《Skyborn The Divine》


 Chapter 1: Girl

    Everyone dreams about falling,but I don''t, and I think I know why...


    The wind was an impatient child tugging at Alice''s shirt. The shirt was old, soft, and steadily becoming grayer than pink with every wash. The movement of the night air made it billow around her like a parachute. It would have been funny if she weren''t balanced on the rail surrounding the balcony of her new apartment.


    She started when her foot slipped, nearly causing her to tumble headfirst off the rail. When her heart came down from her own throat, she shook her head at herself. If she wasn''t crazy, if she was still the girl she had been years ago, then slipping off was no danger to her, not even from this height. The chilly metal of the rail under her feet made her wish she''d worn shoes, but she wouldn''t need them where she was going.


    Frank Sinatra''s voice was warm honey that poured from her ear buds into her head, and Alice stole a glance at the crescent moon peeking from behind the clouds with a cold light. Alice listened to "Fly Me to the Moon", trying to imagine what it really would be like to drift up there beyond the clouds. It was old, but it was a really good song, she thought.Why don''t more people listen to Sinatra? she asked herself. Normally, listening to music, especially her father''s music, was the way she calmed herself, the way she found a quiet place inside, but nothing could settle her thumping heart or the roaring of her breath in her own ears tonight. Not when she was about to do something like this.


    She tried to focus on the song, the way it seemed to be written especially for her. "This is an all-about-me song," she said out loud, though no one was around to hear her. She did not normally say the things she wanted to say to her father out loud, but the habit of the game they''d played together was too strong. The words came out on their own, whether he was there to hear them or not.


    The game was simple. She would listen to music, whether it was old or new, popular or not. If it was a song that reminded her of herself, something that seemed to be written about her, she would say, "all-about-me song," and offer an explanation. Her father would do the same for songs that reminded him of himself, and sometimes the two of them would even suggest songs for each other. It had begun when they were on a long car trip together when she was only six years old. He''d taken all three of them on a road trip to Alaska, and it had been a game they invented to pass the time as they skipped from one radio station to the next. Soon it was less a game than it was an obsession, and the two of them had logged over fifty songs, her father adding all of them to a swiftly growing "All About Me" playlist they could listen to over and over again. By the time he was gone, the two of them had added hundreds more to the list.


    Of all the things he''d left behind, she was sure this was something that made her think of him the most. She loved photos of him, but the songs on the playlist seemed to make him seem alive again, and sometimes she thought she could still hear him singing along.


    Alice tried to keep her eyes off of her feet, where her toes flexed and curled, trying to grip the thin rail. Instead, she looked out over the tops of the trees. Everything in Virginia was so green. It was a humid, warm, wet place in the summer, and it seemed every inch of it was overflowing with unchecked plant life. It was so different from the places where she''d lived before. Everything there was so dry, and the only trees had been those purposefully planted and painstakingly maintained to keep them alive against the desert heat.


    She''d lived in this place once before, when she was a little girl, but after her father passed, her mother had taken them around the world, taking positions as a nurse in American compounds in foreign countries. But now Alice was older. She had graduated from an overseas academy, and life for Americans was steadily becoming more dangerous abroad. Her mother decided it was time for them to finally go back home, though things had changed and moved on in the decade since they''d been away.


    It was their first night in the new apartment. The walls were still sterile, and the kitchen cupboards bare, but piles of boxes of their belongings had grown in the middle of the rooms like anthills. It was on the seventh floor, the balcony outside the French doors rising so far above the cobbled sidewalk below that it made her head spin when she looked down.


    It still made her head spin, especially now that she had one foot outstretched, poised to take a step into nothing.


    The wind hissed through the trees, tall, proud poplars with broad leaves that blocked her balcony from the view of people walking below. Not that there were any people out walking at this time of night. There was no one to watch her. No audience.


    Her outstretched hand that pressed against the cool, red brick slowly let go until she stood teetering on that rail like the world''s most awkward tightrope walker.


    There was no one to hold her hand now. Her mom had just left minutes ago after helping her haul the last of their things into the elevator and down the hall. Alice could have done it herself. She was strong and tall, and her long, muscular legs could have taken the stairs with ease, but her mom had insisted on them doing it together, and so she''d helped.


    When they''d finally finished, her mom leaned against the door frame and caught her breath. She''d looked at Alice for a long time then, and the girl wondered if her mother knew what she''d been planning on doing. If she did, she didn''t say so, and she''d simply said that she was going out to find something for them to eat, if anything at all was still open at that time of night.


    After a reflective pause, she reached up to give her girl a hug and a kiss. Alice was taller than her mom, taller than many boys she knew, but that never made her feel less like a little girl when her mom did that. She embraced the feel of her mom''s love, warming the skin above her eyes.


    She squeezed the old touch screen phone in her hand and thought of her dad as it played the familiar playlist. She thought about the last night she''d seen him and how it had changed her forever. It had set her on an inevitable course to where she stood now.


    That night, ten years ago, Alice had experienced grief and pain and unimaginable loss. She had also learned something about herself, something extraordinary that she could do, though she hadn''t done it again since. How much do people change? In ten years, can someone stop being who they were? Can someone forget how to do what she did? Alice didn''t think so. She could feel it, an instinct still tickling at the back of her mind, something buzzing at her fingertips, a little extra spring in every step that reminded her there was something more, something she needed to do, and all she needed was to let it happen. She was right. She knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt.


    But to prove it, she had to do the unthinkable.


    Listening to her dad''s music, still feeling the kiss of her mother on her brow, Alice closed her eyes and surrendered herself to the night sky, letting go of everything that kept her tied to the Earth. She stepped out into nothing...


    ...and she didn''t fall. She hung there, silently suspended in the night air, gently turning as if held there by invisible strings, a snowflake in the dark, a tiny ballerina spinning in a music box. Her face was turned upwards towards the sky, her eyes closed as she remembered the last time she''d done this. The memory of that night, though already a decade past, was still fresh as spring rain.


    **********


    10 Years ago...


    Alice couldn''t remember falling asleep.


    Consciousness fluttered back to her like tiny scraps of color and texture alighting on a canvas to slowly reveal the complete picture. Her first awareness was the smell of gasoline. The heady vapors stung her nostrils with every breath. The air was so thick with the stuff she could taste it. She wanted to spit.


    The second thing she was aware of was that she was upside-down. The alien landscape in front of her eyes slowly resolved into something she could recognize: she was in her father''s Ford SUV, but the sky outside the rear window was the hard, black pavement of the street.


    Am I dreaming?she wondered as she looked out her window. Far below her, the bare sliver of a moon shone bone white.


    Sinatra''s voice crackled from only one ear bud, the other dangling above her, defying gravity to tangle in her thick, dark hair. Stuck to the roof of the car was her dad''s phone, its touch screen cracked and discolored.


    How did that happen?she asked herself. I was so careful with it.


    She loved that phone. She loved her father''s music. Whenever she asked him what his favorite kind of music was, he always answered with "whatever sounds good." Studying his play list, Alice found that his taste was eclectic and chaotic, a little of every decade mashed together into one melting pot. Alice loved it. She loved listening to artists and albums no one remembered anymore. To her, listening to his play list was following a map to hidden treasures, buried where most people would never find them. She often wondered why most people didn''t listen to Sinatra anymore.


    A vivid picture began to emerge from her hazy memories. Her dad had been driving, and she was in the back seat. They had been talking, and she had taken one ear bud out to listen to what her dad had to say. It was about something important to her. What had they been talking about? Then there were bright lights, the headlights of another car, growing and growing until they filled the whole windshield. Then the world shook and tilted and rolled. And then nothing.


    "Alice."


    She heard but didn''t comprehend. The voice was familiar, but different somehow.


    She realized she was suspended from her seat by her seatbelt. She wanted to be upright, but she had to take the seatbelt off. The button wouldn''t budge. She tried again. Nothing. She gripped the belt near the buckle in her small hands and pulled. When the belt still didn''t move, she breathed out sharply and pulled harder. There was a creaking, cracking sound as safety-inspected metal and hard plastic components split and tore. She spilled onto the ceiling of the SUV and landed in a heap, which was now the floor.


    "Alice. Can you hear me?"


    The voice was coming from the front of the car, from the driver''s seat. For some reason it hurt her to hear it. She loved that voice. So familiar and warm. Now it was weak. Quiet. Wet. She didn''t like hearing it like that.


    The SUV seemed smaller somehow. She thought for a moment that it was simply because it was upside down. Then she realized it had been crushed a little. Looking at the warped walls around her, she saw that the ceiling now reached the tops of the seats. She wanted to get to the front seats, but there wasn''t enough room for her to squeeze through. Instead, she decided to crawl out through the window.


    The night air prickled her skin, raising goosebumps on her arms. She rubbed them for warmth. Her sweater was somewhere inside the SUV. She turned to look at the vehicle. This far out of town there were no streetlights, but the nearly full moon bathed the mutilated wreck in a bluish white light that washed out any color from the scene. The SUV rested on its roof, partially crumpled as though it had been stepped on by a giant foot. The front end was a ruined mass of torn, twisted parts.


