as the hologram sent forward a straight cross. Ayda moved her head away from it. The hologram connected with a heel to her right thigh. She barely even felt it. The enemy was well within her guard, now. She punched straight ahead with her left hand, then whapped the hologram across the cheek with her right stick. The accompanying blasts sent it reeling. It doubled over and stumbled on unsteady feet. Though the thing threatened to topple, it remained upright.

    Ayda saw this as an opportunity to test something. She stepped up to the hologram. With her left hand, she sent a hammer fist straight downward into its spine, striking with the little bit of metal which stuck out past her pinky. A blast sent the hologram sprawling onto its front.

    The teenager grimaced. She''d seen that strike on television, but it didn''t work quite the same in real life. The hit itself lacked in power, but the blast¡ªof course¡ªmade up for it. Beyond that, it was slow and only useful in certain situations. She could do much more damage with a knee, and such an attack would put her enemy on their back, making it harder for them to stand up. It wasn''t a bad move, per say, but there were certainly better alternatives.

    Ayda stepped back and let the hologram get to its feet. There was one more thing she wanted to try.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    She utilized her lead stick to open up with a simple backhand slash, no blast. The hologram easily blocked such a basic attack. It countered with a right hook. Ayda crouched down to pass beneath it. From her lowered position, she struck with her left stick at the thing''s ankles in an upward cut, rising to her feet as she did so. The ensuing blast ripped the hologram from its feet. It tilted back, ready to fall on its rump. Using her right stick, Ayda tried the hammer fist again. This time she hit right in the hologram''s breastbone. The blast slammed it to the ground, hard enough that she heard the metal impact through the floor padding.

    Ayda stepped away with a half turn, a celebratory growl in her throat. Now, that was a good use for the hammer fist. Something that sent an opponent into the ground with that much force would probably end a fight all on its own. The immense satisfaction she felt from figuring out the proper application for a new technique was like few other things in the world.

    "Alright, stop," she called out into the void. She heard the hologram stand behind her, but it only idled there.

    The girl took a few slow breaths. That little session hadn''t been enough to tire her out, but a little proper breathing would preserve her energy levels. Though not exhausted, she did manage to work up a little sweat. It had been pretty successful for a warmup, but that''s all it was. While practicing combos was good, she also needed experience in more dynamic situations. After a quick rest, she''d work more on improvisational, reactive fighting, more like what she''d encounter in the real world.

    She yawned, and walked over to where her towel now rested. She wiped down her arms, then her neck, before burying her face in the soft cloth.

    "I hope I''m not interrupting," said a sudden and very familiar voice.

    Ayda turned to the source of the disturbance to see an old man walk through the still opening doors. Square of jaw and in amazing shape for his age, his presence put an instant smile on her face. Distantly, the girl wondered how she''d managed to missed the hydraulics coming to life, but mostly she was just happy to see him.

    "Colonel Hammond?" She jogged over to him. "Oh my God, it''s been forever!" She greeted him with a hug.

    "It''s only been six months," argued the man while he held her.

    "Forever," Ayda reasserted. They separated. "What are you doing here?"

    "Well, I was in the neighborhood and decided to drop by," Hammond joked.

    "But I thought you were on some super-secret mission in the Middle East."

    "Officially, I wasn''t there at all," corrected the military man.

    "Right, of course." Ayda rolled her eyes and smirked at him. "No, but seriously, what are you doing?"

    "My portion of things over there wrapped up, so they let me come back back to the States. I figured you''d be mad if I didn''t come see you."

    "You''re damn right I would be," confirmed Ayda.

    "How are you holding up?" Asked Hammond, shifting the topic.

    "What do you mean?"

    "Bernard told me what happened."

    "Oh." Ayda looked at her shoes. "You talked to him already?"

    "Yeah," nodded Hammond. "I called him to try and find out where you were. He said he didn''t know, and he told me everything."

    There was a short pause, one in which Ayda had difficulty meeting Hammond''s gaze. It was embarrassing, in a weird way, to be called out on her situation, and even more so to receive unsolicited sympathy because of it. She didn''t need him feeling sorry for her. She was fine. But he probably wouldn''t believe that.

    "What do you want me to say?" Ayda broke the brief silence. "Yeah, it sucks, but I''m holding up. I was broke for most of my life. I can handle it."

    "I don''t doubt that," agreed Hammond. "If it makes you feel better, I do not agree with Bernard, here. This is the last thing you need."

    "Yeah, you''ve always been on my side," Ayda said. "Thank you for that."

    "Of course." Hammond put a hand in his pocket. "Speaking of which, as much as I wish this was just a social call, there is something I want to talk to you about."

    "Oh? All good things, I hope," Ayda joked.

    "Well, that''s a matter of perspective."

    Hammond dug out his phone and lit up the display, holding it up to Ayda''s face. Her heart fell through the floor at what she saw. It was a news article from the New York Times. A picture of her all dressed up as Pulse outside Persimmon elementary school dominated the screen. The headline read something about superheroes, but she didn''t have time to read it all before Hammond swiped it from behind with his thumb.

    A new tab showed up. Another article, this one from the Wall Street Journal. Hammond cycled through several more. Washington Post. The Guardian. TIME. Boston Globe. Reuters. Every piece featured her face and monicker. She wasn''t given an opportunity to read any of them, but she could just imagine what they said.

    "Colonel, I¡ª" Ayda hesitated. "I can explain. I won''t say it''s now that it looks like, because it is, but I swear¡ª"

    "Who knows?" Hammond cut her off. He lowered his phone.

    "What?" Ayda looked at him.

    "Who knows you''re Pulse?"

    "Just the people who already know about my powers. Elliot, Bernard, and you. I haven''t told anyone, not even Emma."

    "Emma is every bit as smart as her husband. Let''s assume she''s figured it out."

    "Okay," Ayda said with a small voice. She looked down again. "I''m sorry, Colonel."

    "I didn''t come here for an apology," he said. "I just want to make sure you know what''s going on. The cat''s out of the bag."

    "I know," Ayda said. "I knew the moment those reporters started taking my picture." She sighed. "Look, I am sorry. Really. I know this probably puts you in a difficult position. I know I broke whatever agreement I made when I first came here. But I don''t care." She met his eyes.

    "You don''t?"

    "No." Ayda shook her head. "I don''t care what rules I''m breaking because this shit is important, Ben." She used his first name for emphasis. "The men I fight are out there doing bad things, selling drugs, hurting people. They killed¡ª" She took a sharp breath. "They killed Jackie. The police do nothing. They''re useless. I''m better equipped to deal with it than any of them. I said the same thing to Elliot. I can stop the Triad. I will. I don''t care who stands in my way. As far as I care, they''re just obstacles."

    Ayda stopped herself short. She could''ve said more, but suddenly realized just how long she''d been talking. She didn''t mean to go on such an impassioned little rant. That may have been a mistake. She cautiously searched Hammond''s expression for any sign of what he may be thinking. All she found there was a lopsided smirk.

    "Good," he said. "That''s exactly what I was hoping you''d say."

    "You''re... not mad?" Ayda raised an eyebrow.

    "Mad?" Hammond chuckled. "Kid, I''d give you a goddamn medal if I could."

    For a second, Ayda was speechless. "Alright, you lost me. I thought for sure you were here to arrest me, or something."

    "No, I''m not here to arrest you." Hammond put his phone away. "Do you remember what I said the day I gave you your plain ticket?"

    "That was a long time ago," Ayda denied. "And, you said a lot of things."

    "I said the greatest skill of the U.S. Government is it can cover-up pretty much anything. That includes you."

    "Okay. I remember that, but I still don''t follow."

    "The government can''t take any action against you, because that would be admitting you exist, which opens up a whole other can of worms. People would start looking for answers, and asking a lot of difficult questions. You had to come from somewhere right, so what are you doing in this country? Answering that would run the risk of incriminating the people in charge of putting you here. The public would figure out who''s who eventually.

    "I can see that," Ayda shrugged. "Sure, someone would get doxxed, or something. What''s the government doing about it?"

    "Mostly, they''re staying quiet. Right now, there are no confirmed reports of you actually using any superpowers. You never did it on camera. I don''t know about the President or anything, but that''s the angle the Pentagon is spinning. They''re passing you off as just another vigilante."

    "They''re covering me up?" Ayda wondered aloud. "But, that doesn''t make any sense. They have more than enough shit to take me down. They have. Why would they just sit back and watch me instead of taking me out quietly?"

    "You think no one would notice your absence? People know who you are. Again, if you just vanished one day, they would start asking questions. It''s a catch 22. No matter what the government does, they lose."

    "That still doesn''t make sense. They could just kill me and cover that up."

    "Well," Hammond said, "I may have fed them some false information once or twice. Though, I can''t confirm or deny that."

    "You lied for me?"

    "Do you remember what else I said all those years ago?"

    "Are you talking about the deal you made me?"

    "Yep," Hammond nodded. "I still think trying to force you to stop using your powers is utter bullshit. You''re special, Ayda, in a way so few others are. That should be embraced, not rejected. I''ve been doing what I can to help you on my end."

    "I... I don''t know what to say," Ayda breathed. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

    "It''s nothing." Hammond waved away the notion. "I''m happy to do it. But even beyond that, things aren''t as bad as you think."

    "I don''t know, it seems pretty bad," Ayda scoffed.

    "On the surface, sure, but there''s more to it," began the Colonel. "I chose those articles on purpose, because all of them cite the cold, hard facts. Crime is down, way down, not just in El Puerto, but the rest of the country. No one''s dumb enough to take the risk of running into someone like you, and you''d better bet Washington has noticed. There''s a lot of talking going on behind closed doors. Most of the bigwigs don''t like you, but some of them do. I know a lot of my men are big fans."

    "Alright. Just, give me a minute."

    Ayda quarter turned away from him. It was a lot to take in, especially all at once. If what Hammond said was all true¡ªand she believed it was¡ªthen things were much more complicated than she thought. There were so many questions, and few answers. She understood what Hammond meant when he said the public would get nosy. She herself had plenty of questions for the government about Pulse, and she was Pulse! Just imagine what the masses would think.

    "So," she faced him, "what does all that mean?"

    "It''s too early to tell right now, but keep your ears open. I have no idea what''ll happen in the coming months. That said, I don''t think you have anything to worry about."

    "Yeah," agreed Ayda. "I guess that''s all I can do, right? It''s not like I have any connections other than you, or anything."

    "The best thing you can do right now, is keep fighting," Hammond said. "You have everyone''s attention. Show them what you can do."

    "Oh, I had no intention of stopping," Ayda said.

    "Good. I''m glad to see you haven''t lost that fighting spirit."

    "Thanks."

    The sentiment hung in the air for a few seconds before Hammond broke it. "Well, That''s just about everything I wanted to say. Any thing you want to ask me?"

    Ayda shook her head. "Not right now, but I''ll let you know if I come up with anything."

    "Okay," said Hammond with a sense of finality. "I''ll let you get back to training then."

    "No, I think I''ve had enough stress for one day," Ayda quipped. "Are you free? It''d be nice to talk to you about some less heavy shit, and it is lunchtime." She let her pitch rise at the end, a sweet smile on her face to sell the not so subtle hint.

    Hammond smiled. "Alright. Come on, we''ll go to Fat Freddy''s." He began walking toward the exit.

    "Cheap pizza? Really?" Ayda fell in beside him.

    "Kid, I haven''t had pizza in half a year. Do you have any idea what that does to a man?"

    "I don''t think I wanna find out," Ayda said. "Pizza it is, then."

    As the two of them exited the laboratory, Ayda couldn''t help but be an absolute torrent of emotions. She was uncertain, anxious, and even a little bit angry for some strange reason. More than that, though, she was thankful to have people like Colonel Benjamin Hammond looking out for her. A superhero was nothing without a few good friends, and she had some great ones.

    Though the future were unclear, Ayda determined to keep her head up and keep fighting crime as Pulse. The world wouldn''t stop for her, and she had a job to do. All the old men in their stuffy suits could either take notice, or get the hell out of her way.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 39: Dont Talk About Cage Fight Club

    The roar of the crowd, aggressive and unyielding; and much larger than expected. The mostly male audience shouted a near constant cacophony, shifting wildly from praise to condemnation at the drop of a fist. Most comments fell away, swept under the rug by a voluminous sea of shouts, although some drifted through the murky waters. Whether negative or otherwise, many were rather uncouth. Caught up in the momentary excitement, folks said whatever came to mind. These weren''t the most pleasant of individuals.

    The sordid slap of skin on skin elicited a momentary escalation from the crowd. Although the hit had been more volume than any sort of actual effect, they seemed to enjoy it, probably because the sound made it easier to tell what was going on. One very large man went so far as to pound on the cage, seemingly quite pleased with the strike.

    Ayda stood in the center of the cuboid space, surrounded on all sides by undulating bodies and heavy-duty chicken wire which extended from concrete floor to ceiling. Scattered beads of fresh sweat collected on the neckline of her black tank top. Matching track shorts shifted as she moved bare feet into a more solid stance, a recovery from an effective body kick.

    Her opponent¡ªa Caucasian woman with mousy hair pulled into a ponytail¡ªretreated closer to the cage. Stunned by the blow, she was not visibly hurt. Idly, the woman adjusted her yellow t-shirt. She displayed a calm and cool demeanor in defiance of her nickname, The Hurricane.

    The fight only just started about a minute ago. It had been a series of firsts for Ayda: her first time entering the basement of a seemingly abandoned industrial warehouse, first time participating in an illicit cage fight and, just now, the first good hit of the bout.

    Petey had come through on his word, much to Ayda''s surprise. He called a little more than a week after their first meeting to offer her a fight. He added his boss was quite impressed with what he saw on the security camera footage of their trial bout. While momentarily put off at being recorded without her permission, Ayda eagerly accepted.

    But this was not the time for solemn reflection. There was a battle to win, a fact which she was reminded of when her opponent shuffled to within striking distance. Ayda put up her dukes, but held position in the middle of the ring. The Hurricane¡ªor Annalise, as she was born¡ªthrew a few limp little punches which Ayda easily intercepted with her palm. They were not meant to inflict damage, but to instead test her resolve.

    The Hurricane launched without warning into a quick jab-hook combo, leading with her right hand. Ayda allowed the blows to bounce off her forearms, all the while marveling at their novelty. Despite getting into fights every single day, she''d seldom had the privilege of fighting a southpaw. She berated herself for not having immediately noticed, but the realization piqued her interest.

    Ayda faded back, throwing a quick jab to cover her retreat. The Hurricane would not be distracted, however. She caught the back peddling girl with a low kick. The attack didn''t do much more than annoy Ayda, but it affirmed something she''s suspected since before the commencement bell rung. Although shorter and a little older, Annalise was no slouch.

    The Hurricane shifted forward with a big overhand punch, a move Ayda would never have lead with. The younger combatant leaned to avoid the blow and countered with a hook. Her opponent caught it on the chin. Annalise flinched at the impact, and then it was her turn to shuffle back. Ayda came forward to attempt another body-level sidekick, but Annalise continued her rearward movement to avoid the strike.

    Immediately The Hurricane whipped a lead hook kick straight at Ayda''s face, attempting to catch her while she recovered. Ayda took a small step outside of the kick''s rotation, avoiding it by fractions of an inch. This was where her ever-so-slight reach advantage came into play. She could just barely strike at Annalise without herself moving into retaliation range. While Annalise still had her foot in the air, Ayda threw forward a simple push kick at her other appendage still rooted on the floor. The Hurricane''s base crumpled and she took a spill on the hard cement.

    Ayda would''ve liked to continue the assault on her now reeling enemy, to end it all with a terminal curb stomp, but there were rules to the ring. Ground-based wrestling and submissions were completely forbidden. Dull hugging matches didn''t bring in the spectators, and combatants with broken or sprained joints couldn''t fight. Stand-up grappling, however, was perfectly permissible. All of this made the matches feel much like kickboxing events.

    Annalise spent little time on the ground. Ayda backed up a few steps as her enemy rose. After an impact like that, she would likely remain dazed for a little while. Ayda knew from experience how difficult it was to offer an effective attack with cobwebs in the brain. The plan was hang back and allow the woman to make a mistake. Then, she would finish this fight.

    Both of them firmly on their feet, they stood separate for a moment. Although steady in her stance, Annalise favored her right shoulder just slightly, betrayed by the lowered elevation of her fist. That lead jab she seemed to love so much may not be doing her much more good. Ayda dropped her defenses with a smirk she couldn''t stop herself from forming. She baited The Hurricane to attack, dared her to try it.

    The older woman answered in kind, but not in an expected way. Without so much as a twitch in warning, Annalise hurled herself into a massive flying knee. Off-guard could not begin to describe what Ayda felt as the now airborne woman sped toward her. Even her super-human reflexes were not enough to defend against the savage attack. She took a step back and turned to avoid it, but not nearly fast enough. The hard, heavy projectile kneecap smashed into the side of her head, making a hollow thud as the bones collided.

    The force threatened to rip Ayda from her feet. Stars swam in her pupils as pain temporarily overrode every other sense. She stumbled back, knees buckling at every footfall. Frantically, she reached out for something, anything to remain upright. She found the cage. Her shoulders came to rest against the soft metal. It clinked and buckled at the sudden weight. Ayda allowed herself to fall back into it, breathing deeply in a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of composure.

    The moment Ayda hit the barrier, Annalise pounced on her. She pushed the younger girl further into the cage and then transitioned immediately into a classic standing clinch. The women pressed together in a deadly embrace. The Hurricane wrapped her arms around Ayda''s upper-torso, and placed a bent leg in her groin.

    This was bad. Ayda''s immediate reaction was to try and wriggle free, but The Hurricane would not be defeated by such infantile tactics. Annalise clasped her hands together behind Ayda''s back. With every move the teenager made, the cage twisted and warped in response, smushing her further into the enemy''s iron grip.

    Clearly, that avenue of escape had been sufficiently closed off. Ayda''s next plan was to slip underneath the suffocating clasp. Again she wriggled, but this time she gradually bent her knees in an attempt to slowly shimmy out. She wouldn''t make it far, though. Annalise realized what she was doing and hooked her left arm underneath Ayda''s right, deep enough to place a palm on the back of her head.

    It was then the younger girl realized the strength difference between the two. It wasn''t much, but it made a difference. Try as she might, Ayda couldn''t move. She couldn''t get free.

    Although resolute, this grapple put The Hurricane''s hands behind Ayda''s back. The teenager pressed herself further into the cage, pinning clenched fists against cold metal. This actually put her farther away from escaping, but it also prevented her from eating any blows in the meantime.

    Or, at least, that''s what she thought. So preoccupied had she been on escaping from the northern half of this predicament, Ayda completely forgot about the south. A sharp pain shot up her left leg once, and then again as Annalise repeatedly jammed a bony heel into her foot. Ayda slid the appendage around in an attempt to move it behind the attacker''s. Annalise responded with a sharp tug on her hair, which ceased all efforts.

    Ayda ran the fingers on her right hand through the cage, and in doing so realized that entire arm had been freed when Annalise hooked her own underneath it. The teenager reached up toward The Hurricane''s face. There was a brief struggle as Annalise tried to rotate her head away from the encroaching hand but she gave up shortly, electing instead to tuck her chin so Ayda didn''t grab at anything vital.

    Ayda grabbed a handful of the enemy''s jaw. She pushed with all her might, planting her feet to throw more weight and balance behind the heave, but to no avail. Annalise was still stronger. If Ayda couldn''t shake her off before, then a new attempt at the same thing wouldn''t produce better results. She abandoned this course of action.

    Instead, she opted to slam short punches into her opponent''s back. She brought her hand as far out to the side as possible and then rammed it into Annalise three times in rapid succession. The Hurricane''s core was like a rock. Powered only by her shoulder, Ayda''s blows had little effect.

    Everyone else seemed to enjoy them, though. The crowd surged at her redoubled efforts. Maybe it was because of her close proximity to the cage, but the people were very loud, almost unbearably so. Their volume filled the room, echoing off hard walls to further amplify the sound. The orchestra of cheers and guttural roars blared in her ears, easily blocking out any other noises. Perhaps they were just loud enough¡­If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Once again Ayda lifted up her fist. Her muscles tensed. Power coursed through her veins. She accelerated a punch into The Hurricane''s kidney. The ensuing purple blast was tiny, small enough to be completely concealed by her clenched fingers. A small explosion emanated from it, but was swallowed up by the crowd.

    The latter''s response was visceral and instantaneous. She cried out in surprised pain. Her balance faltered, though did not collapse. Her grip loosened. This was the break Ayda needed. With a twist of her shoulders and a quarter turn, she took a broad pace backward, away from both the cage and her attacker. Annalise fumbled into several harsh steps, each one falling over the other. She ricocheted off the cage, using the structure to direct her momentum toward the ring''s center. She only made it a few feet, though.

    Ayda quickly glanced over her shoulder. The crowd, at this point, was in a frenzy, excited beyond measure at the miracle hit which transformed the fight back into a slugfest. None of them, even the ones who had been directly behind her, displayed any signs of shock or confusion. As far as Ayda could tell, only two people knew what she''d done: herself and Annalise.

    This brought up a second concern, making sure nothing which just transpired ever happened again. Ayda snapped her focus back to Annalise, who was just beginning to regain her balance. No, she couldn''t be allowed the chance.

    Ayda charged at her. It was a short sprint, but allowed plenty of time to build up power in the run. The teenager did not stop upon crossing into striking distance. She turned her torso toward the enemy. The still somewhat disoriented Hurricane hadn''t the slightest chance of reacting in time. Ayda''s shoulder smashed into her chin, knocking her backward.

    Twas now The Hurricane''s turn to rest upon the cage. The wire flexed against the weight, doing most of the work to hold her upright. Ayda continued her assault. She propelled a horrible front kick into the midsection of Annalise. Pinned up against the cage, she could not move back to lessen the impact. Annalise took her full brunt of it. All the air in her lungs escaped in one terrifying gasp.

    The fight was probably over after that, but Ayda was not finished with her, not yet. She stepped forward and grabbed Annalise by the collar. A quick twist hurled the slightly older woman to the concrete floor. She caught herself on all fours. Ayda showed no mercy. She buried her foot between the downed woman''s legs, catching her square between the cheeks. The force of it shifted Annalise along the floor. Her face ground into the rough cement. She lay there, conscious but unable to move from the agony which took her.

    It was then that Ayda heard the combined melody of several air horns blowing all at once. A slight yet quite noticeable hush fell over the crowd. Ayda looked toward the source of the interruption to see Petey with a ridiculous contraption in his hand, six horns duct taped together to form one super-loud instrument.

    Ayda wondered what it meant, but wouldn''t have much of a chance to figure it out. The crowed knew exactly what it was. The little silence lifted, replaced with chants.

    "Shockwave! Shockwave!" They shouted in unison.

    It took Ayda a moment to realize what they were saying. Every fighter chose a nickname before first entering the ring. This was hers. They were chanting her name. Ayda looked over to her opponent, who had managed to roll over onto her side. Her breaths were heavy. She barely moved.

    All at once, relief and ecstasy washed over the teenage girl. The sudden stop to the conflict. The air horns. The crowd. A smile split her face. She giggled, despite herself. Ayda lifter her arms in a classic victory pose. The crowd went berserk for the conqueror. She''d done it. She''d won her first cage fight.

    ¡­

    The night progressed in a rather rapid blur after that. Petey¡ªwhom Ayda gathered was the closest thing to an "official" present there¡ªushered her out of the arena shortly after blowing his air horn contraption. As she left, a few men helped Annalise get to her feet. She still seemed dazed, but not necessarily hurt as they led her out of the cage and through the crowd.

    Once out of the fight, Ayda reported to the locker room, which was really just an old supply closet. It was also the only designated changing area, used by both men and women. She was alone upon entering, but still didn''t want to take any chances. Instead of removing any of the sweaty, dirty clothes, Ayda simply slid on a pair of wind pants and a hoodie. She could always change later.

    With her newly acquired gray sleeve, Ayda wiped off a dirty mirror in the room. Through greasy streaks on the glass, a reflection of the girl stared back. There were broken blood vessels and a bit of raised welting on the side of her head where The Hurricane''s flying knee had hit. Ayda grimaced. That hit must''ve been harder than she thought. Such a minor injury would heal after a good night''s rest, but it was irritating in the meantime. Elliot would probably freak out when she got back to their apartment.

    Ayda returned to the main room after changing, but not entirely of her own volition. Necessity kept her in the building. Otherwise, she absolutely would have left immediately after the fight. In interest of their own safety, payouts were dealt to participants only after festivities concluded.

    When she made it back out to join the crowd, another battle had already commenced. Two bulky White dudes jockeyed for position inside the cage. This place certainly wasted little time. With a sigh, Ayda blended in with the crowd. Watching people beat the snot out of each other wouldn''t be so bad. There were many worse ways to spend a weekday night.

    In keeping with the theme, the fights themselves were also brief. Without rounds or referees to break up the action, most combatants either burned themselves out or were unable to continue fighting after only a few minutes. Only a few bouts progressed into the double-digits, and those that did ended shortly after. It seemed most folks were unable to keep fighting at full capacity much longer than that. Ayda doubted whether she would be able to.

    Most contests were between similarly sized individuals of the same gender, although a couple did mix the sexes. Of these, one went well for the woman involved. The other didn''t last very long. The gap wasn''t physical, in this case. They were of about the same weight class. No, the difference was skill. She was just simply outmatched.

    Ayda''s had been the first event of the night. So, she had a lot to stand through before it all was over. The energy from the crowd was infectious. While she didn''t join in their revelry, the teenager did find herself having fun. She lost track of exactly how many matches took place, but it couldn''t have been many more than ten including her own.

    When all was said and done it was Petey who took center stage, but only long enough to proclaim the night''s war concluded. At his announcement, the attendees dispersed shortly. No one wanted to spend time at an illegal, underground fighting ring if there were no fights to watch.

    Ayda waited for most of them to leave before making her way through the facility toward a door on the far western end. If it were necessary to wait until the fights ended to deal out the winnings, then Ayda should probably show the same amount of care in collecting hers. The last thing she needed was to get jumped at any point.

    The old metal door she went through led to a long, dilapidated, and dimly lit hallway. Gray cement in the walls was just beginning to crumble away. There were various cables and electrical boxes on the walls. They''d all seen better days. How this place maintained any working electricity at all was beyond her, but she had bigger concerns.

    Ayda didn''t stay in the hall very long. Her destination was only a few feet down on the left. The door she stopped briefly in front of was not original to the building. It was painted dark green. Made of much thicker metal than any other entrance, it featured a series of sturdy locks. At the moment, however, it was ajar. Ayda hesitated just a moment before entering.

    Inside she found Petey, seated behind a large wooden desk, sorting through a small stack of papers. The space resembled the office in his boxing gym, although not quite as well kept. Dressed in his normal, gaudy golfer attire, he almost looked professional. The environment, though, squashed the illusion.

    Petey looked up as soon as she entered, but gave only a nod in acknowledgement. He continued rifling through his papers. Ayda grew immediately impatient. She crossed her arms and cocked her stance to one side. She had been ready to leave directly after her fight. Spending a single second longer in that dingy old warehouse annoyed her. Thankfully for Petey, he only overlooked her for a moment before finally meeting her eyes.

    "I was wondering when you''d show up," he commented.

    "I wanted to wait for some of the people to clear out."

    "No, that''s smart," Petey clarified. "I wouldn''t trust most of them as far as I could throw them."

    Without a further exchange of pointless pleasantries, Petey began messing with something under his desk. Ayda couldn''t see what it was, but she could only assume it must have been a safe.

    "Hurricane is one of our better fighters," he said without looking at her. "I''m surprised she accepted a fight with a newbie."

    "Maybe she knew how awesome I am," Ayda joked.

    Petey chuckled. "Yeah, maybe she did."

    The man straightened up in his chair. What he held in his hand drew Ayda''s full attention. Cradled there in his fingers was a loose wad of twenty dollar bills. He held it out to her and she approached, quickly grabbing it away as if he would take it back if she weren''t fast enough. Not that he could stop her anyway. Ayda began thumbing through the bills. Petey spoke while she did.

    "That should be four-hundred dollars," Petey remarked.

    Ayda said nothing as she continued to count. Petey may have been a business man on the surface, but he still was involved in unsavory activity on a regular basis. In her several dealings with these types of career criminals, Ayda learned it was best to be prudent.

    One thing rich people were good at was counting money, and Ayda did not pose an exception to this rule. A quick thumb through the old green denominations revealed it was, indeed, four-hundred dollars in cold, hard cash. Satisfied, she pocketed it and turned her attention back to Petey.

    "Is this a normal amount?"

    "That depends on how much we make on betting," he shrugged. "Today was a pretty heavy night. I wouldn''t expect to get that much most of the time."

    "That makes sense," Ayda nodded. "Do you need anything else from me?"

    "Just to get the fuck out so I can close this place down," Petey said.

    "Alright. Um¡­ have a good night?" Ayda offered tentatively, not really sure what to say.

    "You don''t have to say anything. Just leave." Petey waved her away.

    At his behest, Ayda exited the office, headed for the parking lot. Unconsciously, she fingered the money in her pocket along the way. Four-hundred wasn''t a whole lot of money, and most definitely less than she was used to depending on.

    Before, even though she tried to limit her spending to societally modest amounts, there had always been a safety net to fall back on; a limitless well to access if anything went wrong. That net was now gone. This amount could probably put gas in her motorcycle, but not much else. If something went wrong with it, if it needed repairs or something, she was completely screwed. Bernard wouldn''t come to save her, and it wasn''t right to expect charity from Elliot. Unless she managed to find more money somewhere else, this was it.

    But, Ayda knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. At least she had access to a renewable source of income, and any amount of cash in her pocket was better than none at all. Things would work out, not because of any good fortune, but because she would make them work. She''d known hardship before and overcome it through sheer force of will. There was no reason to believe this situation would play out to the contrary. All she had to do was hold her head up high and keep moving forward.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 40: Breaking and Entering

    Just as it had on many a night in the past, Darkness fell over the bustling city of El Puerto. Well past midnight, few folks found themselves out and about. Most people up in the wee hours of the morning worked in the service industry, manning twenty-four-hour gas stations or fast food restaurants. The vast majority of those lucky enough to be employed within the well-to-do financial section went home long ago to spend time with a mattress.

    It was a quiet and serene time, only broken up by the occasional rev of an engine. The peace of a gentle night gripped El Puerto in a veil of slow sleepiness. Few were exempt to its charms. The relatively vacant streets and low lighting made the perfect habitat for all manner of fiends. As the threat of arrest ever loomed, most slunk to the shadows in a desperate attempt to hide their illicit activities. One, however, conducted business out in the open.

    A figure slinked through the darkness. It moved through alleyways and between streetlights. Only splotches of dull moonlight illuminated its motion, and not very well. Skin tight black clothing absorbed what little light swirled around the mysterious individual. Not an inch of skin showed through. Pale blue radiance did not reflect nor splay across the material. If standing perfectly still, this person would appear almost invisible in the pitch dark.

    The figure darted into an alley, traversing the narrow span in short order. It stopped at the precipice, however. Pressing itself against the right boundary, it peered around the corner. At the heart of the financial district, buildings of various heights rose in every direction. They dwarfed what structure lay ahead. These high-rises matched it not in area, though. This particular building stretched on for a perhaps excessive span. Round walls and a domed ceiling encompassed more than their fair allotment of land. It stood out like a sore thumb, which suited the figure just fine.

    After a moment the figure darted from the alley and across the street. Deft feet laced through lamps and moonbeams. Only passing glints caught a glimpse. Not a single car approached in the meantime. No passersby were present to witness the scene unfolding in the dank silence. It was just the figure, and an undisturbed shroud of night.

    At the clip of an Olympic sprinter, the figure dashed onto the driveway of the circular building. The hot top which normally permitted both visitors and important employees was barren for the moment¡ªits occupants having long exchanged work for a mattress. As such, the figure had free reign of the space. It darted around the right side of the structure.

    At roughly the perfect center, it found what appeared to be a loading dock. A section of the circle had been cut away to allow a corrugated metal door to sit in a level spot. Immediately to its right was a normal door which allowed for personnel access. The space between the dock and the next building was not big enough for permit a very large vehicle. It likely was used for delivering mail and minor loads of various materials. The entire design seemed somewhat inefficient, but the figure was not there to critique the architecture.

    It walked up to the personnel door. From an unseen pocket, the suspicious person produced two items: a paper thin piece of hard plastic and a slim, handheld device. It stood idle for a moment, staring at the latter object, seeming impatient by the body language alone. Its stance cocked to one side. Anxious eyes peered in all directions. This was taking too long.

    After what seemed like forever¡ªbut in reality was only a few seconds¡ªa small red light on the larger device lit up. Promptly, the figure shoved the flat plastic rectangle into the bottom of the device. The former disappeared for a second, engulfed completely. The red light changed over to green, and the figure separated the two pieces, pocketing the bigger one.

    The figure stepped to within easy arm''s reach of the door. It was a white painted metal panel with a long lever knob. To the right was a simple card reader, no more than a metal slide with a little blue light in the bottom starboard corner. The figure slid the plastic rectangle through it. The light flashed a few times, accompanied by just as many soft beeps. A lock audibly unlatched. The moment it did, the figure slipped inside.

    Once through, it stopped to take in its new surroundings. This was obviously a storage room. Random pieces of electronic junk adorned shelves all the way up to the ceiling. They shared the space with many closed boxes, some of which likely were empty. Some things were of more utilitarian use, though, like paper towels, plastic utensils, reams of paper, and most things you''d find in a normal office building. For such a large facility, this was a rather small room.

    The figure wasted little time on sightseeing. It moved through a door at the opposite end of the room. This led, predictably, to a hallway. The fluorescent lights were off, and there were no windows to speak of. Perfect darkness shrouded the area. Most people wouldn''t be able to take three steps without tripping over themselves, yet the figure continued on without problem.

    It ran along the hallway, but for only a short distance before skidding to a stop in front of a door on the left-hand side. It passed the card through another reader, identical to the one outside, and quickly slid into the room. It didn''t actually enter, though, instead remaining pressed flat against the other side, one hand on the knob.

    There it stayed, for a moment. Motionless, barely breathing, it waited just a step away from the hall. The air was still, yet electricity coursed through the atmosphere. Moments blinked by, and the figure waited, poised and ready to set out once again. But it wouldn''t have to stay for long. After not even ten seconds, it once again sprinted out into the hallway, closing the door behind.

    The operation resumed as if nothing ever happened. The figure accelerated again to a full-out run. Up ahead, the hallway intersected another at a T-shaped junction. At this, the obviously unwelcome intruder hooked a swift right, losing little in the ways of speed and coordination to execute the maneuver.

    Before long, the suspicious person once again skated behind a door. Thus began another waiting period. The person remained perfectly still, divided from the hall by a hollow piece of metal. A clock inside the room ticked away, an ominous reminder of a tight schedule. The thing only made it through a few repetitions before the figure was out into the corridor.

    At another junction up ahead, it kept on straight. The building had been built on a sort of rough grid structure. Hallways were placed at relatively even intervals, while rooms designed for specific purposes filled the volume between. This was meant for easy navigation by staff, but it also helped along anyone who may wish to conduct extracurricular activities.

    From here on, a pattern was established. The intruder would dash through the hallways for short spans of time, only to take cover behind a nearby door. The running periods were of inconsistent lengths, dependent largely on the availability of hiding spots. One constant, however, was the speed with which this person moved. They sprinted around the narrow halls at a velocity even world-class athletes would envy. It never skipped a step, never mistimed a turn or opening of a door. Not a hair was out of place.

    As time wore on, the figure ended up traversing most of the facility''s length; which, at such considerable speed, didn''t take long at all. There had been no hitches so far, no lingering employees hiding in the dark to get that last bit of research done. It was almost too easy, but the figure knew not to argue with turns of good fortune.

    It was a shame, really. This was some of its best work yet. Too bad no one would ever get to see it. But, this job required a certain degree of discretion. Carelessness would only result in inescapable consequences. It would have to go unnoticed. Such was preferable to the alternative, even if sneaking around like this wasn''t quite as fun.

    Eventually, the figure came across yet another hallway, but this one was much different from the others. Firstly, it was a complete dead end. No other passages intersected it. There weren''t many doors, either. The panels were straight metal instead of concrete, unbroken by any obstruction. The only thing of note was a door at the very end, a prominent red light above it. It had no labels nor discerning marks otherwise, instead simply standing sentinel over the corridor.

    The figure did not head immediately for this door, but instead ran past the hall completely. It ducked into a nearby door, camouflaging in much the same way it had before. It was discernibly tense, this time. Gloved fingers tapped against the doorknob. Its head bobbed slightly up and down, counting the seconds with excruciating punctuality. It was waiting for something, the perfect time to strike.

    That phase would come sooner, rather than later. After the ninth count, the figure zoomed back into the hallway, the door slamming in its wake. It raced down the solitary pass in record time. Without an ounce of wasted energy, it passed the same card from before through a reader right of the sealed door. It opened and the figure vanished within.

    For all the security, this room was rather simple. It was a small and freezing cold square. A pair of air conditioning units blew frigid air. The walls were completely barren sheets of non-reflective metal. A security camera hung on the opposite wall, but it showed no signs of life. Only one thing occupied the floor, a tall server tower full of lights and components.

    The figure made a b-line for the lonely object. Before even arriving, it pulled out a USB stick from a pocket, the same one from which the earlier gadgets originated. The figure inserted it into a port on the tower, seeming to choose one at random. A pressed button atop the stick doubled as an orange LED to indicate the thing was connected.

    The air fell stagnant. The figure stood at the ready, hand on the drive just behind its light. Time seemed to almost slow down. The seconds were like hours. With every one which fell away, so too did the chances of success. A single missed moment could mean the difference between victory and defeat, potentially life and death. Their passing was torture, a maddening anxiety to conquer lesser beings.

    Thankfully for the figure''s sanity, the wait here would be a short one. Only a few clock ticks after the USB''s light came on, it went out. The moment it did¡ªat visibly the same time¡ªthe figure yanked it out and hastened back through the way it had entered. The intruder went straight for the same room it had hid in before entering the secure server area.

    Again it waited, but this time with an even heartbeat. The hard part was finally over. The last task was to get out undetected, and that would provide little in the way of challenge. It got in without a hitch. Out was always the harder direction, but in this case it mattered not. After everything which just happened, the rest was easy in comparison.

    ¡­You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    As the sun set, so did it rise once again over El Puerto, Texas. Birds¡ªmost of them seagulls¡ªsang praises up to the new day, welcoming both the heat and illumination from a brilliant yellow sun. The great star hung low in the sky, barely having cleared the horizon. The nighttime chill had yet to burn off. A wispy fog hung around streetlights and sidewalks, swirling in the slight breeze.

    Though the sun played alarm clock to most manner of wildlife, the city itself woke up long before it came to beckon. Well prior to the dawn cars traversed her streets, people walked her concrete pathways. Though, their volumes increased dramatically after the first sunbeams shone through cold skyscrapers.

    The smells of overpriced coffee and cheap donuts filled the air. Folks shuffled down cracked concrete or puttered along in lumbering motor vehicles. Despite the activity, the town seemed calm in the moments between rush hours, when gridlock dominated the streets. Though, at this point, most people weren''t quite awake enough to be irritable. For all intents and purposes, it was a wonderful morning.

    But for some, the great atmosphere outside could only be a disconnected backdrop against more dire situations. Not everyone enjoyed the fresh air and lingering freeze. Some people never even got to see the sun rise.

    Many such individuals found themselves in such a state on this particular occasion. Several police cruisers and unmarked vehicles congregated in the front lot of a circular, domed building. Most were simple sedans, but a few sport-utility vehicles dotted the space. There even was one motorcycle; its red and black finish caught the light in a way both sharp and intimidating. Scattered officers were interspersed among the metal jungle.

    Most were inside, though. They combed through the manicured hallways, searching for evidence in various ways. Some spoke with employees or compared notes with each other. A few even wandered the spaces alone. They weren''t all uniformed officers, either. A few detectives and higher-ranking officials dotted their ranks. A private investigator made her way around the facility, though her clipboard waggling amounted to little. Every pair of eyes helped, and plenty looked upon this case.

    Somewhat secluded in the building''s west side, a small collection gathered in a modest executive office. Old-fashioned green carpet covered what would have been just a metal-tiled floor. A cozy landscape painting flanked the closed door. Haphazard pages lay scattered atop a heavy mahogany desk. A man¡ªbent over in a white lab coat¡ªflipped idly through them. His actions revealed a nameplate on the desk. Gold letters atop a black background spelled out the words Dr. Bernard Belmont, CEO.

    The man set the papers down with a pronounced sigh. He scratched at a tired eye, agitating the dark bags beneath. There was silence in the room, both uncomfortable and poignant. No one really wanted to be there, and the tension of the morning made it even worse.

    "Can we go over exactly what happened again?" Requested the man, slowly donning his glasses.

    "I''ve already told you three times, Mr. Belmont," responded another male figure in the room. He had the look of a cop about him, but dressed in more business-casual attire. He wore a beige jacket, brown shirt, and darker slacks, all of which contrasted brilliantly with the African-American color of his skin.

    "Just one more time, please, detective." implored Bernard, making gentle hand gestures as if to defuse the situation.

    The detective gave a quick, exasperated glance to the two people standing behind him. One of them was a haggard looking Elliot, who had been one of the first people to arrive on the scene. The other was Ayda, dressed in¡ªof all things¡ªthe burgundy blazer and white skirt of her school uniform. She''d just arrived about twenty minutes ago. With a shrug from the latter occupant, the detective flipped back through his red memo book.

    "At 1:26 AM this morning, your surveillance systems logged a total system failure. The failsafe runtimes cycled through in the maximum allotment of thirty seconds and the cameras came back on, only to be taken down again roughly ten seconds later. This pattern continued until when, at 1:32 AM, an unauthorized person briefly made a connection with your secure top-secret research and development servers. At 1:38 AM, your systems recovered completely. There were no further problems after that. The only evidence anyone was ever here is the entry in your system logs. There are no fingerprints, broken materials, anything."

    This recitation of the day''s findings was almost word-for-word identical to the last one. Bernard listened to the whole thing with hunched shoulders, palms planted flat against the top of his desk. When it finished, he clenched a sheet of paper tightly in a shaking fist. His breaths were weighty and slow, their resonance bouncing off the metal walls. Beads of sweat muddied his forehead. A black aura seemed to rise from his arched back. He did not respond for several seconds after the detective finished, electing instead to stew in his own fury.

    "Thank you, detective," he said finally. "You''ve been¡­ very helpful with the investigation."

    "We''re doing everything we can for you, but I''m afraid there isn''t a lot to go on." The detective thumbed through his notes. "Right now, there isn''t even any evidence anything was actually taken and¡ª"

    "Thank you, detective," Bernard harshly cut him off. "I''m sure you will continue to do your best." He took his glasses off again, but this time placed them on the desk. "Can I¡­" his voice shook. "Can I have a moment alone, please? I need to process all of this."

    "Of course," the detective said. He placed his memo book in an interior jacked pocket, and led the way from the room. Elliot followed behind him, scratching the back of his tired head.

    Ayda fell in with them, but hesitated at the doorway. She spared a backward glance for Bernard. He slumped down in his chair. Elbows on the desk, he cradled his face in his hands. A shuttering breath rocked his entire upper-body. Ayda gave him a gentle look, but departed out of respect for his wishes.

    This place was like a second home to him, a third child, in a strange way. She couldn''t even imagine what he was going through. Newspapers would probably call this the "Great Heist at Belmont International," but from Bernard''s perspective, it was nothing but terrible.

    Once outside the room, and with the door closed, the detective turned right, on his way toward the lobby. Elliot made a move to follow him, but only made it a single step before a harsh tug at his collar pulled him the other way. Ayda dragged him in the opposite direction, away from the scene and the detective.

    "Nope, you''re coming with me," she said.

    "Alright, alright! Don''t pull me." Elliot struggled against her grip. Feeble fingers attempted to pry hers away. He did not escape until allowed to go.

    Once free, Elliot followed close behind the teenager. She led with a determined gait, eyes locked forward and focused on whatever her destination might be. Ayda set a brisk pace, somewhere between a walk and a proper jog, which Elliot only kept up with by merit of his longer legs. Something set a fire underneath her, and she wouldn''t stop until it was extinguished.

    The two of them traversed the numerous, labyrinthine halls of the Belmont International Research and Development Labs. In contrast to the front portions of the building, this area was rather barren. There were occasional officers or employees, but most people focused on where the action was. Bernard put his office in this unpopular area specifically because it rarely hosted a crowd. Even with all the commotion on a day like this, that property was no different.

    In this case, it was a great boon. Ayda and Elliot could meet without the threat of interruption. She led him to the closest break room, which was of a reasonable distance away. She opened up the gray door and gestured for Elliot to enter. He looked into the room, at her, and then back again before complying. The girl followed directly behind, closing the door after herself stepping in.

    This break room was about the same as any others, a station with cabinets and a sink along the east wall, a T.V hanging in the far left corner, and a long table with many chairs in the middle. Elliot walked as close to the middle as he could with the surface blocking his path.

    "Alright, what do you know," Ayda began the moment the door closed behind her. Elliot hesitated for a moment, taken aback by the sudden grilling. Surprise passed after a few seconds, and he sighed.

    "Not much more than the detective, I''m afraid," he said. Ayda walked over to him. "Someone hacked our security system from outside, while someone else snuck in and accessed our R&D server."

    "Hold on, someone else?" Ayda interjected. "You think there were two people?"

    "Yeah, there must''ve been," Elliot nodded. "There''s no way one person could hack our security, scramble their signal, cover their tracks, and time it perfectly with the failsafe, all while dodging the cameras. It''s just too much."

    "Well, that certainly complicates things," Ayda said. "So, you don''t know anything else?"

    "No, I''m sorry," denied the slightly older man. "What worries me more, though, is the way they went about it."

    "What do you mean?"

    "Here, take a look," Elliot said, pulling out his tablet which Ayda didn''t even noticed he had until right then.

    She stood behind him, peering around his left arm. Elliot punched a few icons, eventually bringing up the security feed. Multiple small screens crisscrossed the touchscreen. This wasn''t anywhere near the total amount of cameras in the building, just a small sample. The timestamp at the bottom put this particular recording at just before the first breach.

    "Just like the detective said," Elliot began, "at 1:26 our security cameras all go out at exactly the same time." He played a bit of the video. As he said, the moment the time clicked over to the right moment, every single feed went black.

    "Thirty seconds later they come back on. That''s more than enough time for someone to get in but, as you can see, there''s no one at all." Elliot skipped ahead to the appropriate time. All at once, the camera recordings activated again. None of them showed anything out of the ordinary.

    "That same thing keeps happening the entire time." Elliot showed off a few more identical instants, just to prove this fact. At no point did any of them display anything suspicious or out of place. "Whoever did this not only knew where our top secret server is, but how to hide from all of our cameras along the way."

    "They know the layout," Ayda ascertained on her own. "Do you think it was a former employee?"

    "Maybe. It''s hard to say," The man shrugged. "Here, take a look at this."

    Elliot switched feeds and allowed two specific views to dominate the tablet, split by a vertical line in the middle. One was of the hall leading to the violated server, and another saw the inside the room itself. Both were devoid of life.

    "This is just before our systems logged an unauthorized access. There''s still nothing. If we fast forward to after the cameras turn off and on, we still can''t see anyone. That means someone broke into the room, downloaded whatever it was they wanted, and left all within thirty seconds."

    "Is that bad?" Ayda asked.

    "Yes, very," answered Elliot. A glance at Ayda''s twisted expression betrayed a lack of understanding. "Okay, let me explain. Everything on that server is multiple terabytes in size, yet whoever this was not only copied what they were after in just seconds, but also covered their tracks so we can''t tell what they accessed. NASA doesn''t even have anything that fast."

    "So, basically we''re dealing with James fucking Bond. Great." Ayda sighed and stepped away. She shook her head.

    A short pause fell over the room, as both took in the gravity of the situation. Technology even Elliot didn''t understand certainlyput Ayda on edge. He was supposed to be the smart one. How could Ayda hope to defeat an opponent he couldn''t wrap his head around?

    And that wasn''t even accounting for the physical aspect of this. The entire intrusion was over and done with in just twelve minutes. Whoever pulled it off must''ve been incredibly fast. Tire tracks would have left behind tracks for investigators to follow. The culprit, then, did all of this on foot. Ayda could only manage faster speeds by propelling herself around on blasts.

    Ayda crossed her arms. Unknowns like these made her uncomfortable, to say the least. But Elliot was there to snap her out of it.

    "What do you want to do about it?" He asked after the quiet moment.

    "I hate to say it, but I don''t think there''s anything we can do," admitted Ayda. "You said yourself there''s no way to figure out who did this?"

    "No, not right now. I have no idea what computer accessed our system from the outside, or where it was at the time."

    "Then that''s that," Ayda said with a sense of finality. "There''s no sense wasting time on this if we don''t know who to go after. Right now, I think our focus should be on dealing with Tahoe and the Triad."

    "No, I agree. They''re definitely a bigger problem. I just hope this doesn''t resurface later."

    "We''ll take care of it if it does," Ayda said with confidence. "I''d just rather fight the enemies I can see, for right now."

    "And I''m completely on board with that."

    Ayda glanced at her watch. "I really should get back to school, before I miss anything." She started toward the exit. "Don''t let anyone else break in while I''m gone."

    "Don''t worry, I''ve got it under control. Lockdown, and shit," Elliot joked back.

    Ayda didn''t respond, only closed the door behind her and begin on her way toward the lobby. It wasn''t even lunchtime yet, and this day had already been far too eventful for her liking. She''d have to go easy during the night''s patrol, or else risk an aneurism.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 41: The Grind

    A lazy Sunday afternoon turned slowly into a nonchalant evening. The sun set, leaving a mostly full moon in the sky. It cast a blue light over El Puerto, bathing skyscrapers and city streets in in a dull glow. On nights like this, one could drive without the assistance of headlights or street lamps. It was still dark for sure, but not so much as to completely obscure normal human vision.

    Not a cloud was in the sky. It stretched on far as the eye could see, an infinite expanse of dark grey. This part of America certainly earned its reputation for gorgeous nights. Although, the effect was kind of lost in the middle of a city. Artificial lights drowned out the incredible starscapes Texas was so famous for. The endless dark was still a sight to behold, though it could be so much more.

    No matter how peaceful it was on this particular twilight, the city''s defenders couldn''t afford to stand idle. As she had taken to doing for a few weeks now, Ayda hit the streets without any sort of real, concrete plan in mind. She didn''t set up a fake drug deal or seek out some high-ranking member of the Chinese Triad. Instead, her strategy was to listen to police radio and jump in on any calls where her assistance may be needed. All the while, she would patrol the industrial district in search of suspicious activity.

    But right now, it was break time. Ayda had pulled her motorcycle up to the curb and dismounted the beast. She leaned against it, ankles and arms crossed. One white bud in her ear, she listened to the police scanner app on her phone. It was quiet, and had been for the past hour or so. Sundays were usually slow. Not even the criminals hadn''t the energy to do much on the sabbath, which was almost ironic in a dramatic sort of way.

    Absently, with the sounds of empty static as accompaniment, Ayda looked up at the sky. The teenager sighed, despite herself. The night skies of Texas were not too far removed from those in her desert homeland. Dark and empty, brilliant and imposing, all at the same time. Her memories of these Persian nights were fleeting at best. Dr. Cyrus Vahlen rarely let his subjects outside, and never at night. After all, you couldn''t be tested in the dark. Moments from before her captivity were sparse. They felt like so long ago.

    It was strange, really. She''d lived in the United States for so long. She had more here just in her motorcycle''s saddlebags than she ever did in Iran. Yet, in some small part, it still felt like home. Ayda had been thinking about it more and more, as of late. Losing her trust fund really put things into perspective. Wealth and status were fleeting things. She knew this, yet it never seemed real until a few weeks ago.

    Her thoughts drifted to Elliot. He''d been so kind to her, not just recently, but since they met. Of those who knew about her powers, he was the only one who never looked at her like she was a freak. He never treated her any different than anyone else. Not even Bernard or Colonel Hammond could say that, though the latter did a better job of it. Though he may have been afraid of her at first, Elliot always treated Ayda like she was just a normal girl. That''s probably why she gravitated toward him as best friend material.

    However she may yearn to see Iran once again, Ayda knew this place was her home. That shitty little apartment she shared with Elliot. That''s where she truly belonged. It would be nice to visit the desert sometime in the future, but not to stay long. This was place was her home. Did every refugee feel this way? She''d never really thought about it until right then.

    The sound of approaching footsteps to her right snapped the girl back to reality. Whoever this person was, they made no attempt to mask their traversal. This meant it was probably just a random civilian, but her warrior instinct couldn''t help paying them at least some attention. After all, the most deadly opponent is the one you never even see.

    Ayda looked down, and instead stared at the brick wall in front of her. While she acknowledged not the encroaching steps, the teenager remained conscious of them. This person would likely pass by her any moment now, intent on their destination, wherever it may be. Except they didn''t. They stopped short¡ªmaybe a foot from her bike. A voice immediately followed the unexpected cessation of movement.

    "Excuse me," said a male voice.

    "What''s up?"Ayda replied reflexively without looking.

    "Are you Pulse?"

    Well, that certainly got her attention. What had been nothing more than a simple inconvenience suddenly became a problem. Ayda whipped her head around to face the source of this new conundrum, of someone who apparently knew her name.

    "Uh... hi?" she said slowly.

    "Hi," responded the kid, a giant, stupid grin on his face. He was in his late teens or perhaps early twenties, obviously Latino in descent by his accent and skin. He wore a blue pullover hoodie and tan cargo pants, along with pure white skating sneakers.

    There stretched a brief but incredibly awkward silence between the two of them. It''s a good thing Ayda was wearing sunglasses, because her eyes bulged to an unnatural circumference behind them. This guy, on the other hand, seemed about ready to burst. His hands shook with what was either excitement or anxiety, or both. The stagnant air between them couldn''t last long, though, as it dawned on Ayda rather quickly that there weren''t many reasons a random person would just come up to her in the middle of the street.

    "Is there something wrong? Are you in trouble?" She asked quickly, taking a half step toward him.

    "No, just... is it really you?"

    "Yeah." For emphasis¡ªand to prove her point¡ªAyda held her palm to the sky and made a tiny blast. A purple shockwave barely larger than her hand formed a halo just above it. "Yeah, it''s really me."The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    The young man''s face lit up. "Cool. I can''t believe it''s really you!" He hesitated for a second. "Can I have your autograph?"

    "My what?" Ayda gave him a look of complete shock.

    "Your autograph," repeated the guy. "I have a pen right here." he produced the writing utensil from his right hoodie pocket, as well as a blank index card.

    "Uh, yeah, sure."

    Still in a state of relative disbelief, Ayda spanned the distance between the two of them. The young man awaited her with arms out stretched, an implement in each hand. Of all the things he could''ve said, that single question never even crossed her mind. Why would he even want such a thing? She wasn''t a big movie star or pop singer, so why ask for her stupid signature?

    With gentle motions, Ayda retrieved the pen and card. Her finger tips brushed against his. While neither individual reacted to this sudden contact, she felt a slight awkward twinge in the back of her head. Doing her best to push forward, she switched the objects around so the pen was in her right hand. The index card, now cradled in her left palm, was the type without any lines, which made it quite convenient for autograph transcription.

    Ayda glanced up for a moment, a small flick of her eyes. The guy had put his hands in his pockets, probably to keep them from shaking. With a smirk, Ayda returned to her work. Ballpoint met paper. She made a straight vertical line, then stopped short. She was used to signing her name on things. Western society had a strange obsession with signatures. But this guy didn''t want her trademark. No, he wanted Pulse. She''d almost written her real name in big bold letters for the whole world to see.

    Ayda physically shook the confusion from her head. She turned the straight line into a passable letter P. The rest was her most valiant attempt at cursive writing. Penmanship had never been a skill of hers. The girl took perhaps more time than prudent, making sure each and every line and loop had at least an ounce of polish. As she wrote, an epiphany struck at the back of her mind. This was the first time she''d ever put her nickname down in ink. Something about it felt oddly official.

    When finished, Ayda handed the newly signed parcel back to its original owner. The young man gently took it in his fingers as if it were an egg or small animal, careful not to damage it. He stared at it with a look of pure awe.

    "Cool," he breathed, placing it in his right hoodie pocket. He looked up at Pulse, down at the sidewalk, and back again. "Can I... uh," he wavered again. "I know it''s probably asking too much, but could I take a selfie with you, too? No one will believe me otherwise."

    "Sure," conceded Ayda. "I don''t see why not." Taking pictures with celebrities was a normal thing, right?

    "Okay, thank you."

    Deft fingers pulled a cell phone from his pants pocket, a maneuver he''d doubtless completed a thousand times. The Belmont International product wore a thick purple case, almost the exact same color as Ayda''s blasts. He tapped the screen a few times to open up the camera app. Ayda stepped to her right so he could fall in beside her without standing in the road.

    "Do you want me to smile or..." she asked as the young man took up a position next to her.

    "Whatever you want is fine with me."

    The guy held the phone in his right hand at roughly a thirty degree angle relative to their faces. The front facing camera provided a clear view of the prospective picture. Seeing she wasn''t really in the shot, Ayda shuffled closer. Her left shoulder was behind his right, putting them both perfectly in frame.

    He said no one would believe him if he just showed a few scribbles on a piece of paper, thus the photo. To remedy this further, Ayda put up a peace sign just below her nose and channeled her powers. Her hand glowed purple with astounding strength. She gave a small grin. The guy snapped the picture with a quick thumb tap on the screen and an artificial shutter sound.

    "Awesome, thank you so much!" he said as the two separated. They stood facing each other again, but he stared at the phone. He brought up the new photo and a humongous smile split his face. "It came out great. My friends are gonna be so jealous!"

    "Your friends?"

    "Yeah, we''re all huge fans. They''re gonna hate me for getting the chance to actually meet you in person."

    "Oh, ok," was the only response Ayda could muster. She wasn''t really sure how to respond to such a statement.

    "Well, I know you must be busy. I ''m sorry to interrupt you," the guy suddenly changed the subject.

    "No, it''s fine. It was nice meeting you."

    "Thanks, you too," he returned. "I won''t keep you. Have a nice night."

    "Thanks," Ayda said. With that, the admirer turned and began to walk back the way he came up the street. "Hey!" She called after him. He stopped and turned to her. "Go straight home. It isn''t safe out here alone."

    "Don''t worry, I will," he shouted back. "Thanks again, Pulse!" He waved, and Ayda returned his gesture. The young man spun again, continuing on his way. Ayda watched as he left. After a moment, he hung a left, around the corner, and out of sight.

    When he was gone, Ayda realized she''d been waving the whole time. Slowly, she dropped her hand, walking back to her noble steed in a daze, footfalls short and clumsy. Her eyes flicked left and right, but took in little of the scenery. She took a deep breath and tossed the cobwebs from her cranium. At a lack of anything else to do, the girl once again took up a relaxed position, leaning against the bike.

    "Um..." All of a sudden. Elliot''s voice came over the bluetooth headpiece in her ear. Ayda startled at the sound of it, standing bolt upright for a split second. She''d completely forgotten he was even there.

    "What the hell was that?" Asked the slightly older man.

    "I think that was a fan," Ayda responded. "El, I think I have fans."

    "Fans?" Elliot chuckled. "You have an entire subreddit."

    "I what?" Ayda pressed the headpiece further into her ear, just to be extra certain she heard right. "Why didn''t you tell me before?"

    "I thought you knew!"

    "No!"

    Elliot laughed again. "Yes, Ayda, you have fans. I''ll send you a link. That picture will probably end up there."

    "Should I not have taken it?"

    "No, I think it''s a good thing," Elliot said. "You handled that really well. A positive interaction with a fan like that will really boost your public image."

    Everything Elliot said made perfect sense, but it all took Ayda a little bit by surprise. Even that phrase¡ª"public image"¡ªstruck her funny. It was something she took into consideration, of course. She read articles and watched the news about herself, but it never felt real. It was easy to disconnect the voices from the people behind them. But they were real, all of them, real people with thoughts and concerns. From what she''d seen many folks supported her actions, but what actionable application did that data support?

    The guy mentioned his friends. They would all be jealous of him. They were all fans, just as he was. Maybe there was something to that. Word was spreading. She wasn''t just a silent force taking out drug dealers behind the scenes. Ever since stopping that school shooting, she was something else. She had a face, a name, a presence. She was Pulse, burden to some and hero to many more. Maybe she was more famous than she realized.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 42: Freeze Up

    Ayda took a deep breath in, and immediately wished she hadn''t. The stench of spilled coffee long soured filled her nostrils. Her entire face scrunched in an expression of pure, momentary disgust, amplified by the knowledge she would have to take another breath. For a moment, the teenager weighed her options. Breathing through her nose would once again sample the smell, but inhaling through her mouth presented a threat of tasting the air. Neither appealed much. Ayda let out a long, exasperated exhale, then took a normal draught through her nose. Better to get used to a smell rather than a flavor.

    In an attempt to distract herself, the girl shifted focus from one sense to another. She listened to the low rumble of the engine, turning in time with a quartet of wheels which slid over old asphalt just under foot. A smile crept across her face, as occasionally the motor would tick or clang in unhealthy fashion. She snickered to herself, but the merriment was cut off with another face scrunch. Giggling caused deeper breaths than normal, which brought on anew the stale coffee stink.

    With an audible and overly obvious sigh, Ayda looked out the window. Her head came to rest against the glass at a lazy angle. It felt cool against her scalp, a brilliant contrast with the hot air outside. The famous Texas prairie lands sped through her field of vision, mostly flat and monotone, slightly faded around the edges from the velocity by which it passed. An abandoned shack in the distance seemed to follow along as the car eked by it. Ayda watched it for a moment, wondering distantly what purpose it may have served in the past.

    Many found this landscape boring, and for good reason. It was predictable and wide open with nothing to see or do. Ayda liked it, though, for precisely these reasons. There was a distinct beauty in the simple things. A lack of obstacles did not necessarily equal dreary. People often forgot that in the nonstop hustle of modern Western living. Ayda was no exception, of course. She often lost herself in the stress of the city. However, coming out to a place like this always reminded her how important it was to slow down, if only just for a little while.

    Though she had to admit, the surrounding area was rather dull. The teenager spared a glance for the reason she was in this particular situation. Elliot sat behind the steering wheel, eyes on the road as he guided the old vehicle down the equally aged country blacktop. He''d picked her up from school right after work. As such, he still wore his white lab coat and a gaudy green sweater which he could only get away with inside the heavily air conditioned halls of Belmont International. Ayda herself still wore her school uniform.

    His gaze remained fixed forward as he drove. Elliot didn''t even notice his passenger looking at him. This was a good thing, of course. The last thing the driver of a vehicle needed was distraction. It just did nothing to satiate Ayda''s boredom.

    She tuned back into the music on the radio just in time to catch the tail end of a song. Elliot may have had questionable tastes in both fashion and transport, but at least his music was decent, if a bit unexpected. Classic East Coast hip hop; Wu-Tang Clan, Biggie, N.W.A, that kind of thing. This particular tune Ayda had never heard, but it had a solid beat and aggressive lyrics. As the song faded out, Ayda almost wished she''d paid attention to it sooner.

    The melody was replaced immediately with another, one much more abrasive and in your face. A duo of loud symphonic notes with guitar distortion in the background blared over the speakers, a tune Ayda had heard many times before; the El Puerto syndicated local news program. Most stations in the city aired it, with the exception of college radio, which didn''t seem to care about much of anything. The anchor¡ªa deep-voiced man¡ªintroduced himself before continuing on to the top story.

    "A small supply warehouse on the docks was robbed late last night. Security systems both in the target building as well as the surrounding area were remotely disabled, allowing the assailants to enter undisturbed. Guards around the warehouse were found knocked out by the use of a powerful tranquilizer, the same kind used by zookeepers to take down large animals. Detective Joe McMahon had this to say..."

    "We aren''t really sure what happened yet," said a different voice, one Ayda recognized. He was the same detective who investigated the Belmont International robbery. "There aren''t any footprints or fingerprints left behind and for all the stuff they stole, they''d at least have to have a truck or something, but we aren''t seeing any evidence of that. Whoever did this knew what they were doing." The voice of Detective McMahon cut off, replaced by the anchor.

    "Several thousand dollars'' worth of mechanical and industrial supplies were stolen. This is the third incident of its kind in just over two weeks after both El Puerto University and Belmont International were broken into using similar means. In both cases electronic and informational materials were taken. Detective McMahon ensures all citizens he has his best men on the case.

    "In other news, a local man was caught¡ª"

    Ayda stopped listening after that. Both she and Elliot let out exasperated sighs in nearly perfect unison. The breach of Belmont International hit them both pretty hard, and the fact that more places were being hit added fuel to the fire. The police would never admit it, but it was obvious these attacks were all perpetrated by the same group.

    It all made Ayda feel rather useless. She was supposed to be the protector of the city, and yet this mysterious bunch of ne''er-do-wells continually got the better of her. Just like the news report said, she could do nothing to track them down. They were an unregulated menace, the kind she was supposed to snuff out. That just wasn''t possible.

    As it normally did whenever she pursued this line of thought, the sensible part of her brain took over. Just as she''d said to Elliot, there''s no point going after an enemy they couldn''t see. Instead, it was better to focus on the clear and present threats, the ones she could tackle on her own time. The ones responsible for these heists had to overextend at some point. When they did, Pulse would be there to smack them into place. Anything else was a waste of time. Speaking of which...

    "You mind telling me where we''re going now?" Ayda said as she slowly rolled her head around to peer at Elliot.

    "Nope," he denied. "It doesn''t matter how many times you ask me, I''m not telling."

    Ayda made an agitated grunt and returned to the window. "You know I hate surprises, right?

    "Oh, I know exactly how much you hate surprises, but I''m still not telling you." Elliot spared her a glance before returning to the road.

    "Are we at least getting close?" Ayda asked in search of a way to soften the blow.

    "Yeah, actually. There''ll be a dirt road on the left, eventually. We just need to get far enough out of town."

    Ayda thought about that for a moment. "Where does it go?"

    "Nice try," commended Elliot with a chuckle. Ayda made another disgruntled sound.

    Despite Elliot''s claim of close proximity, they still drove on for about another ten minutes or so. Admittedly, this was a rather short drive, especially when compared to the near constant congestion of El Puerto proper. However, Ayda lost her patience for travel shortly after leaving the city. So, ten simple minutes felt like as many separate eternities.

    It wouldn''t be nearly as bad if she could just get Elliot to spill the beans. The suspense was killing her. They''d been driving for well over an hour. Granted, much of that had been spent escaping the concrete jungle, but that didn''t make things any better. A hint, anything at all, would help.

    It wasn''t the first time he''d done something like this. Elliot played a similar card when he presented her with the staff she now used every single day. Was that the case here, another staff? No, that''s dumb. Ayda didn''t need another weapon. What reason would Elliot have to give her one? Surely he knew it was a waste of time. The man could be ambitious, but he''d not pursue a pointless endeavor without a perfectly valid reason.

    So, why the secrecy? Moreover, why bring the two of them out to the middle of absolutely nowhere? Clearly, it had something to do with her. Or else, she wouldn''t be there in the first place. The barren location hinted at a need for secrecy. Putting those two things together, it was pretty simple to deduce this thing was about her powers.

    Which of course begged the question: why? If Elliot discovered something either about her powers or at least involving them, wouldn''t that constitute as important enough to tell her outright? Ayda certainly thought so. Yet, he hadn''t. Elliot kept it to himself. It was almost like a game to him. The way he smirked at her and shrugged his shoulders; he enjoyed leading her on. Ayda didn''t'' know what was happening, and this uncertainty manifested as a swirling pit in her stomach, small but present nonetheless. She may have to force the information out of him, just in the interest of her own mental health. Maybe if she stopped the car with a good blast or two, it would convince him to finally get a new one, which would be a win-win...

    The teenager must have been thinking about this much longer than she realized, because as soon as the concept of physically stopping the car came to mind, it began to slow down. She sat up straight in her seat, somewhat startled by the sudden decline. The car pulled into a left turn, just as Elliot said it would. Ayda returned her eyes to the road, watching as the vehicle gobbled it up. This trip was finally going somewhere again.