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    Staring at the wreckage, it dawned on her that she was unhurt. She ran her hands along her arms, her stomach, her legs, and her head. Not a scratch, not so much as a skinned knee. She''d long since accepted that she never got sick or injured like the other kids. She''d never had a bump on her head. Never had the flu. Never sprained an ankle or scraped an elbow or had a paper cut. If only her good fortune could extend to the man in the driver''s seat.


    "Alice, sweet girl, please say something." The voice came from the dark recesses of what had once been the driver''s seat. The girl took short, shuffling steps towards the battered, crumpled door. The bleached moonlight made the shadows in the car impenetrable. Alice wrapped her arms around herself and shivered from the cold and much besides. Why hadn''t she answered him? He''d called to her three times now, but something kept her tongue plastered to the roof of her mouth. Finally, she stammered an answer.


    "I''m here, Dad. Are you okay?"


    There wasn''t an answer for a while. It felt like a long time.


    "Dad?" she croaked. Her throat felt like it had a hard rock in it. It hurt to breathe.


    "Go find help, Alice, please. Run and get help."


    Alice felt as though ice water were filling her stomach, making her cringe. She whimpered and took more shuffling steps towards the driver''s door.


    "No, Dad, let me help you get out. I can open the door. I know I can." She reached forward and gripped the door on the frame where the now shattered window had been. Metal screeched and crumpled under her white, tight fingers.


    "No," said the voice. A large hand, rough and stained black in the moonlight, reached out from the velvet shadows and rested weak, gentle fingers on her hands. She let go of the door and squeezed them and sobbed. "Go get help. Then come back for me. Do what I say."


    She sobbed again as she let go of those fingers. "Okay," she choked out. "Okay. Okay, I''ll be right back."


    She knew this road. It twisted through dense woods for three miles before emptying out onto a main road lined with businesses. She guessed it wasn''t yet nine o''clock, and many businesses would still be open. She might find someone with a phone she could use. Maybe someone could drive her back.


    "Go," he said again. "Go now. I love you more than everything."


    She ran, not looking back over her shoulder as she sprinted down the black and white landscape towards the end of the road. She passed the wrecked remains of another vehicle, a pickup truck, lying on its side on the other side of the road. There were no cries coming from the cab''s dark, quiet interior. Soon it and her father''s SUV were far behind her, lost in the dense tangle of trees that crowded the edge of the road.


    "I love you, Dad," she whispered as she willed her feet to pound harder. Soon her legs were a blur. "Don''t die, Dad, I love you more than everything. Don''t die." Then her strides became leaps, then bounds, and then she flew. She rose into the night sky like a bird, soaring above the treetops and reaching the main road faster than any child could have hoped, faster than any car could have driven through that tight, narrow lane.


    It was not her imagination, or some daydream brought on by her desperation. Her arms windmilled and swam, her feet kicking awkwardly at the air, like someone learning to swim for the first time. Within a few minutes, she had learned to lean into it, to make herself as small as possible to the wind and to simply allow herself to fall up and forward, as though the only thing that had been holding her to the ground all along was a gentle grip of a parent''s hand. It was easy as pulling away and allowing herself to simply drop towards the sky, the most natural thing in the world. She could feel the wind pulling at her shirt, which flapped and rustled like a flag tangled around a pole by a storm. She could feel the cool droplets of night mist parting for her like beaded curtains. Something about this place, somewhere between the heavens and the land, filled her with mad hope. She''d always known something was special about her. She''d always felt the strength in her hands and the pull to the sky, but she''d obeyed her parents who said to wait and keep it all a secret. And now she was doing something with it, acting on parts of her that slept, hidden from the world. It was a sign from heaven, a good omen. How could he die? How could anything bad happen to him if she could do all of this?


    But the ground and the cold reality came back to her all too soon. She saw the street where she wished to be, and whatever force was in her that let her fly now propelled her to it, as naturally as her feet when she walked. As soon as her shoes touched pavement, the sound of her father''s voice came back to her, the wet, hoarse rumble in his chest, like someone with the flu. He had not been sick before the crash. Fear suddenly filled her stomach like a ball of ice, and she desperately stumbled into a bar where country music and the smell of hops and wine filled the thick air.


    It was then that her memory began to play tricks on her. She could remember nothing of the faces of those people who listened to her cries and called the police for her. She couldn''t remember the name of the officer who drove her back to the scene of the accident, nor the smell of his vehicle. She could only remember returning to the scene of the upside-down car, this time illuminated by the strobe of blue and red emergency lights and surrounded by people and vehicles. The narrow road was suddenly full of people, so much more crowded than it was when she''d left it. And yet, it was so much emptier. The driver''s seat of her father''s car was vacant, and it would be forever.


    Why couldn''t I save him, she asked inside. Was she talking to herself, or was she praying? If there was a god listening to her, she got no answer more than the soft sighing of the wind through the leaves in the trees, like the hushed voices of reverent mourners at a funeral.


    Just then she had the strangest feeling. She looked to the tops of the trees that made a black wall around the place where her father died. Somewhere beyond those trees, she thought she could feel something, or maybe someone. There was something out there, and it was trying to see her just as surely as she was trying to see it.


    **********


    Alice returned from her memories, still bobbing up and down like she was floating on the gentle swells of a lake. She could feel the tangible pull of gravity, tugging at every inch of her like a thousand strands of spider''s web, frail and invisible, so, so easily broken. She''d been careful to hold them in place for her whole life. It was difficult to hold herself to the ground, keeping those delicate threads in place. To finally let go, breaking those ties and letting herself fallup, it was as though she''d been holding her breath her whole life and had never known it.


    The only thing that had kept her tethered to the ground all these years was her word to her mother. Alice remembered them standing beside her father''s grave the day before they left this continent to live on another. He''d only been buried a few days. Her mother had made her promise not to use her gifts, to live her life as a normal child. She had explained that it was to protect her, to give her the privacy she needed for a happy life, just like her mother''s decision to live overseas. There, no one would know she was the girl who''d somehow traveled three miles of twisted roads in just as many minutes. There, her mother could adjust medical records to hide the fact that her daughter had never been cut, never had a shot, never been sick. Far away from home, Alice and her mother could live in anonymity, so long as the girl obeyed the rule to never show her strength, to never fly, until her childhood was over.


    But she wasn''t a child anymore.


    She flew higher, breathing in the dew forming in the night air. That night was dark, with only a sliver of moon left, and that mostly covered by heavy, gray clouds that threatened to rain. It was early June, and the nights were not yet as muggy and warm as they would be in the summer months to come. She tumbled at first as she tried to rise higher into the sky, and she felt the temperature drop as she ascended towards the rain clouds.


    Her eyes were focused heavenward for the first couple of minutes, hypnotized as the clouds above her came closer and closer. Only when she began to pass through them did she permit herself to look down.


    Williamsburg was spread below her like a glittering electronics board. Lights flickered on and off, and tiny car lights traveled in intricate circuits through neighborhoods of Lilliputian houses. She could see the difference between the glittering, holographic, modern city and the old, traditional, colonial town center where the city''s historic past was preserved in cobblestones and red brick and white columns, all invisible to her now except in tiny circles of lamp light.


    She realized she was crying as she watched the world below her. The beauty before her eyes, the freedom she felt in the sky, it was all too much to hold inside. Besides, she was alone here, and there was no one to wonder why the tears streaked down her cheeks and followed the creases of her wide smile.


    Moments later, she was slowly becoming aware that she was shivering. Her hair, shirt, and pants were soaking wet from the tiny cloud droplets that clung to her. The wind was much stronger this high up, and she could feel her limbs starting to go numb. She wrapped her arms around her body as she descended, utterly failing to rid herself of the chill. Even when she reached treetop level, where the world had resumed its early summer temperature, she was still soaking wet, and she was lost to boot. The wind had blown her some distance away from where she''d started without her noticing. She flew, perhaps more confidently this time, towards city lights and the dancing, flashing holograms that advertised those businesses and restaurants that would be open for the Fourth of July fireworks show coming in just a few weeks. When she''d left the states as an eight-year-old, there were a few holographic advertisements in the big cities, but now that she was back from her ten-year exile overseas, they were everywhere. She wandered the sky until she recognized a restaurant, as well as the billboard above it. A hologram moved along the surface of it, a twenty-foot-tall pirate captain beckoning anyone in sight with a platter of steaming crab legs. She knew this restaurant was only a few blocks from her new apartment, so she made her way home from there while trying her best to remain unseen.


    The world from above was completely different from what she''d come to know living on the ground every day. It was almost unrecognizable to her. Buildings, trees, streets, and monuments all took a new shape and meaning when seen from above. It was as though by simply elevating above them Alice had somehow passed some veil between dimensions and was now seeing it all with supernatural eyes. She couldn''t help but feel something in her had changed to see it like that.


    When she finally set foot on the same balcony she''d jumped from, there was barely enough of her left awake to walk. She crawled back into her apartment, ungracefully falling from the French doors to the floor, and huddled into a ball with her back against a sofa. She shivered audibly, still suffering from the cold she''d felt above.


    A new song was just beginning to play in her ear buds. It was "Drops of Jupiter" by Train. The perfect song for a girl who''d literally just come back from the sky with cloud droplets in her hair.