    The path itself was narrow, only just wide enough to accommodate a single vessel. It sloped downward at a moderate angle, somewhere between steep and gradual, before flattening out. It went back up at a point a little in the distance, and there was a hill behind it. The road seemed to go around the incline, rather than over it. After they''d driven a few seconds along the lower flat land, Elliot pulled well off the street and brought the car to a stop.

    "Alright, we''re here," he said, turning the car off.

    "How did you even know this was here?" Ayda asked, looking around through the windshield.

    "I don''t remember how we found it, but my high school friends and I used to have bonfires in this place all the time," Elliot explained. Ayda only peered at him with surprise painted on her face. "Don''t give me that look. I was a teenager, too, at one point." He smiled at her.

    "Yeah, I know," Ayda returned defensively. Of course she realized he''d been young in the past, but it was weird to think of him in that way. Elliot had just always been Elliot to her. He also didn''t really seem like the type to enjoy a bonfire. This must''ve been a really long time ago.

    "Come on," said Elliot, opening his door. "We have to get a few things from the trunk."

    He stepped out of the vehicle. Ayda followed briefly behind him, undoing her seatbelt to exit the passenger side. Once free of the cage, she first took in a deep breath of fresh air. She''d forgotten what air untainted by exhaust and smog smelled like. It was heavenly, and certainly beat the funk inside Elliot''s stupid old car.

    As she breathed out, the girl took in the scenery. It was a wide open, mostly flat area made of light soil, broken up only by a few sparse shrubs here and there. This, combined with the descent required to reach the area, told her this used to be a lake bed before the water all dried up however many hundreds of years ago. That was not the most important detail, however. Looking back up the dirt path, Ayda realized they couldn''t be seen from the main road.

    From the corner of her eye, Ayda noticed the car''s trunk raise. She actually hesitated before going to help with whatever baggage Elliot dragged along with them. Part of her almost didn''t want to know what he was up to. That way, she at least wouldn''t have to deal with it. But, curiosity killed the cat. Or, in this case, the Persian girl.

    She walked around the back of the car and fell in at his right side. Elliot was elbow deep in an old gray duffel bag. His only acknowledgment of her presence was a quick glance. Ayda observed him with a skeptical tilt to her eyebrows, unsure of how exactly to proceed. Thankfully, he answered that question for her.

    "You''ll need these," he said, shoving a pair of sunglasses into her hands. Ayda donned the accessory without much of a second thought. "And this to." Elliot held another object up to her. This one, however, she took with a hint of confusion.

    "My staff?" She wondered, looking over the collapsed rod. "Wait, did you go through my saddle bags?" Ayda cocked her stance and shot him an intense glare.

    "No," Elliot shook his head. "You left it on the coffee table again."

    "Oh," the teenager breathed in response, standing normally again.

    She really needed to stop doing that. It was hard to start any of her patrols when she kept leaving her weapon in random places. Though, the reasoning behind it wasn''t so bad. She''d no reason to hide anything from Elliot, not like when she was still living in the Belmont Manor. He knew who she was, after all. Ayda felt comfortable enough around him to keep all her crime fighting implements out in the open. It was a complacence she knew better than to wish away.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    Ayda remained standing at the boot just in case Elliot needed her to tote anything else, but he only had a few more items to gather himself. First came the duffel back itself. He swung it around his right shoulder. Its contents jangled around at the movement, settling in uneven lumps within the worn canvas.

    Next was an object which took Ayda completely by surprise. Underneath the bag hid a piece of sheet metal. About three feet in size, and probably as many inches thick, Elliot hauled it from the trunk with two hands. With a heave, he placed his palms underneath it. The weight fell against his chest. It must''ve been quite heavy, but he took the weight like a champ. Moments like these reminded Ayda just how strong he was. As geeky and awkward as Elliot was, he also took good care of his body.

    "Alright, come on," Elliot said. He jerked his head off to the left before following his own command. Ayda fell in behind him, closing the trunk as she passed.

    Elliot walked in a sort of awkward bowlegged stance. His face twisted and his breaths came in slow repetitions. Ayda was about to rush up and offer some assistance when he dropped the metal sheet with a resounding thud. They hadn''t made it very far, only a few feet away from the vehicle. Ayda stopped on the balls of her feet, kind of expecting Elliot to reacquire the metallic cargo and walk a little further.

    Instead, Elliot stood in place knuckling his back to work out whatever strain he''d just imparted on the vertebrae. Ayda walked up to him, face contorted in a constant look of puzzlement. She opened her mouth to ask a question, but before any words came out Elliot dashed away, toward the center of the former lake. The girl watched him go, closing her mouth with an audible click of teeth a second later.

    The object of her confusion zipped back after a few moments, a big tan rock clutched in his right hand. He set it down just shy of the metal sheet. The man then lifted it up and dragged it to rest against the rock. It stood at maybe a forty-five degree angle, perhaps a bit shallower. The sun just barely caught a reflection from its unpolished face. All the while Ayda looked on, completely and utterly dumbfounded.

    "Elliot," she practically pleaded, "what is going on? What is all this?"

    "Hopefully, the result of a week''s worth of planning." He balled up fists under his chin and smiled a toothy grin. He practically bounced from one foot to the other. What alarmed Ayda most, however, was that Elliot had been doing this for a week and yet she''d not the first inkling what it was.

    "If this is another one of your kinetic energy experiments, I swear to God, I''ll¡ª"

    "I already apologized to you for that," Elliot swiftly interjected. "But, I do need you to test something for me. Extend your staff, please."

    Ayda rolled her eyes, but followed orders without much hesitation. Small, simultaneous blasts on either end of her weapon extended to pole to its full length.

    "Alright, now hit the sheet metal," said the still overly excited man. Ayda looked from him, to the specified target, and back again.

    "Why?"

    "Just because we need a control."

    "Control?" she scoffed. "What control? Why bother? You already know what''s gonna happen."

    "Ayda, please, for the sake of science, just hit the thing."

    "I''ll give you science..." Ayda grumbled, but got into position nonetheless.

    She stood ahead of the thick metal sheet within easy striking distance. Left foot back and staff held at an angle, she assumed her favorite fighting stance. The entire world slammed into focus as power and perception coursed through her veins. She became acutely aware of the slight breeze, how it blew stray strands of hair into her face. A bored mind aching for stimulus subconsciously tracked the lackadaisical motion. The staff clenched in her fists glowed with the signature purple outline of her energy.

    Partly out of spite, but mostly because it was the most effective means of procedure, Ayda swept upwards with the back end of her staff. It struck almost the exact middle of the plate. The accompanying blast was very much a middling effort: stronger than what she''d usually use when fighting a person, but notably weaker than what she was capable of under normal circumstances.

    A sharp metallic ping mixed with the small scale explosion to lift the sheet from the dirt. It was much lighter than Ayda expected. Still, the arc it carried through the air was rather shallow. It landed a few feet away, skidding a further distance along the ground than in flight. It came to a rather abrupt stop against another rock with a distant and quite comical tink. Ayda couldn''t stop herself from grinning.

    The levity lasted but a second. The moment she''d hit it, Elliot took off downrange. He recovered the target shortly after it stopped and sprinted back to the start. Ayda watched him with her stance cocked to one side, suddenly remembering why she''d been annoyed in the first place. When the man returned, the metal once again found itself placed against the rock. Both present individuals inspected the damage.

    "See? What did I tell you?" Taunted Ayda. "It''s the same as the million other times we''ve run this test back at the lab."

    It was unsurprising in the purest sense. There were some scratches and a barely noticeable dent, but other than that the sheet looked brand new. Exactly as expected. Metal resisted compression better than most materials on Earth. Her blasts were substantial, but conferred little effect on any substance which refused to break or tear, exacerbated tenfold by the elasticity of most metals. A piece thick as this current example would be almost immune to her ability.

    Elliot grabbed the teenager lightly by the wrist and began to lead her away from the sheet. When it was clear she would follow of her own accord, he dropped his grip. The two stopped several feet away from the target, adding further to the girl''s confusion.

    "I figured that''s what would happen. It''s good that it''s predictable, though," Elliot said. "It''ll make the results of this more obvious."

    As he spoke, the older man extracted a peculiar object from the unzipped duffel bag slung over his shoulder. It was a broad cylinder of glass, barely wide enough to keep his fingers from wrapping completely around. Metal caps punctuated both ends to seal it off. A liquid sloshed around inside, but Ayda could barely see it through the thick glass. The only reason Ayda could follow it at all was because of her enhanced perception.

    "What is that?" Ayda pointed at the device. She kept her distance from the foreign thing.

    "This, my dear Watson, is a freeze bomb." Elliot said, lifting a finger like an old-fashioned scholar.

    "A what?" Ayda stepped in for a slightly closer look. "And, please. You''re my Watson."

    "It''s a freeze bomb," Elliot repeated, as if that made it any clearer. "Okay, you know how much trouble we''ve been having with Tahoe, right?"

    "No, I don''t," Ayda quipped with a roll of her eyes behind her sunglasses.

    Elliot ignored her. "And you know how the last two times you tried to beat him with brute force you lost?"

    "I''d rather not talk about it, but yeah."

    "Well, I was thinking about how to solve the problem, and I think we''ve been going about it the wrong way. We need to find a way to remove his advantage." Elliot spoke at an incredible speed so as to make his words nearly unintelligible.

    "And we''re gonna do what with cold shit?" Ayda reached out to touch the freeze bomb, but stopped short with a glance at its current possessor. Elliot gave her a quick nod and she took it. The glass was just barely frigid to the touch. It was heavier than she expected, and felt solid as a rock.

    "Hopefully we will. Think back to science class for a second," Elliot began. Ayda groaned audibly. "Just, humor me, please? What happens to metal when it gets really cold?"

    Ayda took a slow breath. She looked up and to the right, mouth tilted in a focused frown. Science had never really been her strong suit, mostly because it involved a lot of math; all of which was ironic considering the company she kept. Still, as she was currently taking physics in school, it the inquiry only required a moment of concentration to answer.

    "It... becomes brittle?" She gasped. "Elliot!" The gravity of the situation slammed home. Her eyes tripled in diameter as she turned them on her companion.

    "I''m hoping these little buggers will help even the playing field a bit, but I need you to see if it works." he made a wide open gesture to encompass the long dried lake bed. "That''s why we''re all the way out here."

    "Okay, so why couldn''t you tell me any of this before driving for, like, two hours?"

    "It wasn''t that long," Elliot countered. "And I didn''t want to get your hopes up if it didn''t work."

    Ayda just shrugged at his explanation. It made a lot of sense, and sounded more or less exactly like something he would do. Still, Ayda could feel her heartbeat quicken. Her fingers tapped against the bomb in her left hand, nails clicking dully against the glass. For the first time since arriving, she shared in Elliot''s excitement.

    "Well, I guess there''s only one way to find out," she said, positioning herself between him and the metal plate. "Do I... just throw it?" She turned the bomb over in her hand in search of a trigger mechanism.

    "Yeah," confirmed Elliot. He stepped back to give her room. "It should break, but you''ll probably need to propel it with a good blast."

    "Yeah, I thought that would be the case."

    Squaring her stance, Ayda switched the items in her hands around so the bomb was in her right. Elliot took a few extra steps back, which did not exactly inspire confidence in the girl. Nevertheless, he brow furrowed in concentration. She bounced the thing around in her palm, getting a feel for its weight. The liquid inside would slosh around in flight, giving it an awkward and unpredictable path. Elliot appeared to have more than just one, which was good because it was entirely possible Ayda would miss with this first shot.

    But, standing around thinking about it wouldn''t do anyone any good. Without warning, Ayda reeled her arm back. Like a baseball pitcher she stepped into a fluid motion forward with her entire arm. Just as the object was about to leave her grasp, the teenager let loose a blast behind it. The thing accelerated to unnatural speeds no normal human would ever be able to achieve.

    To the naked eye, it happened instantly. Her blast propelled the freeze bomb, and it at the same time impacted the metal plate. It hit width-wise, a little bit high and to the right. Released from the constrictive container, the liquid¡ªwhich was now an obvious pale blue color¡ªsplashed out in all directions. Pulverized glass along with the frigid substance spewed all over the place, bending around the plate in a way which was kind of pretty to look at. Quite a bit coated the metal, as well. It was only a thin layer, and some dripped down the face, but most painted its hue along where the bomb made contact.

    All the while, Ayda stood back, watching all of this go down. The hit could''ve been better, but she wouldn''t argue with a useable result. Elliot rejoined her now that the coast was clear.

    "So..." the girl trailed off, "what now?"

    "Give it a few seconds," answered Elliot. "It won''t take long."

    So that''s what Ayda did. She waited. This entire day had been nothing but one big wait, whether it was for Elliot to give her the scoop, or just to arrive in the first place. But, a little bit longer wouldn''t kill her. She could be patient.

    The two of them just kind of stood there, silently, awkwardly, staring at the fruits of Elliot''s labor. It was agonizing. Ayda just wanted to hit it; mostly to see the results, but also because hitting stuff was plain fun. But, Elliot told her to wait. He was the brains of the operation, so it probably behooved her to listen in this current predicament. Though, if the fingers drumming against his legs were any indication, he was also antsy. Both of them wanted to know if this would actually work. It was fortunate, then, they wouldn''t have a lengthy pause.

    "Alright, that''s probably long enough," Elliot broke the brief silence. "Go ahead and hit it. Try to use the same amount of strength as last time."

    "You don''t have to tell me twice," joked Ayda, striding her way over to the plate. Her staff glowed just before she reached it.

    "Can I hit it down this time?" Asked the girl, miming a vertical swipe over her left shoulder. "It''ll be kind of hard to hit it up from this angle."

    "Sure," conceded Elliot after a moment''s consideration. "I''d prefer if you didn''t, but you''re the combat expert, here, so go ahead."

    Ayda just nodded in response. She again assumed her favorite fighting stance. For the sake of muscle memory she mocked the hit a second time, stopping her weapon just above the target. It wouldn''t do to miss now, and she took every precaution against it. When the staff raised a third time, it was for real. Ayda brought it crashing down with a blast on impact as close as she could manage to the first, but it was probably a little stronger.

    The sheet buckled. With a sickening screech the weakened area collapsed in on itself. Great chunks of frozen metal flew off every which way, one skittering underneath Elliot''s car. Where the affected area had not shattered completely, it instead folded up like an accordion, the corner curling up just slightly around Ayda''s staff. Uncompromised areas remained mostly whole, bending only a little to accommodate the sudden change in shape.

    Ayda just stood there for a second, dead silent as big eyes looked over what she''d done. The results were right there, but she couldn''t really wrap her head around it. She took her staff away to get a better look. She''d never done so much damage to strong metal. It reminded her very much of a crushed aluminum can. As the reality of the situation sunk in, a gaping maw twisted into a broad smile. She looked back at Elliot, who mirrored her expression.

    "Yeah?" He asked expectantly.

    "Yeah," Ayda giggled. The man laughed along with her. "Elliot, that was amazing!" She rushed over to him, closing the distance in a few swift strides. "I can''t believe that just happened."

    "Neither can I, really. I think I''m in shock." His eyes lingered on the distorted metal a moment longer before meeting Ayda''s. A pure smile scrunched around the pretty brown pupils, and Elliot couldn''t help but gush along with her.

    "Do you know what this means, El?" Asked the teenager, voice shaking just slightly with excitement the likes of which she hadn''t felt in a very long time.

    "I''m pretty sure I do, yeah."

    "It means I can finally beat him. I finally have the leg up. I can win!"

    At that, Elliot''s expression drooped just slightly. "Are you sure you''re ready for that?" His voice took on a suddenly acquired underlying serious tinge.

    "You''re goddamn right I am!" Confirmed the girl. "Are you kidding? I''ve been waiting for this."

    "Okay," Elliot beamed back at her once more. "I believe you."

    With that settled, Elliot walked over to retrieve the mangled bit of metal. While it certainly wasn''t any lighter, the deformation gave him something to hold onto. Careful to avoid the frozen parts, he hefted it into a low hold and walked back over to Ayda.

    "God, I''m so excited!" She mused as Elliot joined her. The two of them began together back toward his car.

    This bubbly, ecstatic demeanor was so unlike her. Any other time, Elliot probably would''ve been a little bit creeped out. Right now, though, he was just glad to see her so happy, especially after the tough time she''d been having.

    "So, any idea how you''re gonna flush Tahoe out?" Elliot asked as they traveled; a question to fill the air more than anything else.

    "Oh, I have a few ideas. I''ve been thinking about this for a while."

    "Well, why don''t we talk on the way back? It''ll give us something to do."

    "What is that stuff, anyway?" Ayda asked.

    "Liquid helium," Elliot responded before carefully placing the damaged metal plate in his car''s trunk. "It''s a whole lot colder than liquid nitrogen."

    "What? Where did you even get something like that? You didn''t steal it from the lab, did you?"

    "Nope, Ebay," answered Elliot simply.

    "You just bought it?" Ayda raised an eyebrow. "Isn''t that illegal, or something?"

    "You''d think so, but no. Anyone can buy liquid helium. It''s expensive, though."

    "Sorry," Ayda said. "You know I don''t want you spending money on me. I''ll pay you back once this is all over."

    "Hey, don''t worry about it." Elliot smiled. "We''re a team, right? We''re in this together."

    "Yeah, a team." Ayda returned his expression. "Thanks, El."

    "Come on, lets head back." Elliot gestured toward the front of his vehicle before walking toward it. "I think I''m sweating to death all the way out here."

    "Don''t wear a sweater next time." Ayda lightly chastised him while opening up the passenger side door.

    "Yeah, yeah," Elliot returned before ducking into the vehicle.

    When they were both squared away, Elliot turned on the engine and they were off. Ayda kept her staff and sunglasses with her. Something about them calmed her, which she would need to combat the giddy waves coursing through her heart.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 43: The Radio Star

    Another night brought on another patrol, yet this one was far from routine. Ayda found herself on the beat a bit earlier than normal, roughly ninety minutes or so. This wouldn''t be a normal night for her. There''d be little time for listening to a police radio or chasing down bad guys. No, this time around Ayda had a different¡ªthough no less vital¡ªagenda.

    She rode her motorcycle through the darkened streets of El Puerto in pursuit of the evening''s objective. This was a part of the city she didn''t get around to often. The teenager had nothing against it per say, there was just nothing to see. It lay just on the edge of the financial district. Many smaller businesses and gas stations were located here. They couldn''t afford the more extravagant parts of town, but thrived in this little oasis.

    Most buildings were only a single story tall. Only a scattered few stretched past three. At this time of night, most places were already closed. Those that weren''t stood out like sore thumbs with the light which poured from their windows. It was one such establishment which Ayda sought. The girl had never been there herself, but from what she''d read it was rather nearby.

    Following the instructions on her phone''s GPS, Ayda pulled her bike around to the parking lot in back of a small two-story office building. There was signage on the front and rear to denote which businesses owned the space, and roughly where within they resided. There was a boring little travel agency, a shady private investigator, and a few others, but Ayda had something a bit more... public in mind. And, unlike the other organizations, this one was open at these ludicrous hours.

    With her goal in mind, Ayda walked around the front of the structure. A sign above the rightmost door read KR 103 Studios, a private provider of radio content in El Puerto. She smirked. She wouldn''t have to go up the stairs, after all. It was a small victory, but every bit helped. The teenager''s heart already fluttered in her chest. The last thing she needed was any amount of physical exertion to make the problem even worse.

    While the windows were large, they had a dark tint to them. It would be difficult to see inside even at high noon. The low light of evening made it impossible. All she could see was her reflection. As almost an afterthought, the girl adjusted a stray hair which had fallen in her face. Ayda lingered for a moment at the door. The fingers on her right hand flexed and tightened, working out nervous kinks. With a quick breath in and then out, she grabbed the handle and yanked it open.

    A small bell earmarked her confusion as she crossed the threshold. The girl wasn''t really sure what she''d been expecting. Instead of high tech broadcasting equipment or a sound booth, she instead strode into a lobby. There were a few chairs against both the east and west wall. A long desk lay at the far end with a dark-haired man sitting behind. Though diminutive, it served the purpose of welcoming guests. Or, at least, that''s what Ayda thought it was; an area for guests and DJ''s to wait before going on air. With all the different shows the station hosted, this building probably saw a lot more faces than she realized before.

    There was little time to worry about that, though, as the moment she entered, the man behind the desk looked up at her. Though the slant to his eyes was quizzical, he didn''t speak at first. Ayda took this as an invitation to approach. With purpose in her stride, she closed the short distance between them. The man didn''t divert his gaze as she came on. He remained confused, as opposed to surprised or awestruck. But maybe he just made a good show of hiding it? Ayda silently ousted these trepidations from her mind. Ten seconds in, and this already wasn''t going very well.

    "Can... can I help you... with anything?" The man said, seeming to choose his words carefully.

    "Is there any way I can talk to Casey? Casey Calamity," Ayda clarified, and kicked herself immediately afterward. This guy obviously knew which Casey she referred to.

    "He''s in the middle of a broadcast right now," The man said. "Are you a friend or family member? I can tell him you were here."

    Ayda sighed. "Do you recognize me?" The girl hadn''t wanted to play this card so soon, but it was immediately apparent she didn''t have any other options. She''d expected the man himself, not his damned secretary.

    "Should I?" The man raised an eyebrow. Ayda gathered all the conviction she could muster before giving her response.

    "I''m Pulse." She said simply, looking him straight in the eyes through her sunglasses. The man''s face fell from confusion to incredulity. His entire posture slumped a bit.

    "Right, and I''m the fucking Queen of ruddy ol'' England." He sat back in his chair. "Nice try, kid."

    "What?'' Ayda said after a beat. It was her turn to be baffled. "What do you mean ''nice try?'' I am Pulse."

    "And let me guess, you want an interview?" The man mocked. "Come back when you have proof." He chuckled. "Great costume, though. And the accent is on point. Way better than the cospalyer we had on a few weeks ago. I don''t even think she was Middle-Eastern." That last quip was made to no one in particular.

    Ayda huffed shortly through her nose, unable to hide the slight clenching of her jaw. She blinked a few times, thoroughly unimpressed. She should''ve known. The moment she came through the door, it should''ve been obvious. Everyone wanted her to prove herself, to provide some evidence she truly was the person she claimed to be.

    The girl peered around the room for a moment. There wasn''t a whole lot to see besides the desk and chairs, but one thing caught her eye. A cute little potted cactus sat on the left corner of the desk. Alright, then. If this asshole wanted proof, then she would give it to him.

    Expression even, she strode the short distance over to where the innocent plant stood. She grasped it with only the tips of her fingers, careful to avoid the little spines. The girl had never been pricked by a cactus before, and this would be a lame time to start. With prize in hand, she walked back over to the secretary, or whatever he was. The man wore the same puzzled mug as when Ayda first entered.

    "What do you want with Chester the Cactus," asked the man.

    Ayda said nothing as she faced him, lifting the cactus at her eye level so as to make it easily visible. The moment felt almost like a game show host presenting a prize, and the dramatic irony was not lost on her. The man flicked his pupils between the cactus, its new owner, and back again. When Ayda was confident she had his full attention, she enacted her plan.

    Five miniscule blasts ensued from her fingers. Of course, they cracked the tan ceramic pot on contact. Pieces of it flew in every which direction while black soil particles filled all the spaces between. The cactus flew straight forward. It impacted the wall with a solid thud just inches from the secretary''s head. It split apart at rent seams and shattered ribs.

    The man leapt from his chair and pasted himself up against the partition behind him. He sank as far as his body would allow into the dirty white plaster, trying simultaneously to both crawl up it and make himself as small as possible. His wide and shaky gaze shifted several times between the sickly green remnants of the poor plant, and its destroyer. Whether by fear or a sensory overload, his muscles refused to move a single inch.

    Ayda gave a sideways smirk. A small laugh escaped her lips. How''s that for proof? For further emphasis¡ªand because it was fun to watch the man squirm¡ªshe swiftly flexed her fingers one at a time, accentuating each motion at its peak with a blast.

    "I am Pulse," she reiterated. "Do you need any more proof? Because, I''m sure I can find something else to break. This desk looks pretty cheap." She ran her hand playfully over the pressboard surface.

    "No!" The man croaked, voice uncharacteristically high. He cleared his throat and popped off the wall, adjusting the collar of his shirt. "No, I think that was good enough."

    "Good," Ayda nodded once. "I really didn''t wanna have to replace this." She lightly smacked the desk. The man flinched at the impact, probably fearing another mini explosion. He cleared his throat again, obviously trying his hardest to maintain an at least somewhat professional moniker.

    "You, uh, wanted to speak to Casey?"

    "I want that interview you mentioned," corrected Ayda. "Right now, if at all possible."

    "Sure," the man said slowly. With ginger movements and eyes completely transfixed on the girl, he made way back over to his swiveling office chair. "I''ll let him know you''re here. I''m sure he''ll be excited to meet you."

    The man finished the process of sitting down, and went about typing up something on his computer. Ayda thought she sensed some sarcasm¡ªor perhaps vitriol¡ªin his last comment, but decided to drop it. Further confrontation likely wouldn''t do her much good. Instead, she walked back over to the corner where Chester the Cactus had been to wait patiently for whatever happened next. She felt kind of bad about killing the plant. It did nothing wrong. But, its sacrifice put the teenager one step closer to completing the night''s goal. The death of the adorable cactus would not be in vain.

    At a lack of anything else to do, she looked around the lobby, or whatever it was, once more. There wasn''t a whole lot else to see, though, aside from the new ceramic debris and dark dirt all over the place. There was a door to her left which she hadn''t noticed before, though. It was slender and appeared rather thick. Instead of a proper knob, it had a slim handhold similar to what could be found on a sliding glass door. She hadn''t the faintest idea where it led.

    After what felt like a few minutes passed, Ayda decided to settle herself in for a long wait. While she wouldn''t sit in one of the chairs without permission, since that''d be rude, she could at least occupy herself. Ayda pulled out her Belmont International smartphone and began messing around with it. She idly played a game about lining up different candy pieces into groups, which then poofed away into points. It was something she rarely ever bothered with, but it served as an adequate distraction at times like these.

    As fortune would have it, though, her preparations were entirely superfluous. After just a short while and a few hundred points more, the door to her left slid open. Out from it strode a man. He was tall and just a little bit on the heavy set side. Auburn hair clung in tight curls to his head and connected to a luscious full beard of the same style. His attire was smart, a green sweater and khaki slacks.

    He stopped dead in his tracks the moment Ayda''s eyes met his own. When the dumbfounded expression on his face combined with the slow slide of the door behind him, Ayda couldn''t help but snicker. Her humor turned out to be the perfect ice breaker. The man took a step toward her.

    "Steve told me someone claiming to be Pulse was here." He couldn''t keep the suspicion from his immediately recognizable voice. "Is it really you?"

    "Yeah." Ayda didn''t hesitate before upturning her palm to create a small purple blast atop it. "It''s really me."

    The man stepped back. "Holy shit..." he breathed, eyes looking like a pair of oranges.

    "Freaky, right?" Commented the secretary, whom Ayda now knew as Steve. She shot him a quick, icy glare, which he shrunk considerably under.

    "Wow, I mean, I don''t even know what to say," The new arrival stumbled around his own thoughts. "I''m Casey. Casey Calamity."

    He walked toward her, a hand outstretched. Ayda took it in a firm grasp. She had to think for a moment before introducing herself.

    "Pulse," she said, as her heart rose back to its normal position. She''d almost used her real name.

    "It is an absolute honor to finally meet you in person," Casey said.

    "Likewise," returned the girl. "I don''t mean to be rash, but I came here wondering if we could set up an interview, like, right now?" She changed the subject and crossed mental fingers for good luck.

    "Yes, of course! Absolutely. I''d love to." Casey agreed multiple times, nodding his head with each utterance. Ayda gave him a smile for his efforts. "If you''ll just follow me through here, we''ll get everything set up."

    "Sure," Ayda said. She fell in behind him as he started back toward the door he''d emerged from. "How long will that take?''

    "Not long," answered Casey. He opened the door and gestured for Ayda to enter first, which she did. "There''s just a few pieces of equipment I need to show you." With that he also stepped through the threshold. The door slid itself shut.

    The land beyond the door was a narrow hallway, just barely wide enough for two people to pass through without squishing themselves up against the medium tongue and groove walls. There were two doors on the right side, one just a few steps from the entrance and the other nearly all the way down on the end. Gray carpet cushioned Casey''s footsteps as he awkwardly slipped past her.

    "We''re going right down here, the far door." He instructed. Ayda followed him down the hall. "This first door here is our sound room," Casey pointed as they passed. "Jenn is in there right now. She''s gonna freak out, she''s a huge fan."

    "Oh," acknowledged Ayda. ''Well, maybe I''ll pop in when we''re done."

    "You''d make her year," Casey quipped.

    They traveled in silence the few remaining steps to the far door. Again, Casey allowed Ayda to enter before him.

    The recording room was bigger than she expected. A large square table dominated the space. Various pieces of equipment covered most of its surface. There were four separate, identical silver microphones on elaborate swinging, bending rigs. The one on the far right corner had a laptop beneath it. Ayda assumed this was Casey''s. More miscellaneous electronics scattered along a few rolling shelf units placed at seemingly random intervals. It all looked a little disorganized to the untrained eye.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    Other than the table the other dominant feature was a huge two-way mirror which took up most of the right wall. It would allow whoever was inside to see out into the recording room without being observed themselves. Ayda was strangely disappointed at that. She wanted to see the aforementioned Jenn freak out.

    "A bit overwhelming, isn''t it?" Casey said as he stepped into the room.

    "Just a bit," Ayda agreed, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

    "Well, don''t worry about all the technical stuff. I can handle that." He pulled out the chair directly across from the laptop station. "All you need to do is sit down and talk."

    Ayda considered the chair for a moment before beginning toward it with a quick nod. Casey did not wait for her. He walked around the far side of the table and sat himself behind the computer-microphone combo, confirming Ayda''s suspicions that it belonged to him. He directed a few quick jabs at the keyboard. Distantly, Ayda noticed it was not a Belmont International product.

    From here, the room felt almost claustrophobic. Nearly surrounded by equipment, Ayda wasn''t really sure what to do with her hands. She folded them in her lap. A glance upward revealed the microphone was well above her head. How was she supposed to talk into it all the way up there? Casey must''ve noticed her predicament, for he spoke up.

    "You can move the mic down," he began. "Put it right in front of your mouth then sit back in your chair."

    Ayda said nothing and hesitated a moment, unsure if she should really mess with such expensive equipment. But, if Casey gave his blessing it was probably okay. She reached up and grabbed the arm contraption just behind the microphone. It bent down to her level with surprising ease. The girl did as instructed. The microphone came to a stop exactly even with her lips. Despite how easily it moved, the arm stiffened up rock solid in place when she let go. Leaning back, Ayda couldn''t help but wonder exactly how that worked.

    "Try to project a just a little bit, like you''re talking on the phone," advised Casey. He received a simple nod in confirmation. "Any questions before our commercials wrap up?"

    Ayda thought for a moment. "Not really, no. I guess I''ll just follow your lead. And try not to touch anything." She added.

    "Works for me," Casey chuckled.

    The next few minutes passed in a somewhat uncomfortable silence. Casey continued working at his computer. God only knew what he was actually doing. It was enough to occupy him, though. He seemed much calmer in person, as opposed to on the radio. If not for the voice, Ayda wouldn''t believe the two were the same people. He certainly didn''t look like she imagined. Red hair and an ugly sweater were close to the exact opposite. Though, she should know better than to judge a book by its voice.

    Shifting her focus from him to the room she sat in, Ayda noticed the butterflies in her stomach. Fingers drummed against her thigh, and thin layer of sweat began to pool at embarrassing places. Ayda blinked a few times. This was stupid. Why was she nervous? This was just a normal conversation between strangers¡­ that thousands of people would hear. Okay, perhaps her nerves were well-placed, but that didn''t make them any more acceptable. She''d faced down metal men and literal murderers before. Why did the prospect of talking on the radio make her so uneasy? Casey spoke suddenly, and interrupted her train of thought.

    "Twenty seconds," he said. "I''ll count down from five before we go on."

    Too late to go back now. Ayda sat up in her chair in an attempt to look at least somewhat presentable. She slumped back down after a second, though. This was radio. Nobody could see her. She settled for staring at Casey, waiting for his signal to begin.

    The man shifted in his seat. He had one finger over a button, and his mouth an appropriate distance from the microphone. A beat passed, and he held a hand up over his head, fingers splayed out. Silently, Casey counted down from five. A finger tucked away as each second passed. Ayda watched them fall with nary a blink. The count narrowed to just one. He took a breath, and pressed the button.

    "And we are back on KR. 103. I''m still Casey Calamity, and I''m still bringing you all your nightly chaotic needs."

    It was like someone flipped a switch inside the man. Gone was the surprisingly reserved individual from just moments ago, replaced by someone bombastic and bursting with energy. It never really crossed her mind, but it made sense he would have a radio persona separate from who he really was. But there was no time to ponder this, as Casey pressed on completely oblivious to her epiphany.

    "Ladies and Gentlemen," he began with gravitas in his tone. "I don''t know if you can tell, but I''m very excited right now, because we have a very special surprise guest in the studio today. You''ve heard stories about her, and maybe you''ve even seen her on the streets, but she''s here today to shoot the breeze with yours truly. Please welcome El Puerto''s own savior Pulse to the show!" Casey ended the introduction with a gesture in her direction, which she took as a cue to speak.

    "Hey, everyone," she said, and instantly frowned. Seriously? That''s the best she could come up with? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. No reason to be nervous. Just a conversation.

    "Why don''t you prove you are who you say you are, just real quick," Casey posed.

    "Um¡­ okay, sure."

    Ayda held her hand palm up in front of the microphone. Unsure of exactly how far away to hold it, she kept it just in front of her face. She glanced up at Casey, who gave her an affirmative nod. Ayda let loose a small blast about the same size as the ones she''d used previously. It filled the small room, echoing off the walls for only a brief moment.

    "I''m not sure how well that worked," Ayda said after the sound dissipated. "They can''t exactly see me."

    "Well, I can see it, and trust me, she''s the real deal." Casey chuckled. He leaned forward, suddenly more serious, but only just. "A little peak behind the curtain for you folks, Pulse just wandered in here a few minutes ago demanding an interview."

    "That''s not the word I would use," she interrupted.

    "Regardless, I eagerly accepted, but I have to ask, what made you want an interview with me all of a sudden?"

    Ayda thought for a moment. She''d rehearsed the answer to this question, just in case it came up. It helped that her answer was not entirely untrue.

    "Okay, do you remember the selfie from a few weeks ago?" She began.

    "Yeah, I''m pretty sure it''s still on the front page of Reddit," joked Casey. It wasn''t. Ayda checked earlier that day.

    "Well, after that went super viral, I realized I have a public image to think about, if that makes sense, and not everyone sees me in the most positive light. I thought a good, candid talk with one of my most vocal supporters would be a great way to let people know who I really am, and what I really do." Ayda nodded after she''d finished speaking, satisfied with her answer.

    "And what is it exactly that you do?" Casey said.

    "I¡­ fight crime," Ayda began tentatively. This wasn''t a question she''d expected. "I protect the people and root out criminals, wherever they hide."

    "And what got you started down that path?" Casey followed up without missing a beat. "I don''t think most people would just wake up one day, put on a cape and say ''I''m gonna go fight crime.''"

    "That isn''t really something I like to talk about." Ayda let out a labored sigh. "A few months ago, I lost someone very close to me. Someone I love was killed by a member of the local Triad. I was angry and depressed. Her killer was out there, but the cops weren''t doing anything about it. But I could. I had the ability to go after him myself, and I couldn''t just sit around doing nothing. So that''s what I did. I took matters into my own hands.

    "I tracked him down. I had him right where I wanted him, but something made me realize it isn''t just him. He''s just a part of a bigger problem, a symptom of a disease. It wasn''t just my loved ones in danger, but the entire city. I''ll admit it started as a revenge quest, but after that it became so much more. I do what I do to honor her legacy, and make sure no one else has to suffer like she did."

    Ayda told her story, all of it, as truthfully as possible, though she left out all the names and places, and changed a couple parts for the sake of her own safety.

    "Wow," Casey said. "That''s an amazing story. I''m so sorry for your loss."

    "Thank you."

    "You mentioned the Triad. It''s no secret most of your busts involve members of the gang. Do you target them specifically because of what happened?"

    "No, not necessarily," Ayda shook her head, "though I''d be lying if I said there wasn''t some satisfaction every time I took one of them down. The Triad is by far the biggest gang in the city. They have their hands in everything. I just look for crime in general. The fact that they''re normally involved is a coincidence."

    "And do you work with the police at all?"

    Ayda laughed at that. "No. I don'' think they''d have me. But they seem to have lightened up a bit ever since the school shooting."

    "What makes you say that?" Casey asked. "Do they just let you walk away?"

    "Not officially, of course." Ayda grinned, eliciting a giggle from her host. "But there have been some pretty close calls where an officer should''ve come after me, but didn''t. I haven''t had a chance to speak with anyone yet, but I think a lot of them are grateful for my help."

    "It would certainly make their job easier," Casey commented. "I remember the school shooting. That was a harrowing day. I know I was praying you''d make an appearance, as were¡ªI think¡ªa lot of people."

    "I only wished I''d got there sooner," Ayda said.

    "The important part is you stopped it before anyone else could get hurt," countered the host.

    "I know," Ayda returned. "I''m still proud of what I did that day. It felt like the first time I really made a difference."

    "I''m sure the parents and children would agree, but I think you make a difference every day."

    "Thank you," Ayda said again. Casey leaned back in his chair, denoting another change of subject.

    "Why don''t you walk us through a day in the life of Pulse? What does normal look like for a superhero?"

    Ayda paused for a moment at the last word he said. Superhero. No one had ever called her that out loud and right to her face. It was a jarring phrase to hear it with her own ears. She''d never thought about it before. She didn''t think of herself as any sort of comic book hero. Of course, she also realized other people did, and that was fine. It was just strange to hear. Nevertheless, Ayda blinked once to refocus on the moment, and pressed forward.

    "Well, when I''m not wearing a jacket and sunglasses, I do the same things as everyone else. I have bills and obligations, and stuff like that. As far as anyone else knows, I''m just a normal girl."

    "And what kinds of obligations?" Casey pushed. "You look pretty young. Are you in college?" He asked, which Ayda took as a compliment even though her eyes narrowed at the question.

    "I''m not sure I want to answer that," she said slowly. "I hope you understand, Casey. I can''t give away anything too specific, or people might figure out who I am."

    "No, I totally get it," Casey put up his hands in weak a show of innocence. "You don''t have to answer anything if you don''t want to." A short pause followed as the DJ worked out a new direction for the conversation. "How about where you''re from?"

    "Well, it may come as a shock, but I''m not from Texas," said Ayda. They both shared a chuckle at that. "Again, I don''t wanna be too specific. I''m from where I sound like I''m from."

    "While we''re talking about your life, we have to mention that motorcycle of yours It''s so badass. Ducati Diavel, right?"

    "Thanks," said Ayda. "And it is. I''m impressed you knew that."

    "Well, don''t be. I had to look it up," Casey said. "Was it purchased specifically for your career, or did you have it beforehand?"

    "No, no, I had it before. What can I say? I like motorcycles, so I bought myself one. I''ve had her for a little over a year."

    "It''s a serious piece of hardware. I bet it''s come in handy more than once."

    "Yeah, she helps me do what I do."

    "I''m glad you brought that up, what you do, because it''s my next topic." Casey leaned forward, one elbow lazily on the table. "Many people support you, not just in this city, but all over the world. Whenever someone doesn''t, however, they usually take issue with your methods. They call you brutal, sadistic, and needlessly violent. Do you have anything to say about that?"

    "Sure," Ayda began. "Let me make one thing abundantly clear right now: I do not enjoy hurting people. I like fighting, but injuring people? Killing them? No, I take no joy in that."

    "But you have killed before. There was that one gang member during your first reported outing."

    "Yes. That was¡­ unfortunate." Ayda took a second to compose herself. "I''d just lost my loved one at the time. I was sad, and angry, and frustrated, and as much as I wanted to get to the bottom of everything, I also wanted to take all of that emotion out of someone. I''m not trying to make excuses. It was wrong, and I''m sorry. I shouldn''t have lost control like that.

    "I''m not sadistic, like some like to say. I feel bad for the people I hurt. I actively go out of my way to avoid going too far. What I want people to understand is, these people are criminals. They want to kill me. I do what I have to in order to protect not only my own life, but the lives of everyone in this city. Sometimes that means using a little more force than necessary. I don''t like it. In fact, I hate it, but that''s the reality of the situation." Ayda stopped short of saying more, realizing just how long she''d spoken. "Sorry, I didn''t mean to rant like that."

    "It''s perfectly fine." Casey waved away her concern. "By all means, rant away." He smiled, an expression she had to force herself to return. "Why don''t we change the subject?"

    "Please."

    "I''d be remise to not mention your outfit. It''s very unique."

    "I like to think so, thanks."

    "When most people think of superheroes, they think of colorful spandex, not leather jackets and motorbikes. What made you go with your current look?"

    "I mean, think about it. Why would anyone in their right mind run around in neon tights? It''s completely ridiculous. I want to look intimidating when I fight people, not like some lunatic. Though, people still probably think I''m a lunatic."

    "No comment on that," dismissed Casey. "So, where did your clothes come from?"

    "My closet," Ayda said simply. "I literally just chose what I thought looked cool, and what I thought criminals would remember."

    "Well, you definitely succeeded on both accounts," praised Casey.

    The interview carried on for roughly ten more minutes. Honestly, Ayda kind of expected more. She thought this would be an ordeal of at least an hour, if not even longer. Though, it did make sense. Most television interviews weren''t very long, so it stood to reason radio would be the same.

    Casey asked her a few more poignant questions, such as a request for insight as to how her powers really worked, which she dodged to the best of her abilities. After a while, however, it devolved into a simple pleasant exchange. The two of them shot the breeze about nothing specific, yet Casey always managed to bring it back to her in some way, shape, or form. An affable man my nature, Casey approached every topic with a decidedly neutral stance, as if he were open to having his mind changed. It made him very easy to talk to.

    The entire experience was a highly positive one. As it drew to a close, Ayda realized the last time she''d talked to a stranger about her powers was when she first met Elliot. It was nice to speak with someone genuinely curious about her and what she can do. Perhaps Casey was a little biased, but that didn''t really make a difference to the girl. She let herself become wrapped up in the talk, to revel in the simplicity of it all.

    But it couldn''t last forever. Neither of them wanted it to, no matter how nice it was nor how much fun Casey was certainly having. After an appropriate amount of time, the air between them stilled as the talking slowed down. The moment seemed to be drawing toward a natural conclusion. Casey must have felt this as much as Ayda did, because he leaned back in his chair with a short contented sigh.

    "Well, Pulse, I think it''s about time to wrap things up," he said. "I''d like to thank you for coming on the show, even if it was a little expected."

    "Thanks for letting me crash your studio," Ayda jabbed in return.

    "You''re welcome any time," Casey offered, a not-so-subtle hint he wanted to do this again sometime. "Is there anything you''d like to say to? Any parting words?"

    "Yes, actually." Ayda said. She bit her lower lip in contemplation. This was her big moment, the thing she''d been awaiting since before since entering the lobby.

    "I''d be lying if I said the only reason I wanted to come on your show was for a PR stunt," she began.

    "Oh?" Casey perked up. "Then, please, do enlighten us."

    Ayda wavered for a second. "Earlier, I said the Triad was the biggest threat to the city. They''re everywhere. I''ve had a lot of friction with them, so much so that I even ran into their leader a few times. He''s a Kiwi man who goes by the name of Tahoe, and he''s..." She took a deep breath in. "He''s like me. He can turn his body into a metal so hard even I can''t hurt him. Our last two encounters didn''t exactly go in my favor."

    Ayda paused to collect her thoughts. Casey''s eyes widened at this revelation, as probably did many others around the city. It was a bombshell. There were two super powered freaks running around, not just one, and only half of this new equation had the best interest of El Puerto at heart. Some still thought neither did. Ayda knew what the reaction would be in the coming days, which was why she had to keep speaking, to dispel any uncertainty toward her cause.

    She downcast her eyes. "It''s hard for me to say, but I''ll admit I''ve been running from him. I was afraid. But I''m through running. I''m ready to face this." Ayda looked lifted her head, determination in her gaze once more.

    "To any members of the Chinese Triad listening right now, I have a message for your leader." She stood from her chair, leaning into the microphone with palms against the table.

    "Tahoe, I''m calling you out. If you''re half the badass you think you are, you''ll meet me at ten o''clock tomorrow night, in the place where we first met. I''m sure you remember it. You''ve been a thorn in my side for too long, and I''m sick of it. Let''s finish this, you and me, once and for all. And I will take you down. For all the people you''ve hurt. For the crimes you''ve committed. For the good men and women you''ve corrupted. For those who died under your orders. Your reign of terror is over. I promise I will be the one who stops you.

    "For better or worse, this ends tomorrow."

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 44: High Noon

    It was a cool night. Or, at least, cool by Texan standards, which meant it was still rather warm. The hypothetical mercury hovered around a comfortable temperature, and an ever-so-slight breeze blew outside. A beautiful full moon hung dominant in a cloudless sky, radiating light upon the sleepy streets below. Every once in a while a star peaked through the city lights. By all accounts, it was a beautiful evening.

    But the breeze and the moon mattered little to Ayda. She stood inside a dilapidated old warehouse, unsettling in it''s familiarity. The moon showed not through dirty windows. The breeze hadn''t a chance of penetrating thick steel walls. Inside the air was thick and stagnant. What little light did bleed into the space caught twinkling specks of dust as they flitted to the floor. It was silent and lonely.

    Her eyes searched around the room. It looked completely untouched since her last visit. The machinery and left over mechanical parts were just as grimy as before. Dust long covered up whatever disturbances she''d caused to it on her previous excursion, and no evidence of anyone else exploring the space was visible. Even the door on the far end was still open.

    No one had been here, because they didn''t have a reason to. The industrial district was full of abandoned buildings like this one, though it was in much better condition than some. While the more pedestrian structures often played host to squatters and criminals, factories like this one lacked a certain homey appeal, and were abandoned in favor of something more inviting. It was the perfect place for a showdown.

    Ayda continued to scan the area, ever alert for any sort of sign to signify she was no longer alone. Idly, she adjusted the right shoulder of her cropped leather jacket. It didn''t actually need adjusting, but the motion brought her a small amount of comfort, a distraction from the immobile air. She was dressed all in black on this day; a dark tank top, tight jeans, combat boots, and her signature sunglasses completed her ensemble. It was similar to what she''d worn the first time inside the factory. Something about it felt right. The only difference was the overstuffed drab green fanny pack on her right hip.

    A chill ran down her spine as her eyes fell upon the ground. There was a dark spot on the floor. She didn''t need to inspect it to know what it was. Blood. Her blood. The remnant of a battle long past, but never forgotten.

    Unwarranted images flashed through her mind. She saw Tahoe, standing upon his platform with dual swords in hand. His voice rang out and she could almost hear it, accented and constantly jeering, though deeper than she remembered. He turned to solid metal in her mind''s eye. Once again her stomach sank as her staff met his metallic skin, and did nothing to effect it. Tahoe raised his sword and brought it down.

    Ayda reached a hand down her shirt and slowly scratched her back. Fingertips grazed the place where Tahoe''s blade seared her skin. The wound healed nicely¡ªonly a faint scar left in its wake¡ªbut the mark could still be felt with an observant touch. It had been so long since the lost a fight with actual stakes. Training didn''t always go her way, but the moment the outcome actually mattered, she failed. If Ayda concentrated, she could still feel the blade rending her flesh, could still hear Tahoe''s confident jeering. Maybe if she''d been good enough, then none of this¡ª

    Ayda clenched her eyes shut. A forceful shake of her head splayed jagged black locks. They settled in a slightly less orderly fashion than they began. The hand on her back slid up to instead rub her neck. The other hand flexed and relaxed around her staff a few times. She channeled her powers for a second, not much but just enough for energy to course through her veins.

    The girl took a deep, slow breath. The air smelled stale, but it reminded her of the situation. With a long exhale through parted lips, Ayda opened her eyes. Ayda''s free hand fell to her side. The power left her body. The factory. El Puerto. Her home. These were the things that mattered. The past was over and done with. It could not be changed. Ayda needed to live in the present, and the present had much more pressing issues to worry about.

    She looked down at her watch. The black digital numbers read 10:10. Ayda looked around, but saw nothing. She sighed. Late. Of course. Why did she expect anything different? The teenager wanted to believe she didn''t'' have all night to stand there, but that wasn''t true. She''d completely cleared her schedule. This was, quite literally, the only thing she had to do. In reality, Ayda hadn''t time to do anything else besides stand there all night. That thought did little to instill confidence.

    Idly, Ayda held her staff straight up and down. She let it go, and its point hit the ground with a hollow plinking sound. It bounced back up, and she caught the rod before it could topple over. At a lack of better entertainment, this was fun enough. She repeated the motion a few times, sharp sounds echoing through the empty space with each drop. They ceased abruptly when Ayda realized they were not the only sounds penetrating the darkness. Low thuds interspersed them. Her eyes snapped to the direction of the new disturbance, and her heart sank.

    Out from the darkness which clung lose to the walls strode a man. Grey splotches dotted his dark hair. Urban camouflage and a combat harness clothed his body, while the pale lights reflected off metallic skin. Twin, single-edged swords were already drawn at his sides, ready to partake in the bloody business to follow. This man required no introduction, for Ayda knew who he was. Tahoe.

    He stopped a few feet away from her. The girl did not assume a fighting stance nor charge immediately after him, only stood there in confused regard for the new arrival. Tahoe looked pretty much the same as she remembered, and he actually showed up, which was a plus.

    "That''s it?" Ayda raised an eyebrow, gesturing toward him. "No grand entrance or surprise attack? Not even a posse? I expected at least a hype man."

    "I''ve faced you alone before, haven''t I?" Tahoe said. The sound of his voice reminded Ayda of his accent. "You probably don''t think so, but I do believe in the honor of combat, especially when I''ve been issued a challenge." He explained.

    Ayda audibly scoffed at that. Honor. Yeah, right.

    "I have to say, I was surprised," Tahoe continued when Ayda did not speak. "I expected our next meeting to be more organic."

    "What can I say? I''ve never been very patient." Ayda shrugged.

    "Well, we at least have that much in common," Tahoe stated. Ayda rolled her eyes at the comparison.

    "You came here to fight, right?" Ayda changed the subject. She assumed her favorite fighting stance, staff held out in front of her at an angle from right shoulder to left hip. "Let''s get it over with."

    "That''s the smartest you''ve ever said. I''m tired of you slowing down my plans, anyway." Tahoe went into his own stance. His left shoulder facing toward the girl, his left sword was held down at his hip, the tip pointed up at her nose. The other blade was held aloft above his head, focused on the same spot.

    They faced off, both standing perfectly still. Ayda channeled her powers. The world slammed into focus as a purple outline took her staff. She shifted her feet along the dirty floor, and adjusted her grip on the weapon, in her best attempt to look antsy.

    "Hold on," she dropped her stance. "This doesn''t feel right." To her amazement, Tahoe also relaxed a bit, although his expression remained unchanged.

    "You have a better idea?" Tahoe patronized.

    "No, it''s just..." She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "You said something about honor? If we''re gonna fight, we should fight like men."

    Every shred of decency in Ayda''s brain screamed at her to stop, to rethink her next action, but she''d come much too far. Pushing through any amount of hesitation she may have felt, Ayda put down her staff. She then removed her jacket and threw it to the concrete. The black tank to was next to go. She crossed her arms at the hem of the garment top and pulled up. In one fluid motion the clothing was over her head and on the ground next to the discarded jacket.

    Ayda was thankful for the color of her skin. Were she any paler, she''d be red as a tomato. Standing in the middle of a rundown warehouse, chest bare except for a black sports bra, Ayda put her torso on display for the world to see. Lean abdominal muscles¡ªdefined, but not gratuitous¡ªbristled under the smooth skin of her toned stomach, but she was confident in her body. It was not what caused her such embarrassment.

    Scars covered her upper-body, most leftover from her time in captivity but some had been acquired in the past few months. Despite constant support from family and friends, they still were a source of self-conscious discomfort for her. They were reminders of all the times when she wasn''t good enough.

    It was at that moment Elliot decided to speak up, his voice somewhat distorted through the bluetooth headset in her ear.

    "What was that rustling sound?" He said. His voice cut through the uncomfortable haze in the girl''s mind. "Wait... ''fight like men?'' Did you just take your shirt off?"

    She did not respond. Tahoe stood there for a moment, clearly taken aback by the events transpiring before his eyes. Ayda felt herself redden even deeper. Tahoe had not earned the right to see her scars. She almost shrunk under his lecherous gaze, but somehow managed to compartmentalize the degradation she felt as his eyes scanned every inch of her. She would not show such petty weakness, not to him.

    He smirked. "You''re full of surprises, aren''t you?'' He joked. "Alright, have it your way. Like men." He sheathed his swords and reached down.

    "Ayda, what the hell? Are you trying to fight him or fuck him?" The voice of Elliot shouted into her ear.

    The teenager still ignored him, instead entirely focused on what Tahoe was doing. He first undid his combat harness. Unsnapping a few buckles allowed it to slide off his shoulders. Then, he too crossed his arms and pulled up. Tahoe removed his own shirt to reveal hard silver skin below. With all pesky barriers to her intended target out of the way, Ayda''s lips curved in a sideways smirk. Tahoe took the bait like a moth to a flame. A moth ripe for a freezing.

    Tahoe redrew his swords. Both fighters settled back into their stances from earlier. The atmosphere shifted. A charge went through the air, so palpable Ayda was sure both of them felt it. She embraced her powers. Strength washed over her, and the entire world slammed into focus. It seemed as though everything else slowed down, as if the Earth stopped spinning to allow these two an uninterrupted bout. In this moment, she was not Ayda. She was Pulse; a force of justice facing down a great enemy. It was her job to stop him, because no one else could.

    Ayda propelled herself forward. Tahoe stood like a stone to meet her. At the same time as her feet touched the concrete floor, the girl swung a vicious lateral strike over her left side. Staff met sword in a purple explosion which rocked the foundations of the warehouse. A pressure wave emanated from the epicenter of the blast. Several of the overhead windows shattered, raining glass down in the distance all around them. And in the middle of it all stood Tahoe, metal skin gleaming in the pale moonlight, completely unfazed by the incredible attack. It was as Ayda expected, but she still snarled at him.

    The two disengaged, but only long enough to launch into a flurry. They exchanged a long series of blows at a blazing pace. Ayda struck down with a blast. Tahoe blocked and countered with a sweep from his right sword. Ayda defended and swung upward with her staff''s back end, only to be thwarted. Tahoe answered with a downward slice.

    Back and forth they went. Neither combatant got in one attack before the other gave a response. Every contact of blade on staff resulted in a blast, but the defense of each was absolute. Ayda attempted to stab at Tahoe''s forehead with the full length of her staff. Tahoe sidestepped out of the way; the blast detonated next to his right ear. Out of sword''s reach, he instead gave a quick front push kick. The heel of his boot made good contact with Ayda''s pelvis. She took the hit, along with a few steps back, effectively ending the first melee.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    It was Tahoe who initiated the next exchange. He dashed forward, striking downward with each blade in series once in range. Ayda stepped back in time with each slash, narrowly avoiding the points. Tahoe continued his assault with an upward swing across is body. This one Ayda blocked. She cranked her staff into a swift slice, which Tahoe barely stopped short of his face. The girl struck again with the other side of her weapon, but again met a black blade. Finally, Ayda retracted her weapon and thrust forward, sliding between Tahoe''s defenses and straight into his abdomen.

    The ensuing blast pushed her back more than it did him. Ayda planted her feet and slid backward. Her boots failed to find traction on the dirty cement. The much heavier Tahoe, however, was already beginning toward her. Now or never. In one fluid motion, Ayda reached into her fanny pack, pulled out a cylindrical freeze bomb, and hurled it at her enemy with assistance from a modest blast.

    Tahoe swiped up at it just before it reached him. His blade shattered the glass on contact. A brilliant display of pale blue liquid sprayed from the broken projectile. Much of it fell harmlessly to the ground, but some painted across the man''s chest and right shoulder. Mist rose from the affected areas.

    The metal man continued on for a few more steps, but then his nose curled in a pointed wince. Puzzled eyes regarded the foreign substance splashed along his person. He touched it with his opposite hand, rolling it around on his fingertips before hastily flicking it off. Ayda smirked again. Like a cat stalking helpless pray, she pounced.

    Ayda smashed down a hefty overhead strike. Tahoe blocked with swords crossed, but his right side buckled just slightly. He winced in pain. Using his superior strength, he forced Ayda''s weapon down to her left and took a big step back.

    The teenager would not let up. She matched him stride for stride, spinning her staff vertically. Each end let forth a strong purple burst every time they passed over Tahoe''s body. He retreated further and further. The blasts missed him by mere inches. His eyes were wide as they followed the pinwheel of death steadily encroaching on his territory. He caught every motion, committed it to memory and moved in anticipation of the next. It was a level of care Ayda had not seen in their previous fights.

    This wasn''t working. He was already out of her range. She would never hit him. Ayda spun around once to break her forward momentum, twirling her staff all the while. At the end of her rotation, she jumped back. In midair, the girl dipped a free hand into her pack and launched another freeze bomb at the enemy. Confused and dismayed, Tahoe wasn''t near fast enough. The bomb broke against his abdomen. Most of the liquid previously contained therein coated against his middle, but thin tendrils splattered all along his chest. A few drops even made it onto his face.

    "What is this?" Tahoe demanded, looking down at his newly blued stomach. "What did you do to me?"

    "Wouldn''t you like to know?" Ayda mocked back.

    She dashed the short distance between them and initiated with a lateral over her right shoulder. Tahoe blocked with his good arm, and attacked with the injured one in the same motion. Ayda maintained contact as she rotated her staff to block the attack. Tahoe kicked out of the bind in a similar fashion to how he had previously. His foot hit just about the same spot on the teenager. She took a step back to steady herself.

    Tahoe continued the assault, striking downward with both weapons. Ayda deflected his blades to her right and used the momentum to hit vertically with the back end of her staff. Tahoe just barely avoided the little purple explosion. He sliced up with his right sword and stabbed with the left in rapid succession. Ayda sidestepped the attacks and stabbed straight at his face with the butt end of her staff. Tahoe batted it away, using the energy of the rod''s blast against it, and cut horizontally with his other sword.

    Ayda tried to step back out of the way, but she''d overextended herself. Her head and torso made it out of the swinging arc, but blade tip caught her left bicep. The girl gritted her teeth with a snarl as crimson began to pump through the laceration. The cut was deep, but not to the bone. She''d fought on with far worse injuries in the past. Not that she was happy with the current predicament, of course.

    The sight and scent of blood whipped Tahoe into a frenzy. He charged forward. Ayda needed a bit more time to recover from the pain shooting through her arm. She jabbed her staff into the ground, sending a shockwave through the cement floor. The pulse caught Tahoe mid-step. The teenager took full advantage of this sudden imbalance. She swung down over her left shoulder. A blast connected with Tahoe''s own weakened limb.

    A terrible cracking sound pierced the air as Tahoe uprooted. He flew several feet backward. Left in his wake was a silvery-blue powder which slowly diffused into the air. The metal man landed hard on his back.

    No time as wasted. With her uninjured arm, Ayda hurled a pair of freeze bombs and her grounded adversary, one right after the other in rapid succession. The first one fell just slightly short. What didn''t mark the floor splattered upon his pants. Tahoe rolled away from the second. He pushed himself up, a hand on his right shoulder.

    Chunks were missing from the frozen arm. Hair-thin fissures worked their way across its surface. He winced in lingering pain. All of this, Ayda found quite odd. Why would he not reform the metal to heal the wound? Why not just get rid of the cold in the first place? A sickening smile worked across her lips.

    Ayda separated her weapon into its two halves. She dashed forward. A couple lofty blast-assisted steps brought the fighters together once more. The younger of them landed in a stance which faced her injured left side away from the enemy. Tahoe did the same, and for a moment they assumed an identical Eskrima posture. This similarity dissolved, however, when they both erupted into explosive action.

    The two combatants launched into another flurry of seemingly endless attack and defense. Each of them having dual weapons, they could both strike and block at the same exact time. They stepped and jockeyed for range, trying to get through the solid defenses of the other. Every hit met a weapon, and was followed up immediately with a counter. But, as this bout went on, a pattern began to show. With each fighter having an injured limb, they favored defending with that one, and attacking with their good arm.

    Eventually, one of them found an opening. Ayda parried with her healthy arm, dragging Tahoe''s right weapon down with her left. It was enough of a change to destabilize the flow of battle. Before the man could react, Ayda struck with her other stick over her left shoulder. A terrible blast impacted Tahoe''s frozen limb. More little chunks and dust flew off as he stumbled away, spinning around with a little step to maintain balance.

    Ayda would not let him rest. She charged forward. Tahoe completed his spin just in time to block her stuttered downward blows. Blasts impacted his swords one right after the other. Tahoe made the mistake of blocking with his bad arm. He took a big step back to once again break momentum. Ayda charged forward and slammed both sticks down simultaneously, but this time Tahoe was ready. He blocked with his left sword, and swung low with his right. Ayda shifted back to avoid the blow as it sailed past her midsection with just inches to spare.

    It was Tahoe''s turn to press. He stepped toward her, swinging once right and then left. Ayda blocked both. She gave him a high front kick-blast combo in response, which he faded back from. The girl followed him with alternating stabs of her stick, a burst at the end of each one. Tahoe blocked the first, and sidestepped the second. The moment it was past him, he swung down.

    Ayda knew what was about to happen. She took a step back out of the way, but it wasn''t enough. The tip of a blade passed through the flesh above her right kidney. Searing pain took her entire torso as several unsteady footfalls led her backward. Instinctively, a hand covered the freshly wounded area. She pulled it way, wincing as sweat and dirt seeped into the gash. Her hand came back stained with red, while tendrils pooled at her belt. Though longer, this cut didn''t bleed as much as the first of the night. Again, it missed anything vital, but the pain was temporarily overwhelming. For a few harrowed seconds, the only things she could feel were the agonizing throbs which wracked her upper-body.

    To her surprise, Tahoe did not continue to attack her. He instead stood a few feet away. His breaths came in labored pants, and a hand clutched his damaged arm. There were even more chunks missing, and a few of the fissures had blown into full-fledged cracks. His face twisted in pain, a sinister sneer on his lips.

    They faced off like this for a moment, each far too hurt and tired to continue fighting. They panted back and forth in fighting stances. Their eyes met, full of fervor, but they lacked that fighting spirit from earlier in the match. Ayda, though was not one to rest on her laurels, not while she was so close. She gathered what energy she could and propelled herself forward.

    A downward blast met Tahoe''s waiting weapons, but it was weak. Tahoe deflected her single rod off to one side. The man retaliated by slicing down at her with his only good appendage. Ayda just barely managed to swing one of her weapons in a wide arc to bat it away. She tried to follow it up with the other stick, but pain and exhaustion in her wounded arm kept the hit slow. Tahoe blocked with little trouble. He retaliated straight down the middle with one sword. Ayda, unable to defend herself, faded back. Air displaced by the blade tickled her nose, but did not mark her skin.

    Tahoe pressed forward. He cut vertically with staggered motions. Ayda dodged both, continuing to retreat. With perhaps more effort than necessary, Tahoe hauled his swords back up from their follow-through. Ayda blocked them both with one rod, and attacked with the other. Tahoe quarter-turned out of the way and countered with a long thrust. Ayda kicked a blast off the ground and flew back a few feet from harm''s way.

    The moment she hit the ground, the teenager switched both sticks into her left hand, dipped her now free appendage into the pack at her waist, and hurled a freeze bomb at Tahoe. This one was just a normal throw, without any sort of explosion to propel it along. Learning from his previous mistake, Tahoe swatted this one away with the flat of a blade.

    But that was exactly what Ayda wanted him to do.

    In the split-second distraction the projectile provided, Ayda launched herself forward. She struck upward with a spin, rising into the air a few feet. Tahoe stumbled back from the force of it. His exposed and frozen middle cracked and fissured.

    Ayda matched him step for step, fire in her eyes as she refused to let up. The girl gathered all her strength and smashed both her weapons into Tahoe''s weakened right arm. Deafening blasts filled the air. Chunks flew away from the man as Ayda came down again. Another spray of debris. She repeated the attack a third time, with similar results.

    Tahoe missed a step. He fell onto his rump. Both his swords clattered along the ground. But still, Ayda did not relent. She struck down again. Tahoe put up his injured arm in a vain attempt to stop her. His face twisted in agony as another pair of simultaneous explosions chipped away large chunks of his arm. They bounced and shattered upon the concrete as Ayda came down once again.

    There came a great crack like shattering glass. Tahoe''s arm separated at the elbow. What was left of the appendage tumbled to the floor. It broke into three uneven pieces on impact. All Tahoe could do was look on in sheer terror. But still, Ayda did not relent. She shifted her aim to his shoulder and hit one more time. Tahoe buckled. All the strength left his good arm. His only support folded underneath him. He fell flat on his back. Ayda quickly moved into position. She stood over him, trapping his neck with crossed sticks.

    "It''s over, Tahoe," she spat his name. "You lose."

    He did not respond, but only looked from her to the remnants of his arm, and back again. What had once been a metallic tree trunk bursting with incredible strength was now just a jagged blue nub. He wiggled it around pathetically. The man which had caused her so much trouble over these past few months was now¡ªquite literally¡ªa fraction of his former self. Ayda couldn''t help but smirk.

    A gunshot rang out. Ayda honed instinctually on the sound. She straightened up and spun to face the new threat. Unnatural eyes spotted the projectile just moments before it hit. A swipe and blast smashed it. As the debris scattered around her, the girl found its origin. A man stood on what was left of a catwalk along the far wall, brandishing a slim pistol. He fired again, but to no avail as Ayda blocked.

    The teenager was about to squash this new threat, when she felt something shift on the ground below. A swift blow to the ankles knocked her feet out from underneath. She plummeted to the ground, landing awkwardly with the manipulated leg outstretched, and the other bent back. Her lip curled and eyes went wide in frantic anger. She didn''t need to look to know Tahoe had made a break for it.

    She was about to spin around and go after him, but another shot rang out. Ayda blocked it from where she sat. The girl glanced over her shoulder just in time to see Tahoe disappear out a side door. She quickly stood to give chase. The gunman fired yet again. Ayda twisted around to nullify his assault. Taking a second to square up, Ayda threw one of her sticks at him; a burst propelled it at impossible speeds. It hit him square in the shoulder. He cried out at the pain of broken bones. His gun slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor below.

    The moment he was out of the picture, Ayda flew through the door Tahoe just used to escape. She made it to the alleyway but, of course, he was nowhere to be found. Her first instinct was to check behind the warehouse. The space behind the building was narrow. Tahoe would have nowhere to hide if he''d taken off down it, so his absence meant he wasn''t there. That only left the road.

    Propelling herself on blasts, Ayda bounded to the street. Her head whipped around left and right, desperate for any sign of him. But the sidewalks were barren. There were no cars at this time of night, and not even the sound of traffic. Her shallow breaths gradually slowed to something more controlled. She let out a long sigh, and made way back to the warehouse.

    Once close enough to the structure, she let out a fitful scream and punched the exterior wall. The ensuing blast echoed through the alleyways and avenues like the little explosion it was. The deteriorated metal siding buckled around her fist. Ayda kept it there for a moment, breathing heavily again, but this time through her nose. A sharp inhale, and she dropped her fist. Letting the breath out in a huff, Ayda went back around the side of the warehouse.

    There were drips of blood and icy chunks all over the floor where their battle had transpired. Seeing them reminded Ayda of her own wounds. Discomfort shot through her torso and left arm. Best get home before these wounds became worse, and maybe cool off along the way. Riding her motorcycle always had a marked therapeutic effect.

    A glance at the catwalk revealed the interloper was no longer present. She felt the most animosity toward him. If not for his interference, Tahoe would still be in her grasp. But, there was nothing she could do to change it. She put her shirt back on, gathered up her jacket and the other half of her staff, and exited the building, bound for her bike parked a few blocks away.

    Elliot was probably worried sick. He would want all the details the moment she walked through the door. Distantly, Ayda hoped he remembered how to stitch up a wound.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 45: Overthinking

    Ayda winced internally as a slim needle ran underneath her skin. Her surrogate nurse was already nervous enough, and didn''t need any outward shows of discomfort to make things worse. Despite her best efforts, she could not hide the slight clenching of her jaw. The man aiding her formed a loop above the gash in her arm and then paused. Concerned eyes looked up at her. She shot back a hard stare, and he continued on.

    The teenager once again found herself in naught but a bra and jeans, her boots, jacket, and tanktop discarded in a pile to the right. But, the circumstances and present company made this occasion much more pleasant than the last. Within Elliot''s apartment, there were no unworthy stares to scrutinize her every inch. Elliot would never belittle her for having so many scars¡ªor "survivor''s marks," as he called them¡ªand the gentleness in his gaze filled her with a sense of comfortable confidence. Simply put, Ayda knew she could trust him. Besides, it wasn''t anything he hadn''t seen before.

    All that familiarity didn''t make it any less painful, though. Ayda took deep, long breaths. The corners of her eyes scrunched just slightly with each pass of the needle. For some reason, tending to this little gash on her bicep hurt way worse than the gaping wound on her back had. Ayda didn''t understand the science behind this and, in the moment, couldn''t be bothered to care. She put on her best face to hid the pain, though, all for Elliot''s sake.

    For his part, he tried to work both quickly and carefully, a task which was exactly as difficult as it sounded. This wasn''t the first time he''d stitched Ayda up, and most certainly wouldn''t be the last, but that didn''t mean he felt any more confident about doing it. He''d majored in programming, not biology. This was still a relatively new concept for him.

    "Almost done," Elliot said slowly. "Just a little more."

    Ayda would''ve nodded, had she not other things to worry about. She shifted her weight between needle strokes. The plastic beneath her crinkled. They''d learned since the first time Ayda had wanted stitches. Instead of adding to the bloodstains on Elliot''s couch, Ayda instead sat upon his miniscule expanse of kitchen counter, ducking her head beneath the suspended cabinets. A clear sheet of thin plastic separated her from the gray stick-on countertop.

    Elliot did his due diligence to finish as quickly as possible without screwing anything up. He wanted to minimize the pain felt by his friend, but to make a mistake would be even worse. Fixing it would cost both time and further hurting. Again and again he passed the needle beneath her separated skin, pulling it together with a taught loop. Every stitch closed the wound up further.

    True to his word, he finished in just a few more strokes. He took a second to inspect his work, checking for any gaps or loose loops. Satisfied, he grabbed a pair of tiny scissors and cut the slim thread close to the skin.

    "There, all done. With that one, anyway."

    He hesitated a moment. His eyes fell upon the remaining cut in Ayda''s side, and a chaste breath escaped his lips. Steeling himself, he began to move toward it, but a swift grasp on his wrist stopped him short. A stern gaze met his own tentative one.

    "I got it," Ayda said with an air of finality. Elliot looked from her, to the needle, and back again before turning it to the sky. Ayda grabbed it between thumb and forefinger. Elliot rose to full height and took a short step back. With the lightly bloodstained tool in hand, Ayda wasted no time diving in.

    The gap in experience between the two was immediately apparent as skilled hands got to work. Deft motions passed the needle beneath the skin and pulled it together with a loop in seemingly one, fluid motion. As the seeds of a second stitch were laid, Elliot realized he''d never actually seen Ayda patch herself up. He wasn''t sure whether to look away respectfully, or take notes. Though, there were other things he wanted to do now that his attentions were freed.

    "So..." He began slowly, rocking back on his heels. "Do you... wanna talk about it?"

    "About what?" Ayda said without pausing.

    "About the fight," clarified Elliot. "I mean, you weren''t hurt too badly, so I''m guessing it went well."

    Ayda hesitated, collecting her thoughts. The needle hovered over her skin.

    "He got away," she said after a moment. She resumed her task. "I had him, but then some asshole started shooting at me, and he escaped." There was no malice or anger in her voice, just exasperation.

    "It sounds like you beat him, though," Elliot challenged, earning a hum in response. "Did the freeze bombs work?"

    Ayda smirked, despite herself. "You should''ve seen the look on his face. He was so confused. I don''t think anyone''s managed to hurt him while he was all metally before."

    "I knew they''d work." Elliot shared in the revelry, clenching a fist in celebration.

    "Also," Ayda interjected. "I might have cut his arm off, so there''s that."

    "Wait, what?"

    "Yeah, he wasn''t healing all of the frozen parts, so I don''t think he could." Ayda spoke a bit faster than normal, unable to hid the excitement from her voice. "His right arm was really damaged, and I hit it really hard and it just sorta fell off."

    "Ayda, that is kick ass!"

    "You''re telling me? It was awesome!" Enthused the girl, still stitching herself up. "I don''t know if he''ll be able to fix it when he thaws out, though."

    "Still, you showed him who''s boss," contested Elliot. "He won''t be messing with us again any time soon."

    Ayda nodded in agreement. A contented silence fell over the two, just long enough for the teenager to finish up the work on her side. It was done in a few more passes. Ayda grabbed the mini scissors from where they rested on her opposite side and snipped away the excess thread. A ginger fingertip inspected the sutures. Not a loop out of place.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Satisfied, she leapt off the counter and made for her shirt. Ayda quickly acquired the garment and slid it over her head. Glad to finally be in some state of modest dress again, she began to make way out of the kitchen, maybe to lounge around on the couch for a bit. She stopped, however, when Elliot''s eyes fell upon her with a familiar expression, one with annoyed her to no end.

    "What?'' She asked, raising an eyebrow.

    "It''s... it''s nothing." Elliot tore his gaze away in favor of the living room wall.

    "El, come on," she implored him. "I know that look. Something on your mind?"

    He let out a huff. "I''m not going to say I disapprove, because it was your choice, but why did you take your shirt off back there?" he asked, and Ayda''s heart sank. "What was that whole ''fight like a man'' quip about?"

    For a moment, Ayda said nothing. She knew that moment would be controversial, but had hoped to either delay a conversation about it, or avoid one entirely. But, the realistic part of her brain knew it was probably better to get it out of the way now.

    "That..." she leaned her hip up against the counter. "That was a long shot. The freeze bombs needed contact with Tahoe''s skin in order to be effective, and I know I could''ve just frozen his clothes and destroyed them, I didn''t want to take that chance. Tahoe is a dangerous opponent, and I knew I couldn''t bank on getting a few extra hits. Taking off my shirt was a ruse to make him do the same. I''m just glad it worked." She rubbed her brow. "If it makes you feel any better, I didn''t like doing it."

    "Well." Elliot paused, collecting his thoughts. "Again, I''m not arguing with you, but there are probably other ways you could''ve¡ª"

    "Yeah," she cut him off. " Yeah, there were. I understand that, but they were all risky. Tahoe''s power is a perfect counter to mine. I needed to leverage every advantage I could."

    "No, I get that. Really, I do. I just¡ª" Elliot let out a quick breath. "I just wish you would''ve talked to me about it."

    "What? We did talk about it. In the car ride a few days ago, remember?"

    "You talked about the freeze bombs and how they work. We never actually discussed strategy."

    "Because I hadn''t thought of anything yet."

    "Maybe, but you could''ve said something when you did."

    Ayda had no response to that. Elliot was right, of course. She''d been so excited to finally get rid of Tahoe, that maybe she jumped the gun a bit. Elliot deserved better. She sighed.

    "I don''t wanna argue with you," Elliot continued. "I won''t pretend to know what you do. I don''t. But if we''re gonna be a team, I need to be kept in the loop. This isn''t the first thing you haven''t told me."

    Ayda snapped her head up at the accusation. She met his eyes with dim embers burning in her own.

    "What else didn''t I tell you?"

    "For starters, I didn''t know you were gonna torture that one guy."

    "You knew how I treat the Triad," Ayda countered.

    "But you didn''t tell me you were gonna do it. I wasn''t ready, and you didn''t give me a chance to offer my own input." Elliot gave her a chance to respond. She did not. "But that''s not the only thing. We didn''t talk at all about your strategy at the school shooting, and I didn''t even know about the cage fights until after your first match."

    "You also didn''t ask about either of those things!"

    "That''s fair, but I shouldn''t have to."

    "Communication is a two way street, Elliot. Maybe I should''ve talked more. I''ll own that. But you never seemed to care."

    "Of course I do!" He took a half step closer. "Do you really think I don''t care about any of this? About you?"

    "Elliot," Ayda breathed. "That''s not what I¡ª"

    "It''s fine." He broke eye contact with her, preferring instead to look at the ground by his left shoe. "Look, I think the real problem here is we don''t really know what we''re doing." He returned his gaze to her. "Neither of us has ever been on a superhero team before. And it''s not like my old comics are much help. "

    "Maybe," Ayda shrugged. He had a point. Captain America didn''t exactly deal with his problems in the most realistic of ways, and he had a bunch of other people backing him up. What were a teenager and her engineer friend supposed to do when faced with similar circumstances?

    "Just something to think about," Elliot said. "I think we both have some thinking to do."

    "Yeah, you''re right," Ayda agreed. "Not just about this, but a lot of stuff." She scoffed and looked away. "I can''t believe I let Tahoe escape."

    "He didn''t exactly play by the rules. Don''t blame yourself."

    "He''s a criminal," asserted Ayda. "I should''ve known he''d have something up his sleeve."

    "And this is why we should talk more. We could''ve been ready for him to pull a fast one."

    "You''re right." Ayda sighed. "You''re right, and I hate that you''re right. It''s my fault."

    "He got us both," Elliot deflected, perhaps halfheartedly. "So, what do you think he''ll do now?"

    "Honestly?" Ayda raised an eyebrow at him. "I have no idea. He''ll probably thaw himself out and then regrow his arm, but I''m not so sure."

    "Why not?"

    "Because he wasn''t healing the damage I did to him. I don''t know what''s up with that, but maybe he can''t?"

    "You said that," Elliot said. "It could have something to do with the freeze bombs. Or maybe he can only heal his flesh? Like, he can''t heal damage he takes while he''s metal?"

    "I don''t know, dude. Your guess is as good as mine. He didn''t exactly stick around for me to ask."

    "Not that you would''ve, anyway," Eliot joked. "We''ve already established you never talk to anyone."

    "Don''t be a dick." Ayda gave him a playful jab to the bicep, which she followed up with a big yawn.

    "Tired?"

    "A little. I think the adrenaline is wearing off."

    Elliot wore a weak smile. "Then go get some rest. You had a busy day, today."

    "Yeah, sure. Thank''s, El."

    Ayda shuffled past him, and he watched her as she went. The teenager disappeared into the office. Elliot heard springs and faux wood creak as she collapsed onto the futon they''d set up for her in there. Distantly¡ªand in search of a distraction¡ªElliot wondered if she was still mad at him over buying that for her.

    He looked over his shoulder back into the kitchen, and spied her leather jacket still in a pile on the cold tile. With a sigh, he picked it up. A dark brown streak danced across the place where it had been on the dirty factory floor. Elliot brought it over to the washing machine and tossed it in. He needed to do a load of laundry anyway.

    For Ayda''s part, she stewed on the futon for a bit. Blank pupils stare up at the ceiling. Elliot was right, because of course he was. She certainly did have a lot to think about. They were a team, and it was time she started really acting like it. As long as Elliot met her halfway, partial victories like tonight''s wouldn''t happen again.

    She thought back to the fight for a moment. It had been a good win, but utterly fruitless in the end. The skin around her scars crawled. Thoughts of the fight brought her back to what she''d done in order to win it. She remembered Tahoe''s eyes scanning her form while her shame was laid bare before him, counting each mark for the failures they immortalized in her flesh.

    It wasn''t just his gender. Elliot was also a man, and she couldn''t have cared less how much of her he saw. But, he was also her best friend. He''d seen her scars before, and had been there to witness the formation of new ones. He wouldn''t judge her, ever. Indeed, Elliot was nothing but supportive of everything she did. Even that little spat from a few minutes ago came from a place of caring. Elliot earned the right to see her scars. Tahoe hadn''t. Ayda didn''t trust him, and he cared nothing for her. He was just a villain, plain and simple. Ayda knew better than to show weakness to her enemies, even if those weaknesses had happened a long time ago.

    Ayda turned onto her side. Facing the wall, she curled herself into a loose crescent. She wished her sister were there. Jackie would know what to do.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 46: Sundown

    Orange fingers stretched along a somewhat overcast sky. The light gray clouds were painted over in hues of crimson and tangerine, much like the idyllic scenes from a classic landscape portrait. Far in the distance a big red sun lay as a semi-circle upon the horizon. If one looked long enough, it was almost possible to track its movement.

    Ayda stood in uniform¡ªa black tank top and matching jeans along with her usual jacket, boots, and sunglasses¡ªupon the rooftop of what she assumed was a moderately tall apartment complex. The building to her right rose even further into the air, while the view to her left was mostly unimpeded. This was more or less the edge of the industrial district, the point where large structures became less common.

    Though it were considerably earlier than she normally went out, this was par for the course as of late. It had been two weeks since her icy showdown with Tahoe, and in that time she''d been going on patrol before the sun went down. It felt more efficient, somehow, despite the fact that most gang crime didn''t start until later.

    Patrol. Ayda ruminated on that word for a moment. It was a funny thing to have cross her psyche. She''d been doing it for months, but it wasn''t until recently the irony of it dawned on her. It was a little bit clich¨¦. She operated much like a police officer, yet worked firmly outside the bounds of the law. In that way, she acted like a classical superhero, though she would never attribute that word to herself. It seemed a bit too generous.

    A breeze kicked up and knocked some of her hair out of place. Absently, she tucked it back with one hand. The other fiddled with her staff, drumming fingers upon its metal face.

    "Is it windy out there?" The voice of Elliot suddenly intoned in her ear.

    "Sort of," Ayda responded. "I''m standing on top of a building, though, so that might have something to do with it."

    "Why are you on top of a building?" A note of worry wormed into his tone, and Ayda couldn''t help but smirk.

    "I don''t know, I thought it looked cool. Kind of a Spider-Man vibe, ya know?"

    "Sure. Is it a good vantage point?"

    "Not really?" Ayda raised a cursory eyebrow. "I mean, I guess I can see a little further up the road, but everywhere else there''s a building in the way."

    "Now¡ªimportant question¡ªcan you get back down?"

    "Of course. I used the fire escape to get up, so I can probably go back down it. And, if not," Ayda peered over the edge, "it''s not a very far fall."

    "Ayda¡­"

    "I''m kidding. It''s fine, El," she insisted. "I know what I''m doing."

    "I know. Just¡ª" He cut himself off. "I know." Elliot had been like that ever since their little argument a couple weeks ago. It was sweet, but also frustrating. He didn''t need to worry about her. She was fine.

    Another breeze blew, but this time Ayda didn''t correct her hair, instead allowing it to jostle along her face. It was getting just a little bit long. She''d probably have to get a trim in the next few days. Maybe this coming Saturday. She didn''t have any other plans. Perhaps Elliot and Rudy could be convinced to come along, make a day of it. That sounded nice. She hadn''t hung out with Rudy for a long time.

    A beep sounded from within her right pocket. Her phone; the news app, more specifically. Ayda ignored it. Probably a weather report, something about the clouds turning to rain later in the night. As much as the city needed a little water, it wasn''t something to concern herself with.

    Another beep. A bit odd, but not necessarily uncommon. Ayda was just contemplating whether or not to check on it when a third sang out. And then a fourth. A fifth. Alright, that was certainly worth investigating. She switched her staff from one hand to another and used the newly freed appendage to extract the troublesome device.

    It went off again. Several notifications showed in her alerts menu, all from the news app. She expanded them. A seventh headline joined the triage. They were short and hastily written, each with timestamps at the end. One even had a typo. Ayda skimmed over them, and felt her very blood run cold.

    "El¡­"

    "I know. I see it too."

    "How long has it been going on?" There was a frantic edge to Ayda''s voice.

    "I don''t know. It depends how long the vetting process for all these news sites is. I don''t know enough about these sorts of things to make a guess. Sorry."

    "It''s alright." Ayda looked left, and then right, trying to see anything amiss. A trio of gunshots rang out somewhere in the distance and a woman screamed, just barely audible from the perch. "I''m gonna move. I need you on cameras looking for Tahoe and anywhere that needs my help."

    "On it. I''ll keep you posted," Elliot agreed. "Stay safe out there."

    "I''ll do what I can." With that, Ayda stepped off the building.

    She plummeted all of six stories. Ayda made sure to orient herself in a belly flop posture. It provided the most drag and made the best catch for her powers. Wind deafened her hearing and whipped her hair in a way which was almost painful. She''d jumped from buildings before, but not one this high. It was surprising how much she accelerated in such a short time. Not good. The timing for this had to be absolutely perfect.

    When she was only a few feet from splatting into the sidewalk, Ayda swept her staff downward. It''s tip just barely avoided scraping on the concrete. A blast ensued from it, and Newton took over. She normally had some resistance to her own power, but the air around her did not. Just as the force she created pushed down on the world, it also shoved back upward against her. Ayda''s descent slowed to almost a complete stop. She righted herself just in time to land on two feet. Perfect. The moment Ayda had her balance, she took off to the right.

    "Ayda, I don''t want to harp on you," Elliot began, "but do you have your freeze bombs?"

    She hesitated. "No. I didn''t expect to run into Tahoe."

    "Well, come back and get them, then."

    "No, I don''t have time. The city needs me now."

    "What?" Elliot breathed into the phone. "Ayda, are you crazy? You have a zero percent success rate without the freeze bombs. You can''t fight him empty handed."

    "I don''t need to beat him. I just need to stop him. That, I''ve done once before."

    "No you haven''t!" Elliot insisted. "Are you talking about the meth lab? You lost that fight. Yes, you destroyed the lab, but¡ª"

    "I''ll figure something out." Ayda shouted into her headset. "Just, trust me, Elliot. I know what I''m doing."

    "No you don''t!" Elliot yelled, and then sighed; a long, drawn out breath. "But, I know there''s nothing I can do to stop you. Just promise me you''ll run if things get too dangerous."

    "Hey, running and fighting are the two things I''m really good at." Ayda tried to comfort him with humor, but even from the other side of the line, she knew it failed. "I don''t think he can heal the damage I already did to him. I can use that to my advantage."

    "You don''t know that."

    "No, I don''t." She paused for a second. "If I''m wrong, I''ll retreat and get the freeze bombs. If I''m right, then I''ll be back home as soon as this is all said and done, okay? I promise."

    "Okay." Elliot went eerily silent, after that. There wasn''t even anymore background noise. Ayda would have to apologize to him later. For the time, she had bigger concerns.

    She was a whole block away when Ayda shot around a corner and found her motorcycle parked in an alley. Though necessary, hiding her bike could be a major hindrance. She all but jumped on board, feeding her staff through its old loop on the saddlebags. A push of the ignition brought the engine roaring to life. Ayda wasted no time in bursting from the passage and merging with what little traffic blocked her path.

    As she weaved through the cars, pushing her own vehicle to progressively faster speeds, Ayda ran through the headlines she''d seen. Rioting. Looters. Gang activity. Armed individuals. Active shooters. They all painted the same picture, one of violence in the city. Ayda did her best to work out any details relevant to a location, something more specific than just the industrial district. It was in vain. They were written to be cautionary, not informative. Until Elliot chimed in, she was flying blind.

    Another gunshot. Ayda hung a sharp left and sped off toward it. However alarming, it was the best and only lead she had. In the blur of the city, Ayda caught glimpses of people responding to the chaos. Cars¡ªdoubtless soon to be abandoned¡ªsped along much faster than legal in places where they weren''t jammed up together on inaccessible roads. A few people scurried along the sidewalks, while others shuttered windows. From what she could tell, this was still the outskirts of the action, at least for now .These people wouldn''t be getting involved.

    Ayda weaved her way through an intersection, and in doing so realized she actually had no idea where the gunshot she was chasing came from. The way sound tended to echo off these buildings, all she knew was it happened somewhere far off. She cursed under her breath. Flying blind again. Still, she continued on her way toward the violence. In theory, that would put her closer when Elliot finally found something. It also presented the chance, however slim, of running across a situation on her own.

    "This is bad, Ayda," Elliot said in her ear. "It''s spreading really fast."

    "Do you have anything I can use?" She shouted over the motorcycle''s engine. "It doesn''t need to be anything big, just somewhere I can make a difference."

    "Uh¡­" Elliot trailed off. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. There are some rioters standing off with police over on Lord Street. There aren''t very many, but they still outnumber the cops, and none of them are in riot gear."

    "Are any of the rioters armed? Are they Triad?"

    "I can''t really tell. This camera is kinda shit." Elliot paused. "No, wait, one of them definitely has a pipe of some sort. Maybe a piece of rebar? I don''t think they''re Triad, though. They''d probably already be fighting, otherwise."

    "Alright, that makes sense. I''m going for it, keep me posted." Ayda gave her throttle a twist and accelerated toward the scene.

    Lord Street was mostly a straight shot from her current location. It was also much closer than she would''ve liked. Assuming this started nearer the center of the industrial district like Ayda thought, then that proved Elliot quite right. This was spreading fast. Ayda leaned forward and let her machine move even more quickly. She had to do something about this.

    Along the way, Ayda found a trio of men trying to break into what looked like an electronics store. One of them threw a brick at the big display window, but it only bounced off. The others tried to use their bodies to bust through. Why they thought that would work better than the brick was beyond her.

    Ayda brought her bike close to the sidewalk. They doubtless heard her approaching, but cared only to continue their lecherous task. When Ayda got a little too close, one of them turned his head toward her. He seemed to finally recognize the threat, as he frantically patted the man on his left.

    It was far too late. Ayda stuck out her right hand as she passed. The blast she created was paltry, barely enough to ruffle a jacket. Her velocity, however, amplified its effects. The sudden gust bowled over all three men. They crashed into each other as they fell. One of them let out a scream, likely from a broken arm or leg. Another shouted after her.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    As Ayda left the men behind, she realized there was nothing to keep them from picking right back up from where they left off, but she hoped her presence in the area was deterrent though. They might even spread the word around. It was a longshot, but every little bit helped.

    Lord Street rapidly approached. As it did, the congestion grew. There were abandoned vehicles all over the road as people chose the easier rout of fleeing on foot through the chaos. It made driving difficult. Throngs of people migrated here and there, but her speed allowed Ayda only a glance. As such, she couldn''t tell if they were nefarious or not. The only exception was a tiny brawl over a few stolen items. No time to manage them, not when her destination was so close. She''d have to trust they wouldn''t do much harm in the meantime.

    Ayda parked her bike in an alleyway just shy of her destination. It would only get in the way if she rode all the way there. She would''ve liked to hide it from prying eyes, but there simply wasn''t enough time, as was the constant theme. She prayed the coming darkness would shroud it. She hopped off and sprinted to Lord Street.

    She came up behind the police. As Elliot said, they were just regular beat cops, slightly outnumbered by the aggressors who stood several feet opposite them. They''d managed to form a little barrier with their cars, which led Ayda to believe the rioters had found them, instead of the other way around. Some of them had guns drawn. One shouted at the masses with a megaphone. Most just watched tensely. They had no semblance of control over this situation whatsoever. If Ayda knew, then so did the looters. It was a ticking time bomb. She had to act.

    The battle line formed by the cops was formidable, but thin. This played to her advantage. Propelled by blast beneath her feet, Ayda ran full bore straight toward it. The sudden noise obviously drew the looks of more than a few startled officers. One of them pointed his gun at her, but a cop next to him¡ªan older woman¡ªpushed his muzzle down. The veteran shook her head, and the rookie holstered his weapon. None of the others met her with aggression of any sort, just tentative curiosity. She assumed the entire force had been briefed about her. They recognized Pulse. Ayda seriously hoped that was a good thing.

    When she was still a few feet away, Ayda leveled a powerful blast into the pavement. She kicked off of it and soared the air. Like a super-powered Persian bird, Ayda flew over the cops and their cars, passing over them with little effort. She twisted once in the air, then struck a three-point landing on the ground, dampening her impact with a blast. A circle of asphalt cracked around her. She stood up in the center of it. Her eyes locked with one of the looters. He backed away, clearly alarmed and frightened by her sudden appearance.

    Ayda scanned the crowd. They were a colorful bunch, both in terms of dress and skin color. This was a mob formed impromptu in the interest of mutual gain, not a through a suspicious sort of scheme. In other words, normal people spurred on to bad deeds through the chaos around them. Ayda''s spirits soared. They''d be much easier to deal with than actual criminals.

    Ayda held her staff horizontally in a wide grip behind her back. She addressed her captive audience.

    "I''m sure you know who I am, which means you already know how this ends." She waited for some sign of dissonance. There was none. "Put your weapons down. Go home. Wait for this all to blow over. No one has to get hurt. Not you, or anyone else."

    Silence reigned. The crowd remained, but made no violent gestures. Ayda scanned the faces. She saw mostly apprehension, with anger and fear sprinkled in. One blond boy about her age looked like he''d just seen a ghost. Probably star struck. It was almost endearing. Almost. Those all were things she could deal with¡ªhad anticipated, even¡ªas long as this didn''t come to blows.

    All at once, that hope was shattered as a man took a step forward from the crowd.

    "You''re not a cop! You can''t tell us what to do," he insisted.

    "You''re right, I''m not a cop." Ayda shoved a thumb over her shoulder. "They are. Notice how they haven''t shot me yet? That means they''re on my side. I can''t arrest you. They can."

    "This is stupid," another male voice rang out. A moment later, he stepped up to join the first detractor. "She''s just one girl. Come on."

    He burst from the crowd, running straight for Ayda. A quartet of other men followed, including the first who stepped forward. One of them had a pipe wrench, but the others were unarmed. The police raised their weapons. Ayda put her fist up, and was amazed when they actually listened, lowering muzzles to pose a lesser threat. The men advanced, unabated, with just one girl the only thing between them and innocent police officers.

    Ayda waited until the perfect moment. When it came, she barely even moved. The teenager flicked her staff out in front of her, jamming its far end into the pavement at the same time. A blast radiated out from the point of impact, cracking pavement as it went. The man out in front almost made it within arm''s reach when the shockwave hit. His feet were knocked out from underneath him, and he fell forward on a shoulder. Like dominoes, the other four aggressors followed in short order. One smacked his head on the ground and blood instantly gushed from a broken nose. While the others were uninjured, they stood not.

    Ayda did her best to not lean too heavily on her staff. Sending blasts through the ground like that still took quite a lot out of her. It was worth it to get her point across, though.

    "Anyone else?" She said, an eyebrow raised behind her sunglasses. Most people actively avoided her gaze. No one spoke. "That''s what I thought. Now, disperse. Seriously, just get out of here, unless you want to end up like them." She tilted her staff toward the defeated men, just for emphasis.

    Even after all that, there was still a moment''s hesitation. The air wasn''t quite as tense as before, but the people were in no hurry to comply. Ayda shifted her staff from one hand to the other. It was probably the most placid thing she could''ve done, but the sudden movement spurred them on.

    Like roaches in the light, they scattered. Most disappeared down alleyways or into buildings, while a few went back up the street. Ayda watched them go, keen on any signs of disobedience. There were none, as the people cared more about clearing out than anything else. She sighed. Hopefully, they wouldn''t just decide to loot elsewhere. It was infuriating just how powerless she was here. An individual, no matter how awesome, couldn''t curtail an entire city. Not for lack of trying, of course.

    When they were gone, Ayda turned back to the officers. She hadn''t actually looked at them since this all began. She''d no idea where their heads were at. In their faces was a similar sort of worry to that exhibited by the rioters, but this felt different. They were unsure, not nervous. She probably would be too, in their shoes.

    Ayda let her staff rest against a shoulder. "Are we cool?"

    "Yeah," a cop said. "Yeah, I think we are." It was the same older woman from before.

    "Ok, good." Ayda walked toward the woman, who also took a few steps in her direction. "Are you in charge here?"

    "I''m the highest ranking officer present." The woman held out a hand. "Lieutenant Amanda Barnes."

    "Pulse." They shook hands.

    "I won''t speak for everyone else," Lieutenant Barnes said as she let her hand fall, "but I''m glad you''re here. Hopefully you can help contain the situation."

    "That''s what I''m here for," Ayda said. She walked past the Lieutenant and toward the officers. "Do you have any idea what''s going on? The information I have access to is a bit limited." She gave a silent apology to Elliot.

    "It''s fucked, is what it is," a young officer spoke.

    "Marley!" Amanda chastised. Ayda put up a hand.

    "I don''t need to be here if you''re just gonna waste my time." Ayda addressed Marley directly before moving on to the others. "Does anyone have a more worthwhile contribution?" There was a beat of silence before one officer spoke up.

    "Yeah, um, maybe." He paused. "One of the guys at my precinct said it started over on Carmichael."

    "I heard the same thing," said another. "Apparently, Triads started smashing stuff, scaring folks. There were people flocking to them, helping them out."

    "That doesn''t make sense," Amanda said. "People run away from gang violence, not toward it."

    "I was about to say that," Ayda agreed.

    "Maybe the Triad paid people off," said Elliot in her ear. "Get people to run around and spread the word."

    "That''s a good point." Ayda responded without thinking.

    "What is?'' Amanda asked. Ayda''s eyes tripled in diameter, and her face heated up.

    "Oh, nothing. I just had an idea." Ayda gave a sweet smile, an attempt to deflect. "Maybe the Triad paid people to help spread the chaos around."

    "That''s certainly possible¡­" the Lieutenant mused. "Doesn''t matter now, though. We need to contain this thing, no matter how it started."

    "Agreed." Ayda nodded. "The point about Carmichael is good. I think I''m gonna head over there, see what I can find." As the words left her mouth, it dawned on her she actually had no obligation to tell them any of this. Still, it felt like the right thing to do. Mutual trust.

    "You''ll need backup," Amanda said before anyone had a chance to move.

    "Are you sure?" Ayda asked, partially to be positive she''d heard that right.

    "Until I get other orders, yeah," confirmed the Lieutenant. "My job is to protect and serve. I think my best chance of doing that right now is with you." A murmur of general acceptance ran through the officers. Ayda saw more than a few of them nod.

    "Ok." Ayda looked briefly over the volunteers. "I won''t tell any of you what to do, but you should know what my plan is. I''m going after their leader."

    "Tahoe," one of the cops supplied.

    "Yeah, that guy," confirmed Ayda. "You probably know what he can do?"

    "We''ve been briefed," said Amanda, "but we really only know what you said on the radio."

    "That''s the gist of it. I¡­ I failed to bring him in last time we fought. He''s still out there, and I''m the only one who can stop him. I won''t stop any of you from coming along, but you need to know what you''ll be up against."

    There was quiet over the gathered police, but it didn''t last nearly as long as Ayda anticipated. It was only a few seconds before one of them spoke up. Marley.

    "What, and miss seeing a real superhero in action? No way in hell. I''m in."

    He stepped forward. One by one, the others followed suit. They walked as one undulating mass, moving just one pace down the street, and yet it meant so much more than just that. The last to join them was Lieutenant Barnes. She stood before her constitutes, directly in front of Ayda. Their eyes met, and the officer nodded.

    "Thank you," was the only response Ayda could manage. Overwhelmed didn''t even begin to describe how she felt. For El Puerto''s true defenders to support her, even if unofficially, in some way validated everything she''d done up to that point.

    "Lead the way, Ma''am," said Barnes.

    "Please don''t do that. Just call me Pulse."

    "Alright, Pulse."

    "Come on," Ayda recovered quickly. "Carmichael is this way."

    Ayda turned and walked up the street, in the direction the rioters had been. A squad of police officers¡ªwho likely all knew quite well where Carmichael Street was¡ªfell in behind her. Together, they made their way toward their destination.

    It would not be a quiet journey, however, as Elliot found it appropriate to break the calm.

    "Are you thinking what I''m thinking?" He asked over the Bluetooth headset. He paused. "I just realized you can''t actually respond to anything I''m saying. I''ll just assume we''re thinking the same thing." Further hesitation. "I''ll¡­ look for any cameras on Carmichael." He shut up. It took all of Ayda''s willpower to keep from snickering.

    With a quite literal police escort, Ayda walked down the street. Or, maybe she was the one escorting them. Regardless, they traveled together, one mass set on a singular goal.

    Ayda physically shook her head at the notion; working with the cops, instead of running from them. What''s more, they willingly gave themselves over to service. They followed her out of necessity, yes, but volunteered to do so.

    In a way, it was everything she ever wanted, exactly what she''d been working toward since taking up the mantle of Pulse¡ªto be accepted as a fellow keeper of the peace. On the other hand, it was terrifying. These people''s lives now depended on her in a very tangible way. She even knew a couple names. And here she was, leading them to real danger, a situation where normal humans had no chance of success. However, they were still police officers, still trained operators. Ayda had to trust they could handle themselves. If not, her job became much harder.

    They turned a corner. Carmichael was a good distance away, but not insurmountable by any means. Ayda would''ve jogged there, if not for the folks following behind her. Judging by the chaos and varying degrees of blockage on the road¡ªbroken glass, discarded loot, the odd vehicle¡ªdriving the cop cars would''ve been mostly impossible. So, walking was their only option, as much as she disliked it.

    Though the area looked to have been mostly looted, there were still pockets of people going through the wreckage. They stood out in the streetlights which were just coming on wherever the noise and motion didn''t give them away. Some groups were rather large, strangers working together for mutual benefit. It would''ve been inspiring, under different circumstances.

    Ayda expected to confront them, to either talk or fight. Neither happened, to her astonishment. Apparently, a known super-powered badass leading around a bunch of cops was quite the imposing scene. It never even occurred to her how that would look. In the moment, she was glad for it.

    The first group of looters they came across, one of the larger ones, literally panicked when they saw her approaching. They dropped whatever goods were in their arms and scurried away, leaving behind whatever weapons they may have carried as well. One man tripped and a load of jewelry scattered along the sidewalk. With an expression of terror in his eyes he looked over at the girl only a few feet away. Ayda smirked at him. He scrambled to his feet in a most undignified manner and ducked into an alleyway just before Ayda was close enough to give him a little push.

    Her squad progressed down the street in much the same manner. They''d come across some ne''er-do-wells, who would disperse without confrontation. The running must''ve alerted other conglomerates, because those they hadn''t even reached yet vacated the area. No one wanted to tangle with the cops, but even fewer had any aspirations of fighting Pulse. An unforeseen advantage, but one she would absolutely leverage.

    They were almost to the end of this street when Elliot spoke up again.

    "He''s there. Ayda, he''s there!" He practically shouted. "Just like we thought, Tahoe is on Carmichael."

    Ayda felt her heart simultaneously drop and beat twice as fast. Since she couldn''t very well talk to Elliot with an audience so nearby, she drew out her phone and texted him.

    "What''s he doing?" She typed before hitting the send button.

    "He''s just standing there," Elliot said. "There''s people all around him. Most are milling about. I think he''s giving orders or something."

    "Gang members?"

    "It''s too dark, so I can''t tell, but probably. It''s definitely him, though, unless someone who looks just like him decided to paint themselves silver," Elliot joked. Ayda smiled at his humor, not because it was particularly funny, but because it didn''t seem impossible.

    "Thanks, El. I''m on my way."

    "There''s something else," Elliot said. "He only has one arm. I think you were right. Either he can''t heal, or he chose not to."

    "That''s good news." Ayda let out a little relieved sigh before sending another message right after the first. "Let me know if you see anything else."

    "I''ll keep an eye on him. Stay safe out there."

    "I will. What about you? Are you safe?"

    "Yes, I am. I can hear what''s going on outside, but it''s not very close."

    "Ok. Make sure you get out of there if things get too crazy."

    "I will."

    "Ok. I''ll see you when this is all over."

    "Yeah. See you then."

    Ayda slid her phone back into her pocket. She''d made another promise to Elliot, to see him again. Not a force in the world was strong enough to keep her from fulfilling it.

    With a newfound determination, Ayda quickened her pace just a tad. There were people depending on her. Every second she spend in transit was another business robbed, another person injured or far worse. No time to waste. She had a supervillain to fight.

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 47: Once More Unto the Breach

    Accompanied by her officers, Ayda stepped foot onto Carmichael Street. It was a rather short street, serving as more of a junction between two more important avenues. Still, there were quite a few residences on this little stretch of road. Hopefully they all were empty, despite the normal riot protocol of staying indoors. Ayda didn''t want anyone getting caught in the crossfire.

    Coming at the street from behind, she''d noticed them from quite a ways off. People milled about around a bulky man, one who gleamed beneath the streetlights. He had his back turned, more concerned with directing his cohorts than observing the immediate area. It probably meant nothing, but Ayda considered how she could turn that to her advantage.

    Watching him at work for so long allowed her blood ample time to boil. He was so calm, so cool and collected in spite of the destruction he caused. By all estimates it hadn''t even been an hour yet, and how many millions of dollars had he already cost the city? How much worse would it get if allowed to continue? These questions and many more permeated her mind as Ayda made contact with the street and came to a stop several feet from him.

    "Tahoe!" She shouted, louder than necessary.

    "There you are." He turned to her. Metal eyes locked with her organic pupils. "I wondered when you would show up."

    Now that he''d turned to face her, Ayda noticed he had only one arm, just like Elliot said. Moreover, a few hairline fractures stretched from his right shoulder and across his bare, metallic chest. He was still wounded from their last encounter, and maybe couldn''t heal those injuries at all. This was information Ayda could potentially use. She blinked to clear her head, did her best not to show she''d caught on.

    "I assume this is all your doing." It was not an inquiry, but an accusation.

    "Guilty as charged," he smirked. "You figure that out all on your own?"

    Ayda pushed past his taunting. "Why do this, Tahoe? Why start a riot? Are you trying to draw me out?"

    "You''re awful conceited, aren''t you?" Tahoe crossed his arms. "No, this is something I''ve had planned for quite a while. Were you even listening when I said people like us deserve to run the world? Your presence just accelerated my plans a bit."

    "OK, but you didn''t answer the first part of my question. Why are you doing this?" Ayda reiterated.

    "Isn''t it obvious? Look around you. What do you see?"

    "I see a madman."

    "Not a madman, an emperor." Tahoe made a wide gesture. "This is my empire. Everything here belongs to me, and most of the peasants living in this piece of shit town don''t even realize it. But, they will soon. This is my play for dominance, my way of telling the world I''m here, of showing them what I''m capable of."

    "You''re just calling attention to yourself," Ayda countered.

    "Yes, that''s exactly the point," agreed Tahoe. "When you outed me, I knew it was the right time to move forward. People like you and me have lived in the shadows too long. It''s time we take our rightful place as rulers of this world, town by town. I told you we¡ªthe ones with powers¡ªare truly in control of this world. This is my proof. It could be yours, too."

    "Is this the part where you recruit me, and we ''rule the galaxy as father and son'' or some shit? I''m not joining you. That should be obvious."

    "I''m not asking you to join me, Pulse. That ship has sailed. I don''t even really want to fight you. All I want is for you to pay attention. Maybe when half the country is controlled by people like me, you''ll change your tune."

    "This is just one part, of one city, Tahoe. That''s hardly a revolution."

    "There are others like me, people who are tired of the status quo, of a society which shuns them by refusing to acknowledge they even exist. They''ll rise up, when they see what I''ve accomplished here today. It won''t happen overnight, but soon the exceptional will rule over the ordinary. No more government coverups. No more hiding. The ones with powers, will have power. It''s that simple. After decades of being forced to live under the shackles of secrecy, we will finally have freedom."

    "This was your plan all along, wasn''t it?" Ayda shifted gears. "Even before I came along. The entire reason you worked your way to head of the Triad was to take over the city."

    "You really are as smart as I''d hoped." Tahoe made that sound like a slimy insult. "Yes. Everything I''ve done since the time I escaped my creators was in preparation for this moment. The people I recruited, the infrastructure I built, it''s all been about this. I told you when we first met that this was my empire. I told you what I thought about who should be in charge. You refused to listen, and now here we are."

    "And what about when people take notice? What about when the National Guard sends in the tanks?"

    "Do you really think I''m afraid of a few tanks? They can''t hurt me. When the military steps in, I''ll fight them off, simple as that."

    "You really did plan for everything, huh? Even though I hate you, I have to admit I''m impressed." Ayda gave a sly smile. "However, you forgot one little thing."

    "Oh? And what''s that?"

    "Me." Ayda set a hard expression. "As long as I''m standing in your way, you haven''t accomplished anything."

    "I was afraid you''d say something like that." Tahoe drew his sword. "I had hoped this wouldn''t come to blows."

    "Don''t give me that," Ayda shot back. "You wanted this to happen. You wanted the chance to finally get me out of your hair."

    "It may have crossed my mind," agreed Tahoe. "It''s unfortunate to strike down talent like yours, but you forced my hand."

    Ayda assumed her favorite fighting stance. "We''ll see which one of us ends up on the ground."

    Tahoe brandished his blade in front of him. "Have it your way." He turned to his entourage. "Open fire."

    "Get to cover!" Ayda shouted at her police officers a split-second later, a blast for emphasis.

    Gunfire erupted all around her. It was deafening, and the smoke from so many firearms partially obscured her vision. She glanced behind her and found two officers had been hit, one of whom lay on the ground breathing slowly. The others managed to find cover behind abandoned cars, tucked into alleyways, and various other suitable places. A scan of the Triad side revealed a similar scene, but with a trio of injured, instead of just two.

    All the while, Ayda''s reactions fired on overdrive. She reached out to block a few bullets, but enhanced reflexes allowed her to quickly realize none of them shot at her. The ones on the periphery could''ve easily bared down on her, but none did. Instead, they focused on exchanging fire with the normal humans. Either they were more concerned with the cops, or something else was at play. No matter the reason, Ayda was glad for the reprieve. It meant she could concentrate solely on Tahoe.

    She focused again on her enemy. Tahoe pointed his weapon at her, an unreadable expression on his face. It was a threat. He was goading her to attack. In moments like this, the aggressor expected their opponent to back off, to realize what they were doing and keep a cool head. The best thing for Ayda to do in this instance was the exact opposite. Kicking herself into the air with a blast, she charged him.

    With the fore end of her staff, Ayda hooked his sword away. With the back end, she struck him square in the neck. In typical Tahoe fashion, he took the blast with nary a flinch. Before her feet touched the ground, Tahoe slammed her ribs with the pommel of his blade. She deflected to the left and just barely got her feet beneath her, stumbling once for balance.

    Tahoe closed the distance. He struck downward, and Ayda blocked. He rotated his sword and came in for a similar attack, only to be met with equally analogous results. Ayda used his blade as a fulcrum to tilt her staff around and strike diagonally at him with the back end. Tahoe stepped back to intercept the blow-blast combination. In the same motion, he made a backspin and kicked for Ayda''s midsection. She faded back, and just barely managed to block the follow-up stab.

    Tahoe surged forward, and Ayda stepped back again. He crisscrossed slices at her, but Ayda''s defenses remained true. She leveled a powerful blast strike straight down, but Tahoe blocked, all the while moving forward. Ayda quickly angled a blast into his groin. It did nothing, and he kept coming.

    Tahoe took advantage of her momentary slip-up to thrust twice, one high, the other low. Ayda blocked the first and dodged the second. She lashed out horizontally. Her staff and its blast cleared Tahoe''s head entirely as he ducked beneath it. He rose up with a strike, and then cut downward immediately after. Ayda stopped both.

    She became aware of the building wall a second before her back came to rest against it. She pressed into the bricks, unable to move any further. Tahoe cut straight for her skull. She blocked, barely. When that didn''t work, Tahoe leveled a push kick at her. She rolled onto her shoulder along the wall, avoiding the foot by a hair''s breadth. Tahoe cut down at her. Ayda shifted back the other way. This put her on the outside of his wrist, in a much safer spot than before. She blasted herself into the air, and then kicked off the wall. The two-fold maneuver brought her sailing over Tahoe''s head. She struck down at him on the way. The blast detonated on his still-injured right bicep. That one caught him off guard enough to interrupt his balance. He faltered, but remained upright.

    Ayda landed a ways back, further than she wanted. A stray bullet careened for her, but she deflected it with a flick of her free hand. Doing so reminded her of the firefight still going on. She took a moment to investigate her allies. Two more wounded, but still only one seemed to be dead. Not great, but better than it could be.

    Ayda launched toward Tahoe, striking downward when she met him. He recovered his balance just in time to step out of the way. Ayda hit the building behind him. She jumped back as her blast dislodged a cascade of bricks. There was now a gaping hole in the building where she''d been standing seconds before.

    Tahoe struck at her head. Ayda held her staff horizontally to intercept. He disengaged and attempted to disembowel her. Ayda slipped back, out of the way, and retaliated with a strike-blast from each end of her staff. She kicked out at his left leg. Instead of fighting the blast, he allowed it to push his foot back. He used that momentum to redirect the motion and throw a low kick at her. Ayda realized a bit too late this was all on purpose. She tried to dodge, but doing so meant she only took the hit on her knee, instead of wherever it was intended.

    Ayda yelped in pain and hopped closer to the center of the street. She tried to put weight on the injured knee, but it buckled and she fell upon it. Tahoe closed in on her kneeling form, raising his sword high for a final blow. Ayda capitalized on their respective postures. She put everything she had into a jab forward with her staff. The strike caught Tahoe in his abs where there were a few fractures left over from their last fight. The air was forced from his lungs in wheezing gasp. He stumbled back a few steps, breathing hard.

    Free for just a moment, Ayda stood. Gingerly, she put a feather''s weight on her affected right knee. Nothing. She set down on it entirely. Pain shot through her leg, but it wasn''t unbearable. She could at least stand on it.

    Tahoe growled and once again came at her. Ayda stood her ground. They exchanged a series of quick, but mostly ineffectual strikes. Neither one found a kink in the other. Ayda''s blasts proved as useless as ever against this opponent. Tahoe thrust at her. Ayda dodged to the outside, back-to the Triad. She struck down and caught her enemy with a blast in his injured shoulder. He grunted, but gave little else in response. He spun to face her.

    Ayda went for a lateral slash, but never made it quite that far as a bullet grazed her right shoulder, pinging ineffectually off Tahoe''s chest. Ayda winced and covered the wound as a crimson trickle stained her jacket sleeve. Tahoe took advantage of her disarray to swing diagonally at her. Ayda tried to step back and turn away, but was just a split-second too late. The tip of his blade caught her in the left bicep. A relatively shallow cut, but pain radiated from it all the same.

    Tahoe did not relent. He charged forward with a flurry of blows. Ayda blocked them to the best of her abilities. He was reckless, and left subtle openings. She tried to capitalize on one with quick strikes, but pain flared in both arms. The injuries on both were too significant to sustain both counter-attacks along with the blasts she needed to be effective. The result was a paltry little burst, and a hit so weak it may as well have been a bee sting.

    The injured girl stepped back from a thrust. This situation would be easier if she could separate her staff, but her opponent wouldn''t allow for it. He struck again, and Ayda just barely managed to block through a haze of pain and frustration. Tahoe brought his right heel up and hooked it around her staff. He yanked toward himself, pulling her forward and threatening to disarm her entirely. Ayda kept hold of her weapon, but doing so put her terribly out of position.

    Tahoe raised his sword. Ayda looked at the darkened steel as it caught a glint from a street light. She''d been forced to over-extend much too far. Even if she dodged, she wouldn''t have time to avoid the blow entirely. Ayda put up a forearm in one final, desperate attempt to minimize the damage as she began to step back as far as possible. The blade came down, and she grit her teeth.

    A silver streak shot through the air. It collided with the flat of Tahoe''s blade with a sound like metal on metal. The projectile deflected, and the strength of its impact forced Tahoe''s blade from his hand. It tumbled a good few feet through the air, missing Ayda by a mile. The intrusive projectile clattered to the pavement.

    Through her shock, Ayda managed enough sense to stand straight and take a few hefty steps back. She then looked at the projectile. It was a foot and a half long, roughly the width of her hand, and sharpened to broad points on both ends. Ayda was sure she''d never seen anything like it. She looked up, trying to get a bearing for where it had come from.

    A man stepped forward from the police line. The police were so concerned with their slowly dwindling firefight, they just let him through. The hood on his zip up sweatshirt covered his dark hair but, judging by the lines on his face, he was about forty years of age. He was just a few inches taller than her, with broad shoulders and an athletic build.

    Ayda watched in utter amazement as tiny spikes sprouted from his pores. They emerged from his skin, cut their way through his scruffy black beard, hundreds of miniaturized versions of the larger one on the ground. They lay flat, knitting together until each came together to form a mask upon his face. It was a simple design, barren of artistic inflections. Instead, it allowed the natural texture of so many tiny spikes to create a complex pattern. The only holes were for his eyes, and a thin slit for his mouth.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    "Who the hell are you?" Tahoe shouted what Ayda was thinking.

    "Step away from her." The new arrival''s voice was a low natural growl.

    "The chivalrous type, eh?" Tahoe mocked. "Run along, little white knight, before you get hurt."

    "Fuck you." A four foot long spike grew rapidly from his right palm. "I won''t say it again." The spike broke off, and he grabbed it as it fell.

    "Alright then." Tahoe drew his gun. "Can''t say I didn''t warn you."

    Three shots rang out. The struck a wide pattern on the man''s chest. Ayda took a step toward him, but stopped short. The bullets lay crumpled on the ground. Holes in the man''s hoodie revealed a latticework similar to his mask. The little spikes were cracked and broken, but the armor was not penetrated. It was hard to tell, but Ayda thought the man might''ve smiled. Tahoe lowered his weapon just slightly.

    The man looked over at her. She met his eyes. A nod.

    Without warning, Ayda separated her staff to its paired kali sticks form and sprang into action. She struck at Tahoe with the left, and then the right. He blocked both with his forearm. He tried to punch her, but a spike just like the first collided with his fist. Tahoe wasn''t deterred, but it distracted him long enough for Ayda to get a hit in on his injured side.

    Tahoe stepped back. Before he could retaliate, the new arrival closed with him. Holding the big spike he''d made as if it were a longsword, he sliced straight down at Tahoe. The Triad leader caught the blade in his one hand. While he was occupied, Ayda struck him once again on his damaged shoulder. He growled and leapt back, away from the onslaught.

    Ayda stepped up beside the man. "I assume you''re on my side?"

    "I am."

    "You have a name?"

    "Like a nickname? No, just call me Frank."

    All conversation they could''ve had was interrupted when Tahoe drew his other blade, the one he normally would''ve been using as a pair with the other before being crippled.

    "First you attack me, then you ignore me? I''ll kill you both!"

    He charged, and Ayda ran to meet him. She blocked a wide swing with her left stick. The other struck out at him, but he repositioned to stop her as a blast shook. Ayda kicked him in the gut, but the ensuing blast served to push her back more than it did him.

    Frank took over the attack, holding Tahoe in place with a downward slice. They fenced back and forth for a moment, Tahoe''s controlled, almost graceful motions a direct contrast to Frank''s wild swings. Tahoe made it past his enemy''s defenses, and only made a cut in the grey sweatshirt with no effect to the man beneath. Frank capitalized on the opening to swing down on Tahoe''s shoulder, and met a similar effect on his metal skin.

    Ayda dashed back into the fight. She sprinted the short distance and leveled a terrible blast into Tahoe''s cracked side with her right stick. He grimaced and stepped back. His counter attack met Ayda''s left stick. They exchanged a few blows in this way, Ayda''s accentuated by purple, but none found purchase.

    Frank found an opportunity and thrust forward. His spike-blade skittered off Tahoe''s body and careened straight for Ayda. She just barely managed to shirk the blow, bending forward so it missed her by centimeters. She gave Frank a hard look. This momentary distraction gave Tahoe enough time to kick Frank in the gut, knocking him over.

    He focused all his energy on Ayda, the only one he could actually hurt. He struck twice. Ayda blocked both times. She countered with a sweep of her right stick. Tahoe slipped out of the way. It was difficult to block with one stick, but also remain within range to strike with the other. This wasn''t a fighting style she had enough experience with.

    She gave a side kick and Tahoe dodged. She surged forward. Her strikes alternated left and right. Every movement, every blast agitated the wounds on both her arms. She did her best to ignore the pain, but it was still there. Her hits lacked impact.

    Tahoe took advantage of her weakness to aim a thrust for her midsection. Ayda blocked with both weapons, but that tied up her defenses. Tahoe buttoned up and tried to shoulder check her. Only Ayda''s enhanced reflexes allowed her to turn away at the last moment and deflect some of the force. She still took a blow which put her on the ground, but managed to avoid shattering the bones in her face. Ayda landed spread-eagle on her back, stunned and open to attack.

    For the second time that night, Ayda found herself facing down Tahoe''s finishing blow. He stepped up, flipping his blade upside down. Ayda kicked at his knee, but his lower-half had been left completely undamaged from their last encounter. Tahoe was completely unfazed.

    He''d only managed to just begin raising his weapon when Frank jumped him. The contact had little effect to destabilize Tahoe. He barely even flinched. It did, however, tie up his only good arm. Tahoe could no longer swing past the body hanging from him. He shrugged and struggled to dislodge the intruder, but Frank refused to budge.

    Ayda wasted no time in scurrying to her feet. She stepped forward to where Tahoe and Frank still grappled. With and impassioned yell and all the strength she could possibly muster, Ayda slammed both her sticks into Tahoe''s wounded right side. She held nothing back with the blast. Wind whipped around her in response to the sudden disturbance. The force was enough to break Frank''s grip. He rocked back a couple feet, digging his sword into the pavement to remain upright. Tahoe let out a pained howl and took several unsteady steps away. A few flecks of metal rained down from where he''d stood when the attack hit.

    It was Ayda''s turn to go on an all-out offensive. She dashed on blasts up to Tahoe and hit him again in the side. He lost even more ground. With only one sword, his options for both attack and defense were limited. Ayda kept him at bay with the left stick in her more injured arm, mostly hanging guards with the tip pointed down. The other rod slammed against the cracks and fissures in his body.

    Again and again she hit him. Each blast produced a strained expression from Tahoe. Frank also joined in the fray, although he did little more than distract and annoy. Still, his efforts allowed Ayda to continue her assault. He helped tie up Tahoe''s defenses while Ayda swung. Every hit did more damage, and the occasional tiny sliver of metal flew off, though at times it was hard to tell which armored man they came from. The cracks on Tahoe''s body were noticeably wider than at the start of the fight.

    Finally, after several long, agonizing seconds, Tahoe''s equilibrium faltered. He slipped from one foot to the other, flailing his arms in a most undignified manner to keep from toppling. Ayda swung upwards. A hefty burst uprooted him. He didn''t go far, but it was enough to get him away. Tahoe crashed into the ground and rolled a couple times before coming to rest on his front.

    Instead, of continue the onslaught, Ayda used the reprieve to look around and catch her labored breath. The firefight on either side of her had largely dissipated and¡ªjudging by the lack of smoke in the air¡ªhad been like that for a while. She hadn''t even noticed, so absorbed in the fight was she. There were officers on both sides of the conflict. They must''ve broken off at some point and flanked through the adjacent streets. They exchanged sporadic fire with the few remaining Triads, now doomed to their fate.

    She continued to scan her surroundings as Frank came up on her right. This was working, but slowly. Tahoe wouldn''t allow her a chance to do that much damage again, not without a serious fight. She needed to weigh her options, to think of a different tactic and keep him on his toes. She didn''t like her chances otherwise, even with Frank''s help.

    Ayda looked back toward the cops'' side of the fight. They were still mostly in cover, but the wounded were now receiving help since the combat largely whittled down. To Ayda''s disdain, Amanda was among them. Blood trickled from a hole in her shoulder. It reminded the teenager of her own wounds. She tried not to call attention to the cops. Instead, she focused on something just behind them.

    "Distract him!" Ayda called to Frank as she dashed away, propelled by her power.

    "What? Hey!" Frank shouted after her, but she was already gone.

    "Get back here!" Demanded Tahoe. Ayda refused to look back, but heard the sound of steel on steel. Frank got the message.

    Ayda made it to her destination in record time. An abandoned police cruiser. Illuminated by streetlights, Ayda saw only her reflection in the driver''s side window. Zero hesitation, she smacked the glass with the butt end of a stick. Even the reinforced material couldn''t stand up to her explosion. A malicious grin split her face when she saw what was inside.

    "Oh, God bless Texas," she mused.

    Ayda abandoned her sticks entirely. Careful to avoid the broken glass, she reached inside the car. Her hand gripped something long and cold between the seats. With one good yank she removed it. She held in her grasp an assault rifle, American designed AR-15, if she remembered correctly, standard issue in select police vehicles. Whoever left this car behind either didn''t have time or simply wasn''t able to grab it. But, that was just semantics. What mattered was she now was in possession of it.

    Ayda removed the magazine. It was, indeed, loaded. She replaced the receptacle and pulled back on the charging handle. Years had since her firearms training, and that had been with entirely different weapons. Hopefully video games could fill in all the information she didn''t have.

    Pulse took a few steps down the street and raised the weapon. It took a second to line up the sights. The design was a bit cluttered, but easy to use. She stood still and put the front post on Tahoe. He and Frank dueled back and forth, each caring little about taking hits. It was more a battle of attrition, a chess game to see which would fall first. Frank made an excellent distraction, but that also made Tahoe impossible to hit while he was in the way.

    "Frank, move!" She shouted at the top of her lungs.

    Both metal heads turned to look at her. Frank just stared at her, obviously taking in the situation. His inaction didn''t really matter, though. The important part was the both stopped fighting, and Tahoe was facing her. Purple energy engulfed her weapon. Ayda took aim, and pulled the trigger.

    A single bullet flew from the rifle. Like a comet in space, a lingering trail of purple stretched along its flightpath. It hurtled toward the target, reaching him in an instant. The moment the bullet made contact, it exploded in a great show of purple energy. The blast was voluminous. It shattered windows and shook the buildings. Bricks spilled from the previously damaged walls. Even though she were the furthest away, Ayda''s ears rang at the sound.

    Along with the rain of broken glass flittered a shower of sparks and steel shavings. When the dust settled, Tahoe had a rough crater in his shoulder where the bullet impacted. He looked at it, shock apparent even on his metal face, an expression Ayda must''ve mirrored. She lowered her weapon to get a better look at the damage, keeping the buttstock mostly in her shoulder. But there was no time to dwell on it. Tahoe locked eyes with her at the same time as she raised the rifle and pulled the trigger once again.

    Purple streaked toward him. The shot hit a different area, approximately near his right kidney. The effect was the same, though. A massive blast¡ªbigger than anything Ayda could normally produce under her own power¡ªtore into Tahoe''s hardened flesh. A few more windows broke, but those were mostly dealt with by the first. A chunk of material went missing from Tahoe''s side in a spray of sparking metal. Small, but significant.

    Ayda propelled herself forward, over the police line to stand before them.

    "Open fire!"

    At her beckoning, the police trained their guns on Tahoe. Bullets pinged off him all over his upper-body, though most focused on the damaged areas. Ayda fired again. This time she hit just below the crater on his shoulder, widening the depression further.

    Tahoe tried to surge forward through the torrent, but Ayda shot again and pushed him back. The ravines along his hide lengthened, stretching past his bellybutton. New cracks joined them. Fire from the police officers was less effective, though a stray bullet occasionally found a rough edge to shatter.

    Another purple streak. It landed right in the ever-expanding depression in Tahoe''s shoulder. A split formed in the center of it, running at a forty-five degree angle. Tahoe took a step back, inspecting the wound.

    Frank hurled a spike. It buried deep in the split, only about six inches sticking out. Ayda aimed at it and fired. Her aim was off, but the gigantic blast did the job. The crack allowed for the kinetic energy to flow inside of Tahoe, and drove the spike even further. Ayda''s heart skipped a beat as Tahoe''s shoulder separated from his body, shorn off entirely by the attack. It slammed into the ground like a giant sledgehammer. Tahoe stumbled back onto one knee, holding the spot where what was left of his arm had once been.

    Ayda''s side continued their attack. She was aware of the fervent throbbing in her wounded shoulder as it absorbed the shock of another shot, but she didn''t care. All that mattered was Tahoe, making sure he hadn''t a second to breathe.

    Rivulets ran all over Tahoe''s chest, now. They spread up onto his neck. Ayda tried to put a bullet-aided blast in that vulnerable area, but missed. The bullet sailed past him and detonated against a car a ways down the road. It exploded in a brilliant show of shrapnel, fire, and purple kinetic energy. It was loud and distracting. A few officers ceased firing to shield themselves, despite that they were clearly outside of the splash zone.

    The only ones completely unaffected were Ayda, Frank, and Tahoe. Though, the latter had bigger problems. Frank hurled a spike, trying to get it in one of Tahoe''s cracks, but missed. Immediately afterward, Ayda took a shot. She hit the left side of his chest. The force was dramatic enough to lengthen the fissures just slightly.

    The police resumed their attack. Bullets flew at Tahoe from behind her. Thankfully, the cops on the opposite side of the battlefield were smart enough to refrain from shooting at his back. A miss from that angle could potentially hit their comrades.

    Frank threw another spike. Without a lager fault to embed within, it just skated off. But, Ayda saw where he was aiming. She took two rapid shots, barely giving herself time to stabilize between. Each purple burst hit just above the chunk she''d taken out of Tahoe''s kidney, an area with extensive damage already. Large chunks flew away from his flank, clattering somewhere behind him. There was now a gaping vacancy beneath his pectoral muscles. Chipping away at him, piece by piece.

    Ayda did her best to focus on what remained of his right side. He was a much smaller target, now, and a few shots careened wide. Every missed bullet made craters in the road or took out parts of buildings. She didn''t even have time to feel bad for destroying the city.

    Each hit on Tahoe''s chest, every violent explosion, took off more pieces from great chunks dowto little filings. Every little bit helped. Frank threw a spike and dislodged a loose piece. Ayda was quite impressed by his accuracy. Tahoe slumped to one side, supporting himself with his remaining hand as unpowered slugs riddled him.

    One of Ayda''s bullets missed Tahoe''s right, but still managed to hit his left. It''s impact widened more fissures. They spread onto his cheek. Ayda shifted focus. Her aim became somewhat erratic. The head was a minuscule target, and she wasn''t sure how much ammunition she had left at this point. She needed to end this, before her one advantage faded away.

    She placed a shot on his right cheek. The breaks creeped further, running into his metallic hairline. Ayda fired again, a miss that detonated somewhere down the road. A third projectile issued forth. This one smacked him in the forehead. A wide split formed right between his eyes, one that separated them from one another.

    "Frank, spike!" Ayda screamed over the din of gunfire. She prayed her ally was close enough to hear.

    Frank almost immediately lodged a projectile within the split. Ayda hesitated; a second to make sure her aim was absolutely spot on. A deep breath in, and then out. She pulled the trigger.

    The purple effect from her blast obscured the area for a moment. The cops continued firing, but Ayda stood stiff as a board. Her heart sank. Had it been enough? Would she need to fire again? Against her better judgment, Ayda lowered her weapon to get a better look.

    The blast dissipated. In its wake was the visage of Tahoe, but it was off, wrong in a fundamental way. Between his shoulders nestled a dip where his head should''ve been. Neck and cranium were gone completely, leaving only a U-shaped divot into his chest cavity. A spray of metal pieces littered the ground behind him.

    Ayda held her breath. The only sound was that of blood pounding in her head. The gunfire ceased abruptly. Her arms ached. Her knee still hurt from when it had been kicked. She probably had a broken rib. But still, the most agonizing thing was the wait. Everyone waited. Tahoe remained completely motionless. He didn''t move, nor make a sound. Nothing happened, and yet, everyone waited.

    "Is that it?" Frank said. "Is he dead?"

    "I don''t know! Just wait," Ayda ordered.

    And so they did. Torturous seconds crawled by. Ayda silently willed for something to happen, anything. Even if Tahoe got up and started running around again, that she could deal with. But this, the standing around just to stare at a statue? It was fit to drive her mad.

    She took a step forward, just to get a closer look, but immediately retracted her foot. The moment she moved, Tahoe began to change. Starting at his beltline and moving upward, the metal faded. It gave way to Caucasian skin and dark body hair. Steel became flesh, and where muscle had been blown away vitreous fluids sputtered. It spilled from his gaping wounds and leaked from the fissures. Blood covered the asphalt in a slick pool. Bits of meat, broken bones, and organs slopped out from the gaping wounds. Tahoe dripped and bled, but remained perfectly still for a time.

    His joints changed and buckled where steel turned to flesh. He fell forward with a sickening slap of raw gristle on a hard surface. The metal retracted further as he lay there motionless on the ground. There, his change completed. Not a single ounce of silver clung to his form. Red poured from the cavity in his chest, wherein were visible broken bones and muscle. Last to change were the metal shards behind him. They became nothing but crimson shreds of rent flesh.

    Ayda dropped to her knees, spine straight and eyes fixed forward. The rifle slipped from her grasp. Her eyes were wide, and her breaths came in shallow gasps as if she''d just run a marathon. She was aware of police officers moving around her, but paid them no mind. Behind the motionless body of Tahoe, the few remaining Triad members stood, their hands up, weapons nowhere to be seen. Cops quickly moved to arrest them.

    All the while, Ayda just stared. It didn''t feel real. How could it? She''d been working toward this for so long. Months of her life led up to this one moment. Now, it was just over. If Tahoe''s wounds didn''t kill him, then the blood loss certainly would. That was it. Her battle was finished, her duty complete. Yet, it felt so surreal, almost too easy.

    She fell onto her hands. A carnal screech escaped her lips, one with all of her anger, pain, frustration, and sorrow poured into one statement of pure, unabated emotion. It echoed off buildings, spread down the street until she was sure the entire city heard, but it was good. Let them hear. Let them know it was over. She won.

    The scream died away until it was but a whimper, and then even that retreated back into her throat. She was left in silence, hyperventilating in the middle of a bloody battleground. She swallowed to quell a parched throat, but her mouth was just as dry. So, she only knelt there, catching her breath. For a few more seconds she huffed, but her composure returned in short order.

    "That was for my sister, you son of a bitch!" Ayda screamed. Tears fell from her eyes to dot the pavement in little wet spots. She then whispered, a declaration meant only for her.

    "That was for Jackie."

 Book 1, "The Explosive Girl" CH. 48: Superhero

    It was just past midday. The famously oppressive Texas heat took no mercy on the city of El Puerto. Not a cloud dotted the sky, and nary blew the breeze. By all accounts, even with the sun, it was a beautiful day. If ever there were a need for a good omen, this was it.

    Ayda sat dressed up as Pulse on a chair atop the steps of city hall. The rectangular landing had been turned into a makeshift stage, complete with speakers and a podium with several microphones. A quartet of white columns made from fake marble rose behind her in support of a peaked entryway. Letters upon it spelled out something in Latin. The building behind reached a total of three stories, made of some alabaster material she couldn''t identify. In the center from the roof stretched a spire with a giant clock on it which, comically, displayed the wrong time. The structure, while grand, was also a bit of an eyesore.

    There were other people on stage with her, as well. The VIPs had been separated into a pair of groups on either end. She sat on the left closest to the podium with people in suits and dresses, only one of which she recognized as a state senator. The woman right beside Ayda was likely his wife.

    On the right of the stage was a more prevalent group. They consisted of the El Puerto Mayor, his family, and the Governor of Texas himself. The town brought out the big guns for this one. No expenses spared, no corners cut. It made Ayda''s heart beat just a little faster.

    Set back a bit from the road, the city hall courtyard normally was reserved for parking. Now, people filled its every inch. It looked much like a rock concert with how little space there was to move around. The front few rows were dedicated entirely to news crews. Reporters with microphones and notepads stood before cameramen uniformed with the logo of whatever station they represented. There were the big, New York publications, as well as a slew of state papers. Ayda even noticed one from England. This truly was a global phenomenon. Even with all of the powerful people on stage with her, it felt as though all eyes rested on her.

    Ayda looked at her watch. Instead of offering a momentary distraction, it only spiked her heart rate even further. One minute. It was one minute until showtime, and the people in the audience probably had no idea thanks to the giant, incorrect clock before them. Maybe that was the point? If the clock were wrong, then it looked like the government was always early. Ayda shook her head. Mustn''t lose focus now.