    She laughed. Great, rolling chuckles tumbled out of her and mingled with the tears on her cheeks. Music always communicated her thoughts better than she could. The gravity of what she''d done was settling in, and she knew she was forever changed.


    "All-about-me song!" she declared between breaths, and she was reminded again of the game she used to play with her father.


    She wasn''t the same creature that had leapt from the balcony a lifetime ago. How could she be? She knew whatever future that awaited her, she would be flying in it. She would discover every limitation she had and use it for...what?


    She looked down at the phone in her hand, drops of cloud water still condensed on it''s smooth screen. Her dad''s playlist was on it, along with the songs she added herself along the way. It was a mix of her life and his shuffled into one, continuous harmony, a musical mirror that reminded her of everything she was and everything her father had been.


    "Why am I like this?" she asked no one. It was a question that wrapped around her heart and squeezed ever since that night ten years ago, the night she''d first flown. The night she''d walked unscathed from a demolished vehicle on a treacherous, winding road. The night she had failed, for all her extraordinary gifts, to save the life of the man she loved more than the sky itself. The question, cold and tight, gripped her very soul and refused to let go since she was nine years old. Figuring out what to do with herself was a debt she owed, and one she could not simply refuse to pay.


    The wind blew in from the open balcony doors, caressing her skin and chilling the cloud drops still clinging to her flushed cheeks. She looked out the open doors to the sky beyond.


    Someone like her just couldn''t be an accident, she was sure of it. There had to be a reason for all of this. If she wasn''t given her gifts to save her father, she would find out why she did have them. There had to be a reason, a purpose to her life. She was sure of it.


    To believe otherwise would be to accept the fact that she''d let her father''s life slip through her fingers.


    Footsteps thumped along the bare wooden floors of the apartment. Alice looked up from where she sat huddled against the back of the couch. Her mother stood above her. While Alice had been out finding herself among the clouds, her mom had returned from her hunt for food to an empty apartment.


    "Alice, where have you..." her mother trailed off. She saw her daughter, wet and shivering, and the trail of wet footprints that led from the balcony. Her mom''s hands covered her mouth, as though she were trying to keep everything she wanted to say from coming out at once.


    Alice sighed, knowing it was time to have a long talk with her mom.

 Chapter 2: Boy

    Ethan crouched in the dark and smelled the sour tang of his own sweat. There were not many things he could ever do that would make him sweat like this, or to make his muscles ache like they were being torn from his bones by hot, hard fingers. But, if there was ever a person that could figure out how to make him work that hard, how to make him hurt that badly, it was Athena.


    A dense, metal piston as big around as a basketball pressed down on his shoulder. Ethan''s arms strained as his hands tried gripping the sides of it, tried pushing it up and off of him to relieve that pressure. He was crouched, his legs bent and straining under him, trying to stand and carry the incredible weight on his shoulders. He was perched in the center of a metal plate, just as dense and hard as the material of the piston. It wasn''t steel. A steel plate would have buckled from this pressure long ago.


    "When you are out there in the field," came a voice in the dark, "you are part of a team. You are no longer an individual. Individuals do not complete their mission objectives. Only teams complete the objective. Individuals always fail."


    Ethan felt the sting of the salt of his sweat in his eyes when he opened them. He was looking into the face of a woman. The woman''s short, compact figure was hidden beneath a long jacket. Her dark skin was exceptionally well-preserved for her age, but wrinkles were beginning to form at the corners of her eyes and on her brow, all the more noticeable as she frowned at the young man in front of her. Her expression was as hard as the piston that was crushing him, her eyes just as cold. Ethan knew she expected him to hold this eye contact, and so he did. He struggled to adjust the weight of the piston on his shoulders, to alter his grip on the smooth metal.


    The woman crouched until she was almost nose to nose with him. "You are an imperfect man, Ethan Beakerman. You are filled with flaws and shortcomings. If you rely on yourself to complete a mission, you will fail. People will die. Battles will be lost. It''s a statistical certainty."


    A bead of sweat tickled its way down his tense, straining neck and onto his chest, where it pooled with others in the creases between lean muscle groups and in the hollows of his joints. The black curls on his head were plastered nearly flat with moisture. His breathing was heavy and hot and steady. He let out a long, hot breath and strained his legs and his arms, succeeding in raising the piston a mere three inches.


    "The world cannot afford for you to be imperfect, Ethan. The world demands perfection. This is why you are part of a team. The team will be strong where you are weak. The team will be smart when you are stupid. If you let it, if you let yourself be a part of it, to lead it, your team will be perfect. Do you understand me?"


    It was then that she must have given some signal, a small, almost imperceptible gesture. Ethan knew this because her final question was punctuated by the piston''s weight steadily increasing until the three inches he''d gained were shortly lost. He groaned and tried lifting again, but his legs were refusing to obey his command.


    "Perfection, Ethan," commanded Athena. "You will work with your team, and you will achieve perfection in every way."


    There was an electronic chirp as speakers in the walls far above came to life. "Athena, please report to mission control. Urgency: yellow. Please report to mission control." Then the speakers died.


    Athena sighed and stood to her feet. "Cease exercise," she commanded. "Raise piston and begin shutdown of the Megaton."


    The lights slowly came to life until Ethan could see the controllers at the panels. The Megaton was a complex, sophisticated machine capable of generating more weight than any machine on Earth. It required a team of skilled technicians to operate it safely.


    The pressure on Ethan''s shoulder began to ease, and soon he fell back on the cold metal deck and watched the piston raise into its holding position beyond his standing reach. He tried looking up again at his trainer, but Athena was already debriefing the technicians and making her way to the elevator that would take her to the levels above and the mission control room. She spared Ethan no approving look, no congratulations or words of encouragement. She simply called out over her shoulder, "Ethan, get cleaned up and ready for action. We''re at yellow, so there''s a chance we''ll be leaving almost immediately."


    Ethan barely had time to acknowledge her command before she disappeared into the elevator. She''d left him gasping and sweating on the metal floor. The technicians paid him little mind, absorbed in their work of safely shutting down the machine as they were. Ethan was alone.


    He lay there until his lungs stopped heaving like he''d nearly drowned. He made his way to the upper levels of the Ready Room, where he watched from above as the rest of his team finished their own training regimen. A large section of the training area had been partitioned off and developed into a sort of maze of rooms, corridors, obstacles, and target dummies. The lights here were dimmed as well, but Ethan could just make out the movements of three people steadily moving methodically, automatic weapons raised and ready. Their infrared optics made them seem like man-sized insects, monstrous ants clearing room by room, corner by corner of the huge particleboard labyrinth.


    The electronically warbled voice of a loudspeaker announced the end of the exercise and urged the team below to prepare for deployment. Ethan could then make them out individually as they removed their headgear and navigate the maze to its exit. There was Levi Seraydarian, their pilot and field technician. There was Joshua McGuffin, the corpsman, and his twin sister Priscilla, with her fiery red hair and even hotter temper. She was a munitions expert. Ethan thought she was pretty, even if a little frightening, and thought he might ask her out later. Maybe this time she would say yes.


    These were the people he was meant to lead into the worst environments and situations imaginable. This was the team that Athena had promised would perfect him, transform him into a hero and a great leader. They were supposed to be as close as family. He should trust them as much as they trusted him, as he relied on them more than anyone else in the world.


    They also despised him as much as he did them.


    What do you know? he thought, We are like family.


    Ethan contemplated this as he left the Ready Room in search of his own private living quarters. As he wound through the compound''s high-security interior, he realized that he didn''t know if family members actually did despise one another. He didn''t have much of one himself, and he only really had television for a comparison. All he knew about family dynamics, he learned from Will Smith and the Banks family, from the freakish Addams Family, the dysfunctional Simpsons, and the twisted, throne-obsessed Targaryens. Uncle Phil and Uncle Fester were the best male role models he had at the moment.


    Ethan waved dismissively at the security guards posted outside his private rooms. They were the most heavily armed, well-trained babysitters money could buy, and they were changed regularly, so Ethan never had a chance to become too chummy with any of them. The current models were named Flaherty and Binn. He waved to them, and they nodded back.


    "Hey, Ethan, remember we''re at yellow," reminded Binn. "Athena wants you ready for deployment."


    Ethan nodded and rolled his eyes. "Well tell mother I''ll be up as soon as I''ve washed my hands."


    The guards shook their heads and shrugged away his impudence. They didn''t spare him another glance as he disappeared into his rooms, holding his hands up as if he were trying to avoid touching anything that might soil them.


    Once inside, he kicked off his shoes and slumped onto a couch that faced a massive TV. It was one of the newer models, with the holographic display that jumped up to three feet off the surface of the screen. The whole room was assorted piles of the latest video games, display cases of action figures, and movie and game prop replicas hanging on the walls. It was a boy''s best dream, and a mother''s worst nightmare.


    Ethan stretched himself out on the couch and looked around the room, and then down at himself. What did Athena think he needed to get ready for? What kind of preparation did she think he needed? He wasn''t like the others. They geared up before going into battle. His teammates would roll out with weaponry, body armor, and strength-enhancing combat frames. But what did he need? Virtually nothing more than pants and a radio headset. He was the only one of them that practically went naked into battle. His job was to march into danger and destruction armed with nothing more than communications gear and a smile.