    Without warning, the Governor stood from his seat. A string of curses played in Ayda''s head. He was early! She always hated this sort of thing in school, and all of the people and cameras amplified the feeling by ten thousand. The necessity of it all mattered little. She was still nervous. The Governor stepped up to the podium, and Ayda took a deep breath to center herself. It didn¡¯t work. Not until he began to speak, did the tension slowly drain from her body.

    ¡°Good afternoon,¡± he began simply. His deep, aged voice reverberated through the attendees, yet it was surprisingly quiet from up on stage. ¡°I''d first like to thank you all for coming out to join with us on such short notice. The subject matter of this press conference is of dire importance to both citizen and reporter alike. To witness this day in person, and not through a screen, is to truly stand in the presence of history itself.¡± A flowery start, but not bad. The man knew how to speak.

    ¡°As I''m sure you are all well aware, a little over two weeks ago our city was gripped in the claws of crises. A man calling himself Tahoe, a foreigner to these lands, attempted something the likes of which this country has seldom seen. He attempted to seize power for himself through chaos, and fire, and crime. It was, for all intents and purposes, a foreign invasion. Fitting, then, for this to happen in Texas, a place which has weathered such recklessness before.

    ¡°This Tahoe was not a good man. For decades he ruled the industrial district of this fine city with an iron fist. He operated from behind the scenes, extorting our citizens with drugs and violence, all for personal gain. He believed himself better than us. He believed his kind was superior, not through pedigree nor social standing, but because of who he was. Tahoe was not a normal man. He possessed abilities the likes of which we all just a few days ago would''ve deemed impossible. But, I''ve seen the footage. I''ve spoken with the witnesses. While I was not there myself, I assure you these abilities were very real.

    ¡°Such terrible feats may seem shocking to most of us, but not to the city of El Puerto. If anything, they''re yesterday''s news. By now, many of you are likely well-informed of the situation here. You''ve read the reports, you''ve heard the eyewitness accounts, you''ve seen the pictures. You saw the school shooting which happened just months ago. Truly, a terrible day.

    ¡°I won''t lie to you. In that time, the crime rate in this city has plummeted. Inversely, the number of drug-related arrests skyrocketed. The presence of the Chinese Triad gang has diminished to the point where it is but a shadow of its former self. These are all facts. More importantly, they are numbers rarely seen in El Puerto. We are in an unprecedented time of relative peace and prosperity.

    ¡°It may be easy to point to the local authorities for these numbers, but that is not the case. The police did not curtail the Triad. Our upstanding men and women are not responsible for taking methamphetamines off our streets. When chaos engulfed our streets they did their best to keep everyone safe, but they did not stop Tahoe. These distinctions and many, many more, fall upon the shoulders of one woman. While her presence had long been but rumor, on the day she stopped a vile man from destroying our children, she revealed herself as an unalienable truth. She even gave us a name. Pulse.¡±

    The Governor gestured toward Ayda, who did her best to give a winning smile. There was applause, which she didn''t expect. It was a light smattering, but with such a large crowd it still drowned out everything. Ayda sat a little straighter in her chair, and tried not to seem awkward. Should she wave, or was it better to just sit there? They already knew where she was. Drawing more attention to herself just seemed pointless. So, she sat there and basked in the praise. A few seconds later, the Governor resumed his little speech, louder at first to be heard over the crowd.

    ¡°While many have objected to her methods, and she most certainly operated outside of the law, her positive effect on the city is immeasurable. She recognized a threat and took action in a way the rest of us were both unable and unwilling to. When the time came, Pulse showed zero hesitation in putting her own life on the line in defense of her fellow man. It is not inaccurate to say we may not have fared nearly as well without her assistance.

    ¡°On a different, yet no less imperative note, Pulse taught us of a light in the darkness. In a time of such utter confusion, she showed us that abilities like hers are not to be feared. Everything Pulse has done since she entered into our lives has been for the benefit of not just El Puerto, but all of America. She uses her great power for good, to protect those who cannot do so themselves, and to make sure our children may sleep soundly at night. Pulse is a force for change, for peace. Some have called her a monster, a vigilante and a criminal, but I think we can all see how blatantly erroneous those assessments are. Let us now, in the presence of God, call her by who she really is. Pulse is a hero.

    ¡°In light of her recent accomplishments, and for all the things she''s done for us, the El Puerto Police Department has agreed to work more closely with her. The details of this arrangement are still in the works, but we''ve decided it''s better if Pulse operates legally going forward. Additionally, and in the same spirit, it is my honor to offer Pulse a full Presidential pardon for any misdeeds committed prior to this point in time. It won''t do for a defender of the people to be a wanted woman.¡±

    Though Ayda knew about all of this, hearing it out loud in official format still made the breath catch in her throat. Her heartbeat accelerated once again, both at the mention of her freedom, and in preparation for what came next.

    ¡°But, you''ve probably grown tired of hearing me prattle on. So, I''d like to open the floor to Pulse, so the woman of the hour may address her public.¡±

    There was more applause as the Governor stepped down from the podium, and Ayda stood from her seat. She hesitated for a moment, looking out upon the crowd. There sure were a lot of them, far more than she''d ever spoken in front of before. With a deep breath in, Ayda strode forward. Her path crossed briefly with the Governor''s. He stopped just long enough to clap her on the shoulder, a firm hit not unlike what a father would give to his son. Ayda said nothing as he continued on, right back to his chair. After quick glance back at him, Ayda took his former place. She stepped up to the microphones, standing tall behind the pressboard pulpit as a hundred cameras all took her picture. She''d never been more thankful for choosing sunglasses as a measure of disguise, lest the flashes blind her.

    ¡°Thank you, Governor,¡± Ayda began. ¡°Firstly, before we get to more pressing matters, I accept the pardon. I agree on the point of clearing my rap sheet if I¡¯m to help the police in any official capacity. I promise this generosity won¡¯t go to waste. I plan to do everything in my power, with my power, to help keep the people of this city safe.¡±

    Her voice reverberated through the courtyard in a way which was jarring at best, and intimidating at worst. She¡¯d never heard herself so loud. Ayda hoped the people gathered there could understand her accent well enough. Distantly, she wondered if rebroadcasts of this would have subtitles.

    ¡°I won¡¯t insult you all and say I know how alarming this all is. The reality is, I don¡¯t. You see, these powers of mine have been with me almost my whole life. I barely remember a time before I had them. To me, this is normal.¡± Ayda held her palm up and created a small blast above it. ¡°But, I understand for most of you it¡¯s borderline horrific. The thought that people who can do such impossible things lived right under your noses, I can¡¯t even begin to imagine how that feels.

    ¡°So, I won¡¯t offer you comfort, because I know I can¡¯t give it. Instead, I¡¯ll give something I can offer: honesty. I can speak openly, face to face, without holding anything back.

    ¡°I¡¯ve read the same stories you have. I¡¯ve seen the news reports. I can tell you most of them are true, even the bad ones. I attacked three gang members, and killed one. I tortured an old man. I beat a man senseless before convincing him to turn himself in. Why, you ask? Because the Triad hurt someone very close to me, someone I¡ª¡± Her breath caught. ¡°Someone I loved more than anyone else in the world. I acted out of vengeance and hatred, in defiance of a system I didn¡¯t think was doing enough.

    ¡°But, in fighting this man, I realized something. I realized he¡¯s just a victim, a symptom of a larger disease. He was a little boy once, an innocent child. This city turned him into a criminal. The Triad did. And, that¡¯s when I decided to fight a bigger war, to tackle crime as a whole, to treat the cause of the disease that grips El Puerto. I may hate the Triad, but I also have to thank them. I probably wouldn¡¯t have found a better path without them. It¡¯s fucked up, but it¡¯s true.¡± Ayda realized far too late she probably shouldn¡¯t swear. Her cheeks heated up, and she thanked fate for the color of her skin to hide the blush.

    ¡°I won¡¯t say what I did was right. I won¡¯t defend my actions. You¡¯ve probably all made up your minds, as far as that goes. Besides, it¡¯s all in the past. I¡¯m ready to move forward, to better both myself, and this place I call home.

    ¡°In the interest of that, and also of honesty, I¡¯d like to open the floor to the members of the press who decided to grace us with their presence. There¡¯s a microphone in front of you. If you¡¯d please line up in an orderly fashion, I¡¯ll answer any questions you may have.¡±The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    To Ayda¡¯s amazement, her caution about lining up without chaos actually worked. The people were probably too terrified to risk defying her. She frowned at that. The last thing she wanted was for her relationship with these people to start with fear. But, if it helped move things along, she could deal with if for at least a few minutes.

    The line hadn¡¯t even completely formed before a pretty, young blonde woman stepped up to the microphone.

    ¡°Hey,¡± Ayda greeted.

    ¡°Hi,¡± returned the woman. ¡°Alyssa Houston, El Puerto Press. I was wondering about the man who helped you the other night. Did you know him beforehand? Will you be working with him in the future?¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes,¡± acknowledged Ayda. ¡°I didn¡¯t know him before, but we¡¯ve been in contact. I pretty much forced him to give me his phone number.¡± Ayda gave that joke just enough time to fail. ¡°Whether or not we end up working together is still very much up in the air, but he¡¯s asked the media refer to him as Flechette in the meantime.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± The woman departed, writing something down.

    ¡°Of course,¡± acknowledged Ayda. A black man took Alyssa¡¯s place. ¡°Hi.¡±

    ¡°Hello. Um, Tucker Carlson, Texas Daily Journal¡ª¡±

    ¡°Alright,¡± Ayda interrupted, ¡°can we cut it with the introductions? We have a lot of people to get through, and I really don¡¯t care what paper you¡¯re from.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, um,¡± the reporter flipped through his notes, ¡°Is there any connection between you and the string of drug-related arrests in El Puerto over the past few months?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure that¡¯s already been answered,¡± Ayda said. ¡°I won¡¯t take credit for all of them, but I think a lot were thanks to me. Oh, and before anyone asks, the exploded meth lab was also me.¡± She noticed three people step out of line.

    Tucker left the microphone, only to be replaced by a balding, Caucasian man. Ayda just gave him a nod in acknowledgment.

    ¡°Do you know the status of the Triad,¡± he asked. ¡°Is it gone?¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t know what¡¯s happening with the Triad. But, I assure you they¡¯re not gone. An organization like that is too big for the loss of one leader to collapse it. They¡¯re probably figuring out who will take Tahoe¡¯s place as we speak. I don¡¯t know what that¡¯ll mean for the city, but I promise to be there for whatever happens.¡±

    An older, brunette woman replaced the man at the microphone.

    ¡°Are there any more like Tahoe out there?¡±

    ¡°Honestly, I don¡¯t know. I suspect a lot of information will come out in the following weeks and months. Until then, I don¡¯t know enough to say one way or the other. However, I think it¡¯s safest to assume there are both people like him out there, and also people like me.¡±

    Another woman took up the hot seat, this one young but rather rotund.

    ¡°Are you glad Tahoe is dead? Are you proud you¡¯re the one who killed him?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a difficult question to answer.¡± Ayda sighed. ¡°I am glad he¡¯s gone. He was a menace. Whether or not I¡¯m proud of doing it¡­ that¡¯s harder to say. I take no joy in killing. I never have, and I actively try to avoid it. But, I also realize there are times where lethal force is necessary. I think the riot was one of those times. Police officers make the same calls every day. I¡¯m not glad I killed him, but it¡¯s a decision I can live with.¡±

    A young, hipster-looking gentleman stepped up to the mic.

    ¡°Do you work alone?¡±

    Ayda sighed. ¡°This is the one question I wasn''t sure how I would answer, but I promised you honesty. No, I don''t work alone. We aren''t comfortable saying anything more than that.¡±

    ¡°That''s perfectly understandable, thank you.¡± The hipster ducked out of the way, and the line advanced to another man.

    ¡°Are you proud of your accomplishments thus far, and would you do anything differently?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I am proud of what I¡¯ve done. The falling crime rates and number of drug arrests are facts, and I¡¯m proud of them. Would I do anything differently? No, I wouldn¡¯t. I know my methods weren''t the greatest, but I did what had to be done, because no one else wanted to. If I had to do it all again, I¡¯d do it in exactly the same way.¡±

    The line moved once again. This time, an Asian woman inquired.

    ¡°Besides working with the local authorities, what are your plans moving forward?¡±

    ¡°That is my plan moving forward,¡± Ayda asserted. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know what¡¯s gonna happen tomorrow. No one does. I can sit here and plan for every feasible outcome, but that¡¯s a waste of time. I plan to take things a day at a time, respond to threats as they emerge and make sure the innocent people involved are safe. There¡¯s nothing else I can really do.¡±

    Another African-American man assumed the position.

    ¡°You mentioned you lost someone at the very start of your career. Do you think they''re proud of you?¡±

    ¡°I hope so,¡± Ayda looked up at the sky, ¡°I really do.¡±

    She lost track of how long the questioning went on. It felt like several hours. There must¡¯ve been a hundred to go through. At one point, they all blended together. Every single answer drained a little bit more from her reserves. It wasn¡¯t much, but they piled up after a while.

    Regardless, Ayda remained strong. These people all had legitimate concerns, and as their protector it was her job to address them. So, no matter how tired she became, Ayda would answer every single one of them. She¡¯ no idea how much time passed by the time that happened, but when she departed the dais, the sun hung low in the sky.

    ¡­

    Ayda sat in a caf¨¦, a table set for two. She balanced on the back legs of her chair, one foot on the wood floors while the other pressed against the side of the round table. A little bit too early for dinner, it was relatively empty, though a few other people occupied the space. One couple chatted quietly, an inane conversation she couldn¡¯t hear. A man in a suit typed away on a tiny laptop. The others further away she didn¡¯t really care about. They weren¡¯t close enough to cause a potential problem.

    She dressed in civilian clothes, a solid purple t-shirt with blue jeans and white sneakers, totally different from what she¡¯d addressed the public in. Her sunglasses were the only thing on the table, within arm¡¯s reach should she need them. She¡¯d told the waitress it¡¯d be a few minutes before she decided on anything to order, but that was just a lie to get her out of the way. Ayda wasn¡¯t in the mood for eating.

    She¡¯d arrived early, but that was about ten minutes ago. The person she was supposed to meet clearly had no concern for punctuality. Annoying, but not a deal breaker. Not yet, anyway. It could be a potential conversation for a later date, but not today. No, today there were bigger problems, better hopes. She dug out her phone to check the time. Twelve minutes.

    As the clock ticked over to thirteen, Ayda noticed the front door swing open. A bell notified staff of a new presence. At the sight of him, Ayda let her chair set all four legs on the ground. She watched the new arrival intently. He looked different dressed in a white wife beater instead of a hoodie, but that dark hair and perpetual scowl could only be one person. Ayda rolled her eyes at his lateness, yet smirked at the sight of him.

    He looked around the caf¨¦ for a moment. His pale blue eyes met hers. They stared at each other for just a heartbeat before he made his way over. Ayda stood to greet him. The man stopped beside what would be his chair. Tension stretched between them, the sort generated by two people who didn¡¯t really know each other.

    ¡°Hey,¡± Frank said, saving Ayda the burden of breaking the ice.

    ¡°Hey.¡±

    ¡°We using first names, finally,¡± he asked.

    ¡°I''m not in costume, so it''d be kinda dangerous not to.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± He held out his hand. ¡°Frank.¡±

    ¡°Ayda.¡± They shook hands. ¡°Do you mind if we get straight to business?¡± Ayda gestured for them to sit, a request she filled herself. Frank was a moment behind, taking the only other seat at the small table, directly across from her. ¡°I don''t wanna seem rude, or anything, but I''m kinda tired.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, press conferences will do that do ya,¡± Frank joked.

    ¡°You saw that?¡±

    ¡°I think the entire damn world saw that,¡± he clarified. ¡°It was on every channel, and I think half the internet livestreamed it.¡±

    ¡°That''s good. That''s...¡± Ayda hesitated. ¡°That''s good. Word needs to get out. Tahoe was wrong about a lot of things, but he had the right idea there, at least.¡±

    ¡°I''ll admit I didn''t watch all of it,¡± Frank said. ¡°It seemed like a lot of questions.¡±

    ¡°It was, but I answered them honestly. The people are nervous. Their entire world view just got flipped upside-down. The least I can do is tell them the truth.¡±

    ¡°You told them what they needed to hear,¡± countered Frank.

    ¡°Which was the truth.¡± Ayda sighed. ¡°I didn¡¯t come to argue, Frank. I came to talk.¡±

    ¡°You came to recruit me.¡± Again, he corrected her.

    ¡°Yes,¡± nodded Ayda. ¡°Yes, that''s why I''m here.¡±

    ¡°Then give me your pitch. No bullshit, no sugar coating. Why should I work with you?¡±

    Ayda took a moment to collect her thoughts. ¡°When I first started out, I thought I could be a one woman army, but as time has gone on, I''ve realized that''s not possible. I can''t do this alone. I need allies. I spoke to my companion, and we both agreed we need you on board.¡±

    ¡°That''s right,¡± Frank mused. ¡°You said you don''t work alone.¡±

    ¡°No. I have someone behind the scenes, an intel guy.¡±

    ¡°Is he listening right now?¡±

    Ayda turned her head. ¡°He''s not.¡± She tapped the spot where the bluetooh headset would be, except it wasn''t there this time. ¡°Take it as a symbol of trust. Like I said, we talked it over, and we think you''re perfect.¡±

    ¡°Come on,¡± insisted Frank. ¡°The only reason I''m perfect, is because there''s no one else around to help you.¡±

    ¡°Not right now, no. But people will come out of the woodwork. They''ll see what happened and think they have nothing to hide anymore since everyone knows they exist, and they¡¯d be right. Most will probably just go about their lives, some will follow in my footsteps, but some will take Tahoe''s example.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I agree,¡± nodded Frank. ¡°It''s gonna be a shitshow, that''s for sure.¡±

    ¡°That''s putting it lightly,¡± Ayda snarked. ¡°Anyway, I believe, with all the publicity we''ve been getting, many of them will descend on El Puerto. Maybe they''ll want to fill Tahoe''s role, maybe they''ll see the city as weak after the riot, or maybe they''ll just want a chance to fight me. Either way, they''re coming, and as awesome as I am, I can''t take them all. Not alone. That''s why I need you.¡±

    ¡°And for some reason you think I''m perfect,¡± challenged Frank.

    ¡°You are perfect,¡± Ayda declared, ¡°not because you''re the best fighter in the world, or the most powerful whatever we are, but because. You. Stepped. Up.¡± Ayda accentuated each of these last words with a knock on the table. ¡°You could''ve waited for shit to settle just like everyone else, but you didn''t. You found Tahoe, and you fought him. You saved my life twice. That''s not something everyone can do, not even people like us.¡±

    There was a pause. Frank didn''t meet her eyes, but instead stared down at the table.

    ¡°I guess I can''t really argue with that,¡± Frank finally said.

    ¡°Do you mind if I ask why?¡± Ayda shifted gears. ¡°Why did you help me?¡±

    Frank sighed. ¡°Honestly, I never really cared about any of it, all the crime and the drugs. It sucked, but it didn''t affect me. But the riot, that was too far. You see, I''m a Marine, or at least I was until some fucking CIA black op got their hands on me.¡±

    ¡°You were made here?¡± Ayda asked, incredulous.

    ¡°Right here in Texas, the middle of nowhere.¡±

    ¡°Were you conscripted, or kidnapped?¡± There were probably other things to talk about, but Ayda hadn''t expected anything about Frank''s background. To say she was curious would be an understatement.

    ¡°I volunteered, went straight from First Recon to their super-soldier project. They never used those words, of course, just called it special training.¡± Frank rolled his eyes. ¡°They also said I was perfect.¡±

    ¡°Frank, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°But it''s all in the past. Besides, I''m the only one. They discontinued the project, after me. Said it wasn''t worth the resources, or something. They didn¡¯t even do exactly what they wanted with me. I¡¯m just their little failure.¡±

    ¡°I''m sorry that happened,¡± Ayda finished her earlier point, ¡°but why are you telling me all of this?¡±

    ¡°So you know where I''m coming from,¡± Frank said. ¡°Even as a failed super-soldier, I still saw combat. I''m a Marine. I spent fifteen years stopping bad men from hurting good people. When Tahoe''s goons started doing all the same shit I''d seen before, I couldn''t just stand back and let them do it. That''s why I fought.¡±

    ¡°But you''re still apprehensive about joining me,¡± observed Ayda. It may have also been a bit of a challenge.

    ¡°I''m not apprehensive, just cautious. I''ve been used to fight other people''s battles before, and that didn¡¯t exactly turn out so great. You''ll forgive me if I''m not exactly eager to do it again.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Ayda sat up straight, then leaned forward over the table. ¡°Frank, I''m not trying to use you. You wouldn''t be my subordinate, you''d be my partner. We''d be equal, completely. No ranks, no structure, no leadership, none of it. We would be one-hundred-percent even. I promise you that.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s more or less exactly what I wanted to hear.¡± Frank smirked. Ayda almost asked him about it, but he resumed before she had the chance. ¡°I''ve heard a lot about you. You seem like an upstanding sort, but that''s just what the media says. I agreed to stay in touch with you to get a sense of who you really are, to get a real first impression.¡±

    ¡°And?¡± Ayda pressed.

    ¡°And I like the cut of your jib. You''re brash, blunt, dedicated, and just a bit violent. You remind me a lot of myself at sixteen.¡±

    ¡°Seventeen.¡±

    ¡°Whatever,¡± Frank waved her off. ¡°I hadn''t really made up my mind before I came here, but now that we''ve had a few chances to talk, I think I''m sure.¡±

    ¡°Is that a good thing?¡± Ayda asked, unable to keep the hope from her voice.

    ¡°I dunno.¡± Frank shrugged. ¡°Probably.¡±

    ¡°Partners?¡± Ayda extended an open hand across the table, a gentle smile on her face.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Frank shook Ayda''s hand. ¡°Partners.¡±

    They released, and in doing so immortalized their pact.

    Ayda looked out the window. While the sun slowly crawled across the reddened sky, she felt as though it set upon a chapter of her life. However, with each setting sun comes the promise of a rise, and with it would begin a new adventure. With Elliot and Frank by her side, and now the police department at her back, she finally felt ready to fully embrace her role as Pulse. She was Ayda: The Explosive Girl.

    END OF BOOK 1

 Book 2, "Brave New World" CH. 1: A Day in the Life

    Ayda soared down a busy city street, carried by her red and black motorcycle. A curtain of jagged, chin-length black hair flowed behind her. A dark, cropped leather jacket flapped around her ribcage. Sunglasses tinted the world around her, cut down on the glare so she could actually see where she was going in the waning four o''clock sunlight. As much as she loved her bike, its lack of a windshield created occasional problems with visibility. The fact the glasses concealed her identity was an added bonus, yet no less necessary.

    Weaving through the vehicles in her path, Ayda sailed at speeds far beyond reasonable or safe. Most of these commuters were probably on their way to dinner or otherwise desperate to escape the doldrums of their various jobs. Usually, traffic wasn''t a concern, nor a thing she really paid attention to. On this day, she cursed their presence. If not for the cars, she''d be going even faster. At least her target likely faced similar problems.

    Buildings of all shapes and sizes rose up around her. Most stretched multiple stories into the sky. Pedestrians on the streets were of a mixed affair, everything from businessmen in fancy suits to the occasional bum in rags. The streets were perfectly straight, and their intersections were numerous. This was a part of the city she admittedly didn''t get to much; the commercial district, right in the metropolitan heart of her hometown, El Puerto, Texas.

    "Take your next left," a familiar disembodied man''s voice spoke through the miniscule communications device in her right ear, colored to mostly match her naturally Persian skin tone.

    "Thanks, Birdseye," responded Ayda. She cut a messy diagonal though the traffic to set herself up for the turn. "Give me an update on the bank?" As she asked that question, she hung the indicated left.

    "The silent alarm is still going off, which is annoying." Birdseye¡ªthe disembodied voice¡ªpaused. "There are police on the scene, along with a NAAME agent. The hostages haven''t been allowed to leave, but they''re mostly unhurt. A couple medics are treating the teller who got burned, but it looks like she''s the only injury."

    "Just the one agent?"

    "Yeah. He seems to be taking statements."

    "Can you pick anything up from the police comms channels?"

    "Not really," Birdseye denied. "It''s mostly technical jargon, other than telling units to hold back while you engage. There''s a helicopter tracking the van, which is why I''m able to update you so quickly."

    "News or police?"

    "News."

    "Goddammit," Ayda cursed. Reporters, just what she needed.

    "They''re working with the cops, if that helps," Birdseye offered gently.

    "It doesn''t."

    "I didn''t think so." Birdseye said, and Ayda could practically hear him smiling. "Turn right onto West Diamond."

    "Got it," confirmed Ayda, ducking a little lower on her bike.

    The parking spaces on her side of the road, here, were completely empty. Ayda used that to her advantage. She placed her route directly in the middle of them, bypassing the traffic unimpeded. She would''ve picked up speed if her turn at West Diamond weren''t so close. Ayda took the corner wide, missing a big red pickup truck by mere inches. The driver honked as she swerved over to the correct side of the road.

    "Nine o''clock, Pulse. Ten seconds." A different male voice spoke in her ear, this one gruffer and distorted by deep rumbling engine noise.

    "Copy, Flechette." Ayda responded to her codename. She shifted her line over a bit to give him room to merge.

    True to his word, if not exactly his timing, the man emerged from her left. He rode an imposing matte black chopper motorbike, its motor much louder and lower than her vehicle. Flechette pulled up along Ayda''s west flank and did his best to keep up with her as they avoided the civilian cars.

    Ayda gave him a quick look. He wore a white wife beater, baggy blue jeans, and black combat boots. Every inch of his body she could see was covered in a latticework of interwoven metal spikes, none much larger than a sewing needle. They were an armor born of his unique abilities. An impassive mask concealed his face, expressionless save for the round eyeholes and slim rectangle over his mouth.

    "You''re late," she joked, yelling over their engines.

    "I was further away," Flechette replied simply.

    "Excuses, excuses," she admonished. Flechette shook his head, and she just smiled. "I assume you''re up-to-date?"

    "Yeah, three armed assholes and one Neo."

    "That''s the gist of it," Ayda said. "No big deal." Flechette nodded in response.

    "Turn right onto Prowse, and you''ll be able to see them," Birdseye interrupted the little reunion.

    "Thanks," Ayda said.

    "Another right? They''re just going in a circle," replied Flechette at the same time.

    Being on the faster, more maneuverable motorcycle, Ayda took the lead. The two of them made the turn. Traffic on Prowse wasn''t quite as bad when compared to the other streets, so the bikers spread out and Flechette caught up with her.

    Up ahead, a large black van lumbered between the lines, its movements slow and broad. Not exactly the most ideal of escape vehicles. It always baffled Ayda why criminals chose such inconvenient getaways. It could carry a lot of cargo, and many passengers, but wouldn''t win any races. A dumb choice, in her mind.

    At almost the exact same time, Pulse and Flechette pinned their throttles. They shot forward. Vehicles superior in every aspect allowed them to gain ground rather quickly. Ayda dodged cars in her path, even driving on the sidewalk for a moment. The sight of her prey ignited a killer instinct. Nothing could stop her, now. It was just a matter of time.

    The van took up a lot of space on the road. This size was mostly a detriment, but that also made it difficult to follow as the smaller bikes couldn''t take the same routes through traffic. But, agility eventually won out in the end. Ayda and Flechette closed to within feet of it.

    When they were close enough, the pair split apart, lining themselves up on either side of the van in a classic pincer maneuver. On Ayda''s side, a man leaned out of the rear window and leveled an assault rifle at her. He pulled the trigger, and a spray of hot lead spewed from the muzzle. Ayda put up her hand. She moved her palm to intercept the individual bullets, the ones which were on target. Purple kinetic blasts emanated from her palms at each contact, themselves sounding like gunshots. This was her ability, her superpower The little explosions shattered the projectiles, sending shards out around her body as she sped past them. The infallible defense kept her safe, but focusing on it cost her momentum. She couldn''t concentrate on protecting herself and keep a constant speed at the same time. Ayda lost ground, and the van pulled away.

    Flechette took over the charge. He swerved in front of her, keeping pace with the enemy. The thug redirected his efforts onto the new threat. Bullets which would''ve ripped through Ayda broke and flattened against Flechette''s armor, leaving cracked little spikes in their wake. He didn''t have to worry about defending himself, and could maintain a consistent velocity at the lack of distractions. The thug wasn''t deterred, however. He emptied his magazine before retreating back into the van to reload. All the while, Flechette inched ever closer.

    Flechette drove up alongside the van, aligned himself with the rear right tire. He steered with only his right hand. A spike grew from out of his left, identical to the ones which covered his body, though over a foot long and a few inches wide. He grabbed it, a prism with two sharp, parallel edges and broad points at either end. Flechette drew back his elbow, and hurled it into the tire before applying his brakes.

    The sudden expulsion of air and subsequent loss of traction caused the van to swerve out of control. It careened left and right, barely avoiding the traffic that panicked to get out of the way. Drivers pulled left and right toward the sidewalks as the van barreled between the makeshift path they created. One blue pickup truck was unlucky enough to hit a light post. Its driver abandoned the vehicle to dart down an alley. Like a motorized battering ram the van smashed a path down the street. It was a miracle it didn''t hit anyone. The van skidded to the left and finally slid to a stop, broadside presented.

    Its pursuers parked several feet away and got off their bikes, ready to engage. Ayda held her five-foot collapsible metal staff in one hand so the butt end extended up behind her back and past her shoulder. Flechette produced a spike the size of a longsword and gripped it lazily in his right hand. Together, they walked toward their target.

    Four men dressed in all black filed hastily out of the stalled van. Three of them toted various firearms. The fourth, the driver, had no gun. He distinguished himself from the others by wearing an open black hoodie over a bare, toned chest. With spikey blonde hair, a sharp chin, and a devilish glint in his brown eyes, he would''ve been handsome under any other circumstances.

    "They call me Flint," the blonde said.

    "I don''t care what your name is," Ayda fired back.

    "You should," he smirked, "because you''ll be hearing a lot of it." Flint turned his left palm upward. Fire consumed his hand, a spontaneous combustion he showed no reaction to. A super-powered individual. A Neohuman¡ªas the media had taken to calling them¡ªjust like Pulse and Flechette. He nodded to his cohorts.

    The gunmen opened fire on their opponents. Ayda twirled her staff around in response, deflecting bullets with purple explosions while she continued forward. Flechette just kept walking through the torrent as bullets sparked uselessly against his armor.

    While they fired, Flint moved around his henchmen. He stood before them off to one side, about a step away from the sidewalk. With a sinister smile, the man thrust his hand outward. A ball of pure flame elicited from his palm. It rocketed through the air, straight at Flechette. Ayda stepped in front of her ally and swept diagonally downward with a blast. The fireball deflected and struck the pavement to her right, where it fizzled out at a lack of anything to burn.

    That was the catalyst they needed. Flechette and Ayda broke into a run. Ayda made a b-line for the pyrokinetic. She blocked a few bullets along the way, but most of the others focused on Flechette, who moved to attack them. Ayda directed blasts into the ground below her feet to propel herself forward. Flint shot a stream of flame at her, but she twirled her staff in front of herself. Rapid blasts like machine gun fire displaced the air in much the same way as a fan.

    She closed the distance and brought her staff down. Flint stepped back at the last possible second. Ayda''s attack hit only the ground, but the blast still had enough force to trip him up. She stepped toward him. Flint tossed another fireball. Ayda attempted to block this one in the same manner she had the first, but instead of just dissipating like before, it exploded. The concussive force sent Ayda back onto her rump, and almost wrenched the staff from her grip. She snarled at her opponent. Irritating.

    Meanwhile, Flechette dealt with the gunmen. Their bullets still had little effect on his self-made armor. He lashed out with his spike sword. It cut deep into the arm of a thug. He cried out, dropping his gun. Flechette sliced him below the knee and he crumpled.

    A step closed him in on another man. Flechette sliced him up across the ribs, a strike meant to hurt more than maim. While he reacted to the pain, Flechette kicked him over.

    The third and final mook dropped his gun entirely and drew a knife instead. Flechette smirked behind his mask. The man stabbed at him. Flechette stood still as he let the knife contact his chest. The point clinked against the spikes protecting his body and left nary a scratch. The thug gave a look of surprised confusion. He tried to pull the blade back, but Flechette caught his wrist. A simple twist, and the sounds of broken bones filled the air. The man screamed and Flechette let him collapse in a heap.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    Flint put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. Ayda thought he was signaling the gunmen until the van shook. It shifted to one side, and then the other, deliberate motions as if someone were trying to tip it. Metal screeched on the inside as it bowed outward.

    The van''s back doors flew open. Out stepped a colossus of a man. He was easily six-and-a-half feet tall with muscles like a bodybuilder. He was Caucasian, but dark green splotches marred his skin in random places. His facial features slumped and deflated on one side, as if he''d been partially melted. Black hair cut in a flat top rose about an inch from his head. He let out a savage, gravely roar, more like a sci-fi monster than any regular human, and charged Flechette.

    The big man threw a huge punch, and his target just barely managed to defend himself. Flechette stepped off to one side and cut at the unnatural forearm. The blade cut in, but no deeper than a papercut. The man growled and attempted to grab at Flechette, who leapt back out of the way. Meaty fingers missed him by millimeters

    "Shit," Ayda yelled. "Birdseye, we''ve got another Neo! And he''s a big one."

    "Yeah, I see that," Birdseye said hastily. "Kindle, are you able to come assist?"

    "Already on the way," said a heavily accented female voice through the comms.

    Ayda would''ve responded, but Flint had other plans. He shot a jet of flame at her. Enhanced reflexes were the only thing which allowed her to roll out of the way. Ayda sprung to her feet and attempted to charge him. He flung another fireball at her. She propelled herself to the left with a blast. The ball exploded where she''d just been standing.

    She surged forward. Flint reacted with a short stream. Ayda spun with a sidestep to avoid it and kept coming. Her opponent took a step back and fired another fire beam. Ayda twirled her staff to blow it away. However, doing so blocked her vision with an undulating wall of flame. She pushed past it, but much too slow. A fireball screamed toward her, just inches away. Ayda raised her staff to block. No use.

    The fireball slammed into her shoulder. She was forced off her feet, landing hard on her back. Stars swam in her vision, and a piercing ring disrupted her hearing. In a panic, she glanced over at where the attack made contact. She felt heat, but saw no fire. A sigh passed her lips. She''d chosen a leather jacket because it looked cool, but on this day she thanked the heavens for its natural flame-retardant properties.

    Lying there on the asphalt, she heard a distinct whoosh. She kicked her feet around, rotating her hips to make a rough circle. Her heel connected with the opposing fireball and a blast sent it hurtling off harmlessly into an alleyway. Ayda used the momentum from the kicks to roll over her shoulder and onto her front. In the same motion she pushed herself up onto her feet. Fourteen years of fighting, and she''d never had a reason to use that move until just then.

    Ayda locked eyes narrowed in concentration with her opponent. There was a silver lining to everything which just transpired; a realization. A twist, and she separated her staff in the middle, effectively transforming it into a pair of matched kali sticks. She held one in each hand in a wide stance, butt ends even with her hips and points faced diagonally upward.

    Flint continued to push his offensive. He kept to the same tactic, opening with a steady stream of blazing flame. Ayda dodged out of the way. She planted her feet just long enough to propel with a blast one of her sticks through the fire. The brilliant orange concealed not only its flightpath, but also her movement in general. Imperfect aim caused the stick to exit from the stream a bit early, but it was still a projectile traveling at unnatural speeds. Flint''s eyes widened, and it struck him in the shoulder.

    This was her chance. Ayda jumped at him, throwing herself forward on blasts. Flint threw up a hand, bothering not for aim nor delicacy. A tiny fireball shot forth. Ayda tried to turn herself around, but she couldn''t move very well in the air without something to push off of. The fireball hit her square in the chest. The miniature explosion reversed her momentum. Ayda managed to land on her feet with only a slight stumble to maintain balance. Tendrils of smoke rose from her black tank top, but it¡ªby some miracle¡ªresisted catching on fire. She wasn''t interested in figuring out how long her luck would hold.

    Ayda slipped out of her leather jacket, grabbing it by the left cuff in her free hand as it fell from her shoulders. She whipped the jacket around her head and spun. The circular motions stirred up the smoke, obscuring her slightly more than before. She swept the jacket down in front of her as she came back around the face Flint. At the same time, she made to throw her other stick.

    The jacket and smoke completely masked her intentions until the improvised missile was already in the air. Flint took a step back and raised his hand. Egged on by a purple blast, the stick moved far too swiftly for a person without her reflexes to avoid. It struck him in the sternum. He gave a few strained coughs and stepped back, struggling to stay upright.

    When Ayda approached him this time, she stayed firmly on the ground. She didn''t even run on blasts. She sprinted like a normal person, straight toward him. Flint held up both his hands, one atop the other. He created a pair beam from each and swept them along the ground in opposite directions in front of Ayda. The fire didn''t burn long, but still effectively stopped her forward motion. They were in a stalemate, neither one able to damage the other.

    Locked in combat with a large, splotchy man, Flechette found himself in a similar situation. He stepped back from a big punch and sliced downward at the fist as it passed. His hit scored the flesh, but managed not to even redirect it. The green-spotted man attempted another broad swing. This time, Flechette dashed inside it. The fist sailed harmlessly behind him as he swung upward across his enemy''s ribs. Another superficial cut. In response, the man twisted and shoulder checked Flechette.

    The smaller, spike-clad man flew backward through the air. He hit the ground and slid along his spine for a few inches, gritting his teeth at the impact. The moment he came to a stop, Flechette sprung to his feet. The green man was already charging. Flechette held his sword in one hand. In the other, he produced a spike, which he broke off and hurled at the approaching mass. It made impact with his shoulder. The tip bit in, but not nearly enough to stick. It bounced out of the wound, leaving behind a little hole about the width of an average thumb. It didn''t even bleed, nor did it stop the menace.

    The big man charged forward like a bull seeing red. Flechette threw himself to the ground in a desperate swan dive. He ate asphalt, but at least avoided a flattening. Pushing himself up, he looked back to see the big, stupid, Adonis smash into a building. Various construction materials showered over him. A frustrated sneer, and he turned back around, completely unfazed. Flechette rolled his eyes. What would it take to bring this guy down?

    Ayda rolled aside from a flame jet. When she stopped on one knee, a projectile left her hand. Just a littered soda bottle, it still flew with quite a force. Flint launched a fireball at it, knocking the weapon from the air. Ayda swore under her breath, but she had to admit that was an impressive shot.

    Flint continued his assault. He loosed one jet, and then another. Ayda dodged them both, dashing on blasts. A third one came her way, but it went wide, striking the street several feet away from her. Odd that he would miss, when his aim so far had been quite good. She observed her opponent, and saw he was no longer looking at her, but at some point up and above where she stood. Ayda turned around to see a pair of orange streaks approaching. She smiled.

    Like a fighter jet the twin streams rocketed toward the battleground. Ayda was completely nonplussed as they approached. Her only reaction was to step onto the sidewalk. Her enemy, however, wore a look of extreme concern, brows knitted together and mouth agape.

    When the jets reached them, they turned toward the ground. A woman in her thirties descended from the sky, flames licking around her as she put high heeled boots on the asphalt. Ferocious blue eyes pierced into the enemy pyro. An eye mask with diamond-shaped oculars shrouded her identity. Long blonde hair flowed out behind her in duality with a black leather trench coat. The same material covered her from head to toe. A tunic of the stuff contained her larger-than-average chest, zipped in the center, and with a V at the bottom where the halves met. Her trousers were simple and skintight. Red outlined the entire outfit and ran along its hems.

    "Just in time," Ayda quipped.

    "Glad I didn''t miss the fight," the new arrival spoke with a thick Dutch accent.

    "Fiery as ever, Kindle," Ayda responded, earning herself a pointed glare. She just smirked, and so did Kindle.

    "Two-on-one is a bit unfair," Flint interjected.

    "How about one-on-one, then?" Kindle responded, and then spoke to Ayda. "Go help Flechette. I can handle this guy."

    "Don''t burn him too bad," Ayda said.

    "No promises."

    Ayda walked toward where Flechette grappled with the deformed monster, patting Kindle on the shoulder as she passed behind the slightly shorter woman. Kindle, for her part, fixed Flint in a vicious predatory gaze.

    "What, you want some, too?" Flint said, trying to appear confident even as he took a step back. "I was giving the other one a run for her money."

    "Yes, I''m sure you had fun harassing my teammate, but now it''s time to fight fire," she held out her hand, a flame flickered above it, "with fire."

    "Boo!" Ayda jeered from the distance. Kindle ignored her.

    With all the same care she might have paid an insect, Kindle raised her flaming hand. A stream issued forth from it. Flint threw up both his hands and met the attack with a double shot of his own. They met much closer to him than her. Even with the strength from both hands, Flint couldn''t hope to match his enemy. Kindle''s jet ate through his without losing an ounce of momentum.

    She closed her hand into a duckbill shape. Her jet narrowed all at once into a pointed rope of pure flame. It cut straight through Flint''s fire with alarming speed. He hadn''t even the slightest chance of dodging before the attack struck his arm. He flung backward, rolling a couple times along the road before he came to a stop. When again the man stood, his right hand, wrist, and forearm were covered in blisters and charred skin where the hoodie burned away. He was not, however, aflame.

    Kindle held arms above her head with limp wrists, not unlike a marionette. Flaming vines like tentacles sprouted from her back, three on each side. She thrust her hands forward and the flames snaked toward the enemy. They pyro pounded his fists together and enshrouded himself in a dome of fire. The paltry defense was wholly ineffective as the vines passed straight through as if it weren''t even there. Each struck him in different spots. He flinched and stumbled at each one, steadily driven back at the onslaught. The last hit brought him to his knees.

    Pain and despair etched on his face, Flint raised a wide beam from where he knelt, the largest he''d made yet. Kindle clapped her hands together to drive a wedge into the jet. It split to either side of her, passing by safely. She threw her hands out wide and the attack dissipated entirely. Kindle propelled herself with jets beneath her boots. An uncontrolled flight, but it brought her within striking distance. She clasped his hands, messily interlacing her fingers with his. Out of both fear and in response to the impact, Flint knelt down until his knees almost touched ground.

    Terrified brown eyes met cold, determined blue. Kindle smirked. Flame exploded all around her with the force of a grenade. Flint flew backward through the air and hit the ground hard, sliding along it. He came to rest on his back several feet away. His chest rose and fell, but he was motionless.

    Kindle strode toward him and took a flat metal circle with two red lights next to each other from a pocket in her coat. She knelt down and opened it by a hinge. A serrated section slipped from behind where the lights were. It went over his wrist and she closed it tight against his skin, burying the serrations back into the ring itself. Hundreds of thin, red lights scattered over his body, outlining his nervous system. He snapped into a plaintive laying position on his back with feet together and palms pressed to his thighs. His breaths became erratic. His eyes were free to move, yet the rest of him was in frozen stasis. He blinked rapidly; uneven, frantic movements.

    "I''m sorry," Kindle said. She laid a hand on his shoulder. "It won''t hurt if you don''t struggle."

    It took him a moment to comply, but after a few seconds Flint settled down He looked straight up into the sky. His breathing stabilized. Her work done, Kindle stood and turned to where her teammates were still fighting. That battle seemed almost over, though. Kindle watched as she set about restraining the three gunmen with similar circular devices.

    The big, green monstrosity punched down at Ayda with a hammer fist. She kicked up at the bottom of his hand. A blast sent it straight back up. Flechette used the temporary redirection to hurl a couple spikes at him. One hit his chest, and the other his neck, but neither did anything. The man caught one as it fell from his hide and threw it back. Flechette put up a hand, reabsorbing the spike into his palm.

    Ayda kicked with a blast at the monster''s right leg. He fell to one knee, supporting himself with a fist against the ground. Ayda grabbed the spike he hadn''t returned to sender. Though not pure as her staff, it was metal all the same, and would amplify her ability. She channeled her power through it. The spike took on a purple outline, just like her staff did whenever she used it. In a two-handed grip she swung down at the green man''s neck. The blast forced his face into the pavement, arms splayed out at his sides. He tried to push himself up, but Ayda hit him again. The man stirred still, not ready to give up. With a snarl Ayda stepped on his head, a blast-assisted curb stomp that put him out for the count.

    Flechette ran up and took one of the flat metal rings from the loop in his cargo pants. He clasped it over the big man''s wrist. It barely fit. The monster''s nervous system glowed red for a moment, and his posture then matched Flint and the other thugs, just laying on his front instead of his back. Flechette and Ayda shared a quick glance. She gave a thumbs up, and he let out a long sigh. Kindle joined them.

    "You dealt with the other guy?" Ayda said, glancing behind her.

    "Yes. I told you I would. I got the gunmen, too." Kindle added, almost as an afterthought.

    "I would''ve done that, but I kinda had bigger problems." Flechette kicked the green man in the shoulder.

    "Don''t hit them when they''re restrained," warned Kindle. "You''ll get in trouble again."

    Flechette grunted. "A love tap won''t hurt ''em, especially him."

    "Still," Kindle persisted, "I don''t think the law will care."

    "Speaking of the law," Ayda interrupted, then put a finger in her ear, "update, Birdseye?"

    "Uh, yeah," Birdseye began. "I''ve just sent word to the police. The van didn''t exactly get too far, so they should be here any minute. Oh, and that news chopper is still overhead."

    Ayda glanced up. "I see it. We''re probably live." She waved up at the helicopter, then spoke to her teammates. "Alright, good job, team. You know how it goes, nothing we can do until the cops arrive."

    "At least they''re close," Flechette rolled his eyes.

    "You can say that again," concurred Kindle.

    Ayda nodded agreement and decided to take a seat on the sidewalk next to the big man''s feet. Her heart pounded with adrenaline still, and this was her chance to calm down. It hadn''t been a necessarily difficult fight, but any combat got her blood flowing. Despite the stress, it was a good feeling, like life itself pumped through her veins.

    After a couple minutes, Kindle walked up. She handed Ayda her discarded sticks, which the younger girl accepted with a smile. Kindle nodded and went to watch over Flint.

    Ayda looked around to see Flechette wheeling his motorcycle off the street in preparation for the cops to arrive. That seemed like an excellent idea, and it certainly beat sitting around. Ayda set about the same task with her own bike. The smoother this went for the police, the easier for everyone involved. She might even get out of there before the press ruined her good mood.

 Book 2, "Brave New World" CH. 2: Little Moments

    Undulating blue and red lights betrayed their approach before the police cars ever made that right-hand turn off Prowse Street. There were seven in total, along with a S.W.A.T team van. They approached down both sides of the cleared street, an imposing presence of law and order. Or, they would be, if the situation wasn''t already under control.

    From where she sat on the sidewalk, Ayda rolled her eyes. She saw scenes like this on a regular basis, the unnecessary displays of presence. Always the same thing with these people. Never mind the fact that her team already did all the work, as long as the police feel just a little more relevant. Pathetic, not just for the act itself, but because it actually worked.

    When the police cars approached, they pulled into a rough perimeter on one side of the street. With a sigh, Ayda stood and approached, newly reformed and collapsed staff in one hand. In this form, it was barely over a foot long, though she could extend it at a moment''s notice. Best seem as innocuous as possible if she wanted to get this over with sooner, rather than later.

    Her teammates had left her long ago. Other teams had their own systems, of course, but hers patrolled in pairs on shifts which rotated every eight hours. Who partnered with whom changed bi-weekly. Their intelligence team¡ªBirdseye, Crypto, and Top-Down¡ªalso rotated time slots. Her patrol with Flechette had been just about to end, so she''d sent him, along with Kindle, back to base. Besides, it was easier to face the cops alone. Less crosstalk.

    The police officers filed out of their vehicles. Most moved to secure the perpetrators. Their motions were practiced and fluid. Some went about inspecting and transporting the petrified villains, while others trained guns on them on the off chance anything bad happened. Not that their weapons could do anything against the big green spotted one, but they didn''t need to know that. Ayda noted that no on exited the S.W.A.T van.

    Through all this commotion, Ayda focused in on one individual in particular, an older woman with just a touch of gray in her vibrant red hair bun. She carried herself with confidence while a determined fire burned behind brown eyes. The sight of her brought the tiniest of grins to Ayda''s face. This would be easier than she thought.

    "Captain Barnes," Ayda greeted when within speaking distance.

    "Pulse," returned the officer. She held out her hand at a slight upward angle to compensate for their miniscule height difference. Ayda switched her weapon to her left and accepted the brief shake.

    "It''s good to see you here, Amanda," Ayda said, dropping her hand.

    "I should be saying that to you, with all the work you saved us," Amanda said.

    "Just doing my job." Ayda put the collapsed staff back in her right hand.

    "Aren''t we all?" Mused the Captain. "I trust they weren''t too much trouble?" She looked to each group in turn; the monster, the pyrokinetic, and the gunmen.

    "Not more than any other Neos, no." Ayda shook her head. "The fire guy was kind of an ass, though. Wouldn''t mind getting a few extra licks in on him."

    "Well, you''re free to come back and interrogate him."

    "I''ll pass."

    Amanda smirked. "Is there any property damage?"

    "Uh¡­ yeah." Ayda pointed to her right. "Sorry."

    Amanda followed the direction, and the air around her stiffened at the sight of fallen bricks and dust which had once been part of a building. Ayda saw her shoulders fall just a bit, watched as the already stony expression her face hardened even further. The Captain, for her part, just sighed.

    "I guess it could be worse." She tucked a loose piece of hair back into her bun. "Buildings in these parts usually have insurance, but anything it doesn''t cover will have to come out of your bounty."

    "I know," Ayda said. "I really am sorry. Flechette and I probably should''ve swapped opponents. It was a mistake on our part."

    "No excuses, Pulse," Amanda ordered. "Besides, there''s nothing we can do about it now."

    "Of course. We''ll be more careful next time."

    "I honestly don''t care what you do, as long as you stop the supervillains. It''s just the bureaucrats that don''t agree."

    "Tell me about it." Ayda rolled her eyes for the second time that day.

    "You said Flechette was here?" Amanda changed the subject.

    "Yeah. Kindle was, too, but I had them leave before you got here."

    "That''s fine." Amanda nodded. "Can you collect statements from them for me?"

    "Sure. I''ll text them right now, and have Birdcage send the statements your way." Ayda immediately made good on her promise, extracting her phone to message their text group.

    "Thank you," Amanda said. "Is there anything else I need to know."

    "Um¡­" Ayda pocketed her device. "Not that I can think of. No one got hurt, or anything like that. It was pretty tame."

    "Especially by your standards," quipped the Captain. "If there''s nothing else, then you''re free to go. My men can clean things up, here."

    "Alright," Ayda said. "Thanks, Captain. We''ll be in touch."

    "You''d better," Amanda said with smile as Ayda walked past her.

    Though Ayda had taken her vehicle off the street, that didn''t stop the police from parking closer to it than she would''ve liked. They weren''t quite arranged around it, but close enough. There''d be hell to pay if any one of them scratched her baby.

    Ayda watched the police work as she approached her motorcycle. It took a team of seven grown men to lift the monstrous Neo and get him into the S.W.A.T van, which explained why it was there. They dropped him inside none too gently. One of his arms flopped out of the back. Ayda shook her head as two officers struggled to fold it up inside. He barely fit when the doors finally slammed.

    "Hey, Birdseye," she said while she watched.

    "What''s up?" Birdseye responded through the device in her left ear, a thing little more than a wireless earbud.

    "Is that NAAME agent still hanging around the bank?"

    "Um..." Birdseye trailed off. "No, not that I can see. Do you want me to find him?"

    Ayda shook her head. "No, that''s fine. I was just curious. I''m heading back."

    "Drive safe."

    Time to be gone, then. Ayda mounted her beast, revved it to life with a smooth button push, and pulled away from the scene. Driving away from the makeshift roadblock put her in mostly the wrong direction, but going around was easier. Besides, she could afford to take the scenic route.

    Despite all the time that passed after the death of Tahoe, it still was somewhat jarring to do business in someplace other than the rundown industrial district. The tall buildings and clean streets of her current surroundings were certainly a dramatic change in scenery. This was the financial heart, the place set up for both white collar businessmen and tourists. Most people visiting El Puerto never saw anything outside of this admittedly large section, and the locals rarely talked about anywhere else. In that way, Ayda was glad for her line of work. She saw and interacted with a much wider breadth of people than mostly anyone else in the city.

    Eventually, after several minutes of travel, Ayda reached her destination. It was a large building, wider than it was tall, but still stretched upward for five stories. The campus around it was rather calm, all things considered. There weren''t many cars roaming around, coming and going. Most people who traveled outside did so by foot. They all looked professional and important, a stark contrast to Ayda''s leather jacket and sporty motorcycle. For what felt like the millionth time, Ayda reveled in the dichotomy as she pulled into the parking lot. She reflexively read the sign on the way in: El Puerto Police Department Headquarters.

    Ayda made her way through the lot, a space mostly reserved for visitors, and into the parking structure at its far end. A soft decline led into the first floor. Inside were mostly police vehicles lavished in classic black and white. There were also a few undercover cruisers and even a jet black interceptor variant.

    Ayda remained completely impassive to all of this as she turned a sharp right the moment her bike met flat ground. Ahead of her now was a vacant section cordoned off by a black and yellow striped rectangle painted on the concrete. Someone could easily park two cars within it. She drove inside and rode right up to the wall. A few inches away, she stopped and dismounted.

    From this distance, she could finally see the only other thing of note over on this side of the garage, other than the reserved spot itself; a keypad, set into the structure and painted to blend in. So complete was the camouflage, she''d walked right by it on several occasions. Now, however, she stepped up to the device. Ayda pulled out her phone.

    The first step was inputting a twenty digit code, which she copied from her phone. The keypad contained no screen and made little noise when a button was pressed, so the only indication she''d been successful was when a little panel at the bottom slid away. Ayda pressed her thumb against the revealed black glass. After a few seconds, instead of a beep from the pad, her phone vibrated. She took her thumb away, and the sensor was hidden. The third and final step was to enter a different twenty characters. After all of that, her phone vibrated again. Ayda swiftly returned to her motorcycle.

    As she did, a great cacophony of machine whirs and clicks sprang to life from within the wall. There was a slight delay before anything else happened. In the right hand corner, the concrete parted. The wall pulled away, sliding into itself. Slowly, an area behind the wall was revealed. Ayda drummed fingers on her throttle while she waited.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    Several seconds later, the process completed. For all the fanfare of this transformation, the unveiled area was rather lackluster. It appeared to be little more than a service elevator, just wide enough to park a pair of sport utility vehicles in. Ayda rolled her bike gently forward and onto the elevator platform. Once beyond the entrance, she performed a two-point turn so her bike faced back into the garage. When that was all settled, she tapped on her phone. The wall behind her slid back closed, leaving only a few caution lights on the elevator for illumination. Another tap on her phone, and the platform began its slow descent.

    It moved at just about the same speed as any other elevator, which was impressive considering the size of it. The trip down was relatively short, only a few stories, but just long enough for Ayda to become impatient. When it finally hit the bottom, she was all too eager to be done with it.

    Here within the bowels beneath the police headquarters, it was like another world. The walls were covered in reinforced concrete, not unlike a massive bomb shelter. Ayda drove forward and immediately found herself in a tiny parking lot. Along with Flechette''s black chopper, there was a beat-up old white sedan and a couple dark painted police vehicles. There were enough spaces for a few more vehicles, but most were empty. Ayda claimed the space next to the aged car, switched off her bike, and dismounted.

    Departed from her vehicle, Ayda strode toward a structure at the other end of the lot. Perfectly square, it looked like a huge, solid cement block, entirely windowless, marred only by a plain steel door. At two stories in height, it almost scraped the ceiling. There was enough room in the cavern itself to walk the circumference of this bunker.

    Ayda walked up to the door. There was another keypad to its right. She punched a code into this one as well, but the sequence was much shorter this time around. Only four quick strokes, and a loud, low click sounded from the door. With both hands flat on the smooth surface, Ayda pushed it open and strode inside.

    The entryway was a short, narrow hallway, illuminated by a single light and completely featureless except for a row of pegs to her right. Kindle''s trench coat hung on one peg between Flechette''s gray hoodie and a navy windbreaker.

    Ayda stripped out of her cropped leather jacket. The black tank top beneath revealed the few scars on her arms including the old impalement wound on her left shoulder, along with a faded line between what modest cleavage the garment showed. She had fifteen scars in total on her arms, front, and back, but most were covered by the tanktop. She put her jacket next to the hoodie.

    A door on the opposite end of the entryway opened up into the left hand corner of a wide open living room. Grey carpet smooshed underneath her boots. Doors lined the wall to her right. Eventually the room gave way to a corridor, which stretched for a few feet. A staircase both up and down at the end of it.

    Brightly lit, the living room itself looked mostly like any other. A blocky, black leather sofa flanked by two matching chairs lay behind a glass coffee table in the middle of the floor. On the wall to Ayda''s right hung a big flatscreen television, an entertainment system cluttered with various electronics below it. There was a bar with four empty stools on the far wall opposite her, which gave sight into the narrow kitchen, the door to which was left open.

    Flechette and Kindle were both in the room. Flechette sat in the leftmost chair, combat boots propped up on the coffee table, his favorite cheap beer in one hand. Kindle sat on the couch cushion farthest away from him, still in costume but now sleeveless without her coat. Thirty-two years of age with sharp symmetrical features, a pointed chin, and brilliant blue eyes, she was a woman of intimidating beauty, complimented by the glorious long-haired white cat lounging on her lap.

    "Hey, guys," Ayda said, walking into the room.

    "Welcome back," Kindle returned.

    "Took you long enough," Flechette scoffed over a sip from his bottle.

    "Sorry for doing my job, Frank." Ayda strode just past him and stopped.

    "Hey, don''t look at me." He said. "You''re the one who told us to wait here." Another sip.

    Ayda just rolled her eyes at him. She looked around briefly.

    "Where''s Birdseye," she asked.

    "I''ll give you three guesses," replied Kindle.

    "I''ll go get him," Ayda said with a sigh. She took off down the hall. Her destination was the last door on the left, the final of three. It hung open. She turned into it and leaned on the jam.

    The display inside was rather impressive. A man with short dark hair sat in front of an array of a dozen monitors, all displaying a different part of the city. They flickered and changed periodically to different scenes. The man typed on a keyboard in front of him and one view of an airport zoomed in slightly. It was a highly technical and complex array. The only out of place objects were the six action figures on the corner of his desk, one each for the members of the team, all done up in various action poses. Ayda spared a quick glance for her own. It still bothered her how the purple outline on the toy''s staff was a tad too light.

    "Hey," Ayda said from her spot in the door. The man craned his neck around too peer at her.

    "Hey," he returned before going right back to his monitors.

    Ayda entered the room. She walked up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders, peering over his head at the various surveillance windows.

    "Whatcha looking at?" She feigned ignorance.

    "I''m just overseeing the prisoner transfer." He gestured toward the airport monitor. Ayda watched along, but there didn''t seem to be much activity. All she could see was the rear of a large cargo plane.

    "How''s it going?"

    "Well enough," Birdseye said. "They were loaded onto the transport just fine. They''re just getting ready to take off, now."

    "Good. That means your job is done." Before he could have a moment to protest, Ayda pulled his rolling chair away from the desk.

    "Hey, Ayda!" The man leaned forward and grasped with his hands, but was too late to take hold of anything. "I wasn''t done."

    "Come on, Elliot," implored Ayda. "If something goes wrong, we''ll know the moment it does, and it''s not like we can do anything once they''re in the air, anyway."

    "But I need to make sure everything''s okay," Elliot argued.

    "They''re on the plane, and they''re in stasis. Unless the plane crashes, everything will be fine."

    "Okay, but if the plane crashes, that''s also our problem."

    "El, we''ve been over this. I know all this stuff is really cool, but you can''t live your whole life in front of them. There has to be some balance."

    "No, you''re right." Elliot deflated a little beneath her hands. "Sorry. I guess I''m still not used to having access to so much information all at once I mean, look at all these monitors."

    "You don''t have to apologize. Just come take a break with the rest of us."

    "Okay, sure. That sounds good." Elliot got up and followed Ayda out of the room, leaving the chair pulled out.

    "He lives!" Quipped Frank as Elliot entered the living room.

    "Yeah, yeah." Elliot literally waved him off.

    He sat down on the middle couch cushion next to Kindle. Their eyes met briefly in acknowledgment. Ayda sat on the arm of the couch next to her blonde teammate.

    "Hey, Snowball," she cooed, petting the cat on Kindle''s lap. Snowball leaned into her touch, a soft purr in his throat.

    "Anything we should know," asked Kindle.

    "Not really." Elliot shook his head. "The prisoner transfer went off without a hitch, but things are pretty quiet, otherwise."

    "How''d they handle the big guy," Frank chimed in.

    "That was actually kinda funny." Elliot smiled. "They started trying to lift him with, like, eight guys, but they eventually gave up and used a forklift."

    "Amateurs," scoffed Frank.

    "At least we didn''t have to help with that part," Ayda said.

    "Not that we could''ve anyway," added Kindle.

    There came a slight lull in the conversation, which Ayda used as another excuse to pet Snowball. She knew bothering him too much would cause him to go elsewhere, which wasn''t fair to his owner, but she just couldn''t resist paying attention to that cute little ball of fluff.

    After a few minutes, Frank got up and went into the kitchen. Ayda mostly ignored him, but still heard him wash out his bottle in the sink.

    "Do you guys mind if I turn on the T.V.," asked Elliot.

    "No," replied Ayda simply. Kindle said nothing.

    Elliot grabbed the remote from the coffee table and switched on the television. It showed a news broadcast of a rather familiar scene. Ayda and Frank could be clearly seen from an overhead view engaging the super criminals from earlier. Both featured fighters groaned, Frank as he returned from the kitchen.

    "Anything else, please," Ayda requested.

    Elliot hastily turned the channel. After a few flips, he settled on a gameshow where families competed to answer survey questions. The host walked in front of an African-American family to stop at a man Ayda''s age near the end.

    "Anthony, name something you''d normally find in a glove box," broached the host.

    "Tissues," Ayda called out at the T.V.

    "A gun," Frank gave a much better answer as he sat back down.

    "Why does no one ever put gloves in a glove box?" Kindle asked of no one in particular.

    "Napkins!" The overly enthusiastic contestant shouted.

    "Show me napkins!" The host turned and pointed at the score board, six of eight numbered tiles. The last one rotated to reveal the word napkins, worth 10 points. The family celebrated their correct answer.

    "I was close." Ayda accepted her victory. Though, Frank was also correct since someone had already guessed firearm.

    "I''m surprised no one has said insurace card, yet," Kindle said. "That''s the only thing I have in my glove box."

    "You also haven''t had that car very long," Elliot countered. "Give it time and it''ll be full of crap."

    "No, it won''t, because I''m the organized one," Kindle said.

    "I can think of at least one person who would disagree," observed Ayda.

    "Is that one person you?" Frank said.

    "No," Ayda chuckled. "Have you seen my saddlebags? It''s like a rat''s nest in there."

    "That''s putting it lightly," Elliot joked. "One day you''re gonna find an actual rat in that mess."

    "And when I do, I''ll name him Rats Domino."

    "I''m surprised you even know who that is," said Frank.

    "Yeah, well, you can blame Bernard for my knowledge of lame old music."

    The conversation probably could''ve carried on, but it was cut off by the opening of a door within the bunker. The one to the left of the entrance Ayda used swung open. In through it walked a young man with tanned White skin and gentle features. Chestnut hair clung in curls tight to his scalp. He had the build of a Spartan, tall and buff. A plain brown t-shirt and blue jeans concealed his considerable muscle mass. The strap of a green backpack hung off one shoulder.

    "Hey, Cooper," Ayda greeted him as he entered the space.

    "Lookie what I got~," he sang, brandishing a fistful of envelopes on his way over to them.

    "Is that the drug bust from a couple weeks ago," inquired Kindle.

    "No. This," Cooper flicked the envelopes, "is Bleeder."

    "Wait, seriously?" Ayda said.

    "How long as it been? Eight months?" Kindle wondered aloud as Cooper entered the room.

    "Nine," corrected Frank. He accepted an envelope from Cooper.

    "Did they say what took them so long," Elliot asked as he took his own package.

    "Of course not," Cooper denied.

    "That''s what I thought."

    Cooper handed Kindle and Ayda their prizes before standing next to the latter to deal with his own. Ayda tore into her envelope, which was addressed to her real name. Inside were two piece of paper. The first was a deposit slip. The other was the same letter which always accompanied these things, a missive signed by the Mayor''s office thanking them for their service and offering payment in accordance with the Bounty Accord established in 2015. Ayda was about to check the amount of her reward when Frank interrupted.

    "Two-thousand? That''s it?"

    "Well, yeah," Elliot said. "He''s scary, but Bleeder isn''t a pretty weak Neo."

    "Pretty weak my ass! I almost died in that fight."

    "That''s only because you volunteered to be the bait, since ''he can''t really hurt me.''" Cooper did a scarily accurate impression of Frank''s gruff delivery.

    "Give Frank some credit," Elliot interjected. "Bleeder had a hard time getting past his armor."

    "Not hard enough," Frank countered. "I still bled from my eyes. That shit sucks."

    "That''s probably why they paid as much as they did," Kindle said in a much gentler tone. "Usually level threes aren''t worth this much."

    Frank sighed. "I guess I should be glad they pay us at all." He sank a little in his chair and put the check on the left arm.

    Seemingly unfazed, Cooper placed his open envelope, along with two others yet untouched, on the coffee table. They read Rhiannon Lord and Dominick Albrecht, respectively. Cooper slid the backpack from his shoulders to instead grasp it in one hand at his side.

    "Hey, Anna," he began tentatively. "Would you mind helping me with my math homework before we go on patrol, please?"

    "Of course," Kindle replied with a smile. She removed Snowball from her lap and placed him on Ayda''s. The cat looked confused for a moment, but laid down to settle upon his new bed. Ayda gave his back a good scratch.

    "Thanks," Cooper said. He walked with Anna over to the bar.

    "You''re welcome. How did you do on that World Studies test today?"

    "Alright, I think. It wasn''t too difficult."

    "Let''s hope that''s because you actually knew the material, and didn''t just think you did" Anna pulled out a stool. She sat at mostly the same time as Cooper.

    Ayda watched them for a moment before returning her attentions to the gameshow, which had progressed to the next round. A different family had control. Elliot and Frank watched along with her. With everyone occupied with their own tasks, some more involved than others, Ayda let a prevailing sense of calm wash over her. She could think of much worse ways to spend an afternoon than watching stupid television with her friends, especially after a good day''s work.

 Book 2, "Brave New World" CH. 3: Stakeout

    Darkness fell upon the sky above a lonely bridge. Stars twinkled against the cloudless night, unabated by city lights this far away from civilization. Frogs in a nearby pond chirped at the crescent moon, while crickets sang their own song. There was even an owl somewhere far away, its hoot just barely audible. By all definitions, it was a nice night. Perfect for a sting.

    She pressed herself up against a tree, back to the bridge. She looked left, and then right to get a feel for her surroundings, for what little good it did. Night vision wasn''t her specialty. She leaned around the tree to get a good look at the bridge. Faint flashlights were visible, as was the light inside the open back of an SUV, but most of the scene was obscured by the vehicle. She would''ve liked to approach from the opposite side, but there had been no intel about the targets'' positioning prior to arrival. This would have to do. She''d worked with far worse before.

    Idly, she adjusted her clothing. So much jostling against the tree trunk had misaligned her hood. It was standard blue in color, and had an attached mask which covered up her forehead, eyes, and nose. Yellow lenses obscured her irises. Also unusual were the four rings she wore, one on each index and middle finger. A single metal composed each ring; tungsten and iron on the left, gold and titanium on the right. The rest of her outfit was a t-shirt striped horizontally in blue and white, denim overalls, and white sneakers.

    With a sigh, she returned to a neutral position staring out into the little forest section. Her back rested against the trunk with perhaps more weight than necessary. Waiting like this wasn''t so bad, especially if it were necessary for her work, but that didn''t make it any less boring. Serendipitous it was, then, for a distraction to come her way.

    "In position, Alloy," whispered a teenage boy''s voice through the device in her ear.

    "Copy, Flashbang," she emphasized his name to point out the superfluous use of her own. "What do you see?"

    "The deal is definitely in progress. There are four gunmen in total, three men and a woman, assault rifles and sidearms."

    "Well, it is a weapons deal. Makes sense they''d be well armed."

    "That''s not all. Three of the gunmen are on your side of the vehicle watching the forest. The fourth is talking with someone I''m assuming is a Neo."

    "What makes you say that? Is he using his powers?" Allow leaned around her tree to get a better look, and was reminded that she still couldn''t see very well.

    "No, but he looks the part. Purple spandex, a white top hat, one of those stupid short capes to match."

    "Oh, he''s one of those." Alloy rolled her eyes. "Any read on his powers?"

    "No idea. He''s just talking right now. He... kinda looks like a magician?" Flashbang didn''t sound to sure of himself.

    "That doesn''t really narrow it down. I don''t like the idea of moving in against an unknown Neo."

    "Neither do I, but we can''t let this deal go down, either."

    "I know."

    "What''s the plan, then?"

    "Okay." Alloy collected his thoughts for a second. "You go stealth and start moving up. I''ll bull rush the three gunmen to get their attention. Once they move to to engage me, take out the Neo. Do not try to deal with the others. I can handle them."

    "Sounds good," Flashbang said. "I''m moving out."

    "Me too." Alloy slipped from behind her tree and started toward the SUV.

    Her first few steps were at a normal walking pace. She took a deep breath, and broke into a full run. The foliage around here was rather thin, giving her a mostly straight shot at the scene. As she rapidly approached, the shapes of three distinct shadows matted against the backlighting became clearer to her. They most certainly held guns at relaxed positions. The one on the far right was notably shorter than the others.

    The darkness of night covered her approach visually, but did nothing to mask the sound of her feet smashing through the brush. The shadows reacted to her all at roughly the same time. The two on the ends both raised their weapons, while the one in the middle just seemed mildly interested. The leftmost shadow took a few steps forward.

    "Who''s out there?" He shouted, demanding.

    He got his answer when Alloy finally came close enough for the lights to reflect off her. He shouted to his comrades, who all pointed their guns at her. In the same instant, Alloy activated her power. The iron ring on her left index finger glowed briefly emerald green. She smirked and began counting down from thirty.

    The gunmen opened fire, fully automatic bursts from a trio of weapons. Their bullets hit true, but instead of coming into contact with Alloy, the projectiles stopped a hair''s breadth above her skin. Each impact caused a green shimmer to ripple out from the point of impact. The metal smoothed and splintered against the shimmering. All the while, Alloy remained unharmed.

    Seeing their attacks do nothing, the gunmen ceased firing. Alloy took advantage of their lapse in attack. She shoulder checked the leftmost shooter. He was ripped of his feet and collided with the vehicle behind him with enough force to put it up on two wheels for a second. It came back down with quite the ruckus, and the man fell to his hands and knees.

    In that time, Alloy was already moving down the line. The second gunman, the one who had been in the middle, pointed his weapon at her. She grabbed it just behind the front sight post and ripped it from his hands. It landed somewhere in the forest. While he watched it go, Alloy grabbed him behind his bald head and slammed his face through one of the SUV''s back windows. It exploded in a shower of safety glass and blood droplets. His hands flew to his face in a desperate attempt to keep his nose together. Alloy grabbed the back of his windbreaker, spun around, and tossed him toward the trees. He flew for several feet before audibly colliding with a heavy trunk somewhere out of view.

    The woman pulled her trigger. A few shots skittered harmlessly off of Alloy''s aura, producing more verdant ripples. Shrapnel from a destroyed bullet bounced back and grazed the woman''s cheek. She covered the wound just as Alloy closed on her. With one hand, Alloy forced the gun''s muzzle toward the sky. The other delivered an open palm strike to the woman''s sternum. She relinquished the weapon to her attacker and stumbled back a few steps before falling onto her rump. Alloy crimped the barrel with a quick squeeze and tossed the gun away.

    At this point, the first gunman to fall had recovered. Still on one knee, he drew his pistol and opened fire. The bullets did nothing as they failed to penetrate Alloy''s back. She craned her neck around to look at him. Turning around to engage may cause some of his shots to miss, and potentially hit the woman she''d just disarmed. So, instead, she leapt straight backward. She collided spine-first with her attacker. The impact sent him sprawling spread eagle on the ground. Alloy whirled on him and delivered a single punch to his cranium. It was a fraction of a percent of her power, but still knocked him out cold.

    The forth and final gunman rounded the front of the car to at last join the fight. As he did, Alloy felt the strength leave her bones. The man pointed his rifle. Alloy had to act quickly. She channeled her power into the titanium ring on her right middle finger. The world slammed into focus as she became acutely aware of every minute movement around her.

    The shooter began to squeeze his trigger. Before he could, Alloy dashed in and grabbed the barrel of his gun, forcing it off line, toward the SUV. He fired off a single shot. It rattled in her hand, but Alloy kept her grip. She delivered a quick punch to his elbow. The joint hyper extended and his fingers loosened. Alloy tore the gun away and gave him a kidney punch with her free hand. She thrust her newly acquired weapon at him, jabbing him in the stomach with the butt end of it. Alloy punched him in the face, then smacked him across the temple with the gun. While he reeled, Alloy threw it as far into the woods as she could, which was still a considerable distance even without her super strength.

    The freshly recovered female guard charged up behind her with all the delicacy of a rhino. Even without her temporarily enhanced reflexes, Alloy still would''ve seen the attack coming from a mile away. She stepped back and let the woman sail past, taking note of the slender knife in her hand.

    The woman twirled around with a big, broad slash. Alloy stepped back. The blade missed her nose by an inch. It was an impressive attack, given how much taller she was than the knife wielder. Not a surprise, though. She was tall for her gender.

    The criminal stabbed low with her knife. Alloy faded back, away from it. A second thrust came her way. This time, she stepped forward, deflecting her opponent''s wrist with the back of her hand. Now within her guard, Alloy ducked and administered a pair of body shots. She straightened, utilizing the motion to add strength to a right uppercut. The woman stepped back, which put her into the perfect range for Alloy to place a push kick into her small intestine.

    The woman lost her balance and flailed her arms as she faltered backward. She came to rest against the SUV. Alloy closed the distance with a flying superman punch. The back of the woman''s head smacked against the driver''s side window as the punch pushed it back. Alloy followed up with a vicious left hook.

    Before she could follow up, the fourth gunman was back on his feet. He ran at her in an attempt to tackle. Alloy crouched down into a little ball, hugging knees to her chest. The gunman careened into her shrunken form. He tumbled over her back and landed face first into the dirt, where he skidded for a few inches.

    The moment was quick, but gave the female assailant ample time to retaliate. She lashed out with a vicious kick. Her shin made contact with Alloy''s face. Alloy was forced to her feet, amazed her nose hadn''t broken. The woman followed up with a wild haymaker that caught Alloy on the cheek. She thew a second big punch, but Alloy caught it on her wrist well before it made contact. The heroine countered with a swift uppercut, followed by a short jab.

    The world blurred back to its normal bluntness. Her reflexes slowed as the power faded.

    But there was no time to let up. Alloy kicked the woman in the side of her knee. She hunched just slightly as the joint bent at an awkward angle. Alloy drew her arm back and threw a tremendous overhand punch. Her fist made contact with the enemy''s ear. The criminal went down and, though she writhed in dazed pain, did not get back up.

    Alloy channeled into her iron ring. In an instant, she felt as though she could lift a house.

    There was still one opponent to deal with, the final gunman to join the fray. He had managed to roll onto his back and was trying to stand back up. Alloy closed on him. She crouched down low, placing her hands in his armpits. She rose up to lift him off the ground.

    "No, wait¡ª" plead the criminal.

    Alloy wouldn''t listen. Using her entire body for momentum, she slammed his back into the ground. He didn''t even have time to feel pain before losing consciousness.

    She straightened up and took a deep breath. The criminals were all either out cold or too hurt to get back up. She reached into a pocket inside her overalls to grasp a bunch of stasis cuffs. They probably wouldn''t be getting up any time soon, but might as well be thorough. She never even managed to get the cuffs out before a surprised shout cut her off.

    Alloy whipped her head around just in time to see Flashbang fly through the air. Some dark, unnatural force gripped at his chest, obscuring the armored matte black bodysuit he wore. He slammed back-first into the concrete slope underneath the bridge, where the dark force held him aloft. He tried to push himself away to no avail. The two of them locked eyes for a moment. Or, at least, they would have, had his not been obscured by his power. In that moment, Alloy knew there was no time to waste. Her teammate needed her help.Stolen story; please report.

    Using super strength, Alloy leapt over the SUV and pushed off it with enough force to dent the roof. The Neo that Flashbang described had his hand held out. The same dark stuff which held her friend enveloped it. He wore an annoyed look on his face.

    While Alloy''s attack was certainly aggressive, it left something to be desired in subtlety. The Neo turned his head to look at her as she hurtled toward him. He held up his free left hand. Alloy stopped in midair so suddenly her head and limbs continued on forward until they reached their painful limit. She looked down. That weird dark energy clung to her torso. It swirled like waves in a breeze and felt slightly cool through her clothes.

    She gazed at the Neo. He gave her a sneer before swiftly moving his hand in front of him, crossing it over the other. Alloy was flung in the same direction his hand moved. She turned over once in the air before slamming upside-down against the concrete a few feet away from Flashbang. She hit much harder than he had. If not for her super defense, the impact definitely would''ve broken a few bones.

    Only her chest was bound. Alloy grabbed at the energy holding her up. Her hand passed right through it as if it weren''t even there. Whatever this stuff was, it had no corporeal presence. Yet, it still held her up. She could ponder the physical implications of that later.

    Since she couldn''t move the troublesome substance, the only other option was to move herself. She brought both her hands up and then slammed them down to her sides. Her fingers dug into the concrete. Tiny fissures formed around the holes. She bent her elbows and raised her shoulders in an attempt to worm her way down the man-made wall. Her muscles tensed, straining against the force which kept her aloft. The concrete under her palms gave way, leaving her with nothing but two handfuls of the stuff. She could probably manage to move herself eventually, but not against such a flimsy surface.

    The strength left her body. The dark mass felt like a lead weight on her chest.

    Alloy looked over at Flashbang. He seemed to have figured out that he can''t touch the energy, because his efforts to escape were focused solely at scrabbling against the wall. Even without her super strength she was the stronger of the two, so he really had no hope of moving himself. His struggling did give her an idea, though. Neither of them had their arms restrained. Maybe there was a reason for that.

    Alloy channeled into the gold ring on her left index finger. A wave of heat pumped through her body with all the force of a baseball pinch hitter. Rather than painful, it felt good, like she could take on the world.

    Emerald green energy coated her left hand, with the ring as a focal point. She cast out her hand, and the energy shot from it. The amorphous bolt retained its shape as it flew, though it was little more than an undulating mass. The projectile struck the enemy Neo square in the chest.

    The air was forced from his lungs. He bent over and took a single step back. After a quick breath, he punched his open left hand forward. Alloy was slammed further into the concrete. A pained grunt escaped her lips. She could feel the dark mass crushing her, now, as it pushed her back against the unyielding wall. It threatened to break her ribs.

    Green encased her left hand again, and she fired another shot at the Neo. This one took him in the shoulder. He stumbled again, then looked upon her with hatred in his blue eyes. He clenched his right hand into a fist. The dark energy around it dissipated. So, too, did the force holding Flashbang aloft. He dropped the ground on his hands and knees. He activated his power and vanished into thin air.

    Alloy smiled before dark energy took her left hand to pin it fully outstretched against the wall. She couldn''t help but rejoice through the pain of her fingers on the brink of cracking. It was just as she thought; this Neo was rather weak. He could only manipulate small areas.

    She did her best to move her left hand around. The motions were small, but kept her joints from grinding together too much. It was getting hard to breathe. If this went on any further, she''d definitely walk away with a broken rib. Or worse, a collapsed lung. She''d had both before, but really hated the idea of dealing with either again.

    A deep breath in, and then out. That was the important part. If she could breathe, she could fight. Alloy bent her knees and pushed up against the wall, a vain attempt to reposition. The dark energy''s clench was absolute. In, and then out. The Neo tightened his hold on her hand. Alloy gasped, wincing at the pain. She was forced into making a fist, one that compressed her thumb in an awkward angle between her palm and the bridge. Much further, and it would surely dislocate, if not snap entirely.

    Flashbang reappeared behind the Neo. Without a sound, the teenager put a hand over each of the Neo''s eyes. Several flashes of impossibly bright light burst in rapid succession, straight into the would-be magician''s pupils. The Neo cried out in surprise and pain. He tossed his arms out behind him, caring not for form nor function. Darkness took Flashbang''s chest and thighs and he shot backward, landing somewhere in the woods, but his goal had been achieved. Alloy dropped, no longer effected by the enemy. She twisted around landed on her feet with a deep bend of her knees.

    The moment she recovered, Alloy bolted. She ran full bore, straight at the Neo. He was doubled over, rubbing his eyes with a strained expression. Good. All the easier to take him out, then.

    Halfway there, Alloy felt the heat leave her body. She wasted zero time in channeling through her iron ring. Strength coursed through her veins.

    The distance between them closed. Alloy bent down and grabbed the Neo by the throat. She heaved him up to a full extension of her arm, and slammed him back down. His only reaction was to give a painful wheeze. Unseeing eyes darted around in a vain attempt to figure out what just happened to him. He wouldn''t get the chance. Alloy produced a stasis cuff from her overalls and slipped it around his wrist. A red scan outlined his nervous system. A second later, his arms snapped to his sides and his boots clacked together. Only his eyes were allowed to move, not that they did him any good. He was well and truly restrained.

    Alloy stood up and looked around. The Neo was down, and none of the other thugs had gotten up that she could tell. Everything was secure. She peered off into the sparse woods trying to spot her teammate, though she couldn''t see much beyond the light around the SUV. She pressed her communication device a bit deeper into her ear before speaking.

    "Are you alright, Flashbang?" She gave him a second to respond. He didn''t. "Flashbang?" Again, nothing. Panic set in. She took a step toward where he''d disappeared. "Hey, F.B, are you¡ª"

    "Yeah," Flashbang''s voice cut her off. "Yeah, sorry, I''m here. Had to peel myself off a tree."

    "Are you okay?"

    "Yeah, I''m good."

    "Good." Alloy breathed a mental sigh of relief. "I''m gonna restrain the guys around the car. I threw one of them into the woods. Could you go look for him?"

    "Sure, I''ll find him."

    "Thanks." Alloy began walking around the back of the SUV. "I''d do it myself, but I can''t see in the dark."

    "I got it, no problem."

    Alloy rounded the vehicle and took a few seconds to survey the destruction she''d wrought. With a broken window and caved in door, it would need a fair amount of work before whatever company repossessed it could make it into a successful auction sale.

    The three mooks she''d disabled were still on the ground, two of whom were unconscious while the only woman amongst them gave little motions every now and then. Alloy sighed. These three could''ve joined the military, or something, and actually contributed to society. Instead, they chose lives of crime. Such wasted potential.

    Alloy strode forward, extracting three more stasis cuffs as she went. The last enemy to join the fray was the first to be restrained. Kinda poetic, that. The heroine slipped the device onto his wrist. His nervous system flashed, and his body went stiff.

    Next she moved on to the woman, who was currently laying on her front more or less like she''d left her. This one was still awake, so Alloy was extra careful as she stood above her.

    "Try not to move. It''ll hurt if you struggle." Alloy took the woman''s wrist in a gentle grasp.

    "Don''t touch me, bitch!" The woman thrashed her arm about. Alloy allowed her grip to be broken. She could''ve tightened her grasp, but that risked hurting her charge more than she already had been. No need to be unnecessarily cruel.

    "I''m sorry things turned out like this, but¡ª"

    "No you''re not," the woman cut Alloy off. "You get off on this shit, just like every other freak in a mask."

    Alloy kept her tone even. "I''m only here because I have to be. I don''t like fighting."

    "Yeah? Bullshit." The woman turned over just enough to look at Alloy with a bruised eye. "No one''s forcing you to be here. You love your job, even if you won''t admit it."

    Alloy sighed. "I know I can''t convince you, but I mean what I said."

    "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say." The woman faced forward. "Whore."

    Alloy rolled her eyes. This wasn''t the first time she''d heard something like this, and it certainly wouldn''t be the last. The strength left her, and she didn''t replace it with anything. This time, when she grabbed the woman''s wrist, she was not shaken off. The stasis cuff went on, and the woman went rigid.

    Finally, Alloy moved to the first gunman. Though the woman had suffered the worst beating, this guy clearly had the most severe injury. His left collarbone was quite clearly broken. Alloy very carefully laid his arm by his side so the stasis cuff wouldn''t exacerbate his wound too badly.

    "Hey, Alloy?" Flashbang said in her ear.

    "What''s up?" She responded while cuffing the gunman. He went rigid.

    "I''m sorry things didn''t go as planned."

    "What do you mean?" Alloy began to walk around to the other side of the SUV.

    "I mean, I let that villain get the better of me," Flashbang clarified. "He must''ve heard me coming up behind him, or something. I fought him off for a little bit, but he got me. Sorry for dropping the ball."

    "Don''t apologize." Alloy leaned up against the passenger side door. "You kept him busy while I dealt with the others, and then you helped me take him down. That''s a win, in my book."

    "Yeah, but¡ª"

    "No buts. The plan mostly worked, and that''s good enough for me. You did good today. And on the whole mission, really."

    "Okay. Thanks, Rio."

    She smiled. "You''re welcome. Careful with the name, though."

    "It''s not like Rio is your real name. Besides, this guy''s knocked out. I don''t think he heard me."

    "You found the guy I threw?"

    "Yeah. I''ve already cuffed him. We''re coming back now."

    "Alright. Let me know if you need any help."

    "Sure."

    With a slow breath out, Alloy looked up at the stars. That Neo really threw a monkey wrench into the plan, but it had been an excellent sting, all things considered. It wasn''t quite over yet, though. There was still one more thing to do, and it would be a lengthy process.

    ¡­

    They''d waited about forty-five minutes, give or take, but probably more on the give side. A cavalcade of tired looking men and some women roamed around the crime scene, bathed in oscillations of red and blue light. Some wore police uniforms, while a few others came dressed in modest suits. The area was more lit up than before, giving Alloy a better view of the forest around her.

    Alloy stood off to one side of where most of the activity took place. The police and investigators milled about, doing this or that, all working together to secure the scene in a way both succinct and thorough. She admitted to no envy for their part of the job. It seemed much more complex than what she did. Police and heroes were professionals in their own fields. Though separate, when their work came together, the results were undeniable.

    She paid special attention to the officers placing the criminals in the backs of squad cars, just on the off chance something went wrong. They had to be carried, which made actually putting them in the seats a two person job. Still, the stasis was better than regular handcuffs, which presented the possibility of escape.

    The white hat wearing Neo had already been put away. Alloy could see the car he''d been placed in. Through the back window she kept an eye on him. He was still motionless, and would remain that way. She was aware that this was mostly paranoia on her part. A dominate part of her felt the job wasn''t truly done until the perpetrators had been removed from the scene, a view her teammates mostly shared, though a few were a bit more lax than others.

    Flashbang stood in a random patch of grass giving a statement to a detective who diligently scratched notes on a memo pad. The detective shifted his balance from one foot to the other. A second later, he made an unnecessary adjustment to his suit jacket. He was visibly uncomfortable. Flashbang often had that effect on people. Playing with the light to make his face appear as nothing more than a flat expanse of African-American skin was pretty cool, but also disconcerting to look at. It gave villains pause, though, which was a good thing.

    Alloy was aware of someone approaching from her right side. She turned and gave a friendly smile. It was someone she recognized, an older woman in a gray suit and brown trench coat that didn''t really match. Gray had taken her wavy hair long ago. Square jawed and brown eyed, she was still pretty for her age, and walked in a way that demanded respect.

    "Detective Thain," Alloy greeted with a slight incline of her head. "Are you here for a statement?"

    "No, I''ll make one of my subordinates do that," Denied the detective. "I wanted to thank you, personally, for everything you''ve done for us."

    "It''s no problem." Alloy batted the notion away. "We''re happy to help in whatever way we can."

    "Help is an understatement. When Halberdier got hurt, I expected the worst. You two have been a godsend these past few weeks."

    "We''re just doing our job."

    "The brass tells me this is your last night here."

    "That''s the plan, yeah. We can always stay longer, if you need us."

    "No," Detective Thain shook her head. "Thank you for offering, but we''re fine. Halberdier is ready to get back out there."

    "Did you talk to him?"

    "Not personally, but the higher-ups did. They said he''s almost completely healed and eager to resume his duties."

    "That''s good," Alloy said. "I''ll have to follow up with him later. My higher-ups are interested in keeping an open line of communication with him."

    "I think that''s a good idea," agreed Thain. "He can usually handle things on his own, but it''d be good to have your team to rely on if something big comes up."

    "We''re happy to assist whenever you need us."

    "And the city of Corpus Christi thanks you for your assistance."

    "Of course." Alloy nodded.

    "I''ll find someone to take a statement from you." With that, the detective walked away toward a group of officers apparently discussing some piece of evidence.

    Alloy rolled her eyes. She didn''t really understand why Detective Thain couldn''t just take her statement, but she guessed that was just the chain of command in action.

    She shared a glance with Flashbang, who was done speaking with his own detective. She gave him a quick smile, and she assumed he returned the sentiment, even though she couldn''t actually see his expression. He had every right to be happy. They both did. It had been a good three weeks of work, of helping a city that needed them. Still, the idea of sleeping in her own bed was quite appealing. She couldn''t wait to get home.

 Book 2, "Brave New World" CH. 4: Morning Meetings

    Ayda awoke from a deep and dreamless sleep, the kind that could only come after a good day. She was vaguely aware of laying on her side, only notable because she''d fallen asleep on her back. A long exhale passed her nose. She always had trouble telling how much time had passed since she last was awake. It could''ve been five minutes or five hours, for all she knew.

    As such, the first move she made was for her phone. It rest in an open drawer beneath her bunk. A bit of fumbling through the dark brought it to her hand. She brought it to her face and turned on the display, squinting at the sudden bright light. A groan rumbled deep in her throat. 6:57, three minutes before her alarm.

    Ayda rolled onto her back, phone cradled to her chest in one hand. Part of her contemplated using those three minutes for sleep. She needed her energy, after all. But, no. That wouldn''t be very efficient of her. What difference would three minutes make? One eye opened to check the time again. 6:58. With a sigh, Ayda coaxed herself from bed.

    Bare feet hit the grey carpeted floor. The fabric of her pale blue pajama shorts swayed just slightly as she crossed what was one of four bunk rooms in her team''s underground lair. They were each the same, square spaces with twelve beds each. The cubicles were stacked two high, four on the left, right, and far walls. Her chosen bunk was on the bottom in the far corner along the left. It was the only one disturbed.

    She put a well-worn purple hoodie¡ªcomplete with frayed cuffs and a hole in the right armpit¡ªover her thick grey tank top and opened up the door. There was no hallway. Instead, the bunks opened right up into the expansive living room. The moment Ayda stepped into it, her nose was assaulted by the smell of breakfast. With a yawn, she followed the smell. The person she found in the kitchen was not who she expected, yet it was a pleasant discovery all the same.

    "Rio?" She said, sounding more tired than she felt. The woman standing before the stove looked over her shoulder with a smile.

    "Hey, good morning."

    Rhiannon Lord had an ovular face with strong cheek bones. Curtains of wavy hair naturally colored a pale metallic blue fell just past her shoulders. Most striking were her eyes, so light blue they appeared to glow pure white from a distance. A couple inches taller than Ayda herself and with a slim build, the only word Ayda could really think of to describe Rio was pretty. While no one would ever call her unattractive, she wouldn''t be modeling for Victoria''s Secret anytime soon.

    "When did you get back?" Ayda rubbed a bit of the sleep from her right eye.

    "Just a couple hours ago, around five," responded Rio simply.

    "Is your strength up?"

    "No."

    "Can I hug you?"

    Rio smiled again. "Sure."

    Ayda crossed the room. Rio opened her arms just in time for them to embrace. Her grip was weak, almost tentative. Ayda gave a quick squeeze, but lingered only a second before letting go. She stepped out of Rio''s personal space.

    "Pancakes?" She said, peering around her friend at the long griddle pan on the stove.

    "Strawberry pancakes, your favorite." Rio turned back to her cooking to flip one of the confections, though it looked already cooked on either side.

    "You''re too good to me." Ayda sniped one of the thin strawberry slices next to the stove and quickly plopped it into her mouth.

    "I really am."

    "Did you say hi to Top-Down?" Ayda said before swallowing.

    "I popped my head in, but didn''t stay long. You know how she is about being interrupted."

    "Yeah, she''s worse than Elliot, there, and that''s saying something."

    "Speaking of Valerie..." Rio placed a pair of plain pancakes on a plate on the counter to her left. "Would you mind finishing these up and bringing them to her?"

    "Of course."

    Ayda stepped up to the counter next to her teammate. She grabbed a knife and opened up a tub of margarine. Valerie didn''t have the biggest sweet tooth, and as such liked her pancakes mostly dry. Ayda applied a thin layer of imitation butter, and even less syrup. A fork from the drawer was the finishing touch.

    When that was done, she picked up the square black plate and went down the short hall, where she stopped outside the closed war room door. She leaned in close to it and gave a duo of sharp knocks.

    "Val? Rio made pancakes. I brought you some."

    "Okay, come in," called a muffled voice from the other side. Ayda opened the door and passed the threshold.

    Sitting before the impressive array of monitors was a Mexican woman in her late thirties, her slick black hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was rather average in terms of looks and build, and her dark brown eyes burned with an ever-present intensity.

    "Here you go." Ayda said as she stepped up to Valerie''s left, more to announce her presence than anything else.

    "Thanks," Valerie said as the plate was placed down on the expansive desk.

    "Everything alright so far?" Ayda straightened up only enough to peer over Valerie''s shoulder.

    "It''s been quiet tonight," Valerie confirmed. "Kindle is managing just fine on her own."

    "That''s good. This should be the last day of solo patrols now that Rio and Dominick are back."

    "Yeah."

    "Alright, well, I''ll leave you to it." Ayda stood up and began to leave.

    "Thanks. Tell Rio thanks, too." Valerie called after her, hefting the plate for emphasis.

    "I will," said Ayda without looking back. She closed the door on her way out.

    Ayda re-entered the kitchen to find Rio pouring the last of four portions of batter onto the griddle. The taller woman began meticulously placing strawberries on them.

    "Val says ''thanks,''" reported Ayda.

    "You''re welcome," Rio called, more than loud enough for Valerie to hear.

    There came a few seconds of silence as each woman allowed the atmosphere to settle a bit.

    "So, how''d the mission go?" Ayda asked, coming to stand at Rio''s left.

    "Other than having it be extended for a week, it went really well," said Rio.

    "Was there any difficulty with that? The extension?" Ayda added.

    "Flashbang''s parents weren''t happy, but they didn''t try to stop him."

    "Not that they could''ve, anyway. They know they can''t overrule NAAME."

    "I think they only tried because this one wasn''t a mandatory assignment," observed Rio.

    "Maybe," Ayda shrugged.

    "Dominick was excited, though. He really wants to prove himself."

    "Is he here right now?" Ayda turned her head left to look around the living room, just in case she''d somehow missed him.

    "No. He asked me to take him home, and I was more than happy to." Rio smiled. "He was determined to stay awake and keep me company, but he fell asleep about halfway here."

    "That''s adorable."

    "You have no idea." Rio checked one of the pancakes before flipping it. This led to the others being turned over within a few seconds of each other.

    "How did he do?" Ayda asked while her friend flipped.

    "Ayda, he was incredible. I barely recognized him, at times." Rio said.

    "That good?" Ayda raised an eyebrow.

    "He had one little slip up near the end, but that''s it, and I think it was exhaustion more than anything else. You can tell he''s still a bit green, but he''s improved so much from when he first joined. He was always on time, stayed focused in the action, followed the plans and even came up with a few himself, and held his own in combat. I was surprised, in the best possible way."

    "Impressive," Ayda nodded. "I''ll have to follow up with him later."

    "If I have any criticism, it''s that he struggled a bit with the methods in Corpus, but that''s not his fault. Halberdier doesn''t have an intel team, so the way they do things is a bit different."

    "Can''t really blame him, either," Ayda said. "He wasn''t around before we got the bunker."

    "He''s lucky. Do you remember how difficult it was to organize ourselves before?"

    Ayda groaned. "Don''t remind me. We barely all fit in Elliot''s living room." Ayda turned around and leaned back against the counter.

    "Hard to believe we''ve only had this place for eight months."

    "It''s made things easier, that''s for sure."

    There were still a few strawberry slices left on the place, which Ayda helped herself to. She held the plate in one hand to eat with the other.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    "There won''t be enough for more pancakes if you eat all of those," cautioned Rio.

    "It''s fine. Strawberry pancakes are good, but rich. I don''t think I could eat more than two."

    "I probably could."

    "Oh." Ayda looked at the one remaining slice on her plate. "Sorry."

    "Don''t worry about it. It''s just fruit." Rio gave her best reassuring grin. Even so, Ayda neglected to finish off the last few slices. She put the plate back down behind her.

    "Did you file your report yet?" She changed the subject.

    "Not yet," denied Rio. "I typed it up while you were sleeping, but I didn''t have time to go over it. Three weeks is a long time, and I don''t want to miss anything."

    "That''s fine, no rush. Whenever you have time."

    A few seconds squeaked by in silence. The scent of hot batter mixing with the warm acidity from the fresh fruit threatened to make Ayda''s mouth water. She was hungry, but hadn''t realized just how much until right then.

    Something warm and furry rubbed none-too-gently against her leg. Ayda smiled and looked down at the white cat trying to get her attention.

    "Good morning, Snowball." She bent down to pet him. He meowed at her. "Did Rio feed you yet?"

    "It''s literally the first thing I did," said Rio. "He wouldn''t leave me alone until I filled his bowl." A pair of knobs on the stove clicked as she turned them off. "These are done."

    "That''s a good boy." Ayda spared one last pleasantry for the cat before straightening up.

    She held an empty plate as Alloy piled two pancakes one atop the other. Ayda then set it aside so Rio could get at the one beneath it. Breakfast looked heavenly, cooked to a perfect golden brown with big pieces of strawberry lightly caramelized around the edges. Rio''s cooking always came out excellent. Ayda couldn''t wait to dig in.

    ¡­

    Cooper sat on a long, cream-colored couch. A big green screen behind him done up to look like a window showed a loop of a busy downtown city street. Of course, he could only see this through the monitors in front of him. If he turned around, it was only green. The couch was filmed in a way to make it appear closer to the fake window than it actually was.

    He was in costume. The most striking bit was his helmet, a Corinthian design that came to the slightest of points on the top before sloping straight down into long cheek guards which stopped well past his jaw. A long strip, flared at the end, dripped between two ovular eye sockets to protect his nose. The eye holes weren''t fully closed, and instead formed on their inside edges into the aforementioned cheek pieces, leaving a slot down the middle for his mouth and clean shaven chin.

    The rest of his outfit was simpler. His chest was bare save for the pair of criss-crossing leather strips which slung over his shoulder and attached to his tight brown cloth trousers. The broad shoulders and bristling muscle left exposed drew more than a few gazes. Bronze schynbalds protected him from the knee down. They were strapped over leather boots that matched the pants. His weapons had been stored behind the couch so they didn''t ruin the shot.

    Cooper was far from alone in the room. There were four people on the couch, including him. To his left were two women in their forties, one of them Asian, and the other Caucasian with dark hair, Jasmine and Kelly respectively. To his right was an older African-American man¡ªHarold¡ªhis hair taken completely by grey. They were, all three of them, dressed smartly.

    Along with the monitors showing the manufactured commotion behind him, there was also an array of equipment and people. Operators pointed big cameras at him. Three producers sat in chairs supervising the action. As Cooper watched these folks run around, he realized he had no idea what most of them did. He was sure they all were integral, but what role they actually served escaped him. But, he was the hired talent. The particulars weren''t really his concern.

    He took a long breath in, allowing a menagerie of scents to enter his nostrils. Most of what he smelled was cheap cologne, perfume, and deodorant, with just a hint of fabric softener. The male host had chosen a plain bagel with cream cheese for breakfast, the latter a vegan brand judging by the amount of chemicals in it. One of the cameramen had a half eaten bag of warm Skittles in his left front pocket. Three of the women on set carried pepper spray on their person. One of the producers had a pistol on him. What Cooper actually smelled, there, was the gunpowder. The weapon itself had no residual gunk and the oil was pristine, indicating it had never been fired.

    All of these observations may have seemed small, but they revealed possibly usable information on the people around him. A person''s diet or choice of soap said just as much about them as their fashion sense. These things helped him read the room and gave a more exact picture of who he was dealing with.

    If he had a watch, he would''ve checked it. Things were beginning to settle behind the scenes. His prior experience taught him that meant it was almost showtime. He sat a bit straighter, unnecessarily adjusted his helmet. It was important to put a good foot forward.

    Cooper heard the male host lean in a bit closer, felt the air swirl as his torso moved through it.

    "You ready?" Asked Harold.

    "Yeah." Cooper nodded. Harold went back to his original position.

    "Alright, people, we''re on in ten!" Shouted the executive producer a second later.

    Cooper noted it wasn''t the director shouting the orders, though that probably meant nothing. He made one final adjustment to his posture. Time to go.

    The executive producer held up three fingers. He counted down two, then one, and pointed at the couch. A red light on the center camera¡ªthe one with the wide shot¡ªflickered on. Kelly gave a brief pause before speaking up.

    "Welcome back to Good Morning El Puerto! It is currently eight o''clock on your Monday morning. Here at the top of our second hour, it''s finally time to introduce our guest. I''m sure you all know him by now. He''s a superhero, a member of an official NAAME team, and one of the defenders of El Puero. Please welcome Bronze Knight to the show!"

    The crew clapped and cheered to make it seem like there was a live studio audience. Cooper waved at two random points in the room to make viewers think he was waving at the crowd which didn''t exist.

    "Bronze Knight, I''m so glad you could join us," Kelly said.

    "The honor is all yours," Cooper responded simply. His joke was eaten up by the moment, but he thought it was rather clever.

    "It''s your first time on the show, if I''m not mistaken," said Jasmine.

    "It is," Cooper confirmed. "I''ve done talk shows in the past, but never one this early."

    "I hope you didn''t have any trouble getting out of bed," Harold joked.

    "Don''t worry about it. I just got done with my turn on the late night patrol, so I would''ve been up at this time, anyway."

    "That''s an interesting part of your operation, the way you conduct your patrols," Harold said.

    "I think most people would say the Neo fights are more interesting than our schedules," countered Cooper.

    "Even so, I don''t think most folks consider the logistical side of superheroing."

    "You''d be surprised. There are some very... dedicated fans on the internet."

    "Your team has changed a bit over the years," Jasmine interjected. "Has that effected the way you operate?"

    "It has," Cooper nodded. "I wasn''t around for most of it, but it was just Pulse, Flechette, and Alloy for about a year before Kindle and I showed up. The system we have in place now works pretty well, I''d say, but it differs from team to team. We''re lucky to have an even number."

    "And do you receive any guidance in that area?" Kelly asked.

    "No. The specifics of that sort of thing are left up to the teams, but NAAME does have advisers if a team needs help in any certain area."

    "How much authority does NAAME have over each individual team?" Kelly continued. "Do you have to wait for permission to take on certain threats? Do you have an agent assigned to your team?"

    "No and no," denied Cooper. "All of this information is out there if anyone wants to know more, but NAAME teams are largely independent. We set our own schedules, decide our own command structure, determine when and how to deal with individual situations, and even build our own rosters. NAAME sometimes steps in to give us specific missions, but we mostly operate alone."

    "Is that what happened recently?"

    "Are you talking about the away mission Alloy and Flashbang went on?"

    "Yes, I am."

    "I thought so." Cooper paused for a second, collecting his thoughts. "Yes and no. Corpus Christi reached out to NAAME for assistance, and we were asked to help. It wasn''t an order, though. We could''ve said no, and then they''d have found another team. Not that we would have, of course.

    "There''s actually an interesting side to that," he continued. "We weren''t originally going to announce the away mission at all, but people started catching on. Someone posted on Reddit that Alloy hadn''t been seen for a week. From there, the theories got a little out of hand."

    "Out of hand how?" Asked Harold.

    "There were the obvious ones, like she''d died or been injured. Some were more tame, like she was just taking time off. Others thought she''d gone villain, or been force to transfer, or had some falling out with the team, all of which are completely ridiculous." He forced a chuckle to keep a light atmosphere. "Eventually, Pulse decided it was best to just tell people what was going on."

    "That must''ve put you in a difficult situation."

    "It did. The criminals knew we were a bit weaker, but most of them remembered how we kicked their butts with just four people in the past. The uptick in crime wasn''t nearly as bad as I expected, which is good." Cooper put a perhaps undue emphasis on that last part. If it came off as a veiled threat to some unsavory individuals, then he wasn''t really responsible for how they interpreted things.

    "Definitely," said Harold.

    There was a short pause, just long enough to let everyone¡ªincluding the audience¡ªknow this conversation was over.

    "So," Jasmine began. "Let''s talk powers for a moment."

    "Alright." Cooper nodded.

    "I think it''s safe to say you''re the most mysterious member of the team."

    "I''m not sure that''s true, but okay."

    "Well, who would you say is the most mysterious,then?"

    "I think Flashbang is the obvious answer. I mean, you can''t even see him most of the time. It doesn''t get much more mysterious than that." Cooper hoped his slight annoyance with the current topic was obvious.

    "True, but it''s not really clear what your power even is." Jasmine pressed.

    "Again, I''m not sure that''s true, but okay."

    "Could you explain a bit about what you do?" And there it was, the question he saw coming from a mile away.

    "No, I can''t," Cooper flatly denied. "I''m sorry for getting snippy, but I hope you understand why I can''t give out the specifics of my power, especially not in a public forum like this."

    "No, I get it. Sorry I asked."

    "It''s fine. I know you''re curious. There are just some things I can''t talk about. For security reasons, and all that."

    "Well," Harold said. "One thing I hope you can talk about is your fitness regimen."

    "My what?" Cooper honestly hadn''t been expecting that question.

    "You''re a strapping young lad-"

    "Thank you."

    "-and I''ve noticed plenty of people wondering how you stay fit. Do you train?"

    "No, I prefer cars."

    There was a silence as the joke hung in the air, followed by laughter. Real, genuine laughter, not the fake kind so very common on these kinds of shows. Even if surely some of it was out of pity, the fact that he''d caused such a reaction made him feel better about the interview.

    "But, seriously," he continued. "Yes, I do work out a bit, but chasing criminals all around town keeps me in pretty good shape regardless."

    "I imagine it would," agreed Harold.

    Cooper was about to say more, but his train of though was interrupted to a series of mechanical clicks and whirs, interspersed with small jolts of electricity. They were faint enough to be indistinguishable to any normal person, but his ears picked them up just fine.

    "Hold on," he said, digging in his pocket. "I just got a text, and I think I know exactly what it is..." He held the phone up to his face and opened the message. "Yep. It''s Pulse yelling at me for that joke. She says: ''Goddammit, real name, that was physically painful,'' followed by an unimpressed emoji."

    More laughter, which Cooper this time joined in on.

    "And, I''m probably about to get another angry text for outing her." He allowed a few seconds to slip by, more than long enough for his teammate''s deft fingers to shoot him another message. When she didn''t his smile widened. "Nope, she''s not gonna do it, now that we''re on to her. I''m sure I''ll hear about it later." He began to put his phone away.

    "We should see about getting Pulse on the show again," said Kelly. "She''s always a blast to have around."

    "In more ways than one," agreed Cooper with a chuckle.

    "You guys all seem to get along so well," Kelly added. "It must be great to work with your friends every day."

    "It really is," Cooper said. "We don''t always get along, of course, but that''s normal with any group of people. We''re all friends, and we always have each other''s backs."

    "I''m sure I speak for everyone when I say it''s nice to know the people fighting for us aren''t fighting each other, too." Maybe a bit of a bold statement from Kelly, but one Cooper couldn''t disagree with.

    "I think this is a great time to play our clip," Jasmine said.

    "Great idea," Kelly said. "You''ve probably seen this before, Bronze Knight. It''s the cell phone video of you fighting off some guys robbing and old woman."

    "I have seen it. Great stuff, but I may be a little biased."

    "It is pretty cool. Why don''t we give it a watch and then talk a bit about it?" Kelly smiled into the wide shot camera until the red light went out, when she promptly returned to a neutral expression.

    The footage played on the monitors, but Cooper ignored it. Why watch it for the umpteenth time when he''d lived it? He was glad for the momentary reprieve, but still somewhat dreaded that he had roughly twenty more minutes left of this.

    It wasn''t the conversation or the people that bothered him, but rather the production behind it. Even if the show wasn''t scripted, it seemed a bit forced. There were things he couldn''t say, talking points the producers wanted them to hit, and a bunch of other things he''d rather not think about. But, appearances like this worked wonders for his team''s public relations. If it got more people to trust him, and reminded the criminals that he was always around, Cooper would do a thousand talk shows.

 Book 2, "Brave New World" CH. 5: Takes All Kinds

    Ayda reclined on her bunk, legs outstretched atop the sheets, laptop on her thighs. She''d just returned from her morning patrol, and as such hadn''t bothered to change out of her costume yet. The only pieces missing were her jacket which hung on a peg by the entrance, and her boots because putting dirty footwear on her bed was out of the question.

    She clicked idly through internet browser tabs for a moment. A cute cat picture on Facebook brought a smile to her lips. She contemplated reacting to it for a moment, before deciding against it. It wasn''t a platform she used very often. At this point, any action at all usually brought a fair bit of attention her way. Dealing with that wasn''t on the docket for the day.

    A click brought her to Youtube. This was one of the few remaining accounts that was still private and personal, not yet taken over by her public persona. She refreshed the page, and followed up with a sigh seconds later. None of her subscriptions had posted anything new. Well, anything interesting, anyway.

    Wednesdays were always slow in terms of things to do, in her experience. It had been two days since Dominick and Rio returned. The former and Kindle would be on patrol right now, with Elliot on overwatch. Part of Ayda wanted to go spend time in the war room with her best friend. Even if she were just doing the same internet browsing with him, being in his presence would be nice. But, she also knew it wasn''t right to distract him from working. They''d have plenty of time to hang out later.

    Ayda rubbed her right eye. With the left, she peered at the tab for Reddit. All this web surfing around other places was just a distraction. More simply, she was procrastinating. The hand which rubbed her eye settled back onto the keyboard. The entire reason she''d wanted to tackle Reddit right then was because her patrol just ended. Part of her was still in work mode. However, another part of her just wanted to do nothing. It wasn''t even that she disliked the website. It was often the highlight of her non-hero hours. She just had occasional difficulty with laziness, like any other functioning person. With a burst of resolve, she clicked on the Reddit tab.

    Doing so brought her not to the homepage, but to a subreddit, a community place made and maintained by other Reddit users, focused on a specific topic or kind of content. This one was hers. Named r/Pulse, it was dedicated to discussion about Pulse and the rest of the El Puerto team. It had well over four million subscribers. This was one of the biggest landing pads for fans of hers, and the primary way she interacted with the public at large, mostly because she outright refused to use Tumblr.

    Ayda clicked on the word "new" and the threads became sorted by the most recent. The very first one, posted fifteen minutes ago, required her attention, but not in a necessarily positive way. Just by the preview image, she could tell it didn''t belong. Ayda sent a quick message to the subreddit''s moderators before handling it herself.

    She opened the thread. It was an image macro of a guy wearing a viking helmet, using a mop to paddle a milk crate through a flooded basement laundry room. The poster had taken Flint''s mugshot and shopped that face over the original person''s face. The result was a comically large head that didn''t really fit on the body. White text on the image read "Rob a bank, they said. It''ll be fun, they said."

    Ayda typed up the first and only comment in the thread, which read:

    PulseOfficial:I hate to do this because Laundry Room Viking is one of my favorite memes, but I have to delete this post. Memes and other kinds of low-effort content are not allowed on r/Pulse. They dominate the landscape and push out more important threads. This subreddit is dedicated to more serious questions and discussions about my team and I, and updates from me.

    Don''t worry, though. If you want to share your meme, then you''re more than welcome to do so over on r/PulseFans. That sub is for more lighthearted discussions and content. I''m just as active over there as I am here, and it actually sees more submissions than this sub.

    She gave the comment a quick once-over before submitting it. Then, she closed the thread. The poster would still get a notification and be able to read the comment, but the thread would not appear in the subreddit anymore. The guilt Ayda usually felt for deleting a thread washed over her. This person just wanted to engage with her and the large community of fans. They went about it in the wrong way, but that didn''t make them bad. Ayda hoped they posted on r/PulseFans.

    Ayda returned to the new section and scrolled through the posts. The first page was mostly fanart and discussion threads about heroes and villains. There were a few talking about a recent convenience store robbery Bronze Knight stopped. Two spoke about the away mission to Corpus Christi, which was starting to become old news. Some threads were direct questions posed to her teammates, but none for her specifically. Ayda enjoyed the fact that she didn''t dominate the sub. More involvement from the others helped paint her team in a positive light.

    In all, this subreddit didn''t see as much activity as it used to three years ago. A lot of the serious conversations about Neos and their presence in the world were still ongoing, but there were other, more general communities which usually caught those nowadays. R/Pulse was a bit too narrow in scope for that sort of thing. Reddit was pretty good at self-regulating in that regard, compared to other websites.

    Discussion would spring up any time her team was in the news, or if a villain did something particularly heinous, but the place was pretty tame more often than not. The overwhelming majority of posts didn''t require her attention, and were best left to the community to discuss amongst themselves.

    When Ayda moved on to the next page, the posts were already a few hours old. The third one down caught her attention, both for the thread itself as well as the poster''s interesting username.

    SuspiciousColander:This one goes out to any member of the team who can''t fly (so, not Kindle). I had a thought the other day. I follow the El Puerto team pretty closely and, unless I''m mistaken, they''ve never had to deal with a flying Neo. Am I correct? If so, how would you go about it?

    It was rare to have an inquiry about the tactical side of heroing. Most people probably didn''t think that hard about it. This particular thread had a few responses, but they were speculations from unpowered individuals. Ayda typed up her own.

    PulseOfficial:Firstly, you''re correct that none of us have had to fight a flier yet. It''s something I''ve given a lot of consideration to. I''ve run quite a few scenarios in our training room for this very thing. Ideally, Kindle would be around to assist. If not, I''d have to bank on the fact that they have to get close to attack, and use my reflexes to hit them first. It''s a lot more difficult if they have a gun or some kind of projectile power. I''m pretty good at throwing stuff, but it''s well known I don''t have much in terms of ranged attacks. I don''t wanna get too far into tactical stuff in public like this. I wanted you, and everyone else, to know I''m prepared for any given situation.

    That one ended up a bit longer than expected. Ayda read it over a couple times to see if there was any way to shorten it, but found none. A third check to pick out any spelling errors, and she submitted it. Something like this had the potential to spawn a lot of further debate. She''d have to keep an eye on it.

    In the meantime, she clicked back to the previous page. Another topic caught her eye not far from the previous. It had no comments yet. The second page was a goldmine, it seemed. She clicked on it.

    CoffeeGirl:Just a quick question for Birdseye. I know the intel team deals with overwatch type things like tracking baddies and listening to police chatter, but what else do you do? How many hats does the intel team wear?

    Ayda quickly typed her response.

    PulseOfficial:More of this. The intel team rarely gets any questions around here, and it''s a shame. They''re just as important as the field operatives. They deserve more recognition.

    I''ll let Birdseye know he has a question. He loves interacting with the fans, so I''m sure he''ll be thrilled.

    Ayda clicked back to again to resume the hunt for more things to post. Her previous assessment about the second page proved untrue, as there was nothing else interesting. So, she moved on to the third. A few threads at the bottom of the previous page carried over, meaning there were brand new submissions. She''d have to take a look at them a bit later.

    "Hey," a voice interrupted her train of thought.

    Ayda looked up to find someone standing in the entrance to the room. Crypto¡ªBrian¡ªwas the third member of the intel team, and the last of them to join up. He was a heavyset gentleman fresh out of college with curly blonde hair, and thick beard to match, and rectangular eyeglasses. He wore an open blue windbreaker over a black t-shirt and pale jeans.

    "I''m heading out," Brian said in his signature soft-spoken tone.

    "I was wondering if you''d left yet," commented Ayda.

    "Yeah, no. Elliot brought that new monitor with him today, so I set that up while he worked, and then we talked for a few minutes." He spoke as if explaining something to his manager.

    "Alright, that''s fine. Good work today." Ayda kept her tone gentle.

    "You, too. See ya tomorrow."

    "See ya," Ayda returned. Brian began to leave. "Wait, hold on!" She called after him. He pause and returned to where he was just standing. Ayda put her laptop aside on the mattress and began rummaging through one of the drawers below it. She found her quarry in short order and stood up to bring it to him.

    "I almost forgot again," she said, presenting him with a small white envelope. "Happy belated birthday."

    "My birthday was last week." Brian accepted the envelope.

    "And I''ve been forgetting for a week," Ayda said with a nod. "I know gift cards are a bit tacky. I hope you don''t mind."

    "Not at all. Thank you." Brian opened up the missive and extracted the green and white plastic contents. "Oh, PC Shoppe! I shop there all the time."

    "I figured you''d like it." Ayda smiled. "I''d say don''t spend it all in one place, but you kinda have to."

    Brian chuckled at her lame joke. "I already know what I want. Thanks, Ayda."

    "You''re welcome. Now, go home. You''ve been here long enough."

    "Okay. Goodnight, then." Brian gave a little wave before turning his back.

    "Goodnight." Ayda returned the pleasantry.

    With that weight finally off her chest, and feeling good for making a friend happy, Ayda returned to her bunk. She reclined in the same way as before and put the laptop back where it had been.

    Threads on the third page were even older than the previous. A few of these she''d managed to read on her break earlier in the day. One which she''d already replied to had new comments. The title read "Pulse Eating a Churro is Surprisingly Cute." The topic linked to a GIF of her on the sidewalk leaning against her motorcycle, eating a churro, as the title suggested. There was a small comment chain that she reread before continuing the conversation within it.

    PulseOfficial:Excuse you? I''m cute all the time, thank you very much. (obvious sarcasm)

    SaigaWolf:Of course. I just thought this was interesting, since we don''t always get to see something so human from you heroes.

    PulseOfficial:I get it. Everyone wants to connect with their favorite celebrities. I''m a person, just like you.

    Totally knew that guy was filming me, by the way. He was literally standing in the middle of the sidewalk with his phone out. Didn''t even ask for an autograph or anything. I wasn''t surprised when this popped up on fucking 4Chan (already in GIF form) a few hours later.

    BrittTheBrit:Do you have a lot of trouble with people taking creep shots?

    And that was where the comments ended. Ayda composed a reply to the last question.

    PulseOfficial:I''m not sure this qualifies as a creep shot, but no, not really. We''re usually moving too much for anyone to get a good picture. When we stop, it''s usually to fight something, and most people are smart enough to stay away from that. There''s always paparazzi, of course, but I don''t think I have as big a problem with them as a Kardashian, for instance.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    It was a simpler response than those she''d written previously in the day, but she was still happy with how it turned out. It was a fun conversation. She wouldn''t mind if it continued on for a while longer.

    Further down the third page was something she hadn''t seen yet. The thumbnail showed it as something from Twitter, while the title was "Pulse is such fighting game trash and I love it." Neither of those things narrowed it down much. She clicked to see what it was all about. The link lead to a screenshot of a tweet she''d made about a month ago.

    @PulseOfficial:Tekken 7 is still the most frustrating and rewarding thing I''ve ever played. So many gorgeous combos I''ll never do.

    There were four comments on it. Three of them simply stated how cool it was that such a well-known superhero like Pulse played video games. The fourth addressed her directly.

    TheStipulation:Pulse, if you read this, what other games to you play? Are you in to anything else, or is it all fighting games all the time?

    This was something Pulse had spoken about before, but not very often. Whenever she was asked about her personal life, it usually had to do with dating, friends, or her favorite coffee shops. Most news outlets didn''t really care about her interests at all, let alone something like video games. She was more than happy to oblige this curious fan, if mostly because it was something she rarely had a chance to talk about. She typed a reply.

    PulseOfficial:I prefer games with a heavy focus on action, without too much story or setup to bog it down. RPGs and strategy games are just too slow for me. Outside of fighting games, things like God of War, Battlefield,Chivalry, and Halo are more my speed. One exception would be Horizon: Zero Dawn, which I loved every second of.

    Ayda smiled as she posted that. People would probably be excited to get a little more info on her nerdier preferences. Even though superheros were mainstream now, the communities around them still attracted a somewhat geeky crowd. That wasn''t a bad thing, though, far from it. Ayda had liked games long before she became a hero. What else was a rich teenager supposed to do with her spare time? That they allowed her to connect with a large portion of her audience was the cherry on top.

    Seeing a tweet of hers highlighted like that reminded her to get on Twitter for a few seconds. Most of her social interneting happened on Reddit. Places like Twitter and Instagram allowed her to reach a much wider audience. She''d been trying to use them more, despite her own preferences. She opened it up in a new browser tab, but didn''t do anything with it right away. It could wait until after she was done with Reddit. One thing at a time.

    ¡­

    Kindle soared through the air above downtown El Puerto. Knife-like jets of flame behind fists closed at her sides left a pair of orange streaks in her wake. The sun was just starting to set. The color she left behind blended in almost perfectly with those bending along the sky.

    Rather then watch where she was going, Kindle scanned the busy streets below. Cars traveled toward and way from her, while citizens weaved together to and fro, all blissfully unaware of the action going on right under their noses. As they should be. The fewer people who tried to get involved, the better. Though, if Kindle had her way, she''d end this without conflict.

    She paid special attention to the labyrinth of alleyways stitched between the buildings. She was just starting to near the edge of downtown, now. As such, the skyscrapers largely gave way to structures which were still multi-story, but more modest. All of this made the paths around them much easier to observe, a blessing Kindle counted generously.

    "Anything, Birdseye?" She asked of the air.

    "Nothing new, sorry." The voice of Elliot came through her earpiece. "She crossed a street a few minutes ago, but that was the last a saw of her."

    "Typical," Kindle said. "I''m in the area now, but I don''t see her."

    "She couldn''t have gone far," said Elliot. "There are cameras all over this part of town. I would''ve seen her."

    "Are there any reports of a supervillain sighting?" Kindle shifted gears a bit.

    "You thinking she darted into a building?"

    "Yeah, or something."

    "Let me check." There came a lull in the conversation as Kindle allowed Elliot some time. "I don''t see anything. She could be intimidating people into keeping quiet, but that would turn a robbery into a hostage situation, and we know she''s not that dumb."

    Kindle stopped herself from swearing. "Okay, keep me posted."

    "Will do." With that, the comms fell silent.

    Why did it have to be her? Of all the villains in the city, whyher? Kindle could go on and on about all the reasons she didn''t want this fight, least of which was how slippery her target was. She was a hero and would do her job without hesitation, but wished it were under better circumstances this time around.

    Kindle continued her comb through the city. Elliot was right to say the villain couldn''t have gone far. This part of town provided more hiding spaces than the actual heart of El Puerto, which was probably why it had been chosen in the first place. However, it still only had so many options. It was impossible to go much of anywhere while only in the alleys. Elliot was a professional. He wouldn''t miss her if she reemerged into the streets. That she hadn''t shown up for a while meant she was still hiding somewhere.

    Kindle was about to turn around and double-check places she''d already been, when something caught her attention; a flash of white hair that could only be one person. She swooped in.

    The figure running in the alley gained definition as Kindle drew closer. She could see a black leather corset, matching leather pants, platform knee boots, and skin painted shiny grey, all of it wrapped around a prefect hourglass figure. Kindle sighed. Part of her still wanted to believe the reports were wrong, but now there could be no doubt.

    Kindle raised a foot so it pointed downward and shot a jet of flame from it. The fire caught a few feet in front of the running figure, who was forced to an abrupt stop. Kindle dropped to the ground behind her, just in time for the criminal to whirl on her. She had a pretty heart-shaped face. A blue duffel bag hung heavy on her right shoulder.

    "Anna!" The woman addressed Kindle. "Fancy meeting you here."

    Kindle sighed again. "What are you doing, Silver?"

    "Stealing some jewelry." The woman, Silver, hefted her duffel bag for emphasis. The fire went out.

    "Okay, let me rephrase.Why?"

    Silver shrugged. "Girl''s gotta put food on the table."

    "And you have to steal jewelry to do that?"

    "Well, no. I guess I could steal food. It''s not the best metaphor."

    "That''s not the point," Kindle said. "And it''s not a metaphor."

    "Always the former teacher, huh?" Silver raised an eyebrow. "I guess I learned something today, if nothing else."

    "Cut it out, Silver," Kindle warned. "Just hand over the bag, and come quietly. You don''t need to steal to make money."

    "What else am I supposed to do, get a job? Me and work don''t exactly mix."

    "You could always join our team," countered Kindle.

    "Oh,herewe go." Silver crossed her arms, further emphasizing her large chest more than the corset already did.

    "The offer is still on the table," continued Kindle.

    "Yeah, I bet you guys are justjumpingat the chance to recruit a criminal." Silver rolled her eyes.

    "We are. NAAME vetted you, and they continue to vet you. Pulse wants you, and so does the rest of the team."

    "Theentirerest of the team?"

    "Your issue with Bronze Knight is on you, not us. You''re the only one immature enough to not move past it."

    "And I''m sure he justlovesyou speaking for him." Silver shifted her weight from one side to the other. "Don''t try to act like that''s the only reason I won''t join. I''ll take freedom over being some hack any day."

    "We''ve been¡ª" Kindle paused, exasperated. "We''ve been over this. You aren''t giving up any freedom by joining us. NAAME isn''t trying to take your independence."

    "They are if I have to follow their rules." Silver uncrossed her arms. "Why are you even bothering with this? I''m not joining your stupid team, and I''m not giving you the bag. You know how this has to end."

    Kindle took a step forward. "I don''t want to fight you."

    "Then don''t," Silver said. "Fly away, act like you never saw me."

    "You know I can''t do that."

    "Then you''re gonna have to stop me."

    Silver raised both her hands. Blue electricity arced between her fingers and shot off in short discharges at random angles. Kindle set her own hands ablaze and brought them up to match the villain''s. For all her apprehension, the hero was the first to attack. Fire streamed from her hands, straight for the other woman''s chest.

    Silver let loose her own attack. Pure blue lightning shot from each hand, the two bolts merging into one after a few inches. The majority of it met Kindle''s beam head-on. The overwhelming heat from the lightning held the fire in place, while sparks danced around and up the flames, toward Kindle. The hero knew this was going to happen. She watched the stray electricity race toward her. In the last split second, she took a step to the right and leaned out of the way, simultaneously bending the fire beam with her left hand. Flame mixed with lightning hit the building to the left. Both diffused against it.

    From her lean, Kindle punched forward twice with her right hand, sending a short fire bolt with each hand. Silver met each with an electrified hand. Blue bursts scattered the fire. She countered with another large bolt. Kindle spun out of the way to the other side of the alley, firing a pair of shots as she spun. She fired a third upon stopping. Silver cut her lightning short to block all three attacks in the same way she had the first two.

    This obviously wasn''t working. Kindle wiped her right hand from the left to the right in front of her. A trio of thin tendrils hung in the air. With the same hand, she made a broad circle. The tendrils followed the same pattern, rotating counter-clockwise. Silver stood her ground, ready to intercept. They barreled toward her like an immolating drill. At the last second, Kindle split them. They spun out into three separate attacks, two of which were aimed at Silver''s legs, out of arm''s reach.

    Silver hit the deck. The spindly flames passed harmlessly over her. In avoiding the attack, she immobilized herself. Kindle took a step. A fiery line shot out from her foot, straight toward Silver. When it reached the villain, it expanded into a gout which spanned the alley and rose four feet into the air. Silver wasn''t nearly fast enough to dodge. It consumed her head. She shot up onto her feet, taking a few steps back. Some of the paint on her face had melted and dissolved to reveal the white skin beneath, but she was undamaged otherwise. Kindle purposely kept the fire at a temperature to where it hurt, but didn''t cause any lasting burns. She wanted Silver to know she was serious.

    It seemed to work. Silver''s expression shifted from shock to rage in an instant. She thrust open palms forward in rapid succession, not unlike a sumo wrestler might. She stepped forward, once, and then twice, attacking all the way. Each palm thrust produced a small bolt of forked lightning. In all, Silver fired sixteen times.

    It was all Kindle could do to retreat from the alley. Silver''s aim was a bit erratic, but the bolts all presented a threat. Kindle moved her head right to dodge one bolt, then dipped down to avoid another. She planted herself against the right hand building as a shot sailed past her. Immediately after, she pushed off to avoid yet another one. She managed to get off one random flame to return fire, but couldn''t stop long enough to aim.

    A bolt collided with her right shoulder. The leather in her coat helped to disperse some of the charge, yet most of it still found its way into her. Stinging heat slammed through her body. Her heart skipped a beat, then resumed like a hammer inside her chest. She couldn''t afford to stop running for the pain. Too many of those at once would easily kill her.

    Kindle forgot her cautious retreat and instead turned tail to sprint for the exit. She ducked while in motion to avoid a bolt. Two more passed in front of her, missing my inches. She reached the leftmost building and grabbed its corner, hauling herself around it, but not before two more bolts found her right leg. The muscles spasmed, then locked up painfully. Kindle fell to her knees outside the alley.

    Heart pounding in her chest and breathing shallow, Kindle rose to her feet with the building for support. She put about half her weight on the injured leg. It moved just fine, but the muscles were sore. Wincing, Kindle craned her neck around to look at the alley. The lightning bolts had stopped. Kindle peered into it to find no trace of Silver.

    "You''re not getting away from me!" Kindle shouted before shooting into the air.

    She ascended over the buildings to scan the street below her. Silver ran openly across the busy road. Cars skidded to a stop or spun out to avoid her. A sedan that couldn''t stop fast enough rear ended a pickup truck still slowing down.

    Kindle swooped in, barreling down straight toward Silver. The villain turned at the last second before Kindle slammed into her. Silver was lifted from her feet and taken along for the ride as Kindle began rising back up. Silver managed to turn around in her grip and place her hands on Kindle''s torso. Lightning sprayed from them, directly into the hero. Kindle''s hold loosened as the electricity flung her diagonally upward into the air over Silver''s head. She tried desperately to regain control, but she couldn''t move. The charge creeping through her body had her paralyzed.

    Kindle slammed back-first into the second story of a building. She hit with enough force to bounce off it. As she hurtled toward the ground, Kindle lashed out randomly with her power. She didn''t have enough control over herself to do anything more than flail. Still, she managed to roll over onto her back just before meeting the sidewalk.

    All of the air was forced from her lungs. She felt lightheaded. She could barely move. Gulping for air, she turned her head on the ground and caught a glimpse of Silver darting into another alley. Kindle forced herself to roll over onto hands and knees, groaning at the pain in her stiff joints. She paused there for a second before rising to her feet with what felt like a herculean effort. Her balance swayed. She stomped one foot behind her to keep from teetering, and immediately wished she hadn''t for the jolt it sent through her lower body.

    This wasn''t the time for pain. Shehadto catch Silver. Stumbling steps were the closest she could manage to a run. At least the crowd had mostly ran away, so she didn''t have to push past them. Kindle stopped at the alleyway Silver had entered and looked in it. Of course, she wasn''t there. Again she rose to the sky to look over the buildings, though her ascent this time was in a rather wavy line.

    It didn''t take her long to spot that thick white hair on the sidewalk of the adjacent road amongst the people going about their business. This time, however, it was not attached to a head. Kindle flew down to it. The people startled and backed away as she landed, but she didn''t care. The hero picked up the white wig from the ground. If Kindle knew her like she presumed to, Silver probably had a jacket or hoodie in that bag of hers. Now, she looked more or less like any other brunette in the crowd, painted skin not withstanding, though that paint would be washed off soon as she could manage. Kindle could find her is she were even still on the street, but the hero doubted she would be. Kindle clutched the wig in a tight fist.

    "Birdseye," Kindle said. No response. "Birdseye," she repeated, louder.

    She dug the communication device from her ear. It was blackened and charred. The burnt casing crumbled in places on her fingertips.

    "Dammit!" Kindle spiked the device into the cement. It shattered. A heavy sigh passed her lips. She extracted her smartphone from a pocket inside her trench coat. It too, unsurprisingly, was fried. NAAME-issued technology was tough, but had its limits.

    The chase wasn''t over, though it looked bad. Elliot had likely already informed the police, and they''d be sweeping the nearby buildings soon enough. Kindle took to the skies to comb through the streets. All of this effort meant nothing. Silver was probably already out of her villain getup, and either blended into the crowd or found someplace to hide. Past experience taught Kindle their chances of finding her were next to none. Silver escaped. Again.

 Book 2, "Brave New World" CH. 6: Pop Quiz

    Dominick was bored. Though his better nature told him it was in his best interest to pay attention, he simply couldn''t bring himself to do so. The day up until then had droned on, and having this to end it helped little at all. No matter how he tried, the prevailing sense that he could be doing something better with his time scratched at the back of his brain.

    He was in class, the last of his typical high school day, to be exact. His seat was more or less in the middle of the white walled room, just one row closer to the window than the door. He couldn''t stare outside said window without looking across his fellow classmates and, considering the cute girl between it and him, zoning out in her direction probably wasn''t the greatest of ideas.

    It wasn''t even the subject matter that put him so far off. Not strictly, anyway. His seventh period, just like everyone else''s, was dedicated to the newest required course, Neohuman Studies. This would be its first year in the curriculum. Dominick was sure the things being talked about were absolutely fascinating, but he was Flashbang, an actual superhero and member of the local hero team. There was nothing this course could cover that he hadn''t already been over in excruciating detail. He had to know this stuff in order to be successful in his field.

    Not that any of that really mattered in the moment. Very few people knew who he was, just like every other hero. Even if he was Flashbang, that didn''t change the fact that he was stuck in class for at least a little while longer. He looked up at the clock. Three minutes since class started, and forty-two until it ended. He sighed.

    His eyes trailed up to the mostly barren whiteboard. There were a few words on it pertaining to the subject, but he didn''t bother reading them. Again, why go out of his way to obtain old information? It was a waste of time.

    Distantly, Dominick realized he was doing the exact thing his most hated peers did; acting like he knew more than the teacher. Nothing within these four walls annoyed him more than when someone interrupted class to either add on some random fact to the lecture or, even worse, correct the teacher. The only person who should teach the class was the person getting paid to teach. The way he saw it, everyone else could shut up.

    That in mind, he decided to at least try and pay attention. Maybe there would be some new information in whatever Ms. Cormack was saying. Probably not, but maybe. The teacher was a tall middle-aged woman with shoulder-length dark hair, a beak of a nose, and a nasally voice. She stood just in front of the whiteboard, occasionally writing things on it for emphasis.

    "I know all of this new terminology can be a bit confusing," she said, "especially considering how quickly it all changed around. That''s why I''m taking my time in class to make sure you all know what these words mean, and how they came to be. The world is rapidly changing. It''s important to keep up with the times. Make sure to put these words in your notes for future reference."

    It was only after she called attention to them did Dominick realize the words on the whiteboard were all of the modern colloquialisms and slang terms for powered individuals. They were, quite literally, the first thing he''d studied prior to becoming Flashbang. Maybe listening in wasn''t the best of ideas. Too late to tune back out, though, as the teacher carried on. She drew a star after the first word in the list.