    "Somewhere out there," he sighed into the empty room, "there''s some lucky jerk making minimum wage at Taco Bell."


    Taco Bell employees didn''t have to live in the restaurant, he mused. They could go home after a measly eight-hour workday and hang out with friends. Have dinner with family. Go on a date.


    Somehow, Ethan''s hand had drifted to the lamp stand beside the couch. His fingers fumbled a drawer open, shaking the table and causing a toy robot, a game controller, and an empty chip bag to go tumbling to the carpet. They closed around something inside and held it up to his unfocused eyes.


    It was a folded photograph, and on it was a young man and woman. The creases in the photo converged on the face of an infant in their arms, a hairless, plump little thing with pale eyes. Ethan stared at the photo for a long time, and as he did, he remembered something he did ten years before.


    **********


    10 Years ago...


    He was running as quietly as he could beneath dark trees. He could hear them somewhere behind him. They weren''t far away, and they were very, very good at what they did. They would have the best thermal imaging equipment¡ªbeyond next-gen technology¡ªmade specially to find him in the dark. If they couldn''t see him now, they would soon.


    The boy was not so well equipped as they. He wore nearly all black. His jeans were not so much black as they were just a very dark blue, and his tee shirt had a big, stylized image of Divinity on it, but he''d turned it inside out to hide the bright colors. His boots and his bag were black and tactical, at least. The bag bounced and clanked in the dark. The can of Pringles chips inside it had been a bad choice. He''d thought the extra clothes he''d packed around it would muffle the sound of his snacks, but he''d been wrong. All his careful preparation and color choices, it seemed, were not enough to hide him from the men who hunted him.


    But up ahead, there was a glint of moonlight on metal. He could barely make out the perimeter fence. If he could make it over that, he might be able to lose them in the city. The fence might even slow them down. He ran hard, sliding to a stop at the foot of the fence. If he simply tore it loose, the others could simply follow him. Instead, he grabbed the chain link near its base where the metal disappeared into the dead leaves and pulled it upward. A gap appeared at the base, and he slipped through, momentarily getting caught on the twisted points on the bottom. He frantically tore his bag loose of it, and the fence sprang back down to the forest floor.


    He turned away from it and sprinted, sure he could hear the steps of the men behind him. But he knew for a fact that they wouldn''t be able to simply pull the fence up like he did. They would have to climb it, cut it, or go around, and by then he could disappear into the woods beyond, or maybe even reach a road and hitch a ride with someone.


    He was just beginning to come up with a believable story to tell anyone who might give him a lift when he was suddenly blinded by headlights. Four vehicles, Dark SUVs with silent engines, appeared as he reached the edge of a road. They surrounded him, two of them going off road and behind him to cut off his escape.


    The boy paused, his eyes squinting against the pain of those bright lights. He knew he couldn''t wait for his eyes to adjust. By then they would have him. And so he leaped forward, high enough to easily clear the tops of the vehicles. He wasn''t even sure which direction he was pointed anymore. For all he knew, he was leaping back towards the fence, but he had to take that risk.


    But it was a bad gamble, as it turned out. His trajectory carried him over the hood of one of the silent vehicles and right onto the head and shoulders of a man who''d just emerged from it. The two of them collided, and the boy twisted in mid-air and landed hard on the pavement. He was unharmed and unhurt. The man he''d collided with, however, crumpled like a paper cup and lay moaning on the ground.


    "Ah, jeez, Ethan! You got to be careful, kid!" shouted another man emerging from one of the other vehicles.


    The boy rolled back to his feet, but he didn''t run. His eyes were locked on the man who lay on the ground, the one he''d jumped into. The man was shaking with pain and grumbled, "I think the kid broke my collar bone!"


    The boy knew that voice. "AJ? Oh man, I''m sorry," he said. His voice was high with distress. "I didn''t mean to..."


    The man who had spoken before lifted a radio to his mouth. "Moose, this is Hunter. We found the package. AJ is down, so send a medic."


    The boy had his hands in his black hair pulling at fistfuls of his curls. He was trying to apologize more to the man on the ground, but his voice had suddenly become shaky, as though he were on the verge of tears.


    A fifth vehicle appeared in the night, and the man who emerged wore a long coat and a frown on his stubbled chin. He narrowed his slanted eyes at the boy. If the boy looked distraught before this man appeared, he appeared totally and utterly defeated now.


    "What are you doing out here, Ethan?" the man scolded.


    Ethan dropped his hands to his sides, walked to the nearest vehicle¡ªthe one he''d leapt over¡ªand dropped his forehead onto the black hood with a metallic thump. "I''m sorry," he said in the quiet voice of a penitent child.


    The man in the coat looked around him at his men, two of whom were kneeling beside their injured colleague and attempting to treat him. "You all can head back to The Farm. I''ll take young Ethan back myself."


    The men nodded. Some of them returned to their vehicles, while others continued to treat their friend. The man in the coat began to walk along the road that ran beside the perimeter fence. Ethan raised his head from where it rested on the vehicle, wiped his dripping nose on the sleeve of his shirt, and followed.


    The walked side by side in silence for a while. Ethan''s eyes were glued to his boots, and it took a long time for him to finally speak up in a small voice.


    "I''ve never been outside the fence before."


    Gregory Clawson, the man in the long coat, looked down at Ethan. "You have, but you were so young you don''t remember."


    They walked in silence a while longer. The road was narrow and dark with no lights. The two of them were invisible beneath the dark trees to any human eyes that might watch them.


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    "Why can''t I go outside?" the boy asked. "Why can''t I ever leave The Farm?"


    "What''s out there that you want to find so badly?"


    The boy shrugged and said nothing. He walked in silence for a few moments, and then he reached into his pocket. He handed it to Clawson, who took it from him and unfolded it. Even in the dark, he could see it was a picture. He could make out the faintest shapes of a man and a woman, both of them huddled together around something in the woman''s arms. He couldn''t quite see it, but he was sure it was a baby. Clawson''s frown deepened.


    "I think I understand," he said. "You''re looking for family."


    The boy shrugged, perhaps out of shame, and gave the faintest nod.


    Clawson folded the picture and moved to put it in his own pocket, but then he thought better of it. Instead, he handed it back to the boy, who took it and stared at it without unfolding it.


    "Kids are supposed to grow up in families, right?" he asked.


    There was silence for a moment, and then Clawson answered, "Yes. They are."


    "But not me," he said. It wasn''t a question. He already knew the answer.


    Clawson stopped walking, the sudden cadence of his grinding footsteps on the road filling the space between them with cold, uncomfortable silence.


    "It''s true," he said, "that you must go without many things other children enjoy or even need. It''s not because you don''t need them. There are a lot of things you need that I will never be able to give you, Ethan. And for that, I am sorry. Truly, I am. You must bear burdens that no child will ever have to bear. But that''s one of the things that makes someone a hero, isn''t it? Selfless duty requires you to sacrifice your own emotional and spiritual needs so you can serve others."


    The boy looked up at Clawson in the darkness. For the briefest moment, he wanted to make eye contact with him. He wanted that connection between the two of them, even if it was only through a look, but Clawson wasn''t looking at him. He seemed to be looking at something far away, or perhaps at something invisible in the forest, like some phantom that Ethan couldn''t see.


    Ethan gave up trying to meet his gaze, and instead started to walk the road again, the weight of a whole world of people on his shoulders, nameless, faceless people he''d never met, all of whom he was expected to serve, to save.


    "But why me?" asked Ethan.


    "Because there''s no one else that could do it. In the whole, wide world, there is only you."


    Their stroll had led them near the front gates of the perimeter fence. There were squat, unlovely buildings on either side of the road that led in and out of the base, and a small guard hut stood in the middle of the road amid a twisting path of concrete barriers. Armed guards stood at attention as Clawson and Ethan approached, one of them heeling a black German Shepherd. None saluted, but the difference to Clawson''s authority was no less apparent.


    The faint sound of sirens and the flickering glow of emergency lights carried over the dark trees behind Clawson. Both he and the boy turned and stared out in their direction.


    "What''s all that?" Demanded Clawson, quickly shifting his gaze to the boy. He was wondering if the excitement caused by Ethan that night had somehow attracted the attention of local authorities.


    It was one of the guards who answered. "There was a car accident on Airport Road," he said, gesturing with the butt of the shotgun in his hands towards the lights. "Nothing to do with us."


    Clawson immediately relaxed. He shrugged and said, "That''s a dangerous road at night."


    Both he and the boy passed the guard station and ambled up the winding road into the base. Clawson stared ahead, his mind turning over the endless tasks that must be done to prepare this boy for the work that lay before him. This was always on his mind.


    Only the boy kept looking back over his shoulder at the flickering lights, now fading as they walked deeper into the secured grounds. Only he could feel the tugging sensation, the barely perceptibly pull that made him feel like he was walking further and further away from something he needed to see.


    **********


    Ethan snapped out of the past with a jolt. Had he fallen asleep? It was a voice that woke him, he was sure of it.