    "Neohuman. To me, this is the most unnatural sounding on the bunch, and I''m sure plenty of you agree. It was honestly kind of a rush job. After Pulse made herself known and other powered individuals began coming out of the woodwork, the media scrambled a bit to figure out what we should call them. Originally, news outlets like the New York Times and Wall Street Journal published stories containing the word ''Metahuman.'' We all ran with this for a time, but the copyright holders for that terms¡ªD.C. Comics¡ªweren''t exactly fans of their word being used to describe real supervillains. A couple lawsuits later, and that was the end of that.

    "For about a month or two, this cycle repeated. It turns out authors and publishers have been having the same problem for decades. Metahuman, mutant, parahuman, cape, costume, mask, extrahuman, esper, they''re all taken, and no one wants to share. Even Neohuman is protected under a private copyright. The only difference is, the owners of it didn''t protest. TMZ was the first to use the word ''Neohuman.'' After no one brandished their lawyers, and the internet got a hold of it, the title stuck.

    "Neohuman spread so rapidly, it even was worked into the name of a government agency made public around that time. Its full name is Neohuman Action, Acquisition, Monitoring, and Enforcement, but you all know them as just NAAME. I say made public, because shortly after NAAME stepped forward, they revealed they''d been operating as a shadow organization since 1921. The conspiracy theorists had a field day with that one.

    "NAAME put itself out there as a way to curtail public discontent and ensure the people that the growing ''Neohuman situation'' was under control. Predictably, a lot of people didn''t like the idea that the government knew about powered individuals for so long without telling anyone. Good deeds done by heroes working with NAAME largely quelled these suspicions, but there are still plenty of people wary of NAAME. I''ll be going into more detail on this in a future class."

    So far, it was as Dominick predicted. No new information and a long diatribe on things he already knew. The teacher did a good job presenting the lesson. That Dominick wasn''t interested had nothing to do with her. But, seeing as he had nothing better to do, he figured it wouldn''t hurt him to continue paying attention as Ms. Cormack continued on.

    "One of the more interesting bits of information NAAME revealed was that there are actually two kinds of Neos, which brings me to may next point." She made a star in a different color than the first next to the second word in her list. "The Altered, generally referred to as Alts, are Neos who were in some way artificially changed in a way that gave them powers. Some are the product of genetic engineering, while others were changed with some sort of mechanical or cybernetic procedures. Our own Pulse is a product of the latter. They were the first Neos, and are still the most common."

    It was so weird for Dominick to hear his team leader talked about in such a casual way, mostly because he knew her on a personal level. The teacher moved on by drawing another differently colored star next to the third term in the list.

    "The second type are the Inheritors, or Innies. They are the children of Altered Neos, born with their abilities. Even those changed with machinery have had their genetic codes somewhat rewritten in response to the constant stress caused by their powers. Because of this, they are able to produce offspring with natural abilities. The Innies are not quite as common, but their numbers are growing.

    "There''s a larger discussion about genetics to be had, but I''ll cover that at a later date. For now, I''ll just go into the percentages that go along with Neohuman reproduction. If two Neos have a baby there is, of course, a one-hundred percent chance the child will have powers. In the same vein, if two Normies¡ªwhat Neos call regular people¡ªhave a child, it won''t have powers. What''s interesting is when a Normie and a Neo have children. You''d think the numbers there would be fifty-fifty, but they''re not. From what NAAME scientists can tell, the chances are actually closer to seventy percent. It''s more likely the child will be a Neo. We don''t know why this is, but all of the research we have right now points to it as fact."

    This particular tidbit had been drilled into Dominick''s head more than others. It was important he understand the state of the world, and of his own people. As the child of a Neo mother and Normie father, his origins were a necessary thing to wrap his head around. He needed to understand where he came from in order to know where he was going. That was what Ayda said, anyway.

    Dominick largely tuned back out after that. He''d listened in long enough to surmise there wouldn''t be anything important for him to take in, and as such decided there was no good reason to listen. He was absolutely confident in his ability to ace the upcoming quiz with or without whatever Ms. Cormack had to say. For the time being there were more important things to occupy his brain with, like what he would do on his patrol that started in the next couple hours.

    When the final bell of the day rang, it took him a second to realize it even happened, so lost in thought was he. It was always a bit of a mad scramble to get out the door after the last bell. Thankfully, Ms. Cormack wasn''t the kind to keep students after her allotted time slot. Since this class was rather new, there wasn''t a book to pack up. Dominick hadn''t been taking notes, either, so when the bell rang he just picked up his backpack and headed for the exit. Even so, sitting a median distance from the door meant he was only the fourth to make it out.

    Leaving the room put him in the hallway. He hated the hallway, especially after seventh period. There were students wall to wall, so dense he could hardly see through them. That the majority of the boys and girls were taller than him made that particular problem even worse. People near the walls trying to get in their skinny blue lockers barely had room to do so. A few simply stood defensively before their compartments until the crowd thinned, which it wouldn''t anytime soon. The throng was thick and dense, ever pushing forward. If Dominick stopped for even a second, he ran the risk of being trampled.

    At the end of the long, congested corridor, Dominick hung a right. He walked through where a pair of double doors had been and onto a staircase. It descended for a flight, curved around on a narrow landing, and went down again. The traffic followed him onto the stairs, but it moved a little bit slower on them since most people were more concerned with not falling than anything else.

    Now on the ground floor, Dom did his best to force his way to the outside of the crowd. This section of the building played host to the seniors'' lockers, and his was pretty close to the stairs. He managed to worm through the masses a few steps before reaching his locker, #486 with the pronounced dent in the bottom vent. Typical that he would get the damaged one.

    Dominick opened the locker and stuffed two books into his drab green canvas backpack. Physics and U.S. History II, homework he''d have to find time to do at some point. At least there wasn''t much. Satisfied, he closed the locker and merged into the crowd on his way to the front exit, which was on the other end of this floor.

    His high school gave students two options when it came to waiting for buses. They either could wait in the cafeteria, or outside by the little picnic area. Since the cafeteria was usually so loud he couldn''t hear himself think, Dom almost always waited outside.

    Upon crossing the threshold into the warm El Puerto afternoon, he focused on the picnic area. It was six round tables of pressboard made up to look homemade. To his right was a short path which lead to the street. To his northwest, a small visitor parking lot. There were remarkably fewer people waiting out here, and he was thankful to escape the crowds. One of the tables was empty. Perfect.

    "Dom!" A familiar voice cut through the air. Confused and slightly concerned at the sound of his own name, he turned to the source in the parking lot. Though, he didn''t need to see her to know who she was. Pulse. Ayda.

    Dominick looked around to see if anyone was staring at them. A few of the girls at a table of eight women glanced around at the disturbance, but payed it little mind. He knew them. They were some of the popular girls, the ones who loved to talk.

    As he approached Ayda in a bit of a rush, he could already hear the questions from his peers in his head. "Who was that hot girl waiting for you yesterday?" and "was that your girlfriend?" Things like that. Maybe he''d skip school tomorrow. Who would be looking for him on a Friday?

    When he got a little bit closer, Dom took a little gander at Ayda in an attempt to ascertain the meaning of all this. She wore a tight blue t-shirt with the Capsule Corp. logo on the left shoulder. The rest of her outfit was blue jeans and black sneakers. The motorcycle behind her was a grey Harley-Davidson sportster with silver pinstripes along the stylized gas tank; her civilian vehicle. So, not there on hero business then, which sucked because Dom couldn''t think of any other reason she''d come see him at school. He resisted the urge to shake his head as he closed to acceptable conversation distance.

    "Hey," he greeted her.

    "Hey," she returned.

    "What, uh, what are you doing here?" He hated to seem rude, but couldn''t think of a better way to phrase it.

    "I was just in the area running some errands," she patted the saddlebags behind her for emphasis. "I know how much you hate riding the bus, so I thought I''d come give you a lift since we''re going to the same place anyway."

    "Oh, okay. Thanks." Dominick mulled all of that over in his mind for second. What she said wasn''t necessarily true. The school bus would actually drop him off at a stop nearby the police station, from which he''d walk the rest of the way there. But still, she was close enough. It did sound like something Ayda would do. Nothing nefarious so far.

    "And," Ayda continued, "I also thought this would be an excellent time for a little training." There it was. The real reason she''d come.

    "My patrol starts in two hours." He looked at his watch. One hour and forty minutes, to be precise.

    "And that''s just enough time for one good spar," insisted Ayda. "Come on, let''s go." She did a half turn toward her motorcycle, beckoning him to follow.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Dominick sighed. "Do I have a choice, or are you ordering me?"

    Ayda turned back to face him. "You always have a choice. I don''t give orders. You know that. I''d like to train with you ASAP since we weren''t able to while you were away, but you don''t have to if you don''t want to. I won''t force you."

    Dom took a moment to consider her offer. Of course, he knew she was right. The away mission with Alloy had given him a wealth of real world experience. He''d by lying to claim he wasn''t at least somewhat curious how that translated to his fighting. What better way than to train with one of the best fighters in the world? The enterprising part of him actually wanted to.

    But there was another, perhaps equal¡ªor even greater¡ªpart that wanted to lounge around the bunker for two hours, eating junk food and playing stupid video games. Dominick wondered if that was his age speaking. Lazy teenager was often used as a generalized insult by older folks, but at seventeen he knew it to be rather accurate. Maybe Ayda could be convinced to join him in his gaming?

    The longer he thought about it, the more Dominick knew he really couldn''t do that. He had responsibilities, and they came first. Always. He''d be a legal adult next year. Time to start acting like one.

    "Dom?" Ayda said.

    At the sound of his voice, Dominick realized he''d just been standing there, silently staring at the ground while he thought. His cheeks heated up, but thankfully the color didn''t show through his dark skin.

    "Sorry," he said quickly before meeting her eyes. "Yeah, sure. Let''s go train."

    "Cool." Ayda smiled at him. "Hop on. There''s no time to waste." She followed her own instructions and mounted the motorcycle.

    For himself, Dominick hesitated a moment, not because of the vehicle, but of the girl. He''d been a passenger with Ayda a few times in the past, but that didn''t make this time any easier. Riding the bike with her put him quite close to an attractive young woman. His hormones couldn''t take it. Where was he supposed to put his hands, or¡ªfor that matter¡ªthe rest of him? That she''d given him permission to ride was scant comfort.

    None of that was to mention the rumor mill. A random college girl visiting him at school was one thing. Riding off into the sunset with her was another entirely. What would people say? What would he say? This was all just a big problem he didn''t need.

    Interrupting his train of thought, Ayda reached back to hand him an old fashioned black helmet he hadn''t even noticed before. It must''ve been hanging from the handlebars. He took a look at it and realized it was the only one. Ayda hadn''t brought one for herself. Not that he expected any different.

    Dominick sighed and took the helmet, swiftly putting it on his head. He climbed aboard the motorcycle, careful to stay as far back on the seat attached to the rear fender as possible. He leaned back to grip the edge of the leather rectangle, putting him even further away from the woman in front of him. It was the best he could do for a respectable distance. If only it didn''t put such a strain on his lower back.

    "I know how uncomfortable that is," Ayda said, peering back at him with one eye. "You can lean forward, you know. I don''t mind."

    "I''m fine, thanks." Dom said, looking away.

    Ayda rolled her eyes. "If you say so."

    She kicked the beast to life. In contrast to the Ducati she rode on patrol, this bike''s engine was loud, low, and rumbling. Ayda walked it backward out of the parking space and turned it left to face the road. Dominick winced at the sudden spike in volume as she whisked them away. It made much more of a statement than he wanted to.

    ¡­

    Dominick stood in the middle of a big, barren room. The walls were plain metal, while the floor beneath his feet was a thin layer of padding and canvas over even more metal. There were cameras positioned all over the place, but they were expertly hidden within the walls. The only reason Dom could locate any of them was because he knew where they were. Even the door was hidden as just another part of the wall.

    His clothing was a wonderful piecemeal affair. Most of what he wore was his superhero costume, the black morph suit modified with armor panels along the chest, back, and upper arms in a way that mimicked human musculature. His hands were wrapped in several layers of cloth and athletic tape. Red guards protected his shins and forearms, while a matching sparring helmet squished his face. He held his clear mouthguard in one hand, where it would stay until absolutely necessary.

    The walls flashed bright blue for a split second, and then he all of a sudden stood in a classical Japanese dojo. It still lacked furniture, but the structure was made of bamboo wood, there were sliding paper doors on all sides, the mat beneath his feet looked and felt like real straw. Directly ahead of him crossed katanas hung centered between a pair of Eastern dragon paintings. There were a few hung scrolls with kanji he couldn''t read scattered throughout the walls. He could even hear a distant fountain somewhere outside the room.

    This sort of ultra-realistic holographic environment was the cutting edge of battlefield simulation. Proprietary tech developed by Belmont International specifically for NAAME, not even the U.S. Military had their hands on it yet.

    Ahead of Dominick, a figure materialized. It was a masculine shape made entirely of blue hardlight criss-crossed with a pulsing white line grid. Roughly two inches taller than himself¡ªso Ayda''s height¡ªit had markedly more muscle tone, even in this form.

    The thing wasn''t a light projection for long. It glowed more intensely for a few seconds, and was replaced with a stereotypical ninja, complete with a wakizashi on his back. Dominick cocked his stance to one side at the sight of it.

    "Really?" He said, eyebrow raised.

    Ayda''s disembodied voice came over a speaker. "Last time you complained about fighting just a basic hologram, so this time you''re fighting a ninja. I almost made him a normal kickboxer, but ninjas are cool."

    Dominick shrugged "It''s more interesting, I''ll give you that."

    "Mouthguard in, Dom," Ayda said. Dominick quickly complied. "Remember, I have no control over this thing. I just turn it on and off. The pace of the fight depends on you two."

    Dominick didn''t want to mumble around the rubber thing in his mouth like an idiot, so he gave an exaggerated nod instead.

    "There will be no point system in place," Ayda continued, "and the only rule is, no powers. This is strictly a test of your fighting abilities. I will call the fight when I feel one side has won, or it''s gone on long enough. When you''re ready, assume a stance."

    Dominick had been ready for the past few minutes, and as such wasted no time going into a standard boxing stance. He put his left foot in front, bent his knees slightly, tucked his chin down and in, put up his fists with palms facing inward, the left further forward. When he did this, the ninja took a similar posture, if a bit looser overall. That it wasn''t a kung fu stance kind of ruined the immersion. The technology still had a few beta versions to go through.

    "Why don''t we use a gong instead of a bell to start the fight? It fits the theme better," Ayda said.

    "Whathefer," Dom struggled to say around his guard.

    "Alright. Good luck, Dom. The fight begins now!" Ayda said, accompanied by the loud crash of a gong.

    The fighters moved forward. A few good steps from each of them closed the distance. Dominick sized up his competition. Like they always did, the holograms looked and moved exactly like a real person. Anyone who didn''t know any better wouldn''t know the difference.

    Dominick decided the worst thing would be to give up the initiative. As such, he opened the bout with a quick jab-cross combination. The ninja blocked with its forearms and countered with a broad right hook. Dom ducked safely underneath, and in doing so failed to block the low lead uppercut coming his way. The artificial fist slammed into his nose.

    Dom straightened up and took swift steps backward. The hologram chased with a side kick, after which it hopped forward and transitioned into an axe kick with the same leg. They missed. The moment both of its feet hit the ground, Dominick launched a big superman punch. It slid right between the ninja''s elbows to smack its face. Dom followed up with a roundhouse kick to the head, an impressive show of flexibility given their height difference.

    The ninja blocked, slipped forward, and threw a jab. Dom stepped outside it to avoid the fist, and then attempted a huge left hook. The hologram caught his wrist with one hand, his armpit with the other. It spun a half turn, trying to rip Dom from his feet. The young hero leaned far forward upon several stumbling steps, desperate to remain upright. He kept his balance, but barely.

    Dominick stood up and looked at his opponent, only to find the ninja charging full bore at him. The ninja jumped into a pro wrestling-stlye dropkick. Two feet planted firmly into Dominick''s chest. He uprooted and slammed his spine against the ground, sliding a few inches along it. Through the fairies dancing in his vision, he lifted his head to find the hologram. Again, it ran at him. Dominick kicked his feet up. He rolled over his shoulder just as the hologram dropped a savage punch into the mat where he''d just been.

    Dominick rose up with a knee. The ninja stood with a step backward, barely avoiding the attack. Dom turned his knee into a snap kick to the body, which the hologram also stepped away from. The ninja utilized its longer reach to launch a roundhouse kick into Dominick''s side, but the hero blocked. The ninja whipped the foot into a low sidekick, which Dom took on the knee. He caved slightly at the impact. That was the ninja''s opening to throw a pair of hook punches, which each collided with a side of Dom''s sparring helmet. The ninja ended its offense with a sidekick that dug its heel into Dom''s stomach. He used the force to propel himself backward on a couple quick footfalls.

    The hologram didn''t charge in this time. Instead, the combatants closed the distance in much the same way they had when the fight started. Dominick threw a jab, but it was setup for the roundhouse which landed cleanly in the hologram''s ribs. While it reacted, he followed with a cross that was blocked. His left hook, however, caught the ninja on the jaw.

    Inspired by the recent string of successful attacks Dom tried to whip his left hand into a backfist. The hologram got wise. It slipped past the attack and planted an left uppercut in Dominick''s liver. Next came a straight to his ribs. The left hand again came for an uppercut, but this time hit the hero on his chin. He stepped back to cut off the assault, and in doing so put himself in the perfect range for the spinning hook kick that caught his cheek.

    Again, Dominick fought against stumbling steps. The only thing which kept him upright was sheer willpower. He got his balance and planted his feet. The hologram closed in. It was probably looking for a good finisher, but Dom beat it to the line. He threw a wild overhand left that sailed straight past the ninja''s forearm to collide with its temple. He then lashed a roundhouse to the body, which turned into a leg kick. Both found their mark. Foot still in the air, he went for a sidekick.

    Dom''s hit rang true, but the ninja caught his foot against its body. Before he could even begin to struggle, it spun like when it caught his fist previously. Without a stable base to support himself on, Dominick gave. He was airborne for a second before coming down hard on his hands and knees.

    He heard the ninja take on step toward him before a gong sounded. It took his brain a moment to realize that meant the fight was over. The Japanese dojo faded, leaving the original metal wall to replace it. Dominick looked over to where the hologram would have stood. It, too, had faded. He was alone in the room. That Ayda had pulled the plug said she realized the same thing he did the moment he went down. He had no hope of wining that fight.

    Dominick ripped the helmet from his head, dropping it to the canvas. It rolled away from him. Next was the mouthguard. He held it in his hand for a moment against the ground before throwing it across the room. On his hands and knees, Dom stared at the canvas. Sweat against his forehead free of the helmet felt cool against the air conditioned room. He wiped it away on his sleeve. Feeling it just agitated him further. It was a reminder of all the effort he put in only to lose.

    The hydraulics in the wall whirred. That meant the door was open. The sound of singular applause filled his ears. He glanced up to see Ayda walking toward him, clapping. Seeing her reminded him she''d been watching. That knowledge made his defeat even worse. Still, he refused to stay down like a kicked puppy. The least he could do was meet her on mostly equal terms. He stood, but kept his eyes down.

    "Great job, Dom," Ayda said as she approached.

    "I don''t see what was so great about it," Dominick said to the ground. "I still lost."

    Ayda stopped clapping. "It''s not about winning or losing, it''s about testing your skills. Your kick combos were excellent, and that overhand? Savage." She reached him. "Your defense was as good as it could''ve been given the situation, and you showed great instincts in both attacking and defending. You did really well. Rio was right to be impressed."

    "Maybe," Dom said, "but it still sucks to lose." He finally met her gaze. "I thought I''d be training with you, not one of those things. I hate fighting the holograms."

    "Yeah, me too," Ayda agreed. "I don''t like making you fight them, either, but I can''t watch you and spar at the same time."

    "It sucks even more losing to those holograms," Dominick continued. "I mean, computers are supposed to be predictable, right? And yet, I''ve only beaten them, what? Twice?"

    "Fourteen times, actually," Ayda corrected him. "Trust me, I know how much it hurts to lose."

    "Bullshit," Dom said, lowly. "I bet you, the great Pulse, have never lost a fight in your life."

    "That''s not even close to being true," she said.

    "Yeah, right," argued Dom. "I''ve never seen you even struggle with a fight."

    "That''s mostly because you haven''t been around long enough," Ayda said. "Here, let me show you."

    Ayda lifted up a corner of her shirt to reveal her right side, stopping just below her bra. Dominick glanced at the exposed brown skin, the toned muscles, and the quartet of scars spread out along her flesh. Conscious of how indecent it would be to stare at her, his eyes darted toward the ground.

    "Look at me, Dom," Ayda said. Her tone was not forceful nor angry, yet still firm.

    Dominick did as he was told, but purposely met her eyes. She made very deliberate motions with her free hand, which Dom knew he was supposed to watch. Ayda traced the diagonal line of an exposed scar, one of the majority usually hidden by her clothes.

    "I have a lot of scars you haven''t seen. I used to think of every single one of them as a personal defeat, because that''s what a madman told me they were." Ayda said.

    She dropped the corner of her shirt. It fell back into place. She then tugged at her t-shirt''s collar on the opposite side. It stretched until Dom could see the the upper part of a ghastly old puncture scar. That one he saw whenever Pulse wore a tank top, since she normally took her jacket off when in the bunker.

    "Several of them, like this one, are from actual defeats." Ayda let her collar spring more or less back to its original shape. "I wear my loses every day of my life. I know exactly how it feels to lose. The important part is that you pick yourself up and try again, even though it hurts."

    Dominick didn''t really have a response to that. Instead, he just inspected the ground again. He knew everything Ayda said was right. However, that didn''t make it better. Maybe it was the sting of defeat still fresh in his mind, or perhaps the lingering surge of adrenaline. Either way, he couldn''t calm down. He didn''t want to sympathy. Not from her. Not from Pulse.

    "Why do you think you lost," Ayda said.

    "Because I suck," Dominick answered immediately. "Because I''m bad at fighting. That''s why I keep losing. Maybe I''m not cut out for this, or¡ª"

    "You lost," Ayda cut him off, "because that was Frank''s training program, not yours."

    "What?" Dominick''s eyes snapped to meet hers.

    "That you didn''t even notice is a testament in and of itself," Ayda continued. "If that had been your program, it wouldn''t have even been a fight. You would''ve ended it in seconds."

    "Why didn''t you tell me?" Dom all but shouted at her. The shame he felt was quickly being replaced by anger.

    "Because I''ve watched you long enough to know how you operate." Ayda said. "You would''ve psyched yourself out."

    Again, he couldn''t really respond to that. He absolutely would have got in his own head if he knew it was a different training program before the fight. Again, Ayda was right.

    "Dominick." Ayda took a step toward him and placed a gentle touch on his bicep. "You''ve come so far since you started. It takes some people years to learn what you''ve picked up in just six months, and you keep getting better. You''re becoming a great hero. I know you''ll do great things. I''m extremely proud of you."

    "Thanks, Ayda," Dom said after a moment.

    "Don''t mention it." She dropped her hand to her side. "There''s still a few minutes before your patrol. You need some water and a snack before you head out. Come on."

    Ayda turned and began for the exit. Dominick jogged a couple steps to catch up to her, a smile on his face. Together, they left the training room.

    Pulse thought he could be a great hero. She was proud of him. His confidence soared.

 Book 2, "Brave New World" CH. 7: Atypical Arrest

    Cooper sat behind the wheel of a black sport utility vehicle, one of the four cars provided by the El Puerto Police Department for patrol purposes. It was a bulky thing with room for five passengers and plenty of cargo space in the back. He kind of hated it, personally. It was too big for his liking. But, that size was also a necessity. The two cruisers the team had weren''t large enough to accommodate his gear without a little finagling.

    The streets he rode down were mostly well-kept, with only a cracked sidewalk or old structure showing their faces every now and then. This wasn''t the rundown industrial district, but an area just on the outskirts. It was almost free of the gang influence which brought down the industrial district proper. The almost part of that was what brought him down this particular road on this particular day.

    Cooper halted for a stop sign then hung a right. Traffic was pretty light. A pair of cars came down the opposite side of the road at him, and a blue truck puttered along several feet ahead. At 6 o''clock in the morning, most people weren''t quite up and about yet.

    The truck in front of him turned left, providing an uninhibited shot to his destination. He pulled up to the curb and threw the SUV into park before switching it off. Technically, this wasn''t a parking spot. One benefit of being a superhero on duty was that he could put his vehicle pretty much anywhere as long as he didn''t block a fire lane or handicap spot. After all, heroes had to be able to respond anywhere, anytime, unabated.

    The building he stopped in front of was a small two story apartment complex. The once vibrant blue siding long since faded to a duller shade. It was still in pretty good shape, though. The windows were clean in intact. The door was free of dents and dings. Probably not a bad place to live, all things considered. Hopefully, he could make it even better.

    Cooper adjusted his Bronze Knight helmet before exiting the vehicle. Once outside he took a big whiff, for what good it did him. His senses didn''t really help him in the middle of the city. With so many people around, all he could really tell was that there were a lot of them. An overabundance of men, perhaps, but even that wasn''t unusual, especially considering what he was there to do.

    Bronze Knight began around to the back of the SUV and opened up the hatch. Inside lay his weapons. Most dominant was a Spartan-style shield, a broad slightly domed circle with a flat edge made of wood coated in bronze. The other was a spear. Shorter than a historical Spartan dory at just five feet long, it had been made with single combat in mind. The vaguely leaf-shaped blade was not bronze. It was black and notably too thick to cut. He took them both out of the vehicle before closing the hatch.

    He walked toward the apartment building. It was set back a bit from the sidewalk. An imperceptible breeze blew, yet he felt it clearly on his bare chest and arms. His ears, as always, were much more useful than his nose. He heard a man bark surprised orders at another, followed by the clatter of footsteps. Two more sets approached from behind the building on opposite sides. They already knew he was here.

    Cooper stopped about halfway between the structure and his car. Two men came through the front door, while another pair rounded either corner of the building. All were of Asian descent. The latter pair stank of cigarette smoke. Three wore cheap deodorant. One was likely hungover, if the lingering scent of rum on his breath was anything to go by. They stood in a loose group a few feet away from the intruding hero.

    "Are you guys the bellboys?" Cooper said. "I don''t have much in the way of luggage, sorry. If you could park my car, though, that would be great."

    The men exchanged a few puzzled looks, but kept their mouths shut.

    "Nothing?" Cooper shook his head. "I can''t believe what passes for service nowadays."

    "Why are you here?" Growled one of the men.

    "I''m looking for someone, a Wei Lao. Do you know him?"

    More confused looks.

    "What business do you have with Mr. Wei?" A different man spoke.

    "I''m a superhero looking for a criminal. Do the math."

    "I think you should leave before you get hurt." The first man said. One of his companions drew a large pocket knife. The other two squared their stances, not quite ready to fight, but almost.

    Cooper grinned. "I was hoping you would say that."

    He charged forward, shield before him and spear angled low. The men looked startled by the sudden burst of aggression. They made ready and tried to circle around where they thought he would be. Bronze Knight had just enough time to build up some good momentum before smashing into the man who had been first to talk. The gangster bounced off the shield to land on his back. Cooper used the equal and opposite force transferred into him to assume a wide stance.

    The men to either side of him attacked simultaneously. The one to his left, Cooper blocked with his shield. The one to the right met his spear long before closing to punching range. Cooper swept his weapon to the right, hitting the thug in the thigh. The high-voltage taser in the head of his weapon activated, stunning the man momentarily with a quick jolt. In the split-second pause, Cooper shoved the guy at his shield to the ground. He then continued on with his spear, raking it back the other direction before swinging it over his head to strike down. The rightmost man crumpled to the ground under the weight of what electricity coursed through his veins.

    The final man, the one with a knife, joined the fray. Cooper blocked his paltry thrust with the shield. He choked up on his spear and thrust forward twice. Each hit in the chest. He stumbled back. The man most recently put on the ground stood up and tried another attack. Cooper blocked again. This time he launched a volley of quick little spear jabs. The gangster cried out in pain as jolts spread rapid fire through his body. He fell to his knees, awake but thoroughly subdued.

    The knife-wielder gave pause at seeing his compatriot so viciously attacked. Cooper used this as an opening to close the short distance and apply a jolt to his neck. Already weakened by previous attacks, the shock so close to his brain was enough to put him out. He went down much the same as the other, except he fell backward, completely unconscious.

    The first man, whom Cooper had charged into, was just getting to his feet. Bronze Knight planted a foot on his chest and pushed him back down. The man grabbed his ankle in an attempt to yank him off. Cooper lashed out five times with his spear. The criminal shouted one continuous cry. When Cooper removed his foot, the man barely stirred.

    One left, the man Bronze Knight had hit a few times, but hadn''t quite put down. Cooper straightened up and turned to him. The man looked upon the hero with a look of sheer terror. Cooper walked toward him.

    "No no wait¡ª" The man pleaded with him, but Cooper did not stop.

    Out of options and unwilling to fight, the man turned to flee. Cooper leapt at him. Shield and spear collided with his back. The impact sent him forward, while electricity froze his limbs. He didn''t get back up when his face hit the dirt.

    Cooper stood. He took a big whiff. There was a concentration of people on the top floor, six or seven all clumped around the same small area. He''d bet his helmet that''s where Wei Lao was.

    He passed his spear into the same hand which held his shield. His now free right hand reached into a pouch strapped just above his forearm on the inside of the shield. From within he drew a quartet of stasis cuffs. One was applied to each gangster, whose immune systems pulsed red before their arms and legs snapped straight and they ceased movement.

    Before he entered the building, Cooper detected a hint of lavender in the air behind him. He turned to see a dark-haired woman in her thirties staring at him from across the street. She was dressed in professional attire, probably on her way to work. Her eyes were wide, her stance halfway to bolting. She probably saw the whole thing. Cooper waved at her.

    "Official NAAME business," he called. "Please move along. It''s not safe here."

    The woman stayed still for a moment before running off. Cooper watched until she disappeared behind the buildings on his side of the street. He shook his head and turned around. He hated that the people he was supposed to protect were sometimes afraid of him. The innocent had nothing to fear.

    That dealt with, he entered the building. There was no lobby or entryway or anything. Instead, the front door opened straight up into the middle of a narrow hall. Dark wood molding rose about halfway up to meet white painted walls. Faux wood doors lined the corridor at even intervals. Each had a number nailed to the middle, but no nameplates for the tenants within.

    There was a staircase on the far eastern end. Cooper made for it. One of the doors ahead of him opened slightly. An old Latino man poked one eye out of the crack, met Cooper''s gaze, and quickly faded back. The door snapped shut. The hero shook his head again.

    The stairs went up for a bit, then doubled back on themselves to reach the second floor. The moment Cooper landed on it, he found the group he''d smelled from outside. A little further than halfway down stood a tight throng of five people, four men and one woman, all of them Asian. They wore hoodies, windbreakers, white tank tops, typical hooligan attire. The woman had the most clich¨¦ red pipe wrench he''d ever seen. The rest were unarmed.

    Cooper stopped a few feet away from them. They didn''t move to fight him, but looked quite tense judging by their expressions and body language.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    For a moment, Bronze Knight remained silent. He set his shield down next to him so it leaned against a wall. Normally, it made him quite strong in hallways as it became essentially a mobile wall. This one, however, was simply too narrow. He barely had room to hold it out in front of him, let alone maneuver it effectively in a fight. So, he was better off without it.

    The second thing he did was grab his spear right below the blade. With his now free left hand, he twisted a portion of the haft just below where his right grasped it. The handle retracted into itself until he was left with what was basically a knife.

    The thugs watched his every movement. Cooper could hear their heartbeats pick up speed. He felt the air shift against his skin, manipulated by their deep breaths. He smelled the apprehension, the fear, in their sweat. Watching him prepare for battle made them all uncomfortable. Exactly what he wanted.

    When everything was finished, he faced them.

    "I admire your loyalty¡ªreally, I do¡ªbut you all know how this ends," he began. "You know who I am, and you know there''s no victory for you here. My warrant today isn''t for you. As it stands, and as far as I''m concerned, none of you have committed any crimes yet. If you attack me, that changes. Walk away now, and you do it as free men and woman. Fight me, and you wind up in a jail cell. I don''t really mind either way. The choice is yours."

    A few of them exchanged glances with each other. The woman remained solely focused on her enemy. She, in particular, seemed to hate him the most. He probably arrested someone she knew. That didn''t exactly make her unique.

    The criminals didn''t back down. Though they seemed outwardly less willing to do so, they still all were ready for a fight.

    Cooper sighed. "Have it your way."

    He walked forward, and the mob charged to meet him. The narrow passage constrained their avenues of attack. The first aggressor reached him and drew back a hand. Cooper answered with a backfist to the face which sent him careening nose-first into the wall.

    The next followed after the first without a moment''s breath. Cooper lunged and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him in close. The hero administered three stabs with his shock spear turned shock shank. The third ran up. Cooper stopped him short with a side kick. He then threw the man he was still grappling with to the ground behind him.

    The third man came back for a straight punch. Cooper blocked with his free hand, stabbing simultaneously with his weapon. Electricity stunned the criminal. Cooper took the opening to unleash a flurry of blows, alternating between straight punches and stabs, eight in total all up and down his chest. The man fell to his knees.

    The moment he did, the fourth in line attacked. Cooper took a punch on the jaw. He blocked a second with his knife hand, followed by a short uppercut. Two diagonal slices and a stab hit shortly after. The fourth man stumbled back on shaky knees.

    The woman pushed past him to be the last to join the fight. She swung her wrench downward. Cooper leaned back, avoiding it by mere inches. He tried to answer with a thrust, but to his amazement the woman actually managed to swing her wrench and parry. She countered with a pair of diagonal strikes. Cooper avoided the first, then burst forward to catch the second wrist-on-wrist. He grabbed her forearm and yanked her forward. Her balance faltered. With his knife hand, he punched up into her elbow. The bone snapped. She screamed. Cooper grabbed her jacket and tossed her into the wall. She crumpled in a heap against it.

    A foot embedded in Cooper''s lower back. He took a hard step forward to catch himself. The hero felt the flow of displaced air, and used that to pinpoint the attacker behind him. He spun around with a vicious hook kick. The thug¡ªthe first one to attack him in the hall¡ªtook it on the temple and crashed into the wall. Cooper pressed him up against it with his free hand. The other delivered four knife stabs. Repeated elecrical charges up his spine knocked the man out cold.

    While that one was still falling, the one Cooper had thrown came back for another round. Bronze Knight rounded on him, windmilling his arms so his knife struck downward followed immediately by a fist. Cooper reversed his momentum to stab low. A shock to the thigh ruined the man''s balance. Cooper grabbed the back of is head and slammed it into the wall. Blood spurted from the man''s destroyed nose. Cooper let him fall to the ground, conscious but not liable to get up anytime soon.

    The last man left stood a few feet away. Cooper took a few big steps toward him. Like a fool, he stood his ground. Bronze Knight leapt, pushed off the wall with one foot, and used that momentum to deliver a horrendous punch into the man''s face. The criminal fell to his hands and knees. Cooper dropped an axe kick into his very exposed back. The man collapsed the rest of the way onto his stomach.

    Breathing a bit harder after that altercation, but with no time to waste, he turned around and started back down the hall. The door the gangsters were protecting was only a few steps away. A smell of the air indicated there was still someone inside. Exactly who remained a mystery. Every human on the planet smelled a little different, but that didn''t help him if he''d never met the person.

    He stopped in front of the door to inspect it. Another deep inhale. No C4 on the other side. No shotgun waiting to blast his head off. No fishing line tripwires, chairs beneath the knob, or anything, just a single man inside smoking a cigarette. Confident he could enter safely, Cooper opened the door.

    It was not an apartment, but an office. As rather plain one, at that, with only a desk and chair, and a window behind flanked by slender filing cabinets. At the desk sat a man with short dark hair, dressed in a wife beater that revealed the intricate tattoos running up and down his muscular arms. His legs were hidden by the desk, but his pants smelled of denim. A perfect match to Cooper''s target, right down to the Newports he smoked.

    Cooper was amazed he hadn''t run, but kept that to himself as he spoke.

    "Wei Lao. By the authority of NAAME and of the El Puerto Police Department, you are under arrest, for¡ª"

    "Yeah, yeah," Wei Lao cut him off. He took a puff before continuing. "You could spend all week reading my rap sheet." He threw his cigarette out the open window then lay his now empty hand atop the desk. "Why don''t you just cuff me and get it over with?"

    Well, this was an obvious trap, betrayed mostly by how Mr. Wei kept one hand below the desk. Beyond that, the flow of air in the room was interrupted by something paper thin held in his hidden hand.

    Eyes locked on target, Cooper approached. He removed one of the two stasis cuffs in his left pocket. When he was just about to put it on, Wei Lao shot out of his seat and made a big backhand cut with the knife in his previously hidden hand. Cooper dropped the stasis cuff to the desk and caught Wei Lao''s wrist. Using his own knife he painted three strokes on Wei''s forearm. The criminal cried out and dropped his weapon. Cooper slammed he enemy''s head against the desk then hauled him over it by the collar, all with one hand. Wei Lao hit the ground chest-first in front of the desk. Cooper reacquired the stasis cuff, put a knee on Wei''s back, and slipped the cuff on his wrist. He pulsed and went rigid.

    Cooper stood. He gave one last glance at Wei Lao before exiting into the hallway. Just as he predicted, the five people he''d pushed through in getting to their boss were still there, either knocked out or too hurt to get up.

    The hero retrieved his shield. He would need the stasis cuffs in the pouch on it to restrain all these criminals. Only two fit in his left pocket, and the other had to carry his phone. Cooper put on the shield, sheathed his knife in the horizontal scabbard behind his back, and went to work. He knelt over the first man.

    "Wei Lao has been secured, Top-Down," Cooper said as he produced a cuff. "I''m restraining a few of his mooks, now."

    "Understood, B.K. I''ll notify the authorities," said the voice of Valerie¡ªTop-Down¡ªthrough the comm device in his ear.

    "Thanks. Bronze Knight out."

    If he hadn''t been talking, he would''ve heard them coming. Had he not been distracted, he would''ve felt the air shift as they approached. But he was talking, and he was distracted. The only indication Cooper had that he was not alone in the hallway was a whiff of lavender, followed by the collision of something metal with his helmet.

    The only thing that kept him on his feet was years of martial arts training. Stars swam in his vision. His helmet rang like a bell, emphasizing the pain in his head. He whirled around on his attacker. It was the same black-haired woman who''d seen him fight outside. Her face was twisted in a sneer of pure rage. A long piece of rusted rebar occupied her right hand.

    "You?" Cooper choked out.

    The woman gave a primal growl and swung her improvised weapon down at him. Cooper blocked it with his shield, barely able to move the thing around in time through the tight quarters.

    "Hey, stop!" He ordered in his most authoritarian voice.

    The woman paid him no mind. Again she swung down at him, and he blocked. He peeked over his shield just long enough to see her come again. He blocked.

    In the momentary reprieve between attacks, Cooper centered himself. He accepted the reality of the situation, and willed himself to action, even though he detested the idea of fighting a civilian. The next time she swung, Cooper felt the air swirl around her movement, heard the flexing of cloth against her body. He dropped the shield to his side, stepped forward, and caught her wrist well before it would have struck him. He yanked backward. She stepped into him, off balance.

    "Stop," he commanded.

    The woman moved even closer to him. She opened up wide, and sunk her teeth into his forearm. Cooper cried out at the multiple sharp little blades pinching his flesh. He released his grip on her wrist. At the same time, she let him go. Bronze Knight took two big steps back, holding his arm. Blood seeped from several puncture wounds around the bite mark.

    The woman closed the distance. She clocked him on the head with the rebar, whapped him in the kidneys, the swung sloppily upward as he bent over. The rebar hit mostly on his protected forehead, though some of it pivoted to slide between the open T-shaped slot in his helmet and contact his chin. Cooper stumbled back and fell on his rear end, dropping his shield in the process. It slid along the floor behind him for a few feet.

    She barred down on him. Cooper rose to his knees to meet her. He leaned away from her attack, drew his own weapon, and slashed across her middle. Her body reacted to the charge. Cooper could hear the electricity course through her. Yet, she showed no pain nor any sign of stopping. She sent a knee his way. The hero stood to avoid it.

    He let the woman come at him, intent on countering her lackluster form rather than launching his own offensive at an overly violent enemy. She came down at him again. Just like he had with Wei Lao, Cooper grabbed her wrist and painted slices on her arm. She dropped the rebar. While it clattered on the ground, Bronze Knight shoved her away, followed by push kick to gain further distance. While she gave automatic reactions to the attacks, she still didn''t seem the least bit put off by them.

    "If you don''t stop, I will be forced to escalate." Cooper gave her one final warning.

    His caution fell on deaf ears. It was like she hadn''t even heard him. Stripped of her weapon, she instead jumped at him. Cooper planted his back against the wall. She soared past him to land face-first on the floor. The moment she did, Cooper pounced. He fell atop her, a knee on her back. She thrashed against his weight, little more than an undulating mass of arms and legs. She growled and grunted in the struggle. Her hair was all over the place. Not a person, but a wild animal.

    Cooper sheathed his knife. The hero took the last stasis cuff from his pocket. He caught one of her arms and forced the cuff on her wrist. The influence of advanced technology finally brought her under control, but at a price. The stasis cuff taking over control of her body was too much for her to handle. Her left arm cracked twice as it snapped into place at her side. Her foot twisted in an unnatural way, the ankle probably sprained. Such injuries were exactly why doctrine with stasis cuffs was to subdue a perpetrator before putting one on them. Despite all of this trauma, she showed absolutely zero reaction to the pain.

    "I''m sorry." Cooper said before he stood up.

    "What was all that?" Asked Top-Down in his ear.

    "Honestly? I have no fucking idea. Some lady just went nuts and started attacking me."

    "Drugs?"

    "I don''t know. Probably. I have her stasised, but I couldn''t subdue her beforehand."

    "I''ll get an ambulance to you."

    "Thanks."

    The correspondence ended with that. Cooper retrieved his shield and restarted his previous task of restraining the rest of the criminals. What an odd day.

 Book 2, "Brave New World" CH. 8: Dinner Theater

    Ayda sat on her bunk, legs crossed, laptop laid upon them. She wore a black band tee and jean shorts, and had placed her device so it didn''t touch any bare skin. The mattress she sat upon was in its normal disheveled state. The compulsion to put one''s bed in order never really made sense to her. Why bother making the bed if she were just going to unmake it later? Seemed like a waste of time.

    She clicked between internet browser tabs for a moment. Reddit switched to Instagram, then to Youtube, Facebook, and finally a blank tab. A sigh escaped her lips. Quite simply, she was bored. Her midnight to eight AM patrol shift had been rather uneventful. She''d caught six-ish hours of sleep upon returning home to the bunker, only to wake up with nothing to do. Normally a little relaxation was a good thing, but sometimes it was the exact opposite of what she wanted. That was normal, right?

    A click took her back to Youtube. No new videos. Or, at least, nothing she felt like wasting time on. There were a bazillion hours of video, and nothing to watch. Old people often said something similar about satellite television.

    Ayda looked at the time on her computer just as it ticked over to five o''clock. Four hours of nothing. That was probably the crux of the problem. Ever since waking up, all she''d done was waste time. It felt like what remained of the day was slipping from her grasp. It felt like she hadn''t done anything all day. To be unproductive was to be stagnant, and stagnancy was infuriating.

    A rumbly protest from her stomach was the last straw. Ayda closed her laptop, set it aside, and walked into the living room.

    There she found her patrol mate for the current schedule. Rhiannon Lord¡ªAlloy, by her superhero name, or Rio as her friends called her¡ªsat on the black leather couch facing away from her, hunched over a smartphone. She wore a thin white button-up blouse with only the bottom half buttoned to reveal the moderately low-cut black top beneath. Jeans and dark sneakers completed the ensemble.

    Her naturally pale metallic blue hair was still a little damp and wavy from a recent shower. As the responsible member of their duo, she''d only just woken up about an hour ago. Rio was the only other person who actually lived in the bunker with Ayda. The other team members all had either apartments, houses, or lived with family, and used the bunker more of a base of operations.

    "Hey," Ayda said, stopping behind Rio.

    Rio craned her neck around. "What''s up?"

    "You hungry? It''s about dinner time."

    "I was just thinking about what I would eat before patrol," Rio said. "What did you have in mind?"

    "I was thinking Chinese, maybe?" Ayda raised an eyebrow.

    "That sounds great. Wok and Talk?"

    "Are there any other choices?"

    "No," Rio smiled, "not as far as we''re concerned." She stood, pocketed her phone, and began around the couch.

    "Do you mind if I invite Elliot, too? He probably isn''t doing anything."

    "Of course not. The more the merrier. Besides, I love Elliot." Rio stopped next to a door left of the front entrance.

    "Ok, cool. I''ll shoot him a text."

    Ayda pulled her phone from the pocket it barely fit in and made for the same door Rio was by. The taller girl opened it for her. Ayda offered up a quick thanks in passing. Rio fell in a step behind, closing the door.

    While she walked, Ayda composed a quick text.

    Ayda: Hey. Rio and me are heading to Wok and Talk. You wanna come with?

    A moment to check her spelling, and she sent it off.

    Once that was done, the two girls carried on. They walked down a short hallway to a closed elevator on the other side. Rio did the honors of pressing the call button. The metal doors slid open immediately. They entered, and Rio closed them in. While she punched a lengthy code into the keypad placed where the floor numbers would normally be, Ayda''s phone vibrated. She opened the text.

    Elliot: Sure, that sounds great. I''m starving.

    Ayda: Cool. Meet you there.

    "Elliot said he''s coming," Ayda informed the girl standing next to her.

    "Good," Rio said, still mostly concerned with her code. When she finished, the elevator lurched into motion.

    This elevator didn''t follow a regular path. It went up to clear the bunker, forward for a time, and then up again. When it stopped and let them out, they were in the lobby of the El Puerto Police Department headquarters. To everyone watching, they looked like two normal women getting out of a normal elevator. This was the street clothes entrance to the bunker, so people residing there wouldn''t have to be in costume just to come and go.

    The major downside of this design was it didn''t let out into the parking garage like the official hero entrance. The girls had to exit the big headquarters building and walk to the garage. It thankfully was on the same lot, so the walk remained rather short. Soon enough they were inside Rio''s blue SUV . Ayda took the passenger seat, allowing Rio to drive her own car.

    A turn of the key brought the engine to life, and they were whisked away. Traffic around this time was rather awful, as usual. Everyone was either going home or getting dinner. As such, progress was slow and monotonous, though it never reached gridlock levels. It lightened considerably as the women made it closer to Chinatown. They were mostly free to arrive at their destination.

    Wok and Talk was your typical cheap Chinese restaurant. Big windows allowed a clear view into the establishment. It was done up to look vaguely like an Asian castle, but it had been a laundromat in a past life, so the most the current owners could do was slap some red beams on it. It almost didn''t look like a typical city building. Almost.

    Upon turning into the parking lot, Ayda immediately spotted Elliot''s rust-colored sedan. He''d been driving the same shitty car long as she''d known him. She rolled her eyes at the sight of it, just like she always did whenever forced to be in its presence.

    Rio pulled up on Elliot''s passenger side. He exited as she did. He had his typical stubble and messy short hair, a navy windbreaker, khaki jeans, and white sneakers for clothing. Seeing him now reminded Ayda she hadn''t seen him for a few days. The new patrol cycle just started up, and they''d drawn different time slots. Rio switched off the SUV and the two girls stepped out.

    "Hey, guys," Elliot greeted as they approached him

    "Hey," Rio returned.

    "What''s up?" Ayda said at the same time.

    "Ready to go?" Elliot hiked a thumb at the building behind him.

    The girls gave their affirmatives and they were off. Ayda took a deep sniff. It smelled of oil, cooked meat, and duck sauce, mixed in with the typical dirt of a city.

    The interior was longer than it was wide. It opened immediately up into a low-walled corridor leading to the register, behind which stood a pretty young Asian woman. The path was more to funnel new arrivals to the correct place, than anything else. The single dining room took up most of the space. Long columns of tables for four were separated by thin walls so patrons could have an amount of privacy.

    The place seemed rather empty. As with any place that offered delivery services, most people chose to take out rather than dine in. The relative lack of crowding was exactly what made it a favorite haunt for Ayda''s team. Their jobs entailed a lot of dealing with people. Wok and Talk allowed them a moment of peace to have a good meal.

    The trio approached the counter and gave their orders. Ayda went for her usual, orange chicken on a bed of rice. Rio ordered a generous helping of pork lo mein, not her usual. Elliot chose a wonton soup, the kind that was more wonton than soup. There were more exotic things on the menu, and Ayda found herself slightly disappointed they all made such safe choices. But, such was life.

    They were given a number and their drinks. Rio chose an isolated table to sit at. The girls sat next to each other, leaving one side for Elliot.

    "I haven''t been here for a while," remarked Elliot as he took his seat.

    "We ate here last week," said Ayda.

    "That doesn''t surprise me."

    "Maybe you''d come here more often of you actually left the house," Rio joked as she sat down.

    "I leave the house every day," Elliot said.

    "You know what I mean," Rio said. "Work doesn''t count."

    "Especially when your job is just sitting at a computer all day," added Ayda.

    "Speaking of my job," Elliot said quickly. "How is your gear holding up?"

    "Pretty good," Ayda began. "The joints in my staff are a little bit loose, but it''ll last me a few more weeks, probably."

    "I''ll put in an order for one, anyway," said Elliot. "How about your phones? Still in one piece?"

    "Yeah, surprisingly," Rio confirmed. "I took a pretty good hit a few days ago right on my pocket, and it doesn''t even have a mark on it."

    "I haven''t taken any hits, but mine''s in great condition, too," Ayda said. "I don''t know what NAAME made them out of, but they''re tough as all hell."

    "Heavy, though," Rio added. Ayda shrugged .

    "I don''t know what they''re made of, either," Elliot said. "They won''t tell me."

    "You sound disappointed," observed Ayda with a grin.

    "They''re Neo designed, right," asked Rio.

    "Yeah," Elliot nodded, ignoring Ayda. "But even that''s kinda shady. The rumor is he''s a level 8 Genius, but NAAME won''t say anything about him. "

    "Protecting their assets," Ayda observed.

    "Annoyingly," Elliot scoffed.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    "Speaking of annoying..." Ayda used the Elliot tactic for changing the subject. "Have you heard anything about Silver?"

    The mention of that name drew groans from the rest of the table.

    "Oh, God. Her," Elliot complained.

    "Remind me again why we still want her on the team?" Rio said at almost the same time.

    "Waitress," interrupted Elliot in a hushed tone.

    Conversation skidded to a halt in a split second. Rio dug out her phone and pretended to check her messages.

    "No, I haven''t seen it. I''ll have to check it out," Ayda said to Elliot in an over-cheery way.

    "You should, It''s great," Elliot said, mimicking her tone.

    In that moment, the waitress arrived, bringing with her the gift of food. Wok and Talk stored ready-made components in the kitchen. They just had to be ordered and assembled. It allowed for speedy service but eliminated the hazards of leaving trays out where the general public could touch them. Chinese fast food with a flair for cleanliness. What''s better than that?

    There was some pleasant light conversation with the waitress as she handed out the dishes to each recipient. She came and went in a flash, leaving her patrons with amazing smells and stomachs begging to be filled. The moment the coast was clear, Rio picked up her egg roll and turned back to Ayda.

    "So," she said. "Why do we want Silver on the team?" She took a bite.

    "Because she''s strong," Ayda said, fiddling with her rice. "She''s a level 9 Electromancer. The numbers alone make her the second strongest Neo in the city."

    "She''s also a thief," Elliot said before taking an entire wonton from his spoon.

    "And I wasn''t exactly an upstanding citizen, either, before going hero," countered Ayda.

    "Yeah, but you had good intentions," said Rio.

    "Sure." Ayda conceded that point. "Look, as I''ve said before, I''d rather have that kind of power working with us instead of against us."

    "How do we even know we can trust her?" Rio asked between bites.

    "That''s my biggest issue, personally," echoed Elliot.

    "Anna still trusts her. That''s good enough for me," Ayda said, then sighed. "But, I see where you''re coming from. We should probably have another team meeting about it."

    "Later," Rio said. "For now, I''m hungry." She punctuated this with a fork full of noodles.

    Ayda couldn''t argue with that, not that she wanted to. She cut one of the generous pieces of chicken in half. The orange sauce dribbled down the slice. Ayda gathered up one half along with a bit of rice and dug in. The sour sweet of the sauce mixed with the savory fried chicken was a flavor explosion on her tongue. Perhaps not the most healthy thing in the world, but damned if it wasn''t delicious.

    Conversation died down considerably as they all indulged themselves. Ayda could already feel her food just starting to get cold. The thick sauce was rather terrible when cold. It partially congealed and lost a lot of its sour bite. That couldn''t be allowed to happen. So, in lieu of talking to her friends, she scarfed it down.

    All the talk about Silver made Ayda idly consider her own classifications. NAAME put active Neos into categories and gave them numbers 1-12 representative of their strength in order to make them easier to understand at a glance. Ayda was a level 10 Exploder, a level 7 Mover, and a level 2 Healer. That defined her powerset as someone who could create explosions of some kind, had enhanced agility and/or reflexes, and healed at an accelerated rate.

    The numbers made her the highest ranked Neo in El Puerto. A big part of why she wanted Silver on the team was to combine their rankings. The two most powerful Neos working together would be a massive deterrent for potential ne''er-do-wells. But, she also understood the misgivings of her teammates. Silver was a criminal, after all. That brought with it a lot of baggage. The offer to recruit her wouldn''t even exist were she not so strong.

    After several minutes of eating, with stomachs nearly full and satisfied, the trio started slowing down. Elliot still had the most food left, but that was mostly because he''d had a boiling hot soup to deal with. Ayda and Rio had a few bites each. Even though she ate there quite often, Ayda never got tired of it.

    Three harsh pings cut simultaneously through their relative silence. Both superheroes at the table instantly dug out their phones, while Elliot was a bit slower in doing so. Ayda unlocked her device. There had been a break-in at a mini-mart that had just closed down for the night. Following protocol, Flashbang had sent a message to their hero text group to say he was responding to the situation.

    Ayda nodded, but did not react to it further. She placed her phone face-down on the table. A cursory glance over at Rio saw her beginning to type up a reply. Ayda shot out a hand to cover both her thumbs. Rio gave her a confused look.

    "Don''t baby him," Ayda said.

    "I just wanted to check in, see if he needed anything," Rio argued.

    "That''ll make it look like you think he can''t handle it," Elliot chimed in. "I agree with Ayda."

    "Okay." Rio put her phone down and Ayda retracted her hand. "I just worry about him, you know? He''s so young."

    "Yeah, and you''re a ripe old twenty-three." Elliot joked.

    "Ten years younger than you," Rio jabbed back.

    "I know you''re worried," Ayda jumped in. "I am, too, but we need to trust him. He can do this, and Flechette is out there if he really needs help. Besides, he''s had some awesome teachers."

    "Can''t argue with that," Rio gave Ayda a sly look. "Anna is pretty great."

    Ayda gave her shoulder a playful shove while they both smiled.

    "All this talk of teachers just reminded me," Elliot began. "Have you seen the interrogation of that woman who attacked Cooper?"

    "Oh, yeah," Ayda said. "I forgot that came out today."

    "Why would teachers remind you of that?" Rio asked.

    "She''s a high school science teacher. I guess that means you didn''t watch it," Elliot said. Rio shook her head. "You should, sooner rather than later."

    "Alright. Give me a minute." Ayda picked up her phone in one hand to rifle through it. With the other, she produced a pair of white earbuds from her right pocket.

    "You''re gonna watch it here," Elliot asked, looking around for any nearby people.

    "It''s just an interrogation, right? As long as we keep the business talk to a minimum, it''ll look like one of those stupid cop shows."

    "That''s fair." Elliot shrugged. "This field work stuff is your domain, not mine, so I''ll trust your judgment."

    "Thanks."

    "You wanna share?" Ayda offered Rio an earbud.

    "Sure." Rio took the bud and scooted closer to Ayda until their shoulders touched.

    Each girl put a bud in an ear while Ayda navigated her phone. She opened her digital keypad and typed several numbers and letters. This brought her to a secret menu, within which she opened up a folder labeled "Stuff and stuff." Instead of an actual folder, what popped up a text box. She entered a twenty-five digit password. There was a pause while the phone connected before it brought up a long list of case files. Ayda sorted the list by most recently updated and opened the first subfolder, labeled "Shannon Cooley" followed by a case number. Within were a few text documents, and one video. Ayda opened the latter. The screen went black while it loaded. The pause allowed for an opportunity to turn the phone horizontally and place it on the table between herself and Rio. The women bent over to to get a comfortable view, their heads inches apart.

    The footage itself has a slightly green tinge to it, likely a fault in the recording. The video opened up first on a view of a dark-haired and well dressed woman sitting behind a table. Hand cuffs with the link fed through a loop hold her to it, but only by one arm. The other was in a sling, with the cuff that would''ve been around it instead attached to a table leg. One of her legs was also in a cast. She sat alone for a few seconds until a familiar redheaded policewoman entered through a door beneath the camera.

    "Shannon Cooley?" The woman asked, placing a manila folder on the table.

    "Yes, ma''am," the woman replied, diminutive and quiet.

    "My name is Captain Amanda Barnes. I''d like to ask you a few questions."

    "Of course," Shannon said. Amanda didn''t sit down, but instead walked over to one corner of the table.

    "Why don''t you start by telling me what happened, in your own words?"

    "I don''t know. It''s... weird," said Shannon slowly.

    "Weird how?"

    "It''s hard to describe." Shannon paused for a second. "I remember what happened, but it feels like I wasn''t there, almost like I was watching a movie or something."

    "Does it feel like someone else did everything?"

    "No. ...Maybe. I don''t know."

    "Right." Amanda walked back over to the manila folder and flipped it open. She began laying out a few of the papers. "Just being thorough, here. You know what you''re in for, right?"

    "Yes. I assaulted a superhero," said Shannon simply.

    "Why?"

    "I don''t know!" Shannon blurted. "God, I would never do anything like that. I''ve never even been in a fight before."

    "And yet, you did. I''m here to figure out why." Amanda slid a page toward Shannon. "Do you know the man in this picture?"

    "I''d never seen him before yesterday. Your people told me he''s a member of the Triad? I didn''t even know the Triad were still around. I thought Pulse got rid of them."

    "They aren''t what they once were, but they still cause trouble," explained Amanda. "So, you''ve never seen Wei Lao before? You weren''t trying to defend him, or keep Bronze Knight from taking him?"

    "No, I wasn''t working for him. I don''t like criminals. I think they should all be brought to justice. Including myself, I guess." She sunk down in her chair a bit.

    Amanda slid another paper atop the photo of Wei Lao. "This is a travel itinerary. You just got back from a two week trip to New Orleans."

    "I did. My husband and I go on separate vacations every year, just so we can get away from our crazy lives for a bit."

    "Why don''t you tell me a little bit about that?"

    "Sure, I¡ª" Shannon thought for a moment, but her face fell into a look of confusion. "I can''t remember. Oh God, I don''t remember anything!" She leaned forward, looking over the itinerary. "I definitely went there, I know I did, but I don''t remember." She looked at the officer. "You have to believe me. I went to New Orleans, I did! Ask my family, they''ll tell you."

    "I believe you, Mrs. Cooley," Amanda said, hands up in a placating motion.

    "Do you have my phone? I would''ve taken pictures."

    "You don''t remember anything about your trip at all?"

    "There must be pictures on my phone. I''ll show them to you if you give me my phone." Shannon reached out a hand.

    Amanda hesitated for a poignant few breaths before digging through the manila folder. She extracted a plastic bag containing an older model smartphone. A zip of the seal and upturn of the bottom dropped it into Shannon''s grasp.

    With her one good hand, Shannon began flipping through the pictures. Her motions began in a calm fashion, yet grew almost instantaneously into feverish motions of her thumb. She hunched her shoulders and drew further forward. Her head shook, her breaths were short. The expression she wore was scrunched up and tight.

    "I don''t remember this. I don''t remember taking these pictures. I... I don''t remember."

    "Not even the pictures you''re in?"

    "No! I don''t even know where this is." She showed Amanda a picture before going back to her frantic search. "I don''t know who that guy is. I don''t remember eating this. I think this is my hotel room, but I''ve never been there in my life." She looked at Amanda. "Officer, I don''t know what''s happening!"

    "Well, this is New Orleans," Amanda said. "Are you sure you didn''t party a little too hard?"

    "No, of¡ªof course not! I don''t drink, or do drugs, or anything! My kids¡ªmy students¡ªwill tell you that." A hollow look washed over her. "Oh God, my son!"

    "Your family is safe," Amanda said.

    "Are they here? Can I see them?"

    "Not yet, I''m sorry, not while the investigation is still so new. We can''t risk¡ª"

    "Please, I just want to see my son. I want to tell him I''m okay, and that he shouldn''t worry."

    "You can''t talk to anyone outside of your lawyer and the officers cleared for this case. We can''t risk any sort of corroboration."

    "I''m not saying anything to you until you let me see my son!" Shannon slammed her phone face down on the table. It audibly cracked, even over the surveillance camera speaker. She looked at her phone, and then to the shattered glass it left behind, both with astonishment. "What? How did I... I''m not that strong. Officer, I don''t know what''s going on! You have to help me!"

    Amanda began gathering up the evidence, including the now broken phone. "I''m going to talk this over with my superiors. You clearly need some time to cool down."

    "No, wait, you have to help me!" Shannon said, but Amanda was already on her way out. "Please, don''t go! You have to help me, please!"

    The door opened and shut, leaving Shannon alone in the room. A few tears dotted the table before she cradled head in her arms upon it. She sobbed openly, entire body convulsing while she muttered, still begging Amanda to help her.

    The phone screen cut to black, and forcibly returned to the case file folder.

    Ayda stared silently at it for a moment before taking her earphone out. She sat back. A glance at Rio saw her doing the same. The taller woman blinked a few times and took a deep breath.

    "That was..." Rio trailed off. "Wow, that got intense. Not at all what I was expecting."

    "Yeah, same," echoed Ayda.

    "That was pretty much my reaction, too," Elliot said before chomping on his last wonton.

    "Any idea what happened," asked Rio. Elliot shook his head instead of talking with a mouth full of food.

    "Drugs?" posited Ayda. "She seemed pretty against that sort of thing, though, so I''m not sure."

    "Toxicology confirms that," Elliot said after swallowing. "She didn''t even have any caffeine in her system."

    "No coffee? Blasphemous," Ayda joked.

    "She was surprised by her strength at the end, there. Maybe it was a late manifestation of powers?" Rio said.

    "That''s probably part of it, but I''ve never heard of someone losing their memory just because they got powers," Elliot said.

    "Maybe that is her power. Kinda like a reverse Learner, but instead of learning stuff really fast, she forgets them," said Rio.

    "That''d be a shitty power," Ayda said.

    "We''ve seen worse," Elliot countered. Ayda just shrugged a shoulder. "She''ll probably have to get a psych eval as part of the investigation. We''ll have to wait and see."

    "Lame," Ayda faked a whine, punctuating it by finishing off her soda. "I''ll have to follow up with Amanda later."

    "Please," said Rio. "She can probably shed some light on this."

    "That''s what I''m hoping for," agreed Ayda.

    Their respective meals were more or less gone, at that point. They finished up, split the bill three ways, then departed the establishment. Watching the interrogation put an unexpected downer on the mood, so most of this was done with little in the way of conversation. Instead, Ayda was left wondering what exactly had happened, and what the implications of whatever it was would be. Thankfully, she had an upcoming patrol to worry about. No sense in wasting too much energy on Shannon Cooley if the specifics of her situation were still unknown.

 Book 2, "Brave New World" CH. 9: Electric Boogaloo

    A full moon rose against the salt and pepper backing of a cloudless sky. Scattered blue beams bathed the city below in dim lighting. It would be midnight soon, and shadows cast by the wonderful moon would momentarily disappear. For the moment, however, it was a beautiful night, if a bit warm.

    Silver walked down a mostly empty sidewalk. Most folks in the industrial district were smart enough to stay home at night, and those who weren''t passed her by with little fanfare. The grey paint on her face, arms, and what cleavage her black corset revealed allowed for an ounce of camouflage. She could blend in at least somewhat with the moonrays. This wasn''t the main reason she normally went out at night, though. Truth be told, it was just more fun than traipsing around beneath the oppressive Texas sun.

    She passed beneath a streetlight. Moths flitting around the blub cast miniscule shadows. The yellow light caught a glint off her painted skin, while it also filtered through the shiny white locks of her wig. A teenager dressed in a loose hoodie entered the streetlight at roughly the same time as Silver did. His eyes widened and shoulders tensed for a moment at the sight of a known supervillain approaching him. This surprise passed in a split-second, and he quickened his pace past her.

    Silver paid him little mind as she listened to him shuffle away. Kids usually weren''t the greatest when it came to reporting crimes and criminals. Besides that, a young man dressed like that out at this time of night probably wasn''t up to much good himself. Not much to worry about, most likely, but still as good a reason as any to stay on task. Best get this over with quickly.

    An alleyway came and went on her left. A cursory glance revealed a small car parked within. Her lips curled into a smile. The car would do well enough for an escape, and she could sell it to that Cuban guy down at the docks for even further profit. Beyond that, driving beat the hell out of walking.

    Upon crossing from one block to the next, her target came into view. It was a little liquor store she hadn''t bothered to learn the name of, the kind of place that stayed open late in the hopes of catching a drunk in search of more booze. She''d been casing the joint for a few days now.

    When within a few feet, Silver opened her gambit. From two fingertips she fired a bolt of lightning at the store. Blue electricity coursed through the building. In an instant, the lights went dark, but only for the intended building. She''d been careful to use only enough to cripple the one place. A more massive power outage would draw attention, and bring either cops or heroes down on her head. Dealing with either was a chore the villainess would rather spare herself.

    Silver entered the establishment. She made sure to push the plexiglass and metal door, rather than pull it. Retaining that information had been part of the earlier scouting. No one would take a criminal seriously who couldn''t figure out the exact function of a door.

    Once inside, Silver created her own light source. An ionic cloud rose from her upturned palm. Reedy bolts of lightning shot toward the ceiling, casting thin shadows for the few inches they stretched before fizzling out. It looked very much like a miniature thunderstorm held in her hand. It bathed the entire room in an eerie, dim blue glow. Long shadows cast along her face, as well as the two chin height aisles filled with various cheep beers and liquors.

    All the way on the far wall to her left was a single person standing behind the counter. A Hispanic man in his mid-fifties, he was only a little bit taller than her, which was remarkable because Silver stood at a whopping 5''4".

    The clerk looked about ready to shout something at her¡ªlikely about the power outage¡ªbut clamped his mouth shut the moment she lit herself up. She walked toward him. He took a step back, but only had so much space before he ran right into the wall behind. The bottles stacked on their shelves rattled, and a few packs of cigarettes tumbled to the ground. He paid them zero mind, opting to focus entirely on the intruder.

    "I''ll take your silence as a sign of recognition." Silver put on her best regal villain voice. She stopped just sshy of arm''s length from the counter. "If you have an alarm, I''ve already fried it. If you have a gun somewhere back there, don''t go for it. Bullets aren''t faster than lightning." She shot a bolt at the ceiling for emphasis. The clerk made a strained noise, and flinched as if dodging a punch.

    "Please don''t hurt me," the clerk said in a heavy accent. "Just take my money and leave."

    "That''s the plan." Silver directed a bolt at the cash register. The drawer sprung open. The clerk flinched. "Put all of it in a bag. Now."

    She hadn''t finished her directive before the clerk sprang into action. Frantic hands dug at the drawer''s contents. Each scrape carried a fistful of bills. There was no form to his motions, no rhyme nor reason. He only wanted to empty the register quickly as possible.

    Silver smiled as she watched him work, a sadistic sort of grin like a cat playing with its food. She tried to get a rough overview of the bills as they were hauled from the register. While mostly tens and twenties, there were a few hundreds mixed in. It hardly came as a surprise. Alcohol could be expensive, after all. Why else would places like this be such popular targets?

    The clerk finished in record time. He placed the last few coins into the bag and threw it over the counter to rest at Silver''s feet. She looked at it, then up to him with a raised eyebrow.