    "Ethan," came the voice again. It was from the wall speakers. "The team is deploying. Are you ready?" Even here, in a place he was supposed to have privacy, they could get to him. But when they did call for him here in his private rooms, it was always only one person that did.


    "Clawson, yeah, I''m totally ready," he lied. "I''ve got all my gear ready to go. Prepared for anything." He jumped up from the couch as he spoke, scrambling for a pair of sturdy black pants, the sort worn by military in the field, which he pulled from one of several piles of dirty laundry piled beside his bed. He also grabbed a tee shirt from a different pile. It was gray, and on it was printed a cat riding a unicorn through a rainbow, the sort of shirt Clawson would certainly make him turn inside out if he saw it.


    It was unprofessional of him, and he knew it. By now, the rest of his team would have packed rucksacks and prepared weapons and gear, and then quadruple-checked everything just to be sure they were ready for every eventuality. For them, being over-prepared was the only way to be prepared. Ethan was sure that if he''d forgotten anything, he could just snatch whatever-it-was from one of them.


    As soon as he leapt into his pants and dragged the shirt over his head, he dove for a pair of dark boots that were lying in opposite sides of the room. He kept talking as he did, trying his best to sound as though he was doing nothing at all. "I''ve been ready this whole time," he said as he hopped on one foot, tying the laces in mid-air. "I''ve just been waiting for you to say ''go''. So where shall we be vacationing this time, oh disembodied one?"


    "You''ll be going back to Africa, or almost," answered the Clawson through the speakers. "It''s a rescue mission off the coast of Somalia. It''s pirates this time. That ought to be a first for you, right?"


    Ethan stopped dead and looked up at the speakers, an expression of awe on his face. Pirates? Real pirates? He silently regretted wishing to trade places with someone in fast food. He was beginning to think he might actually enjoy his job today. After all, there were just some things even Taco Bell employees didn''t get to do.


    Before he ran out the door, he realized he still had the folded photograph in his hand. He took one last look at it before storing it inside a cargo pocket of his pants.


    **********


    When sailing along the eastern coast of Africa, one considers piracy a real possibility. Still, Captain Barty Maersk thought he and his crew had taken sufficient precautions. They''d been moving at a good clip, fast enough that any pirates in the area wouldn''t have time to make ready and chase them down before they were out of sight. They had armed security guards, though the insurance company had only allowed them four and they weren''t allowed to shoot at anyone until fired upon. They had anti-piracy gates installed, steel cages with padlocks that could prevent an armed boarder from coming up the scaffolding on the side of the ship towards the bridge and the engineering areas. Every conceivable precaution the insurance company had suggested, they took.


    Why, then, was there an armed Somali man with an old assault rifle and no shoes standing over Barty on the bridge of his own ship?


    It could have been because all of their precautions were outdated. Pirates nowadays were using drones to scout ships or even to disable security on their targets before they attempted a boarding. Their technology was old as well. The drones were little more than toys operated from a decades-old smart phone, unable to carry more than a few ounces of explosives. That wasn''t enough to cripple the ship, but it was enough to injure the guards.


    Barty remembered the pop-pop-pop of tiny explosions as each of the four guards were suddenly blown off their feet by the suicidal little fliers. His men rushed to tell him that three of his security guards had been injured or worse in a series of explosions. The Somalis were already scaling the side of his ship on rusted metal ladders they''d hooked to the side, each pirate slinging an old assault rifle across his back.


    They''d taken control of the ship easily enough. The last guard standing had put up a fight, but four of the pirates had chased him away from the bridge. They traded gunfire with him somewhere towards the stern of the ship, far too far from the bridge for Barty to feel confident about his chances of being rescued by a lone security guard. That had been hours ago, and Barty wasn''t confident the last guard was still alive to keep fighting.


    The pirates certainly seemed at ease. Their leader, a man with skin as black as obsidian and who looked both incredibly young and incredibly old at the same time, grinned with a mouth full of crooked, stained teeth as he counted the money from Barty''s safe.


    "Don''t worry," the man said in his halting English. "Your company pay, you safe. No problem. Don''t hurt nobody."


    That came as little comfort to Barty, who''d seen for himself what the pirates'' drones had done to his guards. He sat on the floor with his back against the wall of the bridge and peered out the windows at the sky. Armed pirates dressed in ragged, dirty clothes guarded his only escape routes, not that he would have had anywhere to go if he did escape. He''d pressed the emergency beacon, the one used exclusively for ships under attack by pirates, when the Somalis had first come aboard. He''d hoped back then that he and his crew could somehow hold off the Somalis until help arrived, but he knew that was unlikely. He was off the coast of Somalia, after all. What rescue force could reach him all the way out here?


    That''s why he didn''t understand what he was seeing when a streak of white went across the blue sky outside.


    There was a deafening thump as one of the windows was blown in by an explosion. Barty was thrown to his side, his ears ringing from the blast. Everyone in the bridge, hostage and pirate alike, had been floored by the boom, strewn carelessly across the floor like toys.


    Barty looked to the window that had exploded. Outside he could see someone standing, which should have been impossible because there was no walkway outside that window. Whoever it was crouching on some kind of machine, a miniature jet engine that kept the figure hovering in place like a hummingbird in flight. He was dressed in black body armor of some kind, and he could just make out armor plating and some kind of metal frame that clung to his arms and legs. His face was covered by a black mask, its eyes like those of a giant insect. Curls of brilliant red hair sprouted from the back of the mask, and in his arms rested a machine gun that seemed too big for any normal person to carry.


    "Drop your weapons!" his voice boomed, unnaturally amplified as though through a megaphone.


    Many of the pirates on the bridge had already dropped their weapons in the explosion, but at the sight of the flying, armored soldier, several of them were now scrambling to retrieve them.


    Barty knew what was coming. He clamped his hands over his ears and scuttled towards the nearest opening to the walkway outside. Just as he reached it, there was an explosion of gunfire that ripped the air apart.


    The pirates fired back, but wildly. Barty felt something like a punch in his shoulder, hard enough to throw him through the door to the outside and land him in a heap on the walkway. He scrambled to get back to his feet, suddenly aware of the burning he felt on the back of his shoulder, and he ran towards the main deck. His only hope was to hide among the towering stacks of shipping containers there until people stopped shooting.


    But by the time he reached the deck, he could see there were already others there. A dozen pirates were darting between stacks, firing blindly towards someone at the stern of the ship, though Barty couldn''t see whom.


    Suddenly he saw something, a black shape moving along the top of the stacks. It was another armored figure, much like the one that had been atop the hovering platform. This one leapt from stack to stack, across impossible distances. As he perched himself above the oblivious group of pirates below, he unslung a combat rifle from his back and began firing down at them with short, controlled bursts of chirping gunfire.


    It was all over in a matter of seconds.


    Barty tried to cover his mouth to stifle a nervous moan. The masked, armored man on the stack seemed to notice him for the first time. Barty started, suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to run when he saw the man leap across the stacks towards him, reaching him in only a few bounds.


    The armored man landed on the walkway with a clang, and Barty saw that his eyes clicked and whirred and telescoped, each one like the lens of a camera. The man seemed to be looking him up and down, as though scanning him.


    "You''re in need of medical attention," the man said in a voice too deep to be natural. "Not to worry, sir, I''m a doctor."


    Barty followed the man''s gaze to his own shoulder, where he could see an inky stain spreading across his polo shirt. I''ve been shot, he realized. Suddenly his eyes swam, and he teetered drunkenly despite his grip on the rail beside him.


    The armored man caught him before he fell and lifted him as easily as he would have an infant. Barty thought he could hear the faint whir of motors and the hiss of well-oiled machine joints as the man carried him down the rail onto the flat surface of the deck below.


    The man reached into several hidden pockets in his armored clothing and produced a roll of gauze, alcohol swabs, and other items that would make the contents of a decent first aid kit. His telescoping eye gear spun and clicked, focusing on the wound. If Barty could judge by the quality of poking and prodding he received at the hands of the stranger, he would indeed believe the man was a doctor, albeit one with inhuman agility and a suit of mechanized body armor. Who were these people? Were they soldiers? If they were, he''d never seen soldiers like these.


    There was a clang on the deck beside him, and another face appeared in the sky above him. It was another masked man, though this one wore no armor Barty could see, only a gray, short-sleeved tee shirt with some kind of picture printed on it. Was it a cat and a unicorn? Barty shook his head and tried focusing his eyes. He thought he must be going into shock. Whoever this man was, he appeared to be unarmed.


    "The stern is clear," said the newcomer, his voice young and unaltered, unlike the doctor''s. "I''ve got a bunch of sleeping pirates and one freaked-out guard who seems like he could use a different job."


    Barty rolled his head to the side, looking down the deck towards the stern. He was glad to hear the guard had lived.


    It was then that he saw movement between the stacks of containers. A man was emerging from a door on the stern. He had dark skin, filthy clothes, and a long, green tube with a bulbous, pointed tip on the end. The man stood awkwardly and lifted the heavy-looking tube to his shoulder, pointing the bulbous end right at them.


    Barty suddenly realized what he was seeing, and his eyes went wide in terror as he let out a high, terrified moan.


    The two men above him both seemed to notice what he did a fraction of a second later.


    "Crap!" cried the one in the teeshirt, crouching his legs and making an impossible leap towards the pirate. He soared through the air, his fist cocked back as though to punch, but before he could close the distance, the Somali let fly the missile with a hollow thump. It streaked through the air and met the man, and they both disappeared in a blinding explosion.


    Barty suddenly found someone on top of him. The doctor had covered Barty''s body with his own, shielding him from harm. He could hear the plink of debris bouncing off his body armor. The doctor finally moved just in time for Barty to see the smoking body of the man lying on the main deck and two teetering stacks of steel shipping containers collapse on top of him with the sound of screaming metal that rocked the whole ship. Barty let out a strangled moan. He''d just seen a man suffer a violent, gruesome death. He could feel panic rising in his gullet. If these soldiers or rescuers or whoever they were could be killed, did that mean Barty would soon die with them? Was this rescue attempt, as amazing and unexpected as it was, doomed to fail?


    "Not again," the doctor hissed in annoyance. Barty was surprised to hear such cynicism from the doctor over the death of his fellow. The two of them were certainly colleagues. To boot, this man claimed to be a doctor, and should have felt at least a little regret at seeing the other blasted by a missile and then crushed beneath several tons of wreckage. Instead, he just shook his head and continued with his work on Barty''s shoulder, as though the whole incident had been a mild irritation.


    A moment later, the Somali appeared on top of a small heap of containers, the launcher still in one hand. The other held another missile. He began to reload the weapon.


    The doctor saw it just in time to raise his own weapon, a motion so quick Barty almost didn''t see it. But he never fired. There was the sound of a screaming jet engine as the other masked soldier appeared above the ship, crouching atop the roaring platform and wielding that huge weapon.


    The pirate shouted in panic as he saw him, firing his missile at him with another hollow thump. The flying soldier dodged the missile without even looking at it and answered with a hail of rattling gunfire.


    The Somali never answered back.


    The platform took him down to the deck where Barty lay. When it touched down, it went silent, and the soldier scooped it up and slung it over his back. It was then that Barty began to realize that he was actually a she. The soldier that flew on the jet-propelled platform with the enormous machine gun and bright red hair was actually a woman. He could just barely make out the hint of a feminine figure beneath the armor, and he only noticed once she was standing next to the doctor. Her voice seemed unnaturally deepened and amplified by some kind of device in her helmet.


    "Where''s the kid?" she asked.


    The doctor didn''t look up from his work on Barty''s shoulder.


    "Under the mess," he answered.


    The woman turned to look at the pile of overturned shipping containers.


    "Figures," she said. "I''m getting really tired of him doing this."


    There was a roar of engines as a matte black cargo plane descended from the sky and came to a hover just above the deck of the ship. The backwash of it''s massive jets shook the deck.


    "It''s time to go," said the doctor in his deep, impossible bass of a voice. "Let''s get the injured on board."


    "Enough screwing around," the woman bellowed towards the debris on the deck with her own artificially deep voice. "We have to leave."


    Barty wondered who she was talking to when his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of groaning metal. Barty watched as the pile of twisted containers shifted, shook, and finally moved. Containers bucked aside as a figure shoved his way through them like a child might from a pile of pillows.


    The young man, his teeshirt torn and hanging from his unmarked torso, stumbled from the wreckage, his mask crooked on his face. He grabbed a handful of the fabric and pulled, revealing a youthful face with high cheekbones and a dimpled chin. His short, dark hair was matted to his forehead.


    "I hate it when these things are crooked," he complained.


    "What are you doing?" demanded the woman, her hands raised in exasperated disbelief. "Why are you taking your mask off?"


    The young man shrugged. "Well, he''s not going to recognize me on the street, is he?"


    "Both of you shut up and get aboard," urged the doctor. "We can talk about this later."


    Barty wasn''t sure if it was the blood loss or the sight of a man emerging unscathed from that wreckage, but he suddenly found himself unable to stay awake. The world went dark around him.

 Chapter 3: Monster

    Look, all I want is your name," the man suggested. "I''m trying to give you a big, generous tip, and all I want is your name." He tried again to grab the girl''s hand, and again she pulled it away from him.


    "I don''t need a tip from you. I need to get back to work. So please move," she demanded.


    He didn''t move from where he blocked her way to the door. He shook his head at her and said, "I don''t know why you''re acting so stuck up. All I did was pay you a complement and ask for your name." He tried to rest his hand on her arm, but she shook him off and took a step back.


    Alice watched on from beneath the shade of a tree, unsure of what to do.


    She had walked there from her apartment in search of a job. She''d seen an online posting for a "prep cook/server" position at a local, family-owned caterer, filled out a digital application, and scheduled an interview. And now, here she was, hiding behind a tree, watching as one of the employees of that same caterer was harassed by a creepy client.


    She had seen the exchange from afar. She''d seen a girl about her age come out of the building holding several bags of food. She''d carried the food out to a man who''d stopped his car in the middle of the parking area in front of the business, his convertible top down. The girl had tried to simply give him the food and leave, but he''d jumped out of his car, followed her up the path to the doors of the business, and blocked her way in. He''d reached out and touched her several times, something she was clearly not comfortable with, each time showing more and more aggression. Her clear distaste for his advances had not discouraged him, but made him more determined and angry.


    But this girl was no shy violet. She''d stood her ground against him, told him boldly and in no uncertain terms that she wanted nothing to do with him, but Alice was afraid it would take more than words to convince this man to leave the girl alone.


    Before she knew it, she was crossing the parking lot towards the argument.


    "I told you before," the girl warned him, "I don''t want to talk to you." She raised a finger to his face, an expression of fury on hers. "I don''t want you to touch me. My family is in here, and they won''t like you treating me like this."


    Alice stopped walking. She was beside his car now, and her hands were twisting together as she tried to think of what to do. She watched the girl, and suddenly realized that she was far more confident about all this than Alice was. She was the one being confronted with a persistent, malicious creep-o, and yet it was Alice, with powers that made her sound like a comic book character, that was nervous about all this.


    Should I just do nothing? Maybe she has more control over this situation than I would.


    It was then that the man reached out a hand and snatched the girl''s wrist, refusing to let go this time.


    "You were really rude to me," he hissed at her. "And I was trying to be really nice. I think you should apologize and make it up to me."


    Alice could see the hint of a smile on his lips hidden beneath a thin mask of offended hurt. She could see a sudden look of terror on this girl''s face, as she realized her confidence wasn''t enough to keep her safe. Finally, Alice could feel the rising urge to do something, anything, to help. It was fast, uncalculated, and as consuming as if someone had lit her clothes on fire.


    She looked down and noticed she was still standing beside his car. And it was a nice car. A very nice car. It was fire-engine red and immaculately cared for, and probably very new.


    Alice thrust out her hip, which connected hard with the driver''s side headlight. The light shattered, and the metal buckled in, shoving the car two feet sideways across the pavement, the tires emitting a short, shrill squeak. Then she ran right at the two of them, waving her arms and doing her best to call out in an appropriately concerned voice. The lie came to her more naturally than she thought it would.


    "Sir? Sir!" she cried to him, "I think someone just hit your car and drove off!"


    The man saw her, confusion on his face. Then he seemed to forget about the girl. She pulled herself away from his grip as he jogged back to his car, a look of confusion and frustration both mingled on his face.


    "What? How?" he yelled. He grimaced at the damage to his car, then frantically searched the parking lot for any sign of the car that had done this. "Where did they go?" he shouted, but the two girls had already disappeared into the building. They left him scratching his head and wondering how he could have been so absorbed in his conversation with that stuck up girl that he could have not noticed someone hitting his car and driving away.


    Inside the catering building, a family business called Morena Rose, Alice was suddenly hit with the warm smells of corn tortillas, cinnamon, cilantro, and roasted meat. It was the signature smells of fine Mexican food, of tacos and churros and salsa verde and a hundred other dishes that made her mouth water. She''d followed the girl into the building to explain herself but had become distracted by the sudden wall of appetizing aromas that greeted them.


    When she finally came back to herself a moment later, she saw that the girl was staring out the window. They were in a room furnished with a few empty tables. People often came here to eat lunch, but the lunch rush had been over by about two hours, and the seats were empty. A long counter separated this small dining area from the kitchens, where cooks bustled back and forth with trays of food and dirty dishes and cleaning supplies.


    Alice followed the girl''s gaze and saw the man outside. He was climbing into his car as he spoke furiously into a cell phone. He was waving his hands like a lunatic, pausing every once in a while to gesture wildly at the damage Alice''s hip had done to his convertible, as though the person on the phone with him could see the damage. At least she''d been right on how to hit this guy where it would hurt most.


    Some hero I turned out to be, she thought. If wrecking his car hadn''t been enough, what would I have done? Could I have done more? Am I too afraid of confrontations?


    It started to dawn on her that if she was going to make something of herself, if she was going to live up to her father''s sacrifice, she might have to be willing to do some very, very uncomfortable things from time-to-time.


    Soon the man had driven away at speed, and Alice could hear the girl let out a sigh of relief.


    "Thanks," the girl said to her, the barest, slimmest hint of an appreciative smile forming on her wide mouth. "That was a little scary."