    "Really? Did I fucking stutter?" She said.

    "What?" The clerk breathed. He was visibly shaking, now.

    "I said all of it. The safe. Go."

    She nodded toward a door to her right. The clerk was ramrod still, probably too terrified to move.

    "Go!" She shouted.

    Raising her voice did the trick. The clerk scurried away, all but sprinting for the door. Silver scooped up the bag of money and followed at a more measured pace behind him. The man dug a key from his pocket. He made an attempt at unlocking the door, but trembling hands had a tough time with dextrous work. The key clinked and rattled against the lock. Silver sighed and tapped her foot in a manner he certainly heard.

    After what were most likely the longest few seconds of his life, the clerk successfully got the door open. He entered and went right to the safe. As he knelt to turn the combination lock, Silver followed. She stood in the doorway without actually entering the small dark room. It was a place used mostly for storage, with unopened boxes strewn about randomly.

    "Do you wanna hear a secret?" Silver asked the man while he worked. No response, predictably. "I could probably open that safe with my power. It''s just more fun to watch you squirm." It was honestly the best part. Other than the payday, of course.

    The clerk entered the combination quickly as he could. He attempted to turn the lever, but it wouldn''t budge.

    "Mierda," he swore under his breath, then whispered something else in Spanish as he entered the combination again.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    "Are you saying mean things about me," asked Silver. "Because I wouldn''t know if you were. I took German in high school, which means I don''t speak a word of German."

    The clerk completely ignored her. It would''ve been more satisfying if he had some sort of clever quip, but silence was also nice. Either way, Silver knew her constant prodding got under his skin.

    This time when the man turned the handle, the latch clicked open. The clerk ripped the door open to reveal the fat pile of cash inside. Silver thew the money bag down at his right. He flinched almost all the way to his feet at both the motion and the sound of it hitting the floor so close.

    "Empty it," Silver ordered. The clerk knelt back down and did as instructed. "Hurry up. I only have all night."

    The order hadn''t even left her lips before the clerk began filling up the bag. Either he''d seen enough cop shows to know how this went down, or he''d been robbed before. That second possibility was almost enough to make Silver feel bad. Almost.

    The poor man probably set a speed record in how quickly he managed to empty the safe. The amount of cash inside was not insignificant, yet he removed it all in record time. Instead of picking up little bunches two at a time, entire armfuls were pushed into the bag. Within moments, every cent had been transferred. The moment it was, Silver intervened.

    "Good. Now stand up and step into that corner." She indicated the far side of the little back room.

    The clerk did as instructed. He even put his arms up as he walked, though Silver hadn''t told him to do so. The villainess stepped forward and snatched up the bag. She spared one final glance for the clerk. He stood perfectly still. His posture tensed at her gaze, but he remained in his corner. Satisfied he wasn''t dumb enough to try anything, Silver enacted her final step.

    "One last thing." She pointed at him and her power crackled. A reedy little bolt contacted his right pocket. The clerk yelped and fell to the ground. "No cellphones. Can''t have you calling the cops. Now," she hefted the bag over one shoulder, "if there''s nothing else, I''ll be going. Thank you for doing business with me."

    With that, Silver exited the establishment. She always felt a little guilty about that last part. First she robbed the guy, then she went and destroyed his cellphone? She wouldn''t do something like that if it weren''t absolutely necessary. But, a dumb thief was a caught thief, and she refused to be caught. Supervillain prisons weren''t the cushiest of places.

    Though there were little danger of the cops showing up, Silver saw no need to stick around. She hit a decent pace down the thankfully barren sidewalk, somewhere between a walk and a jog. The sooner she vacated the premises, the sooner she could count her money. That was, perhaps, the best part. Nothing compared to the feeling of accomplishment brought upon by counting her haul after a good day''s work.

    She hefted the sack held lazily in her right hand, a short motion to test the weight. It felt heavier than most times she''d robbed a liquor store. Hopefully that meant the payout was larger than normal. The cash kept on-hand at these places could vary wildly. A good take sometimes meant the difference between ribeyes and ramen.

    They alley where she''d seen the car was coming up, on the right now that she were going the opposite direction. Hopefully it was still there, and hopefully it was new enough to have some sort of ECU or other electrical structure inside. She could jump start a vehicle with a good jolt, but older ones didn''t have the necessary electronics under the hood. This would be a whole lot harder if she had to walk home with her bag full of money.

    Turning into the alley revealed the car was, in fact, still there. It was some sort of compact sedan, perhaps a Japanese import, which explained how it fit in the alley at all. What little light penetrated the passage reflected off the vehicle''s smooth lines and pure black color scheme. It couldn''t have been any more than five years old, which basically meant Silver had struck gold. These foreign cars were still popular amongst street racers, especially those closer to the west coast. It may be worth even more than she thought upon first seeing it.

    As the darkness concealed the vehicle, it also kept secret those within the alley. Silver walked on blissfully unaware of this, until a flicker of movement from above caught her attention. She stopped in her tracks and put one foot behind the other in a defensive stance. There was no sound as a shape dropped from a fire escape above to land in a knelt position. It was like a ghost, a wraith in the knight.

    The figure stood. Shadows wrapped around its frame, absorbed by the soft black fabric clung close to the skin. A woman, she was tall and slim, with deep curves at her long waist which looked almost unnatural. The plain dark cloth covered every inch of her. The only visible part of her person was a pair of glowing golden eyes split vertically by broad pupils. They were not her most striking feature, however. No, that distinction went to the thick girdled tail that swished out behind as she rose to full height.

    Their eyes met. Silver took a small step back. The villainess dropped her money bag. She stood with her hands at her sides, elbows slightly bent inward, palms facing forward with the fingers pointed out. Electricity ran up her forearms, arced through her digits. Stray white locks from her wig danced in the static.

    "Be at ease, young one. I am not here to fight you," said the figure. She had a slippery way of talking, emphasized by her pronounced South African accent.

    "Yeah? Forgive me if I don''t believe you," Silver challenged.

    "I wish to talk, that is all," said the woman.

    "Alright, then talk." Silver refused to back down, not against this unknown quantity.

    "Relinquish your powers, first. We can hardly have a conversation when the air is so tense."

    "Not gonna happen," Silver denied. "Not until I know you won''t attack."

    "Your powers move at the speed of light. You could strike me down before I moved an inch."

    "Maybe. Maybe not. You clearly have powers, and since I don''t know what they are, I''ll stick to my guns."

    "Fine, have it your way." The woman shook her head. "Perhaps this will convince you."

    Silver had never encountered someone with a tail before. As such, she didn''t even think to keep an eye on it. By the time she saw it move, it was too late. The woman slipped her tail into a pocket and whipped something toward Silver. The villainess stretched out one hand. A charge built white hot blue lightning in her hand, ready to be released, when the incoming object caught a sliver of streetlight that leaked in from beyond the alley; a shade of green Silver knew very well.

    A wad of cash landed at her feet, so fat it couldn''t be rolled up, and had to be folded. A broad, pink rubber band kept it together. Silver glanced at it for a split second. The top bill was a hundred. She couldn''t see what the other denominations were, but if they all were hundreds, than the bundle must''ve been a few thousand dollars, if not more.

    Silver met the woman''s eyes. She dropped her powers and let her arms fall to the side. The electricity faded from her form. Her hair settled.

    "I''m listening," she said.

    "I will cut right to the chase, then," the woman began. "My name is Liandra, but professionally I''m known as Raptor. I''m coming to you today with a business opportunity."

    "You want to hire me?" Silver raised an eyebrow.

    "Yes," nodded Liandra.

    "And you thought an ambush was the best way to do that? You couldn''t go through my agent or ask for a resume?"

    "Cute," Liandra said, terse. Her tail swished. "Are you done?"

    Silver gave no response, only stared Raptor straight in her strange eyes.

    "Good," Liandra said. "Now, as I was saying, my employer is after a particular piece of equipment, one that I cannot easily acquire with my skill set. You, however, are uniquely qualified."

    "This employer of yours have a name?"

    "They do," Liandra replied simply. "For now, you work directly with me."

    "Then what''s this, exactly?" Silver gestured toward the money. "Payment upfront? Half now, half later?"

    "A gift. Whether you accept my offer or not, it is yours to keep as a gesture of good faith. The job I am proposing pays the same amount. Do well, and there may be even more in your future. Feel free to look it over."

    Moving slowly, Silver picked up the banded clump of cash in front of her, one eye on Raptor at all times. When the other woman made no move to attack or otherwise intercept, Silver snatched it up and stood straight. She thumbed through the bills. They were, indeed, all hundreds She could count them later, but it was a decent amount.

    She looked to the sack on the ground to her right. It probably contained roughly the same amount of money inside, but the robbery it came from had also been unusually lucrative. Most of the time she was lucky to get away with a few hundred, a far cry from the thousand or so within that bag. There was nothing consistent about turning over liquor stores. It wasn''t sustainable.

    Silver placed the money in front of her face, so it was visible at in the same breadth as the sack. Liandra¡ªRaptor¡ªwas offering her a substantial payday. She had a chance to make five figures in just two jobs. How many poor saps would she have to rob to haul in a similar amount? Sure, this job Raptor wanted her for was probably more dangerous than her normal work, but she also said it was a perfect fit for her. One of the first things Silver learned in her tenure as a thief was that beggars can''t be choosers, especially if the reward outweighed the risk.

    "Alright." She looked at Liandra. "What do you want me to do?"

 Book 2, "Brave New World" CH. 10: Coffeehouse Rhapsody

    Kindle sat alone in a coffee shop at a table set for two. Said table was ringed with natural wood, a standard green center, and then another wooden circle right in the middle, all painted to a matte finish. The chair she sat in, along with the empty one across from her, were of the same wood as the tables. Given the lack of damage on their relatively hard exteriors, they were most likely some form of pressboard. Kindle wondered if they would even catch on fire, not that she had any intention of finding out.

    Dressed in civilian clothes, she was there as Anna, not the superhero Kindle. She wore a tight white shirt with flowy short sleeves which really didn''t do anything other than cover her shoulders. Blue jeans and white sneakers completed the ensemble.

    The place was moderately packed. A barista smiled as she handed a white foam cup to a middle-aged gentleman, who took it before finding a seat. Another employee took an order from a teenage girl with brilliant red hair. About half of the tables hosted occupants, a few of which were quite obviously couples. Anna couldn''t help but smile. There was something so comforting about people being people, even in a public place like this.

    Anna looked up at the entrance, and that smile turned into a scowl. For all the people currently inside the establishment, the one she''d come to see was absent. She looked at the tiny bronze-painted watch on her right wrist. Late, as always. No surprise, there, but it was still annoying.

    She took a deep breath. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and various baked goods filled her nose. Ever was she tempted to go order something while she waited. But, no. That would be rude to her friend. Not that said friend would care, or maybe even notice. Surely letting a cup of coffee cool down was reasonable, right?

    Just as she were about to get up to place an order, a woman walked through the glass entrance door. A couple inches shorter than Anna herself, she had her shoulder-length mousy brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail. She wore a loose gray tanktop with the words "sleeves are bullshit" emblazoned on the front in bold white letters. How lovely. Denim shorts and white on black sneakers rounded out the look. The outfit made her look a bit boxier than she really was, given her hourglass figure.

    "Hey, you!" The woman greeted excitedly as he approached.

    "Hey," Anna returned, standing up.

    The women exchanged a brief hug over the table, that was mostly arms and shoulders. Anna returned to her original chair, while the new arrival chose the one across from her. The woman positioned her seat at an angle such that if she leaned back, she''d be resting her right shoulder against it.

    "You look, amazing," complimented the woman.

    "So do you," said Anna.

    "Don''t lie. I know you hate my style," the woman admonished, and they had a little smile at it.

    "How have you been, Silver?" Anna asked.

    "I''ve been great," Silver said. "I''ve had a really good couple of days."

    "That''s good to hear."

    "How about you?"

    "The city''s been pretty quiet. Boring, but a good boring," Anna said.

    "I didn''t know there was a such thing as ''good boring,'' but okay."

    "And you? How''s your job going?"

    "Hold that thought." Silver held up a finger and looked toward the counter. "I''m dying for a good cup of coffee. Let''s go order."

    "Alright," agreed Anna.

    They stood and went over to the closest open barista. Silver ordered a white mocha, while Anna went with a normal coffee with cream and two sugars, as well as a banana nut muffin. Their drinks were prepared with an impressive expediency, and the ladies went back to their table, treats in hand.

    The moment she sat down, Anna took a sip of her coffee. It was dark and slightly sweet, with a heavy roasted flavor. She usually preferred a lighter blend, but this was more than adequate. She lowered her cup to see Silver giving her an alarmed look.

    "What?"

    "Nothing," Silver shook her head. "It''s just, every time you do that, I forget for a split-second that you''re immune to temperature." She gingerly touched the sides of her own cup. "Must be nice."

    "I''ve never been hot before, so I wouldn''t know," Anna said. "So, how are things at Penny''s?"

    "Oh, I quit that job a week ago," Silver said, brushing it off as if it were no big deal.

    "Silver..." Anna cautioned.

    "Don''t give me that. At least I gave it a shot."

    "That''s not the point. This is the fourth job you''ve quit this year."

    "And?"

    "It''s June!"

    "Alright, alright, don''t freak out. We both know I''m not the working sort," Silver said. "Besides, I was recently approached with something really interesting."

    "Something legal, I hope," Anna said.

    "Of course," Silver nodded. "There''s a chance to make a lot of money. I think it''ll be a really great opportunity for me."

    Anna sighed. "At least you''re not being completely irresponsible," she said. "You''re behaving yourself, then?"

    "Yes, mom," Silver joked.

    "Really?" Anna raised an eyebrow. "Because there was a robbery just last night, right after a liquor store lost power. You wouldn''t happen to know anything about that?"

    "Not a thing."

    "Right." Anna rolled her eyes, but didn''t act beyond that. Instead, she began unwrapping her muffin. "You know, you really should find a better codename, instead of just your real name. For safety''s sake."

    "It''s fine, isn''t it?" Silver countered. "My real name is so perfect for my power, no one would ever suspect it''s also my real name."

    "If you say so," Anna shrugged. They''d had this conversation many times before, and each time it ended in the same way. Seriously, getting this girl to do anything she didn''t want to was like pulling teeth from a bear.

    "Speaking of work, though," Silver began, "I might have something your team would be interested in."

    "Oh?" Anna took a bite of her muffin. A bit dry, but flavorful.

    "Yeah." Silver leaned in over the table. She continued in a hushed tone. "There''s a big shipment of opium coming in at the docks tonight. The good Afghan shit, the stuff that rich white dudes pay a lot of money for."

    Anna swallowed. "Where''d you hear this?"

    "One of their guys on this side of the pond tried to hire me for protection, but I turned them down. I don''t touch drugs, you know that."

    "You''re right, that''s interesting," Anna said. "Can you tell me anything else?" She took another bite of her muffin.

    "Sorta. They were a bit scant on details," Silver began.

    "Sit up," Anna interrupted. "What you''re doing right now is more suspicious."

    "What? Why?"

    "Because it''s obvious we''re not having a normal conversation."

    Silver looked confused, and then slightly alarmed, which¡ªcoupled with her posture¡ªmade it painfully obvious she always worked alone. Silver sat up, snapping her head this way and that on the watch for eavesdroppers. Anna did the same, but with a bit more tact. Her eyes scanned the room, as if she were simply looking around. No one seemed to be listening.

    "Alright, continue," she said, taking a sip of her coffee.

    "Right, okay." Silver paused. "It''s coming in just after seven on a boat disguised as a merchant fishing vessel."

    "Ah, that old trick," Anna said. She continued when Silver gave her a confused look. "Dogs can''t smell through the fish scent, and most dock workers don''t want to inspect the dead fish too closely."

    "You seem to know an awful lot about drug smuggling," Silver said, a suspicious tilt to her voice.

    Anna shrugged. "I''ve been doing this for a few years. Anything else?"

    "No, I don''t think so," Silver said. "Careful if you decide to go after them, though. They probably found some other Neo after I said no."

    "Anyone other than you, we can deal with," Anna said. "Thanks for telling me."

    "Of course. Anything for my best super friend." Silver said.

    "I''m your only super friend," clarified Anna.

    "Which is why you''re the best one." Silver punctuated this with a sip of her coffee, which was still too hot, judging by the strained expression she gave.

    Anna rolled her eyes, but smiled all the same. Silver could be a handful, sure, but they were friends all the same. That she sometimes provided intel was a bonus. She''d never steered the team wrong before.

    ¡­

    Pulse stood behind a building, posture somewhere between a duck and a proper standing position, her head just below a dirty window. She had tucked herself right behind the corner in a position that would make it easy to peek out if necessary.

    Behind her stacked up her teammates Kindle, Flechette, and Flashbang¡ªAnna, Frank, and Dominick¡ªin that order. Each of them wore their superhero costumes. Kindle had the skin tight black leather suit with red trim, matching jacket, and eye mask with oculars in the shape of diamonds. Flechette wore a white wife beater and tan cargo pants. A latticework of interwoven little metal spikes covered his every inch of what would be bare skin. An expressionless mask with rectangular eye holes protected his identity. Finally, Dominick sported his black morph suit with armor plates sewn into the chest and upper arms. He used his power to make his face appear as nothing but an faceless expanse of African-American skin.

    Darkness filled the sky. It smelled of salt, and fuel, and fish. In the relative quiet, Pulse heard the waves lapping against the man-made shore structures. The docks were always oddly peaceful at night. No one really wanted to unload a ship with flashlights, so it didn''t see much business after the sun went down.

    Pulse had been pleasantly surprised when Anna came to her with information about a high profile drug deal going down later that night. She wasn''t so enthused about where this information came from. She respected the friendship shared between Anna and Silver, but only because it predated the team. It always caused a bit of umbrage whenever she heard of the two hanging out.

    Whatever. Bygones. What was done, was done. Ayda had a mission to focus on. It had been quite a long time since they''d had a proper drug raid. This would be fun, surely. To that end, she looked behind her to gaze at her companions. Each of them nodded. They were ready.

    "Alright, Crypto, we''re good. What do you see?" Ayda asked in a hushed tone over the comms.

    "They''re dead ahead," Crypto''s voice said in her ear. "Five on land unloading boxes, and four more on the boat handing them down. There''s a Neo supervising the land guys. I think it''s Tiger Shark."

    "Tiger Shark, really?" Ayda asked, an eyebrow raised.

    "Isn''t that a Marvel villain?" Flashbang chimed in from the back, copying her lowered tone.

    "Yes," Crypto confirmed. "This guy''s not as cool. Stupid shark mask, orange and black bodypaint, orange vest, I''m pretty sure it''s him."

    "Nothing to worry about," Flechette said. "He''s a minor villain, at best, and even that''s pushing it."

    "You''ve fought him before?" Kindle asked.

    "Yeah, he was the first Neo we took on after Tahoe," Pulse answered. "We kicked his ass, but he got away, and he''s been silent ever since.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    "What are his powers?" Kindle continued.

    "Level five Shooter. He makes short-range projectiles that shoot forward a few feet and chomp, like a shark."

    "That... sounds really dumb," commented Flashbang.

    "It''s even worse because he''s an Alt. Someone made him. Why, I have no idea," Flechette said.

    "It''s a dumb power, but it cuts through diamond like butter. That''s the only reason his rank is high as it is," Ayda said.

    "Still feel better knowing it''s him and not someone worse," Flechette said. "What''s the plan?"

    "Alright." Ayda turned around to face her team. "The three of us will show ourselves and distract them. Just a little talking, no violence. Flashbang, you stealth around and take out one of their guys on land. Do not go after Tiger Shark."

    "Why not?" Flashbang said. "We should take him out first."

    "He doesn''t need to see you to use his power. I don''t want him to lash out blindly and hurt you. I took him down once, so I''ll handle him. Understood?"

    "Yeah, I got it." Flashbang nodded.

    "Good. When F.B. takes out the first guy, the rest of us go in. Flechette and Flashbang, I want you to handle the guys on land. Kindle, take the boat, but try not to sink it. Any objections?" Pulse gave them time to voice their opinions. They did not. "Okay, then. Let''s move."

    Flashbang went invisible. At the same time, collapsed staff in hand, Ayda led the remaining two around the corner and straight toward the baddies. The scene was exactly as Crypto described. The heroes fanned out as they passed between two buildings, Kindle on the right, Flechette on the left.

    They weren''t trying to be discrete, and as such were noticed quite quickly. One thug smacked another on the shoulder and pointed. His actions go the attention of everyone else. In a second, all eyes were on them. Three guys on land and two on the boat drew handguns. One had a knife. The others appeared unarmed. Tiger Shark stepped forward.

    His mask really was ridiculous. It looked like an open shark''s head, with his own set back in the mouth. A balaclava and dark ski goggles concealed his identity. He''d added a pair of black boots with fins on the back to his outfit, but they didn''t stop his brown pants from clashing with the rest of his look.

    He set his shoulders and looked Ayda straight in the sunglasses. For a wonder, he actually managed to look intimidating. They criminals were ready for a fight, but when the heroes showed no aggression, they also stayed their weapons. It was to be a standoff. Perfect.

    "Tiger Shark, buddy!" Ayda enthused. She halted her approach several feet away. "Long time no see."

    "What do you want, Pulse?" He had a gruff way of speaking which made him sound like a smoker.

    "Come on, you can''t be that stupid," Ayda said. "You''re a known criminal, helping other criminals unload a whole lot of drugs. What do you think I want."

    Tiger shark looked around. "I don''t see any drugs here."

    "Look harder," Flechette said.

    "Oh, you''re here, too? Sorry I didn''t notice the least famous superhero in town." Tiger Shark tried to be witty. It wasn''t a good look on him.

    "I don''t need fame to kick your ass," Flechette fired back.

    "Yeah? Plan on backing that up, or are you all talk?"

    "Why don''t you come over here and find out?" Flechette challenged with an audible sneer. Negotiations were deteriorating faster than Ayda expected.

    Tiger Shark took a step forward, but never had a chance of further movement. Ayda saw Flashbang reappear a second before he reached up and attacked the thug furthest to the right. He put his hands over the criminal''s eyes and created several rapid-fire bursts of light. The bad guy screamed out in surprise and pain, drawing the attention of everyone else. A few of the guns were pointed their way, but no one pulled the trigger. They wouldn''t dare with their compatriot in the way.

    Ayda didn''t even need to order the charge. Her friends were well-seasoned heroes. They knew how to capitalize on a distraction. Pulse ran right at Tiger Shark, extending her staff with little purple explosions on both ends as she went. Kindle lifted into the air and shot past overhead, propelled by knife-like jets from balled up fists at her sides, a blonde missile heading for the boat. Flechette kept pace with Pulse, but diverted a little further left to aim at two of the gunmen. He produced a big spike and threw it at one of them. The man found it embedded in his right shoulder, a discovery which made him drop his gun and cry out in pain. Flashbang disappeared again.

    The gunmen opened fire. Two of them shot at Flechette. The bullets sparked off his armor and made holes in his clothing, but he was unhampered by them. The pair on the boat turned their attention toward Kindle. The pyrokinetic dived low and rolled twice, avoiding the shots. At the end of the second roll, she landed hard on the boat. The moment her feet came down, her hands went out with two jets of flame, one for each gunman. They cried out and were thrown backwards. One of them landed on his ass, while the other took a nice late-night swim. The remaining two squared up, though they had little chance of wining. All of this took place before either Ayda or Frank reached their targets, a perfect highlight for just how fast Kindle was.

    As Ayda came up on Tiger Shark, he was still looking over his shoulder at everything happening behind him. The heroine leapt at him the last few feet, staff held high above her head. Tiger Shark looked her way at the last minute and threw up a projectile just as Ayda''s swing came down. It was orange and appeared energy based. Flat on both ends and with big jagged teeth, it more closely resembled a bear trap than a shark. He called them "jaws," if memory served. It met with Ayda''s blast, and both effectively canceled each other out. The bear trap things were solid enough to stop Ayda''s swing, though they shattered on contact. Since she wasn''t able to actually hit him, Tiger Shark remained unharmed.

    Ayda landed and sneered up at him. Tiger Shark stepped back to fall into something that resembled a fighting stance. Ayda pushed forward, pressing the initiative. She unleashed a quartet of blows with blasts, left-right-left-right, all at different elevations. Tiger Shark met each with a jaw. He countered with a front kick. Ayda quarter-turned out of the way and came down with her staff. Tiger Shark tossed up a jaw to block. He followed with an uppercut that also threw a jaw. Ayda leaned back, held her staff high, and thrust forward with the butt end. Tiger Shark deflected the blast with a jaw, then threw another on the end of a low kick. Pulse jumped back to dodge. The projectile continued on its low arc, taking a broad bite out of the pavement a few inches from where Ayda landed.

    Ayda kicked the fore edge of the newly created hole. The blast she created threw up dust and asphalt chunks at Tiger Shark. He shielded his face with his arms. Exactly what she wanted him to do. Pulse separated her staff into its dual kali sticks form and tossed the left-hand stick at her enemy, no blast to send it forward. He stumbled back a few steps, holding his forehead where he''d been hit.

    Pulse rushed him. She attacked thrice with her remaining stick¡ªdown, then up, and down again in rapid succession. None of the hits were accompanied by blasts. Though Tiger Shark did not block, he took each hit without falling. He countered, more than a flail than a straight punch. Ayda crouched down so the jaw sailed harmlessly overhead. From this lowered position, she struck Tiger Shark''s knee. While he struggled to keep his balance, Pulse popped up into the air and spun a hook kick into his temple. She finally hit him with a blast, one barely big enough to rip him off his feet. He rolled in the air before landing on his shoulder to skid a few feet along the ground. Winded, but not dead or knocked out. Ayda recovered her thrown stick and went for him.

    Flashbang snuck up on the fight Flechette currently waged with three of the men on land. Two actively engaged him, while the third had picked up a dropped handgun and was trying to line up a good shot. Dominick wasn''t invisible as he came up behind the criminal. Since he couldn''t cloak himself and create light bursts at the same time, going invisible made his attacks slower. No one was paying attention to him, so the extra exertion was unnecessary.

    As Flashbang approached his target from behind, he heard the rapid patter of footsteps charging up on him. They were very close, partially masked by the sound of Ayda''s blasts. Dominick turned to face the threat, but far too late. He had enough time to see that it was not one of the criminals before this new attacker barreled into him. They went down. Dominick landed hard on his spine beneath the man. His vision swam for a second.

    They man postured up as Flashbang''s vision returned. A stout gentleman, he was broad of both shoulders and hips. Bald on top and slightly wrinkled, he must''ve been in his early fifties. He wore a blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, matching jeans, and tan work boots. Most telling, perhaps, was the orange safety vest. A dock worker?

    Flashbang had little time to ponder this, as the man drew his fist back. Instinct drove the young hero to turn invisible. The man gave pause at the disappearance of his target. This allowed Dominick to wriggle out feet first. The man tried to grab at him as he felt the movements beneath him, but Dom managed to slip through his grasp.

    He popped up on his feet behind the man and dropped his cloaking. The man realized he was gone a moment later and stood, spinning quickly to face his opponent. Dominick squared his stance, but kept his hands low.

    "Sir, I need you to stand down," he said in his most authoritative voice.

    The dock worker completely ignored him. It was as if he didn''t hear at all. He ran again at Dominick and went low for another take down. Flashbang''s training kicked in. He leant forward and spread his feet in the exact instant the man made contact with him. This allowed him to remain upright in the man''s grasp.

    They struggled for a moment. The man''s hold was like a vice around Dominick''s thighs. He was much stronger than he looked, and he looked strong to begin with. He tried to push the hero back, but Dom dug in his heels. Flashbang buried a few punches in the man''s ribs. He shifted slightly at the impacts, but showed not other outward reaction.

    "F.B.?" He heard Pulse call out.

    "I''m fine, I can handle it," Flashbang responded, annoyingly more strained that he wanted.

    To accentuate this point, he reached down and put a hand over the man''s eyes. Several intense flashes emanated from his hand. The man howled like an ape and reeled back, hand over his eyes, head thrashing about. Now at his full height, he was about five or six inches taller than Dominick himself was. Dom sighed. Everyone he fought was taller than him. Just one of the many perks of being short.

    Flashbang closed on the man. He let loose a blazing series of body shots, since he couldn''t reach the head easily. The combination of punches traveled up and down the man''s body. He ended with a knee to the liver. The man was completely unfazed. He didn''t even miss a step. Instead, he lashed out a swooping swipe, an attempt to grab his aggressor. Dominick dodged to one side and threw a pair of kicks to the knee. The man''s joint buckled, but he gave no reaction. Instead, he continued to throw his weight around, desperate to grasp at anything in range. Flashbang faded back out of his reach.

    "Shit," he murmured, then called out, "Pulse! Possible Neo! I need a Code 4!"

    "Do it!" Pulse called back before one of the blasts rang out.

    Dominick wasted no time. He darted in, dodged a swipe, and grabbed the wrist before it could come back at him. The man tried to yank himself free, while also swatting blindly all around himself. Flashbang removed a stasis cuff from a pocket and placed it over the wrist he''d trapped.

    The telltale red pulse highlighted the man''s nervous system. His boots clacked together, and his hands snapped to his sides, as the stasis took him over. Several of his bones audibly cracked, a sound not unlike a big branch being broken from a tree. The man fell forward, an impact which undoubtedly broke a rib or two. Both of his arms were kinked in places they shouldn''t be. His left thigh bulged as bone pressed against skin. His right leg appeared mostly intact. Blood from his nose dripped onto the pavement.

    The world ground to a halt. Time itself seemed to stop. All Dominic could do was stand and stare at what'' he''d done, the horrendous injury he''d just caused.

    Code 4: The administration of a stasis cuff to a mobile and struggling individual, normally to the result of grievous bodily harm.

    Reality faded away. His ears tuned out. His vision turned black, save for the mangled form of the dock worker. The man lay there, twisted and broken, unable to squirm or even cry out for the agony in his bones. He was hurt, and in immense pain, all because of one bad decision.

    And it was all Dominick''s fault. A man''s life was potentially ruined, and it was all because of him. He did this. He made the decision. The consequences were his to bear, and no one else''s. This terrible ending was on him.

    He had no idea how much time passed, how long he stood there just staring at the shattered remains of what used to be a whole man. A part of him even forgot where he was, or why he''d been put in this position. All that mattered was the terrible destruction he''d wrought.

    "Come on, let''s take a walk." He heard Ayda''s brisk tone from his left a second before an arm slid around his shoulders.

    He was forcibly turned around and moved away from the scene. It wasn''t until the dock worker was no longer in his line of sight that his senses returned to him. He felt the warm air of a Texan summer night, and how it was overshadowed by the warmth encompassing his left side, and the weight on his shoulders. He looked up at her.

    "Pulse?" he asked, sounding bewildered. "What''s going on?"

    "We''re taking a walk, like I said." She returned his gaze with a small smile.

    "But, what about the fight?" Dominick tried to look behind him. Ayda squeezed him even tighter, which he took a a cue to face forward.

    "It''s over, we won," Ayda said. "The bad guys are in stasis, and the cops are on their way."

    "And... the old man?"

    "He''s hurt, but he''ll live. Flechette says his leg got the worst of it." Ayda used a gentle tone, which just made Flashbang feel even worse.

    "Okay," he said, looking forward and down. Pulse brought them to a stop.

    "I''m sorry you had to do that," she said. "I know you''ve never hurt someone that badly before. It''s ugly, but we all make tough calls. It''s part of being a hero."

    "I know," Dom said. His conscience said not to continue. He ignored it "I know, but, there had to be another way! I mean, I could''ve immobilized him, or at least put him on the ground first, or¡ª"

    "Stop." Ayda cut him off. "Don''t beat yourself up. You did what you had to. He was an unknown quantity, and you couldn''t take the chance of him hurting you or someone else. You made a call, and you can''t change it now."

    "That doesn''t make me feel any better," Dominick said.

    "I know. If it helps, I think you handled it well. You saw a threat, and took decisive action. That''s exactly what I expect from the members of my team. I would''ve done the same thing."

    That did make him feel a little bit better. Not enough to smile, or even lift his head, but he felt a little less dark than a minute ago.

    "Just for future reference," Pulse began, "You don''t need confirmation for Codes 1 through 4. Code 5 is the only one I need to sign off on, but I really hope you never have to use it."

    "Oh, sorry," Dominick said.

    "Don''t apologize. You did nothing wrong. I''d rather you check, than get in trouble."

    "Hey," the voice of Kindle called to them from close behind.

    Pulse turned Flashbang around just as Kindle and Flechette strode into a comfortable talking distance.

    "How are you holding up?" Kindle asked in a tone even softer than Ayda''s.

    "I''m fine," Dominick said. "I think," he added.

    "What was that all about, anyway?" Flechette said.

    "It''s okay if you don''t wanna talk about it yet, F.B.," Ayda said.

    "No, it''s fine." He paused, collecting his thoughts before he continued. "I don''t really know what happened. I was going to take out one of the guys fighting you, Flechette, when that dock worker tackled me."

    "Dock worker?" Echoed Kindle.

    Dom shrugged. "I can''t think of any other reason why he''d be wearing a reflective vest."

    "Can you tell us anything about him?" Ayda said. "Was he acting weird? Did he say anything?"

    "Won''t I have to tell the cops all of this in a few minutes?" Dominick said.

    "I''ll put it in my report. You don''t have to talk to anyone who isn''t us."

    Again, Dominick hesitated. "No, he didn''t say anything. He reminded me of a gorilla, with the way he howled and thrashed. And I think he might have been a Neo¡ªa Defender type, or something¡ªbecause he wasn''t reacting to my attacks. It''s like he didn''t even feel them. He just kept coming, no matter what I did."

    "Just like what happened with Bronze Knight, then," Flechette said.

    "How so?" Ayda asked.

    "A normal looking woman attacked him," Clarified Flechette. "She never said anything, didn''t show any pain, and couldn''t be subdued before he put a stasis cuff on. This is exactly the same, except it''s some old guy."

    "You''re right, now that I think about it," Kindle said.

    "That''s weird," Ayda said. "That''s really weird."

    "Did you ever talk to Captain Barnes about it?" Kindle said.

    "I did," confirmed Ayda, "but she couldn''t tell us anything we didn''t already know. They couldn''t even tell if that woman was a Neo, since that sort of thing doesn''t always show up in blood tests."

    "This sounds like something we need to talk to NAAME about," Flechette said.

    "Agreed," Ayda nodded. "After the police have finished their report about this, I''ll get in contact. See if anyone knows anything."

    "And until then, it''s a waiting game. Great." Flechette oozed with sarcasm.

    "Hey," Ayda said to Dominick. "When I talk to NAAME, I might need you to recount your side of things. Is that alright?"

    "Yeah, sure," Dominick said in what he hoped was a positive sounding tone.

    "Good," Ayda said. She finally released him and addressed the group. "You all did really well today, team. Let''s help the cops, and then it''s business as usual."

    There were agreements all around, though Dominick''s was silent, and they made their way back to the scene. He put himself on Kindle''s left side, because that kept him furthest away from the dock worker. He purposely looked everywhere except in that direction. Part of him wanted to get to the bottom of this. Another part wanted to forget it happened entirely. He wasn''t sure which had the right idea.

 Book 2, "Brave New World" CH. 11: Working Relationship

    It was days like this when Silver lamented her choice of supervillain outfit. Hot, dry, and utterly cloudless, the air felt like an oven which cooked her alive in yhe black leather ensemble. If only it didn''t look so damned good on her. Perching on a rooftop probably didn''t help matters much, either. Cool points were worth almost as much as style points, and she had no interest in squandering either.

    She watched the cars on the road as they passed by a few stories below her. Just watching them made her glad she didn''t drive. Tangling with superheroes and committing various crimes were fine, but she wasn''t nearly insane enough to operate one of those screaming metal deathtraps. Unless, of course, there was some profit to be made. Sanity always took a back seat to cash.

    The commuters went on with their afternoons, blissfully unaware of the terror looming just overhead. Not that they were in danger, of course. NAAME liked to describe all villains as constant threats. Silver resented the notion, personally. Most good people of El Puerto had nothing to fear from her. She was an upstanding citizen... most of the time.

    However uncouth it may have been, the disposition of NAAME toward people like her did instill a sense of expediency. Her entire motivation for taking to the rooftops was to keep herself mostly out of sight. People never thought to look up. Eventually, though, someone would. She''d be spotted sooner or later, and then things might get interesting.

    It was lucky, then, that after a few minutes more her quarry came into view. An armored car hung a right turn and headed her way. Painted green with a broad white strip horizontally down the middle, the monstrosity lumbered amongst the lesser traffic. It was big, loud, and took up entirely too much space. Silver looked down at the watch she''d purchased for this occasion. Right on time. Everything was going exactly as planned.

    Silver crouched lower on the roof as her target approached, for what little good that did. The roof didn''t have a lip on it, so she couldn''t exactly hide. She felt oddly like a tiger ready to pounce, which was strange because her theme was decidedly not animalistic in nature. Maybe an electric eel?

    Closer and closer did it creep. All the while Silver kept an unblinking watch on it. She hadn''t realized how unbearably slow the traffic moved until just then. Since most people were at work during this time of day, the conditions weren''t exactly gridlock. Yet, these drivers seemed to be taking their sweet time. A part of her subconscious knew this was just adrenaline making time seem to slow. Weird how that never happened when she actually needed it to.

    If things didn''t speed up a little, the anticipation might actually kill her. Yet, a smile spread across her face. This was, after all, part of the fun. The buildup before the strike was maybe the best part of an ambush. All she had to do was wait for the right time.

    When that time came, and the armored car finally was about to reach her, Silver pounced.

    The villainess held out both hands toward the encroaching vehicle. Blue streaks of lightning issued forth from them. With the speed of light they hit their target. The armored car crackled with azure streaks as a charge visibly ran through it. Silver didn''t keep up the attack for long. She only needed a couple seconds to disable the vehicle.

    People on the sidewalk screamed and scattered. The squeal of tires on pavement tore through the air as the doubtlessly panicked drivers slammed on their brakes¡ªnot just the armored car, but the people behind it. Vehicles skidded and swerved, to avoid the out of control beast. Most came to an abrupt halt somewhere behind it, while others managed to swing around and keep driving. The light traffic kept anyone from a collision with either the buildings or other drivers. The armored car came to rest just before Silver''s perch.

    After a moment to admire her handiwork, Silver jumped from the building. She fell free for a split-second before shooting a hefty amount of lighting straight down. The resulting equal and opposite upforce slowed her gradually until she landed on the ground with a great bend at the knees. She straightened up and walked toward the now disabled vehicular hulk.

    One of the commuters stopped behind it had gotten out of his car to inspect the situation. The moment he saw Silver drop down, he jumped back into his driver''s seat. A rev and protest from the tires saw him curve around the big green vehicle and shoot past her down the road. Silver let him go as she continued to walk.

    The driver of the armored car got out. His hat and bulletproof vest were painted to match the vehicle. By his posture, he quite obviously reached for a pistol on his belt. Silver raised a hand to shoot a bolt at him. Lightning from her palm hit him like a freight train. He lifted up off the ground and flew back several feet to land in a motionless heap.

    The passenger also hopped out, except he brandished a submachine gun. He was about to point it at Silver when she hit him with lightning as well. He met the same fate as his compatriot. His finger slipped. A burst of automatic fire lit up the afternoon as he hurtled up the street. The sound echoed of the buildings and down the alleys. Bullets pinged off the structure to Silver''s right. One of them broke a window. More still went up in the air. The pedestrians who hadn''t vacated the area screamed. They darted down alleys and side streets, or ran the opposite direction from Silver. They traffic was strangely unaffected, though. People already in their cars were probably smart enough to stay there.

    Silver cringed. That wasn''t supposed to happen. This mission was meant to go off without a hitch, with no collateral damage other than the intended target. Such ruckus would draw both police and heroes. Silver quickened her pace toward the armored car. She needed to get out of there quickly.

    She made her way around to the back of the vehicle. Its doors were held shut by an electronic lock mechanism, a classic keypad-based system. Just like she''d been told. Why anyone still used them was beyond her. They were beyond easy for an amateur hacker to get past, and offered no protection at all against Neos. Silver pressed a finger to the keypad and ran a current through it. The thing fizzed and popped, and then clicked a moment later. Silver turned the handle and opened the rightmost door.

    Inside was almost empty, save for a simple metal briefcase. It was up on a raised platform and set into a foam dais, which Silver knew from her day''s worth of research was usually used to transport things either made of glass or otherwise overly fragile. Was there something glass inside the briefcase? That was one piece of information she hadn''t been lucky enough to receive. But, her job was to steal something, not to know what she was stealing.

    To that end, she grabbed the briefcase and headed out. The plan was to go back around the front end and dart through the alleys. She made it about halfway up the length of the car.

    "Silver!" A very familiar male voice called out to her.

    She stopped in her tracks. The villainess allowed herself the smallest of sighs before turning to the source of the voice.

    "Sweetie!" Silver addressed Bronze Knight. "How nice of you to join me!"

    "Cut it out," Bronze Knight said. "I''m not your sweetie."

    "Not for lack of trying, on my part." Silver rolled her eyes, then let her gaze fall upon him. The bristling muscles, those broad shoulders, the hints of a handsome, clean shaven face beneath his helmet, the heavy shield and spear he bore as if weighed nothing, he surely was a sweet sight to behold.

    "Just put your hands up and drop the briefcase," Bronze Knight instructed.

    "In that order? I don''t know what''s in this, but it might break if I dropped it from that far up."

    "You know what I meant. Stand down, and you won''t get hurt," Bronze Knight said. Silver narrowed her eyes at him. Something wasn''t right.

    "What are you even doing here, anyway?" Silver took a step back toward the armored car. "Seriously, how are you heroes always around whenever I do something bad?"

    "You tripped an alarm in the truck when you disabled it. And, I was nearby."

    "Oh, how convenient," Silver mocked. She took another step back. "I bet it''s more like you were watching me, just waiting for me to step out of line."

    "Unauthorized surveillance is illegal, even of supervillains. I''m sure you know that." Bronze Knight made no move on her. Silver hummed under her breath.

    "Oh please, don''t talk to me about that. Ask your fearless leader if the law ever meant anything to her." Silver stepped back again, a shorter motion this time as it brought her to rest back up against the vehicle.

    "That was a different time. Things have changed," argued Bronze Knight.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    "They sure have," nodded Silver.

    She placed her hand flat against the armored car. Current from her fingertips flowed through it. Blue lightning crackled inside and out of the reinforced hull. Some split off into the air, though those that did only made it a few inches. The area near it noticeably headed up. Silver felt the electricity move through her body and into the car, as well as the static charge that worked its way into the air around her.

    "I don''t think it''s too late for you to change, either," Bronze Knight said.

    "Great, this again." Silver rolled her eyes.

    Almost immediately after charging up the vehicle, she felt a disturbance. A human-sized object pushed through the static close to it on the opposite side. Its advance was slow, an obvious attempt to minimize the noise from footsteps.

    "I''m serious," Bronze Knight said. "I know Kindle gives you this line all the time, but it''s still not too late to join us. You gave us the lead on that opium shipment. That must mean you have good in you."

    "Just because I hate drugs doesn''t mean I want to join your merry band," Silver said.

    Whoever was walking on the other side of the armored car turned and continued around the back. Silver glanced at the ground, the gap between the car and the road. She should''ve been able to see the person''s shoes at the very least, and yet hey eyes beheld nothing at all. Even though someone clearly walked through the static field, Silver couldn''t see them.

    "This could be your last chance, Silver. NAAME will run out of patience eventually," warned Bronze Knight.

    The encroaching figure rounded onto the same side Silver was. She still couldn''t see him, despite feeling his every move. He approached.

    "Jeez, you guys must be really desperate if you keep trying to recruit me," Silver said.

    The figure came closer.

    "Am I kicking your ass that badly?"

    Closer.

    "Not only that, but you keep coming up with new strategies to fight me. It''s almost like you don''t think you can win."

    Closer.

    "I like it, though, the thrill of trying something new. It was a nice try."

    Closer still. Just two more steps and he would be in arm''s length.

    "I don''t know what you''re talking about," claimed Bronze Knight. Silver shook her head.

    "Sure you don''t."

    She put out her left hand beside herself against the truck. Her hand met with something firm, mostly flat, and just slightly warm, something she couldn''t see. The figure that had been sneaking up on her stopped in its tracks at her touch.

    "Sorry, kid," Silver said. And she really meant it.

    A bolt of lightning shot from her left hand, directly into the invisible figure. He gave a horrible cry and flew back. The cloaking dropped to reveal the form of Flashbang sailing through the air. Lingering bits of electricity arced off him. He flipped over once before crashing right-side up into the front of a parked car. Silver grimaced. He was such a sweetheart. She always hated hurting him.

    No time to worry about that, though, as Bronze Knight took up the initiative. He charged straight at her, shield up, spear pointed toward her over top its rim. Unfortunately, bronze is an decent conductor. Silver put both hands out in front and fired a bolt at him. The electricity passed cleanly through the shield and into the body behind.

    This attack had a bit more intent behind it. Bronze Knight''s body seized up as the current took him. He couldn''t even cry out while his paralyzed form hurtled toward the buildings across the street.

    She didn''t stick around to see him land. The villainess turned tail and ran through the nearest alleyway. She ditched her wig almost immediately, allowing the brunette locks beneath to flow freely in its place. She''d dodged these heroes and their intel team many a time before. She knew exactly what routes to take in order to avoid them.

    ¡­

    Silver''s path brought her through a twisting labrynth of alleys and back streets, so complex it may as well have been nonsensical. It probably was, in all honesty. The only reason it made sense to her was because she came up with it, kind of like how students never understand each other''s notes.

    Her first¡ªand only intermittent¡ªstop was by where she''d stashed her street clothes: a worn-out blue duffel bag stuffed behind a dumpster near an apartment complex. Inside was a grey hoodie, navy wind pants with a white stripe down the side, alcohol wipes, and a spare wig just in case.

    Silver found an alley. Step one was to remove the grey body paint. The alcohol wipes smelled awful, but they cleaned off her arms, face, and cleavage well enough. Next, she slipped on the loose clothing over her villain outfit. The wig stayed where it was. She put her hair in a ponytail. The briefcase, thankfully, fit inside the duffel bag.

    When she set out again, she looked just like any normal woman either going to, or on her way back from, the gym. Not the most stunning ensemble, but if any one could make it look cute, it was her.

    Once in her street clothes, Silver took a slightly augmented path. She still stuck to alleys and side streets, but kept a more modest pace. The goal was to look like someone taking shortcuts, not running from The Man. She considered herself good at this part of the job, and she must''ve been, because no heroes nor cops harassed her along the way. In fact, she didn''t see any authority figures at all.

    Eventually, she reached her destination. It was one of the many abandoned buildings in the Industrial District. This one had been a small apartment complex, only big enough for a quartet of units. There was nothing left of it. Literally everything had been either looted or sold. It was just a bunch of lonely walls, now.

    Silver stopped in what used to be apartment number one. It had the only door still standing in the place, which she closed behind herself. She set down the duffel bag and pulled out the briefcase, holding it at arm''s length before her.

    A few seconds passed by before a hydraulic exhale filled the room. A round hatch in the middle of the floor opened up away from her, taking a perfectly cut circle of ratty old rug with it. While it did, Silver put her bag back over a shoulder. The hatch finished opening a moment later. It revealed a steel ladder and a deep dark hole in the ground. Case in one hand, Silver descended into the depths.

    After what must''ve been three whole stories, Silver touched down into a long concrete hallway, dimly lit by yellow bulbs in sconces along the tops of the walls.

    There waiting for her, stance cocked, arms crossed, tail swishing, was Liandra, A.K.A Raptor. She wore the same all-encompassing black rags Silver had only ever seen her in. Her amber eyes with those weird vertical pupils shone in the shadowy corridor. Silver met those eyes and paused for a moment, honestly surprised to see her so soon.

    "You couldn''t wait for me to take my shoes off?" She joked.

    "Do not take your shoes off in here," Liandra said. "There are nails and broken glass all over the place."

    "Why is there broken glass everywhere?" Silver lifted one foot and looked down, just to be sure.

    "Did you get the package?" Liandra ignored her.

    "What?" Silver looked back up. "Oh, yeah, I got the package," she said in air quotes.

    Liandra held out her hand, and Silver gave her the suitcase. Without another word, Liandra turned and walked down the hall away from the other woman. Silver jogged a few steps to catch up with her.

    "No, but seriously, why the broken glass?" Silver insisted. "I didn''t think there was any glass in here to break."

    "There is plenty of glass," was Liandra''s simple response.

    "But why is it broken?"

    "Were there any complications?" Liandra changed the subject with a barely concealed sigh. "Did the police get in your way?"

    "No cops, but a couple heroes showed up." Silver shrugged. "No big deal."

    "Hero intervention is not a big deal?" For the first time, Liandra showed an emotion other than blatant impatience. In this case, confusion.

    "It''s usually not. Bronze Knight and Flashbang tried to stop me. They had a good plan, but I knew they were up to something when Bronze Knight kept talking to me instead of just attacking. I put up a charge in and around the truck and, sure enough, Flashbang went invisible and tried to sneak up on me. Neither of them has any defense against my powers, so once I beat their trap they were easy to take down."

    "That''s... very impressive," Liandra said.

    "Thanks. I thought so, too." Silver couldn''t hide her satisfaction at the compliment. No one ever said anything good about her nefarious schemes.

    They walked on in quiet for a moment. It didn''t last long, though. Silver absolutely refused to share an awkward silence with this strange woman she barely knew. If Liandra wouldn''t fill the space, then she would have to.

    "Soooo, you gonna tell me what''s in there?" She pointed at the suitcase.

    "It is an experimental processor, supposedly the fastest in the world. My employer has been trying to acquire it for a while, now."

    "Processor?" Silver raised an eyebrow. "I did all that for a computer chip?"

    "It is integral to my employer''s research. They can finally move forward."

    "Your employer, huh? Am I ever gonna meet this mystery man?"

    "Continue to prove yourself, and you just might."

    Silver sighed. Nothing but riddles and mystery with this woman. It was exhausting. She much preferred the bluntness of Anna and Pulse. At lest she knew what those two were thinking. Liandra? Not so much.

    Another lapse in conversation came about, one Silver almost immediately squashed.

    "You know, I''ve never robbed an armored car before," She said.

    "No?" Raptor responded in a way that was only half listening.

    "Yeah. I don''t know what''s in them, so it''s too much of a crapshoot," Silver went on, uncaring for her less than interested audience. "I could find, like, a pig, or something, and what would I do with that?"

    "You could eat it," Liandra suggested.

    "What!?" Silver played at being shocked "I could never eat Wilbur!"

    "You already named your fake pig?"

    "You will refer to him only as Sir Oinkins Wilburstein the Third, Lord of the Mud Hole, first of his name." Silver did her best pompous voice.

    "How can he be the third if he is the first on his name?" Liandra asked, hanging a right.

    "Is that what that means? I thought it meant he was, like, the best of the Wilburs, or something. The number one Wilbur."

    "No." Liandra swished her tail. "That is what it means."

    "Huh. Learn something every day, I guess." Silver shrugged.

    Liandra came to a sudden stop. Silver carried on for a step past her before halting herself. She looked back at Raptor.

    "If you would like to rest, you can do so in there." Liandra pointed at a dim, doorless room Silver hadn''t noticed.

    "Rest?" Silver puzzled.

    "Yes." Liandra dropped her hand. "I will take this to my employer and report of your success. I will come find you when you are free to go."

    Silver recognized this as a cue to get out of Liandra''s hair. She could''ve argued, but decided against it. These people were a good opportunity for her. Best refrain from ruining it. The phrasing of it was strange, though. As if one woman could keep her there.

    "Alright, then. I''ll be here, I guess." Silver walked into the room. Liandra carried on her way, disappearing behind the wall.

    There was a table with a few chairs inside, as well as a sink and a refrigerator. It felt suspiciously like a break room. Silver tried the sink. Amazingly, it worked, though the water was a bit brown. The refrigerator was also functional, even if it was disappointingly empty. This place was weird.

    Silver took a seat in one of the chairs. At a lack of anything else to do, she pulled her smart phone from her left wind pants pocket. Somehow, she had service this deep underground. She opened up her web browser and began thumbing through the news in search of breaking headlines about the armored car heist. It was always a great ego boost to read about how she''d beaten the heroes once again.

 Book 2, "Brave New World" CH. 12: Catching Up

    Bronze Knight sat alone in costume as the sole occupant in his black patrol SUV. He wiped a bit of dust from the grey steering wheel in front of him. He''d noticed it on the way to the lot he parked in, but couldn''t get rid of it because he was a responsible driver. It had been progressively bothering him more and more as the trip went on. Now that he had a moment, he was glad to be rid of it.

    He was about to reach for his phone when the whine of a high-octane engine spread through his vehicle. He looked in his side mirror and saw a red and black motorcycle pass behind his car. He''d recognize that bike anywhere. Pulse arrived right on time. She maneuvered around to park on his passenger''s side. Cooper grabbed his spear in its collapsed form and got out of the car. The shield stayed in the backseat. The spear went in the belt sheath behind his back.

    The moment his feet touched the pavement, the motorcycle switched off. Cooper walked around the back of his own vehicle to wait for Pulse. She put down her kickstand then dismounted the beast. She turned to behold him with the pretty brown eyes he knew hid behind those sunglasses. She wore one of her older cropped leather jackets, judging by the softness of the material. Her jeans were black, and she wore a tight red tank top.

    "Hey, Pulse," he greeted as she approached.

    "Hey," she returned, reaching him. "You ready?"

    "After you." Bronze Knight gestured for her to lead the way, which she did.

    Together, they walked around the front of a simple white restaurant front with long narrow windows. Green letters above the glass double doors read Wrap it Up. They could see a few people sitting at round tables inside, eating their food.

    Pulse entered first, and Bronze Knight caught the door to follow her inside. The pretty Latina girl behind the counter on the far end recognized them the moment they both entered. A few patrons turned to see who the new arrivals were. Some of them seemed visibly shocked, while others gave very little response. A group of three teenagers¡ªtwo boys and a girl¡ªtalked in quick, hushed tones.

    Cooper had to admit the reaction of the people was one of his favorite parts of interacting with the public, not out of vanity, but because it was fascinating to see what each individual did. To some, the presence of superheroes in their hometown was nothing new. To others, it was the highlight of their week. Normally while on patrol, there wasn''t time to take notice of them. In the moments where he got to slow down, he couldn''t help but do so.

    The heroes stood a few steps back from the counter starring up at the menu. The selection was modest, but adequate. The whiteboards were split up into five sections: fresh, grilled, toasted, veggie, and classic. Literally everything sounded good, which was both a blessing and a curse.

    The two of them deliberated for about a minute. All the while Cooper was aware of the cashier staring at them, and the hurried, hushed discussion of the teenage table.

    "You good? I''m good," Pulse said.

    "Yeah, I''m good," nodded Bronze Knight.

    They approached the counter. The cashier froze up for a split second. Cooper swore he could see the gears in her brain slam to a halt, pause for a second, then start up again. When the poor girl regained her composure, she looked mortified.

    "Hi, Linda," Cooper said, reading her name tag. "How are you doing?"

    "Fine," the cashier squawked. "Um, welcome to Wrap it Up. What can I get you?"

    Cooper smiled. "I''ll have the grilled steak wrap."

    "Okay." Linda typed that into her register. She looked at Pulse. "And for you, ma''am?"

    "I''ll have the grilled garlic chicken," Pulse responded. If she were annoyed as usual by the formal use of ma''am, she didn''t show it.

    "Alright. You''re total is $11.49. Do you want that to go?"

    "Yes, please," Cooper said. He reached for his wallet a split-second before realizing it was in the pouch on his shield. "Oh, shit. My wallet''s still in the car."

    "That''s fine, I got it," Pulse said. She handed Linda a twenty.

    "You sure?" Cooper asked.

    "It''s eleven dollars, B.K. I''m not worried about it," Pulse said.

    "Okay, thanks," he said. "Sorry."

    "It''s alright."

    Linda quickly processed the transaction. She put the cash in her register, then handed Pulse her change. Next, she gave them both empty drink cups. Pulse took hers, then passed Bronze Knight his. She went over to the drink dispenser on the left hand wall.

    "Thank you, Linda. Have a nice day," Cooper said.

    "Thanks. You, too," replied the cashier.

    With that, Cooper joined his teammate. The place had Pepsi products, which Pulse probably wasn''t happy about. Bronze Knight really didn''t care. He went for some lemon iced tea, and saw Pulse choose root beer. He just finished filling his cup when he was interrupted.

    "Um..." a small voice to his left said. He turned to see the teenage girl from the group of three. She was pretty, with blue eyes, glasses, and brown hair done up in twin braids. She was pale enough to glow in the dark.

    "Hi," Cooper smiled. "You must be a fan."

    The girl nodded. "I''m Stacey."

    "Bronze Knight." He held out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

    Stacy hesitated for a moment before shaking his hand. As she did, Pulse walked around to stand at Cooper''s left.

    "Pulse," said Ayda. She, too, shook hands with Stacey.

    "Hi," she said weakly. "I hope this isn''t too forward, but could I get a picture with you two?"

    "Its not forward at all. Right, Pulse?" Cooper said

    "Of course not," Ayda agreed. "A picture is the least we can do."

    "Okay, thank you!" Enthused Stacy, rummaging through her pocket.

    She produced a smart phone with a pink case a second later. Pulse moved a step further from Cooper, while he indicated for Stacy to stand between them. She did so and held up her phone vertically. Ayda assumed her classic Pulse Pose, a peace sign with hand glowing purple with her power. Cooper just leaned in and smiled, knowing full well it wouldn''t be overly apparent beneath his Corinthian helmet. Stacy lined up the shot and snapped the picture. She stepped away with a spring in her step, turning back toward the heroes as she looked it over.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    "It came out great! Thank you so much!" She was clearly beside herself.

    "Don''t mention it," Cooper said.

    "Do your friends want pictures, too?" Pulse asked.

    "No," Stacy shook her head. "I''m the only real hero geek in our group. They were trying to convince me to come over here."

    "Well, I''m glad you did." Cooper said. He heard the rustling of a bag being set down on the counter behind them, a sound likely inaudible to everyone else. "That''s us. It was nice meeting you, Stacy."

    "You, too! Thanks so much for the picture!" Stacy called.

    Ayda gave her a nod before they both turned away. Cooper gathered up the bag and the heroes walked out of the establishment together. They began on their way back to the SUV. Bronze Knight was glad to be done with the restaurant. It had smelled primarily of garlic, salt, and pepper, with various cooked meats and tortilla shells heavy on the flour, not to mention the people. The outside wasn''t nearly so much of an olfactory overload.

    "Well, she was adorable," he said.

    "Which one, Stacy or Linda?" Pulse asked.

    "Both," he answered. Pulse rolled her eyes at him.

    They made it back to the SUV. Cooper resumed his position behind the steering wheel, while Pulse sat beside him. He handed over her sandwich before taking his out and placing the white plastic bag in the back seat, out of the way.

    They ate in silence, for a few bites. Cooper''s wrap had chopped up grilled steak, green and red peppers, onions, pickles, and some sort of brown sauce. Ayda''s was a bit fresher, with strips of grilled chicken, lettuce, onions, cucumbers, and what was probably a thick white garlic sauce.

    For cheap fast food, it was rather delicious. Bronze Knight had no trouble digging right in. By the way she tore into her wrap, Ayda''s was also quite good. Though, she always ate as if it were her last meal.

    "I wonder how long before that picture ends up on the internet," Cooper said after he''d eaten a little bit.

    Ayda waited until she swallowed before responding. "It''s probably already on Instagram."

    "Yeah, probably," Cooper agreed.

    "Speaking of the internet," Ayda began, "did that guy on Reddit respond to you yet?"

    Cooper sighed. "No. I''ll be glad if he doesn''t."

    "What''s his deal, anyway?" Ayda took a bite.

    "I have no fucking idea," Cooper said. "First he was complaining about my weapon, saying it was too aggressive. I pointed out we have two teammates who''s main powers are to blow things up and burn things, and he said they get a pass, since those are their powers. Then he started trying to say my costume is inappropriate, and that it''s cultural appropriation. I''m Greek. My last name is Katsaros, for God''s sake. I''m a Spartan, dude. That''s my entire theme."

    "In his defense," Pulse said, "I don'' think Spartans really dressed like that. I''m pretty sure they wore shirts."

    "I like 300, sue me."

    "Is that where it ended?" Pulse took a sip from her drink.

    "Yeah, basically. I told him everything I told you, except for the part about my name, and that was five hours ago. He hasn''t replied. Hopefully, he doesn''t."

    "Do I need to drop a banhammer?" Ayda asked before taking a bite.

    "No." Cooper sighed again. "He''s an asshole, but he''s not that bad. I''ve dealt with worse."

    Ayda just shrugged, since her mouth was full. Cooper took a bite of his wrap, a bit less enthusiastic before. That faded, though, when he tasted it again. Amazing, what food could do for a soured mood.

    "Is that construction at the airport still going on?" Ayda asked after a minute or two.

    Cooper groaned. "Yes, unfortunately."

    "Of course it is." Ayda scoffed. "Do they know how much harder it is for us to send people to Atlantis with a quarter of the airport not working?"

    "They probably do, but they don''t care."

    Atlantis, the special prison where all supervillains were held. As its name suggested, it was a near impenetrable fortress built at the bottom of the ocean.

    Ayda looked at him to give what he thought was an exacerbated expression. Kind of hard to tell since he couldn''t see her eyes. He did notice a little sauce staining her lower lip, however. He couldn''t help but chuckle.

    "You have a little-" he wiped his own lip, "right there."

    Pulse looked mortified for a split-second before she looked away from him, removed the offending smudge, and wiped it on a loose bit of her sandwich wrapper.

    "Shut up," she said.

    "What?" Cooper made no attempt to hide the giggle from his voice.

    "Shut up!" Pulse gave him a little punch on the shoulder.

    "I didn''t say anything."

    "You were thinking it."

    "Hey, I''m not the one with white stuff on my mouth," Cooper joked. Ayda hit him harder. "Hey, watch it! I''m gonna call a domestic on you."

    "You wouldn''t dare," Ayda challenged. As if to accentuate how unconcerned she was, she took a bit of her now three-quarters gone sandwich.

    "You''re right." Cooper shrugged, and followed her example. As the slower eater of the two, he had a bit more lunch left to go.

    They munched on in silence for a minute or two. That time saw Ayda almost finish her wrap. Seeing her so close to done made Cooper feel as if he had to catch up, if only so he wasn''t the only one eating. That would be both rude and awkward.

    "Hey, Birdseye, is there anything we should know?" Ayda asked after a swallow.

    "Not right now," the voice of Elliot responded over the comms. "There was a minor noise complaint out on Kettle Street, but I figured you weren''t interested."

    "Oh God, Kettle Street," Cooper said. "I swear I''ve never seen to many frat houses in one place."

    "I''m amazed any non-students choose to live there," echoed Ayda. "Thanks for sparing us from that one."

    "It''s what I''m here for," Elliot said.

    "Still, though." Ayda began, "it''s so weird how quiet the city has been in between Silver''s shenanigans."

    "Can we not bring that up?" Cooper said, exasperated.

    "Sorry. Still a bit of a sore spot?"

    "It happened yesterday, Pulse. Yeah, it''s a bit of a sore spot."

    "Sorry," Pulse apologized again. "I just think it''s weird she went after an armored car. She hasn''t done anything that big before, I don''t think." She probably was sorry, but Cooper noted that didn''t stop her from talking about it.

    "She hasn''t," Elliot chimed in. "I was looking into it earlier. She usually turns over stores and steals cars."

    "I wonder what''s got into her, then," mused Pulse.

    "Maybe she''s just bored," supplied Cooper. "She wouldn''t be the first villain who did something bad out of boredom."

    "Maybe. How''s Dominick doing? Have you talked to him?" Ayda changed the subject.

    "Yeah, I checked in on him earlier. He''s still a little sore. He hit that car really hard," Cooper said.

    "I''m sure the electric shock didn''t help things, either," added Ayda.

    "Probably not. Thanks for offering to switch patrols with him, by the way."

    "It''s no problem," Ayda said. "I know he prefers the night shift. He should do whatever he can to make himself feel better mentally, if he''s not at one hundred percent physically."

    "Maybe it''s the moon?" Cooper said after a moment.

    "What?" Ayda gave him a confused look.

    "You know, that old theory about how the full moon makes people do crazy stuff. It''s a full moon right now."

    "Please don''t tell me you actually believe that."

    "No." Cooper shook his head. "Just making conversation. We can''t say we haven''t seen weirder things."

    "I feel like we all say that a lot." Ayda said before taking a bite.

    "Well, it''s never not true." Cooper followed suit.

    They finished their lunches in relative silence. They''d both run out of things to talk about, and Cooper knew how much Ayda hated forced conversation. So, instead, he focused on eating his meal. It was quite good, after all. No need to waste quality food. Alright, maybe quality gave it a bit too much credit. Fast food was still fast food.

    He devoured his last bite a few munches after Ayda did. He tossed his trash in a little waste basket behind his seat. Ayda did the same after seeing him do so.

    "That was better than I thought it would be," Ayda said after a sigh.

    "I''m not sure if it''s a good idea for us to eat lunch in the same place, though," Cooper commented.

    "Nah, it''s fine." Ayda batted away the notion. "Rio and I do it all the time."

    "If you say so, oh great leader," Cooper wore a condescendingly regal accent. Pulse just scowled at him.

    "I should get going, though. Superstuff to do, and all that," Ayda said, reaching for her door latch.

    "Yeah, break time''s over," agreed Cooper.

    Ayda opened the door. "I''ll see you later, B.K."

    "See ya. Stay safe out there."

    "No promises." And with that, Ayda stood up and closed the door, leaving herself on its outside.

    Cooper waited for her to rev up her motorcycle and leave before turning on his own engine. She was perhaps unnecessarily loud as she pulled out of the parking lot. Cooper didn''t see the harm in it, though. She was just having a bit of fun. If it grabbed people''s attention and let them know she was there, then that was a bonus.

    When he could no longer see her out of his rearview mirror, Cooper made his own merge with traffic, headed in the opposite direction. That had been a nice little diversion, but now it was time to go back to being a hero.

 Book 2, "Brave New World" CH. 13: The House

    The room was dim and just a little bit cold, unusual for an El Puerto summer. Large, pale blue bricks made up three walls, while a two-way mirror dominated the one behind. The predominate sound was that of the whirring air conditioner and the breeze which passed through it. There also was buzzing from the naked bulb overhead, but that one had faded into the background.

    Pulse had no idea why this meeting had to be conducted in an interrogation room, especially when there were plenty of other places to choose from in the police HQ. Perhaps for privacy, but that wasn''t a good explanation. It wasn''t necessarily odd to see superheros walking around, and no one would dare disturb them if they all sat in a conference room. This level of caution seemed unnecessary.

    She looked to her right and met eyes with Alloy, who gave her a little shrug. Flechette and Kindle were also in her field of view. Both leaned up against the wall, the latter with her arms crossed. Everyone had assembled. Her entire team, except for the intel branch, was stuffed into the little room. They were there in spirit, though, present over the comms. An alert came through at six in the morning telling the team to gather at eight. Both Bronze Knight and Flashbang had to cancel their classes.

    That the alert hadn''t told them what this whole shebang was about bothered her. Pulse knocked on the table once. Every eye turned to her, some more surreptitiously than others. She tapped the side of her nose, then slowly tilted her head partway back. To her left, Cooper took a big slow sniff. Pulse glanced at him, nothing more than a shift of here eyes. Bronze Knight shook his head. Pulse looked back forward and gave a sigh under her breath. There was no one on the other side of the two-way mirror. They weren''t being watched. She felt a little bit better about things, now.

    They sat in silence for a few minutes more. From what vibes Pulse could gather, none of them¡ªincluding herself¡ªreally wanted to be there. It was a waste of time, plain and simple. Kindle and Flechette could''ve been on patrol. Ayda could''ve been dong literally anything else. But, no. They all were stuck here.

    Eventually, Cooper raised his head and put his nose in the air.

    "Hold on," he said, taking a shallow sniff. "Amanda''s coming."