    Alice nodded, not knowing what to say.


    "Did someone really hit his car and we just didn''t notice?" the girl asked, a sudden look of curiosity on her face.


    Alice shrugged. "You two were starting to get kinda loud. Plus, it was scary, so I imagine it would have been hard to notice anything else going on."


    The girl stared at Alice, a look of curiosity still there. "I guess so," she admitted. "But thanks for making sure he noticed. You really helped me escape."


    "You seemed nice, and he didn''t. I figured you could use a little distraction."


    The girl nodded, and then seemed to remember something. "I''m sorry, I''m Christine. I work here. Are you here to pick up an order?"


    "Uh, no. Actually, I came here for an interview. I''m Alice."


    Christine smiled even wider and put her hands on her hips. "So, you''re the girl they''re interviewing for the prep cook position? Come on back."


    She led Alice behind the counter and into the bustling, steaming kitchen. Alice thought they were headed for some kind of back office first, but Christine made a beeline for the nearest cook, a young man that Alice realized looked a lot like Christine, from his caramel complexion to his wide, expressive mouth. He was almost certainly a sibling.


    Christine slapped the boy on the arm hard, almost causing him to drop a tray of tightly rolled taquitos still waiting to be cooked.


    "Where were you two minutes ago?" she demanded, punctuating her question with a punch to his chest. He winced at the blow, a confused, shocked expression in his wide eyes, a deer about to be run over by a very large truck.


    "I''m doing my job...ow! Quit it! Why? What are you doing?" he protested.


    "I was getting harassed by some frat-boy pig who wouldn''t stop grabbing me! I was right outside the door!" She pointed her finger, and Alice found herself ducking out of the way of her gesture as though it might slice her in half. Christine kept shouting, "He put his hands on me, Martin! Where were you?"


    A look of realization and indignant fury washed over his face, and he slammed the tray on a stainless steel countertop, scattering some of the taquitos. He began stomping towards past the counter, his fists full of the apron he''d just pulled over his head.


    "Too late, Dum-dum," she called after him. "He''s already gone." She pointed to Alice with her thumb. "She was able to distract him so I could get inside. But this is why I keep telling Mom and Dad we need security cameras around the outside of the building."


    Christine led Alice away, leaving Martin standing there with his apron in his hands, staring out the window as if he were still hoping to catch the man who had assaulted her. As the two girls reached the door of an office in the back, Christine paused to give Alice a smile.


    "That''s my big brother, Martin. He''s a cook. And my parents work back here. They own this place. I really hope you do well in your interview. It''ll be nice to have someone around I can count on," she said.


    Alice smiled too. Sure, she hadn''t acted the part of a hero, or at least not heroes like Divinity or any of the other Champions, but she hadn''t let down someone who needed help. That was something.


    As Christine opened the door to the office, Alice could see a man and woman inside¡ªpresumably Christine''s parents and owners of Morena Rose¡ªwatching a TV screen. It was on the news.


    "Mom, this girl is here for an interview," said Christine, trying to get their attention.


    Her mother, her eyes still glued to the news feed, waved her hand at her daughter as if to quiet her. "Hang on, Christine," she said, "Something happened in Africa."


    As Alice watched the news, she saw that it had something to do with a ship and crew being rescued from pirates off the coast of Somalia. A moment later, she realized what was happening, and her heart began thump hard against her throat.


    I''m not alone, she realized.


    **********


    Ethan stuffed the black mask inside his pocket as he boarded the Black Swan through its open cargo hatch right behind his teammates. As he did, another team of RaTS, these just members of the support team, quickly exited the way Ethan had entered.


    The inside of the massive aircraft was spacious enough to hold a whole company of army battle tanks, and if the occasion called for it, it would. At the moment, it was partitioned into several smaller areas by low walls bolted to the floor. There was a weapons cache, where stacks of crates held all the munitions and combat gear the rescue team would need. There was an ops center, where maps, diagrams, and other information was displayed on banks of large, flat monitors and computers manned by intelligence officers. There was a temporary sick bay, where a row of small, clean cots was quickly filling with the injured members of the ship''s crew, including the captain and three of the four security guards.


    Athena emerged from another one of the Swan''s many compartments close to the cockpit. She was followed by Levi, the only member of Ethan''s team to stay aboard the Swan during the mission. Both of Ethan''s teammates that had followed him onto the ship, Priscilla and Joshua, immediately removed the masks from their body gloves and stood at attention as the woman entered. Under the black fabric and insectoid eyewear, the two of them were fair-skinned with identically copper hair.


    Ethan didn''t see the point in formalities, so he leaned against a stack of storage containers with his arms crossed over his broad chest. It''s not like Athena would be any more pleased with him if he acted as formally as the others, so what was the point, really?


    "We''re leaving immediately," she informed the team without greeting them. "Bravo team can stay while we get the injured to the mainland."


    Athena''s dark, sharp eyes rested on Ethan, who shifted uncomfortably and put his hands on his hips. Suddenly, he found the grated floor beneath his feet very interesting.


    "When I give you a job, I expect you to do it right the first time," she said as she looked up at him. Ethan stood a full foot taller than she, but her height made her no less intimidating. Her voice was as steady and cold as blued steel. "There was nothing about your performance in that operation that even remotely resembled perfection. You remember our conversation earlier today about perfection, don''t you?"


    How could he forget? Any conversation that kept him pinned underneath the Megaton was a memorable one. Ethan kept his eyes on the floor, his teeth grinding together in frustration, the muscles in his squared jaw bulging. Still, he seemed to have no words with which to answer. He knew he''d somehow missed a pirate when he''d attempted to clear the stern of the ship of all threats. A pirate with a rocket-propelled grenade launcher, no less. He''d been in such a rush to join the others towards the bow of the ship that he hadn''t checked those spaces thoroughly enough. He knew it was a mistake that threatened the hostages and his teammates, even if that pirate posed no real threat to him, weapons or no weapons.


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    He tried and failed to slip the tatters of his tee shirt back onto his shoulder.


    "I''m sorry," he tried, still looking at the floor.


    "I don''t care about your apologies," the woman said in a voice that could have been used to cut glass. "I want you to follow simple instructions. I want you to complete the assignments you''re given."


    Ethan looked up into her eyes. He found it nearly impossible to endure her gaze. He looked to his teammates, each of whom were looking straight ahead as though he didn''t exist and they weren''t just listening to him being verbally crushed into powder. That''s what he got for working with the military.


    "C''mon, Athena," he pleaded. "It''s not like the mission was a failure."


    "No," she agreed, "but it''s not like the mission was a success because of you, is it?"


    Ethan could find no words to answer her. He knew, somehow, that this whole thing was entirely unfair, but he couldn''t explain how, just as he knew, somehow, that any attempt he made to defend himself would just make things worse for him.


    "Don''t be so hard on yourself," she said suddenly, her voice softening.


    Ethan looked up at her, suddenly hopeful.


    "This isn''t a problem," she continued. "It''s a learning opportunity. There is a valuable lesson to be learned here, a lesson we will reinforce with extra training when we return. A few extra turns on the Megaton will help you retain that lesson, lest you forget and endanger the mission and your teammates again."


    Both Joshua and Priscilla winced, their only sign of empathy since Ethan''s chastisement had begun. Ethan guessed that would be as much understanding as he would get from them.


    Athena finally dismissed the team, disappearing into the interior of the huge aircraft. Joshua and Priscilla finally relaxed, each of them leaving Ethan where he stood without a word. Joshua began to walk among the row of cots filled with injured crew members, stopping here or there to talk to them or the medics that were treating them.


    His sister didn''t join him but parked herself on a bench against the bulkhead and turned on her personal Motherboxx. ORIGIN offered its employees the latest cutting-edge gadgets, often modifying them to suit its purposes. The Motherboxx was just one of the latest toys to make it into their hands. The small, flat, rectangular device was like a smart phone in that it could make phone calls, access the Internet, and much besides, but it had no screen on its surface. Instead, it could project a holographic screen in midair, with no need for a physical screen behind it. Priscilla''s Motherboxx glowed to life and began projecting a holographic screen in front of her face. As Ethan came closer, he could see she was losing herself in an old television sitcom from the early two thousands.


    "Hey Prissy," he said, trying his best to sound confident, "let''s get something to eat together once we get back."


    Priscilla''s eyes left the screen to glare at him, and her Motherboxx automatically paused the show for her.


    "Beaker, don''t ever call me ''Prissy''. I hate being called that."


    Ethan started at that. "Your brother calls you that all the time," he protested.


    "Only because he knows I hate being called that," she corrected him, returning her eyes to the screen.


    "Well, I don''t like being called ''Beaker''," he countered, "but you all do it anyway."


    She didn''t look away from her show this time. "Well, that''s your call sign, isn''t it? And it''s also kinda your name, Ethan Beaker-man."


    Ethan clenched his jaw again. He hated being teased, especially by girls, though he didn''t know that many. With a speed Priscilla could not have hoped to match, Ethan snatched the Motherboxx from her fingers and held it above his head, where the device automatically went dark.


    Priscilla eyes went wide with surprise, and then narrowed with razored disdain as she looked him in the eye. She didn''t rise from where she lay against the bulkhead.