    "Good," Flechette said. "At least she''s talking to us in person, and not making one of her lackeys do it."

    "I don''t think the officers would appreciate being called lackeys," said Alloy.

    "Hey, if the shoe fits," shrugged Flechette.

    "Guys, come on," interjected Ayda. "I think a little friendly bickering is healthy, but don''t do it in front of the cops."

    "Sorry, Pulse," Alloy said. Frank said nothing.

    After what felt like a half-minute, the door behind Ayda opened and in strode Captain Amanda Barnes. Her grey-streaked red hair was done up in a messy bun, the kind that looked as though it hadn''t started out that way. She wore a brown pantsuit with a white shirt and no tie. The jacket was longer than necessary. A manila folder occupied her left hand. She walked around the right side of the table, closest to Alloy.

    "Thank you all for coming on such short notice," she said as she walked.

    "We had plenty of time," snarked Frank. Kindle gave him an elbow to the ribs, which did absolutely nothing through his metal latticework armor.

    "Yes, I''m sorry about that." Amanda stopped at the opposite side of the table from Ayda. "Something came up, and I had to be sure this matter had the proper care. I''m sure you can figure out it''s sensitive."

    "Of course, Captain. You wouldn''t have brought us here if it wasn''t important,"Alloy said.

    "So, what can we do for you?" Ayda attempted to bring the conversation back on track.

    "We have a situation we think requires hero intervention." Amanda placed her folder onto the table and slid it to Ayda. The hero caught it, but left it where it lay.

    "Something serious?" Ayda asked.

    "We don''t know. There are a lot of gaps, which is part of the reason why you''re here," Amanda said.

    "Well, start at the beginning," said Ayda.

    "There''s not much to say, unfortunately. We''d received two separate calls from concerned family and friends about the Hanson family. They own a farmhouse outside the city. They hadn''t been answering their phones, emails, or instant messages, and hadn''t been online for about a week. We sent officers to investigate, but they immediately went off the grid; no chatter, no reports in, no response to radio hails. That was three days ago."

    "You suspect Neo involvement?" Kindle interjected.

    "I don''t have the first goddamn idea what''s going on, and that''s exactly why I can''t risk any more officers. I need you to go there and assess the situation. If it''s a threat, Neo or otherwise, neutralize it. If it''s something else, radio back to me and we''ll go from there."

    "Understood, Captain." Ayda said. "Do you guys have any questions?"

    "Seems pretty straightforward, to me," Flechette began. "Go out there, unfuck it, come back. Simple."

    Ayda gave him a nod. His phrasing could''ve been better, but Frank did an excellent job simplifying the situation. She allowed a moment for her teammates to voice their own concerns, but they were silent.

    "Ok, then. Flechette, Alloy, and Flashbang will come with me to the farmhouse as Team A. We''ll investigate and keep you in the loop," Ayda said to Captain Barnes. "Bronze Knight and Kindle will be Team B."

    "Wait, shouldn''t I go with you? If there''s a mystery, I''ll literally sniff it out," argued Bronze Knight.

    "Normally I''d agree with you, but with Silver acting up the way she is, I need the people with the highest chance of beating her to stay here. That''s you and Kindle," said Ayda.

    "That... makes a lot of sense. Okay, I''ll help hold down the fort."

    "Any other objections?" Ayda gave her team another chance to speak up, which they missed. "Alright, then. Team A, meet at the parking garage in ten. We''ll take one of the patrol vehicles out there."

    "I''ll send the address to your intel team," Amanda said.

    "Thank you, Captain. Team B, split your patrols. One of you goes out, the other remains on standby in the bunker. Alternate every eight hours until we return."

    "If you''re even gone that long," said Kindle.

    "Of course. Let''s get this done, people," Ayda said.

    The team had been working together long enough to know this was the end of the conversation. Pulse led the way out of the interrogation room. Team A turned right, while Team B and Amanda turned left. They had their separate tasks to focus on, their own objectives to achieve.

    ¡­

    When Amanda said "outside the city," Pulse expected something relatively nearby. What she got instead was an hour and a half of driving. It technically wasn''t in El Puerto jurisdiction so far from the city limits. The city just had the closest major police department. That''s probably why the case was given to them, instead of the few small towns closer to the location.

    The drive wouldn''t have been so bad if the scenery were at least interesting. Living in the city like she did, Pulse often forgot just how empty everything west of it was. Mostly flat plains and dull scrubs dominated the landscape. There were no hills, nor rock formations, and hardly any trees. There weren''t even any animals. Ayda lived in Texas for eight years, and had never seen a buffalo. Talk about a raw deal. At least she didn''t have to drive. Frank volunteered do so, a decision he probably regretted now that they approached the end.

    Thanks to the empty flatness of the land, the farmhouse came into view long before the GPS told them their destination was on the left. It was an aging split-level home made of dark wood. Two dormer windows poked up from either side of the ceiling, which itself was supported by a quartet of wooden columns connected to the porch. Slightly faded red paint adorned the narrow front door.

    In front and to the left of the house stood a small barn. Some of the red paint remained in random splotches, but it mostly had worn to brown. Behind that was a small silo which lorded over a field of some leafy green crop crowned with purple flowers.

    There was also an abandoned cop car sitting in the long driveway a good distance from the barn. Flechette pulled up next to it and switched off the SUV. The four occupants exited. Ayda and Flechette moved immediately to inspect the cop car, while Alloy and Flashbang took a scan of the property.

    "I didn''t expect this place to actually be a farm," Flashbang remarked.

    "Me neither," agreed Alloy. "I wonder what they''re growing?"

    "Tobacco," called Flechette as he peered into the cop car''s passenger window.

    "When did you learn horticulture?" Joked Alloy.

    "I didn''t." Frank moved down a window. "When I was a smoker, I bought a brand that had a picture of tobacco plants on the front."

    "I forgot you used to smoke," said Flashbang.

    "Yeah, well, that''s because I replaced the cigarettes with booze. One evil for another."

    "The car seems clean," Ayda said, standing up straight from the driver''s window. "What do you think, Flechette?"

    "Yeah, the car''s fine," he agreed. "I don''t like that it''s still here, though. That means the cops are also probably still here."

    "I was thinking the same thing," Alloy said, walking over.

    "All the more reason to look around, then. Let''s start with the barn," Ayda said. She started toward the barn, and the others fell in behind her.

    The tall structure was rather well intact for the assumed age of it. The double doors were held closed by a big padlock fed through each of the brass handles. Alloy activated her strength-and-defense power, indicated by the green shimmer that ran once down her form. She crushed the padlock in her right hand while the screeching crumple of ruined metal filled the air. An overturned hand dumped the shreds onto the ground a second before she pulled open the doors.

    "Oh my God,"Alloy covered her mouth and nose.

    The smell of death assaulted all four noses. Flashbang wretched and turned away, holding his nose. Alloy turned green and took a big step back. Ayda blinked behind her sunglasses, silently holding her breath. Flechette gave no outward response. As a former Marine, he''d probably seen¡ªand smelled¡ªfar worse.

    The scene inside was just as stark as it smelled. The most obvious sight was that of a butchered horse still in its stall. Its head flopped loose against the straw floor, neck cut deeply in the middle from one side so it hung on by a thread. Many jagged gashes carved meaty rivers into its brown hide.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    In the middle of the barn lay a border collie with similar wounds. The poor dog''s fur was matted with dry blood. Red stained what used to be white and began to turn brown. Its most prominent wound was a wide slash in its spine, one that cut through more than half of the animal.

    "You two stay here," Ayda said. "Flechette." She jerked her head toward the barn.

    The pair of them entered. Ayda took the left side, leaving Frank to handle the right. The heroine stopped to inspect the horse. The stall was in perfect shape, and the straw remained relatively undisturbed save for the dry blood all over it. The lack of a struggle suggested the blow to the neck had been for the kill, and the rest were administered post-mortem.

    Ayda was glad she hadn''t brought Kindle. She paled to imagine the unyielding rage such a scene would inspire in her.

    The next stall down was empty. Some of the horse''s blood had spilled over into it, but otherwise there was nothing to see. Either this family had more horses at one time, or there were others out and about. A trivial detail, in all likelihood.

    "I found the cops," Flechette called.

    Ayda''s heart dropped at his words. Approaching where he stood in the far corner only confirmed her suspicions. The two officers lay in a heap, covered in gruesome cuts, bodies already decaying in the hot Texas sun.

    "Fuck," Ayda swore.

    "There''s no signs of struggle, so they weren''t killed here, and there''s no drag marks, so they must''ve been carried," said Flechette.

    "What are you thinking?"

    "That someone strong enough to carry full grown men did this."

    "You think it''s a Neo?"

    "That or a really big guy. Either one is trouble."

    Ayda let that sit in her mind for a moment. She''d been afraid of finding the officers dead ever since Amanda briefed them on the situation. Even if she''d prepared mentally for it, finding them here amongst the animal corpses filled her with dread and disgust. She didn''t want to look at it any longer.

    "Come on, lets go." She walked out of the barn with Flechette a step behind. They exited to rejoin Alloy and Flashbang.

    "Are they..." Alloy began.

    "Cops are dead," Flechette said.

    "Dammit."

    "I know it sucks, but there''s nothing we can do for them, now," Ayda said. "We need to find out who did this."

    "Whoever they are, they''re probably not here anymore," said Alloy.

    "I know," agreed Ayda. "We should focus on finding the family, and then look for evidence. Anything we can use to figure out who''s responsible."

    "I have a bad feeling about this," menaced Frank.

    "Me, too. Let''s hope we''re wrong." Ayda hesitated for a moment. "We should check the house, and then the silo."

    There were no complaints, so the four of them walked toward the house. Ayda and Frank led the way, while Rio and Dominick held back. Ayda couldn''t help but overhear them talking.

    "Are you okay?" Rio asked.

    "I... I don''t know. I mean, I''ve seen dead things before, but that-" Dominick didn''t finish his thought.

    "It''s okay if you''re not okay. You never really get used to something like that."

    "I know." Flashbang paused. "I want to focus on the mission, I think. That''s more important, right?"

    "If you wanna talk about it later, my door is always open."

    "Thanks."

    The conversation fell away as they reached the house. Ayda let the hint of a smile creep onto her face. She was proud to be the leader of such a close knit and supportive team. It almost made her forget how grim this scene was, how hopeless it already seemed.

    Pulse took the lead through the door. Inside the house was exactly the same color as the outside. On one side rose a staircase to the second level. On the left were three open entryways. Between them, a narrow hallway with a gold-trimmed red rug running along the wood floors. Directly ahead sat the large dining room.

    "Alright, split up," Ayda said. "We''re looking for anything obvious; signs of a struggle, foreign objects, evidence of power use, that sort of thing. Alloy and Flashbang, you guys check the upstairs. Flechette and I will check down here. We''ll meet up and search the basement afterward."

    "Why do we have to meet up to check the basement?" Flashbang asked.

    "Ever seen a horror movie? The murderer is always in the basement. I''d rather be safe than sorry," Ayda explained. Flashbang shrugged. "Okay, guys, break."

    At her order, the two teams split off. Alloy led Flashbang upstairs, while Frank hung back with Ayda.

    "You get the far room and the dining room, and I''ll get these first two?" Proposed Ayda.

    "Sounds good to me," agreed Frank. He began on his way down the hall.

    Ayda entered the room closest to the front door. It was a living space. Northwest of the door sat a beige leather couch behind a simple wooden coffee table. A broad ovular rug in a similar pattern to the one outside lay beneath it. A matching stand supported a large flat screen television on the opposite wall. Behind the couch a computer, desk, and chair rested against the wall.

    Other than that, there wasn''t much to see. It was completely spotless, not a single speck of dust out of place. The Hanson family clearly liked to keep a clean home. Ayda doubted she''d find much of interest in here, so she moved on.

    The next room was remarkable if only for its complete lack of theme. There was another computer at a smaller desk in the far left corner. In the opposite, an acoustic guitar. A few children''s toys littered the large square rug, mostly cars and action figures, including two separate Bronze Knights. A red and black tool chest occupied a space not far from the guitar, something which Ayda thought probably shouldn''t be in the same room with a kid. Lastly were two purple beanbag chairs next to a laptop plugged in on the floor.

    Again, this room held nothing of significance. All it really gave away was that at least one person in the family played guitar, and they had a young son, both of which Ayda read in the file on the way there. Whatever happened to these people clearly didn''t happen in this room, either. The house was starting to feel like a lost cause. Hopefully the others were having better results.

    To that end, Ayda decided to go find Frank. She checked the next room down to see if he was there. This was the kitchen. Where the other two rooms were warm and homey, this one was all modern. White cabinets topped with black granite ringed the surprisingly large space, broken up only by appliances made up in silver and black. There were pots and pans piled in the sink, one of them still caked with black residue. An open pizza box with three remaining slices of pepperoni told the story of a failed dinner. Ayda smiled at the humanity of it.

    On her way to the dining room¡ªthe final area on this level¡ªshe took notice of a door behind the stairs. From what she could remember from studying the floor plan, this was the basement. She''d find out when everyone else gathered. She didn''t want to be alone when Jason Voorhees jumped out.

    Upon entering the dining room, Pulse discovered why the pizza box was open. Flechette was making a lap around the table, halfway through a piece. He met Ayda''s eyes when she entered, chewing slowly. She cocked her stance to one side.

    "Really?" She raised an eyebrow.

    "What? I was hungry." Flechette swallowed. "Besides, they''re not using it anymore."

    "It''s evidence!"

    "And there''s still three pieces of evidence left," reasoned Flechette before taking another bite. Ayda rolled her eyes at him. Nothing she could do about it now.

    "The other rooms are clear," Ayda said. "There''s no signs of a struggle, or of anything really."

    Flechette swallowed. "Yeah, I noticed. The only sign anyone ever lived here is the mess in the kitchen. Must''ve been dad''s night to cook."

    "Maybe. It''s hard to say without any hard evidence."

    "You want me to start going through stuff?"

    "No, forensics can do that after we''ve cleared the place. I wouldn''t want to misplace anything. I think we''re better off making sure it''s safe."

    "Whatever you say, Boss," Flechette said before continuing on his lap.

    Ayda gave him a hard look, one of mostly annoyance at the word boss. She dropped it a moment later and put a finger on the communications device in her ear to signify she was talking to someone on the other side. The comms devices were little more than wireless earbuds with a small antenna that wrapped around the ear.

    "How are you guys doing up there?" She asked.

    "Same as you, unfortunately," Alloy said through the device. "The kids''s rooms are a bit messy, but there''s nothing here."

    "I thought you''d say that," remakred Ayda. "Why don''t you come down here and we''ll search the basement?"

    "On our way," Alloy said.

    Ayda used the thumps of them walking on the floor above to track their movement. They came from opposite ends, met in the middle, then walked toward the stairs. Ayda continued to listen as they made it down to the first floor and approached the dining room. Dominick led the way, with Rio right behind.

    "You guys good?" Ayda asked, gazing at each of them in turn.

    "I''m good," Alloy said. Flashbang just nodded.

    Together, they trod the short distance over to the basement door, their leader out in front. She grabbed the knob but hesitated in turning it. A quick glance over her shoulder. Alloy shimmered, indicating the activation of her super strength. Since Flechette already had armor on, and Flashbang could literally disappear, they did nothing. The four of them would never be more ready.

    Ayda opened the door. Immediately, the acrid stench of death washed over them yet again. She recoiled and turned her face away. The others did the same, except for Flechette. A second later, shock replaced revulsion. Ayda''s eyes widened behind her sunglasses. Her stomach dropped through the floor.

    "No," she blurted.

    In flash of motion, Ayda rushed down the stairs, her team not far behind. She didn''t even make it to the concrete before stopping in her tracks.

    "Fuck!"

    There next to the stairs we three decaying bodies. Their skin had just began to turn color. Atop the pile was an older man, bald on top and blonde hair flecked with grey. Beneath him lay a teenage girl, Latina in complexion and straight hair long enough to brush her shoulders. The last was a little boy, no older than eight or nine, who took more after his father with light skin and hair. Each of their faces were twisted in fear, the last screams before the end came.

    Deep gashes marked their mutilated forms, at least a dozen on each. Even with the state of their bodies, Ayda knew who they were. They matched the descriptions of Robert, Clair, and Dennis Hanson: The father, teenage daughter, and young son of the Hanson family.

    Alloy took off her masked hood and rubbed her pale blue eyes. Flashbang slowly made his way back up the stairs. Flechette pushed past the girls to go inspect the scene. Ayda stayed where she was. She gripped a support beam at the base of the stairs. Fingernails dug into the wood, while her hand glowed purple. Her breaths came in slow puffs through her nose.

    "No drag marks," Flechette said, kneeling next to the pile. "No signs of a struggle. They were carried here, just like the cops in the barn."

    Ayda barely heard him. If this truly were the work of a Neo¡ªwhich seemed more likely with each minute¡ªthen she''d failed in her job. It was the job of every superhero to defend the powerless from those who wished to do them harm, especially those with extraordinary abilities. If a Neo somehow managed to slip under the radar, then that mistake was on her. As the closest hero team to this farmhouse, it was their responsibility to watch over it. A little boy was dead because she couldn''t do her job.

    She ripped her eyes away, unable to stare upon her failure any longer. Whoever did this would face justice, either by sentence or by staff.

    "Come on, we need to search the silo," said Pulse.

    Ayda pushed back past Alloy, who put her mask back on in the corner of her eye. The taller heroine followed her up, joined shortly by the slightly jangly steps of Flechette. Silence loomed as they ascended. Ayda could only guess how her team dealt with such tragedy. She hoped they would hold together long enough to see this through. They never gave her any reason to doubt before.

    Flashbang waited for them in the hall, around the corner toward the front door. With his power blanking out his face, it was impossible to read him as he stared into her sunglasses. Ayda gave his shoulder a light squeeze and gently tugged him along. She didn''t trust herself to speak, lest her anger and frustration show through her voice. Dominick seemed to get the message. He fell in behind her, taking the second spot in line from Alloy.

    Ayda muscled her way through the door, but stopped short only one step through it.

    "Careful, everyone. Steady and slow," she all but whispered back to her companions. Ayda followed her own directions, taking cautions strides toward the disturbance.

    Several feet from the front door stood a woman. Pretty despite her middle age, the resemblance to the murdered teenage girl was uncanny. They had the same skin tone and straight black hair, though this person''s stretched halfway down her back. She wore a simple lavender dress, laces at the neckline undone. Both her clothes and bare feet were splattered with dirt and dry blood.

    She stood still, swaying slowly left and right, head slightly inclined as she watched the heroes approach. A fire axe dangled from her right hand, the blade and upper portion of the wooden haft caked in blood long dried. She made no movement nor outward notice of the four individuals creeping toward her. She just stood and watched.

    Perhaps worst of all, was that she matched the description of the fourth member of the family.

    "Mrs. Hanson?" Ayda called out to her. No response. "Julia!" Still nothing.

    Ayda descended the stairs, all the while keeping a close eye on Julia Hanson. The older woman remained the same, unmoving and uncaring.

    "Mrs. Hanson, can you hear me?" Ayda said. Nothing. "Just drop the axe and turn yourself in. No one else has to get hurt."

    The heroes continued their creeping approach. All the while, Julia was perfectly still, like a heavily armed tree.

    "If you won''t submit, we''ll be forced to take action, and that won''t end well for you," warned Ayda. "It''s in your best interest to stand down."

    Closer and closer they came. Only a few feet now until Julia was in staff range, then this would all be over. Either they would find the culprit in Julia, or they''d be able to get evidence from her which may point in the right direction. Both were acceptable outcomes, as long as the family found justice. As long as little Dennis Hanson was avenged.

    "Pulse! Guys, behind us!" Flashbang interrupted her introspection. Ayda glanced over her shoulder, and saw something that gave her pause indeed.

    What could only be described as robotic hyenas came into view from the back of the house. Their hunched forms were made of metal and wire arranged like the sinews of muscle and tendon. Large heads on long necks molded into maws with jagged teeth. They had no eyes, nor anything which could be interpreted as such. Growls and high-pitched cries issued forth from them at irregular intervals, their voices warbling with mechanical distortion. Six in total, they stalked toward the heroes.

    "What the hell are those things?" Alloy said.

    "I don''t know, but something tells me they''re not friendly," Flechette said.

    "Stay focused," Ayda ordered.

    She drew her staff from the slim holster on her left thigh. Tiny purple bursts on either end extended the weapon. She held it out in front of her at an angle from right shoulder to left hip, knees slightly bent, her favorite fighting stance.

    With Julia Hanson in front, the robot dogs behind, and a desert all around, the heroes were well and truly cornered. Isolated from civilization, they had nowhere to go. The only option left was to fight.

 Book 2, "Brave New World" CH. 14: Silent Antagonist

    It wasn''t supposed to be like this. What inane series of events lead to this crazy situation? Four superheroes facing off against a woman with a bloody axe, which she''d clearly used to exterminate her family. What''s worse, there were robot dogs closing in behind them. If Ayda hadn''t experienced so many impossible things in her twenty years, she''d say this were a complete flight of fancy.

    Ayda glanced around at her teammates. Each of them was ready for a fight. Flechette had a machete-length spike in each hand. He had his back turned on the woman, more concerned with the dogs. Alloy stood in the boxing stance Ayda taught her two years ago. She didn''t display any signs of power use, most likely saving them for when things went down. Flashbang was unarmed, but ready to fight.

    "Flechette, I need a spike." Flashbang held out a hand to the older hero covered in latticework metal armor.

    Flechette produced a spike from his shoulder a bit longer than the ones in his hands. Flashbang detached it then settled into a Chinese wushu stance, left side toward the enemy, weapon in the opposite hand level with his hips, tip pointed diagonally upward. Ayda had not taught him that one.

    Well, that solved the problem of getting everyone ready for a fight. Now they just had to actually fight. But Ayda didn''t want that. The Hanson family had been through enough already. She''d rather not put them through any further hardship, even if she currently stared down the one responsible for their deaths.

    "This is your last chance, Mrs. Hanson," warned Pulse. "Stand down, or face the consequences."

    Julian Hanson did nothing. She showed no sign at all that she even knew the four heroes were there. She just stood still, swaying slowly left to right, axe caked in dry blood dangling from her right hand.

    "Those things are speeding up, Pulse," Alloy said from behind her.

    Ayda turned around to find the six robot dogs approaching at a trot instead of the slow stalk they used seconds ago. They were close, now. Less than a minute, and they''d be upon the heroes. Even if Julia never lifted a finger, the dogs would still attack. One way or another, this ended in combat. They needed a strategy, now.

    "Alright," Ayda began. "Alloy, switch with me. Take Mrs. Hanson down quickly as you can, then join the rest of us against the dog things."

    "Got it," agreed Alloy.

    She took a step forward, while Ayda slotted into where her teammate just was. The formation was now Alloy in the front center, while Flechette, Flashbang, and Pulse lined up left to right facing the opposite direction.

    "Spread out," Pulse continued. "They can''t take us all at once if we''re too far apart. They''ll have to split up."

    Ayda stayed where she was while her teammates fanned out to her left. This separated them, and also created a rough sort of wall on one side. It would be harder to attack Alloy from the left, now, minimizing the things their teammate had to worry about. Ayda hadn''t been thinking that far ahead, but she knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

    With everyone positioned, the calm before the storm set in. The dogs came ever closer. Julia Hanson still did absolutely nothing other than stare at them through her messy dark hair. Ayda channeled power through her staff. It glowed purple with her strength. The world snapped into focus as her enhanced reflexes power took hold. Flechette shifted around some of the spikes covering his skin, likely to form tighter armor.

    It was so quiet. Between the isolated location, Julia''s complete lack of motion, and the scattered mechanical noises from the dogs, Ayda doubted the battle could be heard for more than a few hundred feet away, if that. Ayda took a deep breath to center herself. She was ready.

    The dogs accelerated to a run. They spread out, just as predicted, two dedicated to each hero. They leapt into action. At the same time, Julia lashed out. Ayda had no time to check on her teammate, as she had her own pair of dogs to worry about.

    The pair came at her in a staggered formation. The first jumped at her throat. She sidestepped and swung down into its back with a blast as the thing sailed past her. It flew for a few feet and skidded in the dirt. The second followed up immediately. It went straight for her face. Ayda held her staff out horizontally. The dog wrapped its jaws around the implement, where it held on and swung wildly with all four paws, barely missing her torso. Pulse used a blast to toss her staff away, taking the dog with it.

    Several teeth sank into her ankle. Ayda drew a sharp breath at the pain and looked down to see the first dog biting into her. It must''ve recovered while she was paying attention to the other one. She punched down once, twice at its cranium, each hit accentuated with a blast. The attacks only drove the teeth in further. Agony shot through her leg as the metal points ground against bone.

    Ayda laced her fingers between its lower teeth as best she could. A split-second to focus, and a powerful blast erupted from her. The dog''s lower jaw cracked and broke off. It reeled back, seemingly in pain, dark oil dripping from the wound. Ayda rounded on it and kicked with her good foot. The dog sailed away from her, coming to rest close to the other dog she''d sent flying. They joined up and slinked toward her.

    Pulse put her weight down on the injured ankle. Pain coursed through her, but it was manageable. She''d fought on through much worse. This wouldn''t stop her. She settled into a boxing stance and faced down the dogs.

    "Round two, motherfuckers."

    ¡­

    Julia swung downward in a wide arc over her head, the blade of her axe a red and brown streak through the air. Alloy switched from strength and defense to reflexes just in time to slip left of the attack. Before Julia could follow up with another strike, the heroine placed a pair of fists to the ribs, then a straight punch to the head.

    Alloy took a step back, shaking out her hands. Mrs. Hanson was solid, much more so than she looked. Punching her felt like smacking a wall of pure muscle. Yet, that didn''t make sense. Her dress was sleeveless. Rio could see her arms, shoulders, and a bit of her chest. She wasn''t that built. If anything, Julia could stand to gain a few pounds. So, why the hard body?

    Moreover, Julia gave no reaction to the punches. Other than turning her head in response to the straight punch, she seemed completely unaffected. Rio hadn''t pulled her punches. Even without super strength, she hit pretty hard. Julia, however, hardly knew she was there.

    Julia rounded on Alloy with a wide lateral swing. Rio dipped beneath it, took a small step in, and directed an uppercut into her enemy. Pain shot through her wrist and fingers upon contact with Julia''s chin. It was like punching a slightly squishy wall. Julia''s head rose with the impact, but it still had no effect on her whatsoever.

    Mrs. Hanson reached out to grab Alloy with her left hand. Alloy slipped back, out of the way, but doing so put her in range of the axe. Julia''s swing was sloppy, but still dangerous. Alloy ducked beneath it again, but this time kicked at the attacker''s knee. Julia didn''t move an inch. Her legs were solid as telephone poles.

    Thirty seconds had passed by since Alloy activated her enhanced reflexes power. It faded, leaving her feeling slow and lethargic. She channeled her power through the iron ring on her left index finger. Her form shimmered emerald green for a second. Strength flooded through her muscles. All sensation faded away from her skin. She felt not the warm breeze, nor heat from the sun. The pain in her hands subsided.

    This time when Julia struck down, the axe head bounced off Alloy''s aura, the temporary overshield that made her nearly impervious. The only evidence of the hit was a green shimmer where it made impact. Rio stepped forward and punched Mrs. Hanson in the sternum. Julia uprooted and soared back.

    The iron ring was Rio''s only two-for-one ability: A level 10 Brute for super strength, and a level 10 Defender for some form of invulnerability. Neo powers were ranked on a scale of 1 through 12.

    Most people would''ve panicked and flailed all about in a desperate attempt to get their footing. Julia, though, remained perfectly calm. Her arms, legs, and hair went forward as she bent back. She didn''t look where she was going. It was as if she had no idea she was in the air. Julia landed upright several feet away, heels digging into the loose earth. She skidded on her way, thin ruts left in her wake. This served to stop her post haste. The moment she came to a rest, Julia surged forward, running for the first time.

    "Seriously?" Alloy yelled. No response, not that she expected one.

    Her super strength and defense would run out before Julia reached her. Even if Alloy met her charge, she''d only have a few seconds. Instead, Alloy channeled through the gold ring on her left index finger. Heat washed over her like stepping outside on a hot summer''s day, but it felt good. She felt alive.

    Amorphous green blobs formed over both her hands. The shapes rolled and shifted around as if made of some thick goop. With sidearm motions as if throwing knives, Alloy hurled the blobs at Julia. One after another they rocketed toward her, a veritable viridian barrage.

    It wasn''t necessarily hard to hit a target moving straight at her. Every projectile Rio threw hit its mark. Once again, Julia made little to do about it. She didn''t dodge, nor try to defend herself. The blobs left light burnt spots where they hit her dress, and they put inflamed red marks on her skin. Other than the occasional swing of her or turn of her head at an impact, Julia gave no indication there were any threat to her person at all.

    Alloy halted her attack when Julia was more than halfway to her. She was just wasting energy, anyway. Rio abandoned her level 4 Shooter classification power, opting once more to channel through her titanium ring for the enhanced reflexes of a level 6 Mover type ability. She couldn''t really do much damage with it against this particular opponent, but it would allow her to learn a bit more about Mrs. Hanson. Alloy charged forward to meet her in combat.

    If nothing else, all of this confirmed one of their suspicions. This crime was definitely the work of a Neo.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    ¡­

    Flechette faced down a pair of robot dogs, one on either side, a spike dedicated to each. The dog on his right hobbled around on three paws, its front left leg badly damaged. The other was mostly intact save for a few marks on its hide. They stalked toward him, patient for a chance to strike. Frank switched his gaze between them, rapidly so to make sure he didn''t miss anything they did.

    The dog in better shape charged at him. The other followed, but at a slower speed from its hurt leg. Flechette threw his right-hand spike at the injured one. The projectile caught it in mid-stride. The impact caused it to miss a few steps. It faltered and bucked forward, threatening to tip end over end.

    The other mechanical creature jumped at his throat. Frank dodged and struck it down as it passed. The dog landed hard on all four feet. Flechette took advantage of the rough landing to swing at it. The dog jumped to one side. Flechette missed, kicking up the dirt with his spike.

    It went for his neck again. Flechette put up his right forearm. The dog latched on. More than a dozen of the spikes in his latticework armor cracked, but the structure held. The big teeth found no purchase in flesh. The sheer strength of it was what worried him. It felt like his arm was being crushed. No amount of armor in the world would help him against shattered bones.

    Though inconvenient, there was a fatal flaw with the dog''s strategy. It''s head was right on top of Frank''s primary weapons, his spikes. Flechette began to grow new spikes up through the interwoven layer covering his skin. These new implements were thin and sturdy, meant for piercing. He both felt and heard their points penetrate through the dog''s mouth, but the process was slow.

    The sluggish speed wouldn''t be a problem if the other dog hadn''t already recovered. It regained its footing and resumed the charge from seconds ago. Frank put one foot behind him and turned his unoccupied arm toward it, ready for impact.

    The plan was simple, catch this dog just like he had the first. Then, the process of growing spikes through its head could begin anew. If luck favored him, he could scrap them both right then and there. If not, then maybe they''d think twice about latching on a second time. Either way, he was in a better position than at the beginning of the fight.

    So, Frank waited. In just a few seconds, the dog would jump at him only to meet the same fate as his weird companion. He smirked behind his mask. The idiots had no idea what they were in for. He would''ve been proud of himself if they weren''t mechanical abominations.

    The dog leapt at him. Frank put up his free arm, inviting it to latch on. In the same instant, Flashbang appeared out of thin air, as he was like to do. He barreled into the dog in mid-jump. His momentum superseded, carrying the both of them off to Frank''s right. They went to ground, Dominick having fallen atop the dog. He stood a moment later, though. The spike Flechette lent him was buried in the dog''s side, a clean cut between its sinuous metal exterior. The dog writhed, a vain attempt to remove the object. All the while, it oozed dark oil. Within a few seconds, it came to rest.

    Flashbang removed the spike and went over to Flechette. The younger hero stabbed the one holding onto his arm, just like he had with the first. Again, the spike slipped through. The dog jerked around, wrenching Frank''s arm in a way most unpleasent. It only lasted a few heartbeats, though. When the robot ceased, Flechette pried it off him and let it fall, retracting his spikes from it in the process. Flashbang stood next to him, oil-stained spike in hand.

    "Can they see you?" Flashbang asked.

    "I think they can sense me, but going invisible throws them off for a second," explained Dominick.

    "And when did you figure out you could stab them?"

    "Just now. I kinda wasn''t expecting that to work."

    "Well, it did." As Frank said this, two dogs approached them. "Time to start fighting smart."

    ¡­

    Alloy caught Mrs. Hanson''s downward swing in her right hand. She placed the other in the woman''s chest. Julia flew backward much like she had before, only this time her axe stayed in Alloy''s grasp. She gave it a super strength squeeze. The wood splintered. The head toppled off to one side, while the half beneath her hand dropped. Both hit the dirt in little puffs. Alloy opened her fingers to release the remaining splinters.

    Julia landed on her feet again, no surprise there. She reached into a pocket in her dress and pulled out a big folding knife, the kind that could be used to cut through small brush. She flicked it open, a lazy motion as if she''d done it a thousand times.

    "Oh, come on. Why do you even have that?" Complained Alloy.

    Julia came at her, covering the short distance at a speed between jogging and a proper run. Maybe that meant she was slowing down. Even as the thought crossed her mind, Alloy doubted it. Julia was like an endless well of energy, which made the sweat on her own brow all the more infuriating.

    Mrs. Hanson stabbed at Alloy. The heroine let her overshield absorb the strike. She grabbed the attacker''s wrist. When the weapon was secured, Alloy took a stasis cuff from her a pouch at her side and placed it over Julia''s wrist. She released and stepped back.

    Julia''s nervous system pulsed red once. She did not, however, react in the normal way. There was no flailing nor breaking of bones as her body was forcibly snapped into position. The cuff had no effect on her at all. The red meant it worked properly, yet Julia was completely unaffected. She moved like nothing happened.

    "What?" Rio gasped. She took a small step back.

    Julia closed the distance. At the same time, Rio''s power faded. The strength left her bones, and the breeze blew on her skin. All the while, Julia made an attack. So shocked was she by the spectacle before her, Rio couldn''t immediately process the moment. Julia lashed out with her blade. Rio noticed it speed toward her. The danger finally registered in her mind. She channeled through her aluminum ring¡ªthe one she barely ever used¡ªbut it was too late. The knife sliced through her t-shirt, digging into her chest. Alloy stepped back away from the weapon. This maneuver was likely the only thing that kept it from sliding between her ribs. Instead, it only rubbed along bone.

    Rio took a few big steps away from the weapon stained with red. She put a hand over the wound, for what good it did. Blood seeped from the gash, mixing with the blue of her shirt to create a deep purple around the edges. Some leaked between her fingers, and down the back of her hand. It hurt, but not to the extent she expected. Shock, most likely. Julia gave her a sick smile, the first hint of emotion she''d showed the entire time. She walked forward.

    ¡­

    Ayda grappled with a robot dog. One of the beasts she''d been fighting lay dead to her left. The other barreled toward her. It jumped. She stood her ground. Ayda took a step forward to square her stance and reached out both hands. Longer reach allowed her to catch it around the neck. It flailed about trying to either claw her or bite at her wrists, but fell short. Ayda created blasts on her fingertips. The concentrated force of them allowed the digits to pass between the dog''s exterior. She gave another burst. This time she felt multiple structures crush inside it. The dog flailed for a moment, then fell limp. She tossed it aside.

    "Guys!" Rio shouted, voice strained. "She''s immune to the stasis cuffs! She''s some kind of Defender. I can''t hurt her!"

    "What do you mean she''s immune?" Ayda shouted back.

    Turning to the source of Rio''s voice, she answered her own question. Alloy, a bloody gash on her chest, backed away from an encroaching enemy who was quite clearly wearing a stasis cuff. A red drop fell from the tip of Julia Hanson''s blade. The entire scene made no sense. No one¡ªregardless of powerset¡ªhad ever been even resistant to the stasis cuffs, let alone immune. It should''ve been impossible, yet the evidence was right in front of her plain as day.

    Something was very wrong. Julia was unaffected by the best means they had to restrain her. If Alloy couldn''t subdue her, then what chance did the rest of them have?

    Ayda took in the scene. She looked at her wounded teammate, a friend with blood running down her shirt. She thought back to the bodies in the barn and the house, the horrendous damage upon them and the blood on Julia''s axe. Disregarding that, even if Julia hadn''t killed her family¡ªwhich she obviously did¡ªshe was still a dangerous, unknown quantity, one that couldn''t be allowed to hurt anyone else.

    Because of how easy it would be to seriously injure someone with her super strength, Alloy had a habit of holding back. Usually the right thing to do, but not always. This was not a time for caution. It was time to stop holding back. Ayda recovered her staff and began toward Mrs. Hanson.

    "Birdseye, please record that I, as team leader, am authorizing a Code 5 at this time and date," Ayda ordered as she walked.

    "What?" Alloy gave her a terrified look. "Pulse, no. I... I don''t think I can."

    "I know. Fall back. I''ll do it," Ayda said.

    "Pulse, Ayda, please. you don''t have to-"

    "Fall back, Alloy. It''ll be alright."

    Alloy looked from Mrs. Hanson, to Ayda, and back again. Her entire being screamed of hesitation judging by the wide look in her eyes, the the slight hunch of her back. Ayda did not stop walking. Her staff glowed purple. Seeing her determined approach mush have convinced Alloy that the decision was final. There was nothing she could do. Rio disengaged, jogging backwards from the scene, a somber tilt to her head.

    "Hey!" Ayda called out to Julia.

    Mrs. Hanson looked toward the source of this new disturbance. She turned away from the person who clearly didn''t want to fight anymore, in favor of renewed combat. She approached.

    The moment Julia was within staff distance, Pulse lashed out. Her staff glowed brighter as she swung. It connected with Julia''s right knee. The ensuing blast was like an industrial demolition charge going off. The sound rippled through the prairie land, while a small shockwave tore along the ground. Such a strike would''ve exploded a normal person. If nothing else, the targeted limb should have been torn off. Neither happened. Julia''s rigid frame took the hit in stride, though her knee was obviously destroyed. She fell upon it into a kneeling position.

    Though wounded, Julia still tried to slice up at Ayda. He heroine gave her a push kick with a blast to the chest before she could. Mrs. Hanson flew back a few feet, landing on her rump. Still, she was mostly unhurt. If she were this tough, it was no wonder Alloy had a hard time. Rio was extremely strong and versatile, but Ayda''s power had a higher offensive ceiling. She hit harder.

    Ayda propelled herself on blasts to reach Julia before she could stand. Along the way, she separated her staff and dropped one stick. Her free hand grabbed Julia by the throat. Her other prepared to attack. Mrs. Hanson wouldn''t go down easy. Ayda had to go for a weak spot.

    Pulse turned her stick over and stabbed down directly into Julia''s left eye. The flayed point penetrated, but only about a half inch. Two blasts rang out simultaneously: One at the tip to open the wound further, and one at the back to drive it home. The stick did not stop until the back of Julia''s skull. Julia didn''t struggle. She seemed to barely even notice what was going on. There was none of that human fighting spirit, the unending need to survive. Either she''d already accepted her fate, or was too sick to care.

    Ayda let loose one more blast, smaller this time. It was muffled by Julia''s cranium. Her inside clearly wasn''t to the same caliber as her outside. She went limp instantaneously. Ayda released her throat and drew out her weapon with a terrible wet sucking noise. Blood trailed after the stick and dripped from the end. Julia fell back, dead gaze staring straight up. No fluid leaked from the destroyed eye, her only visible wound. It was on the wrong side of her body to bleed from gravity.

    Quiet prevailed as Ayda straightened up. At a lack of anything appropriate at hand to wipe her weapon on, she dropped it. Dirt and loose plant matter stuck to the slick blood, adding to the already grim scene. The Hanson family farm had already seen so much horror, so much death, and now there was one more. Ayda''s stomach twisted.

    She turned to her teammates. Their reactions were predictable, at this point. Frank was completely unfazed. Rio looked horrified. Dominick had turned his back. Frank was a soldier. He was used to this kind of thing. Ayda was similar, in that regard. The last two, not so much. They''d seen people die before, but this was the first time Ayda killed anyone in front of them.

    She could see it in Alloy''s face, the judgment, the discomfort. Rio disagreed with the decision. A moment like this weighed on any healthy mind. Ayda hated to see that look in the eyes of her friend, but she accepted the inevitability of it. Rio may not have agreed. That was her right. As leader, it fell on Ayda to make the tough calls, even if her team thought they were wrong. She took the burden of responsibility, so no one else had to. That didn''t mean the looks cut any less deep.

    Pulse couldn''t bear to look at them anymore. She turned her gaze toward the ground, a spot without a dead body on it. That kind of place was disturbingly hard to find right then.

    "Flechette, call Captain Barnes, tell her what happened. Birdseye, get in contact with NAAME. Tell them that Julia Hanson was an unrecorded Neo, and that she was mentally unstable, and to send a clean-up team. I''m sure they''ll want to take it from here."

    Ayda dolled out her instructions, then walked over to the SUV they drove in on. She needed to sit down, and there was no other safe place to do so.

    It wasn''t supposed to be like this.

 Book 2, "Brave New World" CH. 15: The Planning Phase

    Ayda rode shotgun in a yellow SUV. Cooper drove the vehicle since it was his, with Rio in the back seat behind him. They all were done up in civilian garb. They had their costumes at hand, of course, though the only guy in the car had left his weapons in the bunker. He probably wouldn''t need them, not unless something went very wrong so as to require attention from the entire team.

    Light brown eyes peered out the window, watching the city pass her by. It looked so different from inside a car. She normally rode a motorcycle, both in and out of costume, so this wasn''t a sight she got to see very often. Distortion through the window made everything look the slightest bit fuzzy around the edges. The people were slightly harder to make out as they blurred by, not much but noticeable. The high angle was also strange. She couldn''t see the road without adjusting in her seat. These were observations she made every time fate found her in a car.

    This carpool was impromptu, a splendid alignment of circumstance. The entire team¡ªintel branch included¡ªhad been called to a meeting with NAAME. It''s placement, after classes but before the next patrol cycle, allowed everyone to attend without shifting around their schedules. Cooper had swung by the bunker to grab his costume. Since he was already there, he offered to drive Ayda and Rio, the only two team members who lived in the bunker full time. It made more sense than all of them taking individual cars, especially since the rest of the team was finding their own way.

    Though NAAME hadn''t said what the meeting was about, Ayda could guess with absolute certainty.

    It had been three days since the incident at the Hanson family farm, three days since the grizzly scene covered in the blood of both humans and creatures, three days since last Ayda took a life. She drew in a deep breath, in and out slowly through the nose. That was about the most effort she could put into reflection on what had happened.

    The sadness and anger she felt in the moment passed the day after it happened, replaced by a quiet sort of remorse. That Julia Hanson went undetected was more on NAAME than her own shoulders. What Julia was allowed to do, however, fell fully into Ayda''s realm. How was she supposed to protect a whole city, when she couldn''t even save one family?

    Ayda physically shook these thoughts from her head. They invaded her psyche whenever something like this happened, which wasn''t very often. According to NAAME projections, there weren''t many undocumented Neos in El Puerto. Those who did crop up usually did so without violence. The last undocumented to cause a stir was Flint, and that was a couple months ago. What''s more, he didn''t hurt anyone. Ayda blamed herself for that, though, as well. She knew it wasn''t healthy, and what''s more that it wasn''t true, but she couldn''t help it. These sorts of failures felt like breaking her promise to protect the people.

    She wouldn''t have been down this path in the first place if NAAME hadn''t scheduled a meeting. Knowing that she''d have to talk about it made her think about it, which forced her thoughts down this destructive rabbit hole. She was eager to get it over with, if only to banish the self-deprecation.

    Tired of looking out the window, Ayda sat up straighter in her seat. In the same motion, she fished her phone from its home in her pocket. Maybe a distraction would take her mind off the impending doom. She woke up her device and flipped it over to Reddit. Might as well use her time effectively. Engaging with the community usually put her in a good mood. ...Except when it didn''t. The internet wasn''t always the nicest of places.

    She first checked her notifications. The perpetually full private message box went ignored, as always, in favor of mod mail. There were three. The first told of a thread on the subreddit r/Pulse¡ªthe community group dedicated to higher-level discussions about the team¡ªwhich required her attention. The moderators of r/Pulse often did this sort of thing whenever someone asked her a question directly. That way, it didn''t get lost in the sea of new threads submitted every day.

    A tap brought her to the thread. It''s title was innocent enough: "Question about the bounty system." No one had commented on it yet. Even though the bounty system had been around for two years, people still had a lot of questions about it. Ayda wasn''t surprised in the slightest that another one found its way to her own corner of the internet. She read the body of the post, after a short chuckle at the poster''s username.

    BobblyWobbly: I know the bounty payments for taking down supervilains can reach upwards of five figures. How does this work in practical, everyday terms? Are all heroes just stupidly rich? If so, what''s it like to be better off than most of the people you''re protecting?

    Ayda was actually excited to answer this question until the last sentence. The somewhat confrontational nature of it struck her was unnecessary, yet indicative of a large portion of the internet community. There were so many people out there who engaged with negativity either because of a misplaced sense of humor, or because they thought it garnered them more attention. Pulse wasn''t exactly eager to engage with someone like that. Regardless, it was her job. She typed up a response.

    PulseOfficial: I''ve covered this before, but I''m not rich. Heroes don''t make as much money as most people seem to think. It''s true that taking down a supervillain can pay a high bounty, but it''s not every day I do something like that, and speeding tickets aren''t worth much. Don''t be me wrong, I get by just fine, but I''m not rich and I''m certainly not better off that most people in America.

    Besides that, the money isn''t even important. If I wanted to make a lot of money, I''d be a lawyer or something. The protection and prosperity of the people is the most important thing to me. Always has been. Money is at the bottom of the list of things I''m worried about.

    She took a few minutes to read over what she wrote. This was potentially a sensitive subject for a lot of people. Money always was. A discussion like this would probably make it to the front page of r/Pulse. It required an amount of delicacy she may not have possessed in spades. Thankfully, there was someone in the car who did.

    "Hey, Rio," Ayda began, turning in her seat. "Would you mind taking a quick look at this? I want to make sure I didn''t say the wrong thing."

    "Of course. Let me see." Rhiannon said. She took the phone.

    Ayda turned back around in her seat. It would''ve been rude to stare awkwardly until Rio was done. So, despite intense curiosity, Ayda did her best to ignore what was happening behind her. Besides, it was just a Reddit post. No need to get all up in arms about it.

    "Real salt of the earth, this guy," Rio snarked.

    "I thought he was being a bit rude," agreed Ayda.

    "He''s presumptuous, if nothing else," said Rio. She handed back the phone. "There''s nothing wrong with what you wrote. It''s almost perfect."

    "Alright, thank you," Ayda said. With the newfound confidence given by a second opinion, Ayda hit the comment button, all the while hoping this didn''t turn into a larger argument.

    "Another angry redditor?" Cooper asked, eyes on the road.

    "I don''t know if he was angry, he just didn''t word his question very kindly," Ayda said.

    "Ah. Typical internet bro, then."

    "We shouldn''t assume too much," Rio said. "Maybe he''s just not very good a writing."

    "Maybe," Cooper shrugged. "You never know."

    Conversation died down after that. Ayda used her passenger privileges to turn on the radio in its stead. She and Cooper had pretty much the same taste in early 2000''s emo and rock music, and Rio didn''t really seem to care either way. Ayda chose her favorite station, KR. 103. It was far too early for her most vocal supporter, Casey Calamity, to be on the air. The music on his show was always the best, though in the meantime the station offered a passable selection. The tunes were a great way to fill the silence.

    They arrived eventually at the destination, an unassuming single-story building sandwiched between two larger structures. It was painted a dark grey. Blinds blocked a view of the inside. There were no signs, nor decals on the front. No one would ever guess it to be the local NAAME headquarters, which was exactly the point. By law, every city or town with a hero team required some form of NAAME presence. Superhero team and NAAME HQs were kept separate in order to increase team independence. Fledgling NAAME research suggested teams operated best when left somewhat autonomous.

    Pulling into the parking lot revealed they were the last to arrive. Ayda recognized Frank''s grey chopper motorcycle, Anna''s blue Fiesta, Elliot''s shitty old Buick, and the oversized black pickup truck Dominick borrowed from his father. The latter still had some wooden boards in the back. Brian and Valerie¡ªCrypto and Top-Down from the intel team¡ªwere also there, though Ayda couldn''t remember which vehicle belonged to whom. It was good everyone arrived as civilians, though.

    Ayda disliked being last to show up. It didn''t feel right for the team leader to lag behind the others. At least they weren''t late. After Cooper parked, the three of them exited the vehicle and made for the building. Each had a bag. Ayda''s and Rio''s were of the duffel variety, while Cooper wore a backpack.

    A keypad kept the entrance sealed. Cooper did the honors of entering the long code, copying it from his phone. Upon passing the front double doors, they were greeted not with a foyer, but with changing rooms. Ayda ducked into the one closest to the entrance on her right. She looked over her shoulder just long enough to see Rio and Cooper do the same.

    Once inside, Ayda opened up her bag. On top was her staff, with leather jacket and everything else below. She quickly changed into her superhero costume, swapping a black band tee for an orange tank top, blue jeans for black, and grey sneakers for her signature strapped boots. The cropped leather jacket went on, and her collapsed staff found a home in the vertical holster on her right hip. A quick check to make sure everything was set, and she stepped out from behind the curtain.

    Rio was waiting for her in the hallway. Ayda almost didn''t recognize her. Rio always played a bit loose with her costume. The only set in stone part was the blue hooded mask which covered most of her upper face. This was fine, for a time, but recent NAAME complaints forced her to change. In light of everything that happened, Ayda forgot all of this. She''d never seen the new Alloy outfit.

    The only thing that remained unchanged was the mask. A dark blue short-sleeve shirt clung to her upper body. It was made from a tough, stretchy material, not spandex but just as formfitting. A trio of green slashes painted her right hip, the same color as her aura. They carried on down into shorts of the same material and shade of blue. A pair of black boots, folded over at the top, covered her feet. A gold utility belt hung askew upon her hips.

    "Oh my God, you look amazing!" Ayda enthused, crossing the distance between them.

    "You think so? This is the first time I''ve worn it," said Alloy.

    "Yes, definitely." Ayda felt the material of Rio''s sleeve between thumb and forefinger. "I love how you went with a more casual look. It''s a lot less intimidating."

    "That''s what I wanted. People are already afraid enough of superheroes. I didn''t want spikes or a neon bodysuit making it worse."

    "It''s literally perfect," Ayda said, taking a small step back.

    "Thanks, I''m glad you like it."

    "I love it."

    Cooper stepped out of his changing room. He did not have a new costume. His was the same bronze Corinthian helmet, crossed leather bands over a burly bare chest, brown cloth trousers, and bronze schynbalds. He paused at the sight of Alloy. His eyes flashed over her form before returning to her eyes.

    "You look great," he said simply.

    "Thanks, Cooper," Alloy returned with a smile.

    "Are you guys ready?" Ayda said. She received affirmatives from both teammates. "Then let''s go. We shouldn''t keep them waiting."

    Ayda led the way through the door at the far end of the changing room. The space on the other side looked just like a normal office building. Smart-looking men and women dressed in business casual attire milled about cubicles either working at computers or helping each other out. Anyone wandering in from the outside would see average working people.

    It was all a front, of course. It looked like a normal office because that''s exactly how it was supposed to look. In all fairness, these people probably were doing actual clerical work for NAAME, but that didn''t make their jobs any less conspicuous. That none of them batted an eye at the entrance of three superheroes was dead giveaway enough.

    Ayda led them around to the left side of the wide room, doing her best to avoid getting in the workers'' way. The heroes slipped through a door labeled as a janitor''s closet, but was actually an elevator. There were no buttons where they normally would be, replaced instead by a glass pane surrounded by polished metal. Ayda placed her thumb in the center. A red line scanned over the digit. A second later, the elevator descended into the depths at a rather alarming speed.

    The thing went down all of two stories in the same time a normal elevator would''ve covered just one. Its landing was soft, though, barely any sound to accompany its arrival. The metal door slid open with nothing in the way of fanfare.

    The scene which greeted them here was much more like one would expect from a powerful government organization. A long corridor stretched on away from them, dotted irregularly by doors and intersections. The concrete walls were painted a dull green. Shrouded wires ran along them, broken strategically by electrical boxes. A man in a suit walked away from them. About halfway down, a similarly dressed woman exited into the hall and walked toward them, but paid no mind.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    The heroes stepped out of the elevator, Ayda doing her best to ignore the dichotomy between this and the ground floor.

    "I hate that thing," Cooper said as they walked. "Plays hell with my equilibrium."

    "That has to do with your powers, right?" Asked Rio.

    "Yeah," Cooper nodded. "It''s mostly with my sense of touch. I can feel the air inside it shift around and it throws me off, like I can''t figure out where I am in relation to the ground. All elevators are bad, but that one is the worst."

    "Maybe you should ask for a set of stairs. I''m sure they''d put on in, maybe even an escalator," Ayda teased.

    "Oh, ha-ha," mocked Cooper. They both smiled right after.

    The trip through the facility was a short one. Thanfkully, their destination was just around the first right-hand corner and a few doors down. Otherwise, Ayda would''ve absolutely gotten lost in the nonsensical labyrinth that was the El Puerto NAAME HQ. How anyone navigated it effectively was far beyond her. Cooper could probably do it, though, following his ears and nose.

    The three of them found the appropriate door. Ayda entered with the others behind. Inside she found the rest of her team, arrayed at various points. This was a meeting room, dominated by a long table in the middle, and a whiteboard on the far wall. Dominick had the seat closest to the door on the left, followed by Valerie, Frank, and Brian in the following chairs. The seat across from Dominick was empty. Next to it sat Elliott, then Anna.

    "There they are," Frank said the moment the three new arrivals entered.

    "We were afraid you got lost," Brian said.

    "The bunker isn''t exactly close to here," Ayda said. She took the seat next to Elliot, which she assumed had been saved for her. The team leader should sit at the head of the table.

    "Besides, if we got lost anywhere it would be in here." Rio said, sitting next to Anna.

    "Don''t get me started." Elliot rolled his eyes. "This place is a nightmare."

    "I''d be fine with it if not for the elevator." Cooper sat next to Rio.

    "I love the outfit, by the way," Anna said to Rio.

    "Thanks. I''m really happy with how it came out," returned Rio.

    "You should be. You look great."

    "Thanks," Rio said again. Ayda noticed Valerie nodding along with the conversation.

    "What''s in the belt?" Frank chimed in.

    "Just spare rings right now. Oh, and the big one here has my stasis cuffs," answered Rio. She stood partway, long enough to point out the taller and wider pouch on her left hip. "I''m thinking I might get a stun gun and some pepper spray," she added while returning to her seat.

    "You should look into getting some tear gas. A little crowd dispersal would be nice," suggested Frank.

    "That''s not a bad idea." Rio shrugged.

    There probably would''ve been more conversation, but the door opened. Ayda''s immediate thought was that her party arrived just on time. This was immediately squashed when she saw the old man who entered.

    "Colonel Hammond?" She breathed.

    Ayda rose from her seat and wrapped him up in a big hug, an embrace they both fell easily into.

    "It''s Director now," Hammond said.

    "You''ll always be Colonel to me," argued Ayda.

    She let him go and took a step back. Benjamin Hammond was the same grizzled, lanky military man she''d met eight years ago. He''d traded in his camo fatigues for a black business suit. His gaunt face had a collection of new wrinkles. Despite this, he hadn''t changed a bit.

    With a smile on her face, Ayda returned to her seat. She took off her sunglasses and placed them on the table to her right. She had nothing to hide from anyone in the room.

    "I didn''t expect to meet with you," she said.

    "I don''t think any of us expected the Director of NAAME himself," echoed Brian.

    "Yes, well, I thought it best if I attended to this matter personally, which should tell you something about how serious it is."

    He slapped a trio of manila folders onto the table. Ayda hadn''t noticed them in his hand. The one on top slid in her direction. She grabbed and opened it. The first paper was an article she''d seen multiple times in various forms, a coroner''s report. Regardless, she still asked.

    "What are these, Ben?"

    "Two MedEvals and an autopsy. ," Hammond answered simply. "I''m assuming you''ve guessed I want to talk to you about Mrs. Julia Hanson. The top folder is hers."

    Ayda gave the report a quick scan through. It was pretty standard stuff; name, age, height, weight, cause of death, the things you''d normally find with this sort of thing. The only oddity was the section about superpowers had been left blank. Not unheard of if the deceased''s powers couldn''t be identified, yet the report didn''t even denote that she had powers in the first place. Ayda was about to ask about it, when Anna spoke up.

    "With all do respect, Director, why exactly are we here?" She began. "I know this is only our second Code 5, but you didn''t call a team meeting last time."

    "I normally wouldn''t, but the circumstances are different this time. Julia Hanson wasn''t a normal person."

    "We know that," said Frank. "She was a Neo."

    "No, she wasn''t," Hammond said. He was met with several confused stares. "Go to the next page, Ayda."

    She did as instructed, turning the coroner''s report facedown to her left. The people next to and across from her leaned in for a better look. The next page was a picture of the autopsy itself. It would''ve been graphic, if there were any flesh other than skin involved. Ayda wasn''t really sure how to describe it. The corpse was clearly Julia, but all resemblance to an actual person died from the neck down. Her chest cavity had been opened. Inside were metal struts where should have been bones. Wires replaced blood vessels. Her spine was a finely articulated column. She had no lungs nor heart. There was nothing human inside her.

    "What the fuck?" Dominick breathed.

    "That my reaction too, Dominick," Director Hammond said. "There''s a copy of that picture for everyone. If you wouldn''t mind passing them around..."

    Ayda passed the top one to Dominick, took the next for herself, then gave the rest of the pile to Elliot, who repeated the process.

    Reactions were varied. Elliot was stuck somewhere between fascination and trying not to look. Valerie audibly gasped. Brian recoiled from it in his chair, then leaned in for a closer look. Anna drew in a short breath, while Rio took a much longer one, touching where the metal ribs were. Cooper picked his up and moved it around in the light. Frank, predictably, had no reaction at all other than a little grunt.

    "Ben..." Ayda all but whispered. She continued in a normal tone. "What is this? What is she?"

    "Do you want the helpful answer, or the honest one?"

    "Helpful, please."

    "A robot. I believe the eggheads called her a..." Hammond paused to dig a post-it note from his pocket. "...Fully functional, artificially intelligent, human-like construct. In English, that means robot."

    "What''s the honest answer," Frank asked.

    "I have no fucking idea what she is," Hammond said. "None of us do, not really."

    "But, this technology is far beyond modern robotics," marveled Brian. "Even Japan doesn''t have anything close to this."

    "It''s obviously Genius designed," Cooper said. "Only a Neo could come up with this." That conclusion got murmurs of agreement from several people, including Ayda.

    "It gets worse," Hammond said. "If you open the other two folders, you''ll see information for the woman who attacked Cooper, and the dock worker who attacked Dominick. They were also robots."

    Ayda tore into the remaining manila folders. The data presented was a bit different, since the subjects weren''t dead, but the results were the same. X-rays revealed Bones that weren''t bone, nerves replaced by wires, the only human things left about them were their skin and brains. Everything else had been gutted and replaced. Even the eyes were synthetic.

    "They all have similar stories. You know Shannon Cooley was on vacation in New Orleans, but had no memory of it when she came back," began Hammond.

    "She also seemed surprised at her own strength. I remember that from the interrogation," Alloy added.

    "She did," confirmed Hammond. "Jonathan Bayer, our dock worker, had been on a month-long sabbatical from work. He''d never been the most talkative sort, but coworkers say he was even quieter when he came back. One foreman also reports a time when Mr. Bayer lifted a crate of machine parts weighing over three-hundred pounds, with one hand.

    "Finally, Julia Hanson won a spa trip from a radio show. She killed her family on the same day she came back, as far as NAAME can tell, and you know the rest."

    Silence reigned as the information sunk in. Most of the team avoided eye contact with anyone. Rio gave Cooper a look and he shrugged. Ayda poured over Julia''s file. There were other pictures of the autopsy. Most of her organs were gone completely. She only had a human brain, though it had wires and machinery poking out. The rest weren''t there at all. What use did a robot have for breathing? The lack of organs actually connected a few threads. She didn''t show any pain because she had no nerves. She sustained no injuries because there was nothing to injure. She never tired out because her body ran on some unknown power source. Whoever made her essentially manufactured a Neo with the strength of a Brute class, and the defense of a Defender class. Dubious, but brilliant. Definitely the work of a Genius class Neo, just like Cooper said.

    "So, someone is kidnapping people and turning them into robots?" Valerie asked eventually.

    "It would appear that way." Hammond gave a good non-committal answer. "They go after people who are either isolated or away from home."

    "I picked up on that, but why?" Rio asked.

    "No one will question their absence if they''re already gone," Elliot said.

    "We think that''s the reasoning, yes," confirmed Hammond.

    "How did we not know about any of this?" Valerie continued to question.

    "We did," Ayda said. All eyes turned to her. "Or, NAAME did. Look at the date on Mrs. Cooley''s report. It''s a day after Cooper was attacked."

    "You''ve known for almost two months?" Frank wore an accusatory tone. "Why didn''t you tell us before?"

    "We were waiting until we had a bit more information, and for our analysts to give a proper threat assessment," Hammond said. "We wanted everyone to know what we''re dealing with, staff and heroes included. We still don''t know much. However, Mrs. Hanson was much stronger than we expected from one of these things. I decided to let you all in on the situation. It was my decision. You need to know what you''re dealing with for when you fight another one."

    "That''s great," Frank began, "except that I don''t have the first idea what I''m dealing with. I mean, they''re robots for fuck''s sake."

    "Cyborgs," Brian said. Frank fixed him with a glare. "They''re technically cyborgs."

    "How about we compromise and call them freaky fucking abominations?"

    "Easy, Frank," Hammond said. Frank crossed his arms and sat back. "I know this must be alarming, almost like that time I found a whole military installation full of super-soldier kids. You think everything is normal, then you find something like this. I get it."

    Hammond let his words sink in for a moment. Almost everyone turned away from him, seemingly in contemplation of his point. The only two who kept their eyes trained on the old man were Frank and Ayda. Hammond continued.

    "The way I see it, finding these robots is just like discovering a new supervillain in your territory. They''re a threat, and they have to be dealt with. Cope on your own time, but don''t let it get in the way of the mission. The important question is, how will you deal with them?"

    "I agree," Ayda said. "That''s why I think we should find a way to seek these things out and kill them right now."

    "No," Hammond said.

    "Bad idea," said Frank at the same time.

    "What?" Ayda looked from one to the other. "Why? What else would we do, nothing?"

    "That''s exactly what I want you to do," Hammond said.

    "I''m with Pulse," Anna chimed in. "We should deal with these... whatever they are before they become a bigger problem." At her words, both Cooper and Brian nodded along.

    "Look, these things didn''t build themselves. Someone made them, and you don''t make something like this without a reason. Whoever''s responsible, they''re clearly up to something. If we let them know we''re on to them, they may accelerate their plans or take drastic measures. Either could be disastrous. The best thing we can do is focus on protecting the people no matter what threats crop up."

    "And," Frank added, "if we keep it up long enough, we may draw an advantage. They will fuck up eventually, and we can use that to our favor."

    "You''re both making a lot of assumptions," Cooper said. "What if they don''t have a plan? What if this is their plan? We need to take action."

    "We''re all making assumptions," Valerie said. "We don''t know anything at all about these things. For what it''s worth, I agree with the Director. We need information, and we''ll never get it if the enemy is on their back foot."

    "I don''t like using the city as bait for a trap," Ayda said.

    "The city is already bait for a trap," countered Hammond. "Whatever''s going on, it obviously involves El Puerto. These things don''t happen over night, which means we missed it, and that''s on us. That doesn''t mean we can be the ones to escalate. Our focus should be on diffusing, not turning the city into another war zone."

    Ayda sighed, a sound which came out more as a frustrated growl than she would''ve liked. She looked across the table at Dominick, who was sitting with his eyes cast down and shoulders hunched.

    "Dom, you''ve been pretty quiet. What do you think?" Ayda asked him.

    He looked up at her with wide eyes. His entire visage froze for a moment, before he directed his gaze down again. By the way his shoulders moved, he was playing with something in his hands under the table.

    "I, um... I like what Valerie said," he replied, tone barely above a whisper.

    "Do you remember what happened last time you took on a threat of this scale?" Hammond asked Ayda. She gave him a look of disbelief. "I know how frustrating it is to sit on your hands¡ªtrust me, I was in the Marines¡ªbut the results could be catastrophic if you just rush in. We can''t allow aggression to create another Tahoe."

    Ayda took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. It was the only thing that kept her from lashing out, the one centering force in a room full of people who disagreed with her. She stayed like that for what felt like a minute, maybe more, because she didn''t trust herself to speak. When she finally did, it was with words slow and measured.

    "Is this an order?" She said, staring at her balled up fists on the table.

    "It can be," said Hammond. "You''re team is far and away the most capable we have right now. I trust you''ll be able to defend against anything thrown at you. In the meantime, let NAAME investigate in secret like we''ve been doing. We''ll send daily updates on what we know. You have my word, even if I have to do it myself."

    "Ayda," Elliot began. She turned to him. His gentle expression almost broke her heart. "I''ve been on your side for three years now, but I''m sorry. I think Frank and the Director are right. Right now the last thing we need to do is provoke the person responsible for all this. We can always change the plan if something happens."

    Ayda stared at the table. She flexed the cramped fingers on her right hand before laying it flat. What bothered her wasn''t that some of the team disagreed with one another. There were nine of them, so arguments were inevitable. No, what got under her skin was that she agreed with both sides. She stood by her original stance of taking the thread head-on. At the same time, the more cautious approach also had merit.

    It put her in a difficult position as leader. Agreeing with one party would make the other feel slighted, especially if she made the wrong call. The team would go along with her, of course, but there''d be disappointment on the loosing side. Morale made a huge difference in combat. If half the team didn''t have their heart in it, cohesion could suffer.

    It fell on her, as team leader, to make the final decision. The opinions of her teammates were invaluable, of course, but the call was hers. Did she choose aggression, or caution? The ultimate goal of any hero team was to save lives, so which plan led to the least destruction? Director Hammond was absolutely right to say forcing the enemy''s hand may lead to disaster. At the same time, eliminating them outright could fix the problem right then and there. However, if they failed, there would be retaliation.

    Each plan had pros and cons. It would be easier if she could see the future, to figure out which one actually worked. But there were no clairvoyant Neos. Futursight was only a theory. The team needed a course of action, and they needed it now. Ayda balled up her hands again. She hadn''t even realized a few minutes passed before she spoke.

    "We''ll use the Director''s plan," she said. The atmosphere in the room shifted. "Our priority right now is keeping the people safe, just like always. We can make a move when NAAME has more information. Until then, we avoid kicking the hornet''s nest."

    "Pulse, come on. You can''t be serious," Cooper complained.

    "I disagree," echoed Anna.

    "My decision is final." Ayda shot them a deadly glare. "We avoid causing violence until it''s a sure thing. If you don''t like it, then leave."

    Cooper huffed and crossed his arms, but sat back in his seat. He hit the back rest with a bit more force than necessary. His chair squeaked back about an inch. Anna relaxed a bit slower. She was a model of composure despite being outranked, which was a bit nerve-wracking.

    "I think you made the right choice," Hammond said. "Thank you all for coming. I''ll get out of your hair. You can stay here to think and talk if you want, but you''re all free to go." He gave a smile to Ayda. "It was good to see you again."

    "Good to see you, Ben," she returned.

    With that, Director Hammond left. The sound of the door closing behind him was fitting punctuation to everything that just happened.

    Tension in the room was palpable in his absence, so thick Ayda could probably use a blast on it. She knew at least some of it was pointed her way. If people were mad at her, then her presence only heightened their anger. The best thing she could do was leave and let heads cool without the object of their ire sharing a table with them.

    "You guys take whatever time you need. Talk, read the files, leave, whatever. I''ll give you some space," she said.

    Ayda put her sunglasses on, got up, and left.