    "Give it back, Beaker," she hissed.


    He didn''t back down, no matter how much it cut him for her to look at him that way. After all, if he was going to earn the respect of others, he had to be tough, didn''t he? She would thank him once he showed her a good time, he was sure.


    "No," he drawled. "Not until you stop acting you''re better than me."


    She sighed and dropped her hands into her lap with frustration.


    "What do you want?" she asked, her voice still full of poison. She knew she couldn''t take it from him by force. Any other man would have been on the floor by then, probably screaming in pain as she taught them the merits of chivalry with her fists, but Ethan was the frustrating, infuriating exception to that rule.


    "Say you''ll go out with me tonight," he persisted with her Motherboxx still held above his head. "I''ll show you how fun I am. You''ll have a good time. I promise. Or say goodbye to your Motherboxx."


    "I''m busy. When we get back, my brother and I are meeting some friends in town." She glared at him with a tinge of a viscous smile on her lips. "But even if I didn''t have plans, even if you weren''t acting like a psycho, even if I liked going on dates with a giant man-child that refuses to grow up, it''s not like you would be able to take me out tonight, is it? I mean, when was the last time you even left the base? Where were you going to take me, the galley?"


    Ethan felt his face growing hot.


    "Shut up," he warned her. "It''s not easy having to stay on the base all the time."


    "It''s your own fault that you can''t leave, Beaker."


    Ethan winced at being called by his call sign again. He hated it. More than that, he hated that this girl would prefer to hang out with her brother than him. He hated it that she thought he was being childish just because he was being assertive. Most of all, he hated it that she was so pretty and that she didn''t have that same attraction to him, all of his good looks and sense of humor notwithstanding. It wasn''t fair.


    "Oh, and the next time you try to ask me out," Priscilla added, "which I hope will be never, could you at least do it wearing a shirt?"


    Ethan looked down at the tatters of his tee shirt. His face burned as he resisted the urge to slip it onto his shoulder.


    "You hang out with Josh all the time," he tried again, unable to ignore the heat in his own cheeks. "Why would you go out with your brother? He''s always got his nose in his medical texts. You don''t even like him. Face it, he''s a loser."


    "Loser?" repeated someone behind him, and Ethan turned to see it was Joshua. "Did you just call me a loser? Prissy, what''s going on here?"


    Priscilla sneered with a mouth full of shiny, white teeth.


    "Nothing. Beaker''s just bothering me to go out with him again."


    Joshua looked up to see the Motherboxx in Ethan''s hands. Ethan suddenly felt like he''d been caught doing something very embarrassing, though for the life of him he couldn''t figure out what he''d done wrong here or why he felt so bad about it.


    Before Joshua could articulate a threat, Ethan tossed the Motherboxx back into Priscilla''s lap.


    "I don''t know why I even asked you. You''re too stuck up for me!" he snapped before he stormed away.


    He was chased by the sound of Priscilla''s laughter as she called him "such an idiot" and Joshua''s warning to "stay away from my sister, Beaker."


    Ethan found a quiet, empty compartment where he could sit and listen to nothing but the scream of the Black Swan''s engines muffled to a smothered roar by the aircraft''s hull. He lounged across several of the bench seats and turned on his own Motherboxx but found nothing he wanted to watch.


    He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut as he bumped his own head against the bulkhead with a clang. His head was beginning to hurt. He had hoped Priscilla would say yes to his invitation.


    "Ethan," came a voice from everywhere. It was Clawson''s deep gravelly voice again. "Ethan, we''re waiting for you at the debriefing."


    Ethan ignored the voice, saying nothing as he sagged onto his seat. There he did his best impression of a dead man, deaf and blind to everything around him.


    "If you''re going to act like a child, we''ll treat you like a child," warned the voice from the hidden speakers. "If you want to start proving to me that you''re ready to lead this team, you''ll be at the debriefing in the next five minutes."


    There was a click, the sound Ethan knew meant the PA had turned off, and he knew he was as close to being alone as he would ever be in this place. He leaned forward, resting his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees. There was a searing pain, a throbbing lance that cut through his skull at the eyes. He clenched his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as though he were trying to crush a nut with his eyelids.


    A moment later, he''d powered on his Motherboxx and sent a message, barely able to see the lettered holographic keys as he typed with trembling hands.


    I need another one.


    Ethan


    It didn''t take long to get a response. Two minutes later, the words danced in the air above the device.


    Report to the MedBay when you return.


    -Jolly


    So, he would have to ignore the pounding behind his eyes for the rest of the flight. At least six more hours.


    Almost without thinking, his fingers found his cargo pocket and fished out the folded photograph of the young couple and the baby. He stared at it again, the picture shaking like a leaf in the wind in his unsteady fingers, wishing that he had another life beside this one, wondering if he ever could.


    **********


    Mahmoud winced as he dragged the boat onto shore by himself. The wound in his forearm was serious. He''d only stopped it from bleeding by stuffing it full of ragged pieces of his own torn shirt. It would need proper attention when he returned to his village, or it would fester, he would catch a fever, and he''d die.


    When he''d set out to take that freight ship, he''d had eight men, rifles and ammo for each of them, the special package given to him by the Americans, boobytrapped drones to remove the security, and his boat. After he''d taken control of the ship and done what the Americans had asked him to, he''d convinced the captain to open the safe, and he''d had a good amount of American money as well. It wasn''t as much as he would have gotten for ransoming the ship and the crew back to the shipping company, but it was good money anyway.


    But when those soldiers appeared, the ones in strange masks and armor, he lost everything. The one that flew shot him. The others did for his men. He was the only one left. He''d lost all the money. He''d dropped his rifle getting back to his boat. They''d shot at him as he fled, and now the boat had holes in it. He was lucky to make it back at all. And now, because he''d had to stop the bleeding, he didn''t even have the shirt on his own back. He had less than what he''d started with, and all because he''d chosen to do business with those Americans!


    Mahmoud''s village was a collection of shanty shacks made from whatever building materials they could scavenge from the abandoned construction sites in the city. It was close to the beach, and Mahmoud''s home was on a sandy dune that gave him a good view of the ocean horizon, all the better to spot unsuspecting ships. He would call his father''s sister, his only living relative, and have her do what could be done for his arm. Then he would drink until no amount of pain could wake him from a long night''s sleep.


    But when he pulled aside the blanket that hung over the door to his little house, he knew something was wrong. There should have been a woman here cooking for him on a fire, but there was no woman, no fire, and no food. It was entirely too quiet for his liking. He was suddenly aware of just how foolish it had been of him to lose that rifle.


    "I''m glad to see you made it back," someone said in English.


    Mahmoud spun on his heel and nearly fainted from the blood loss. There was a man sitting at his table in the corner. He''d been so quiet and so still that he''d seemed to be one with the shadows, even with skin as pale as milk.


    "Easy now, friend," said the American. "Why don''t you take a seat?"


    Mahmoud hesitated, but his injury was enough to help him overcome his distrust of the American. He pulled up another chair, the only other chair he owned, and sat at the round table across from the man in the shadows.


    Mahmoud could see the man''s sleeves on his sand-colored shirt were rolled up to the elbows. There was a tattoo there that squirmed as the knotted muscles in that forearm flexed and moved. He''d seen it the last time he''d seen this man, when he''d accepted the job to take the freight ship, but he hadn''t seen it so clearly. His English was poor, but he thought he understood the words to mean "No Gods". Well, on that he and Mahmoud could agree at least. If Allah was God, he wouldn''t have let Mahmoud lose his men and his rifle and the money and the boat.


    "Your name is Virgil, right?" Said Mahmoud in English. The name sounded strange in his mouth. If it was an American name, it wasn''t one he heard very often. Then again, Mahmoud didn''t know any other Americans. "You are here to pay me?"


    Virgil smiled. "That depends. I want to hear about the job."


    Mahmoud shrugged, and instantly regretted it. His arm was on fire. He would have to collect his pay from this fool and call his aunt as soon as possible.


    "I did what you asked, but there were..." Mahmoud didn''t know the word for it.


    "Complications," Virgil offered.


    Mahmoud didn''t know what that word meant, but he was sure Virgil understood. "You will need to pay more," he said. "There were not just guards. There were soldiers. Strange soldiers. I lost all my men."


    Virgil nodded, not in the least bit surprised at this news. "I know," he said. "I watched the whole thing."


    Virgil grabbed something rectangular and flat that lay on the table. As he unfolded it, Mahmoud could see it was a laptop computer, an older model. He thought that was odd. Most Americans nowadays liked holographic screens, but this one didn''t.


    The display on the screen was split into dozens of smaller ones, each showing some kind of camera feed. Mahmoud watched as figures in uniform, some of them armed, some of them not, moved in and out of those feeds. The background seemed familiar. Then it occurred to him. He was watching a live feed of the cargo ship.


    "Those small things you gave me," he said, pointing to the screen, "to put on the ship. Cameras?"


    Virgil nodded.


    Mahmoud had only cared if the little devices in the package he''d been given were dangerous. He''d seen men die by poorly made explosives before. When he''d been assured they hadn''t been bombs, he assumed they were something so technologically advanced they would be beyond his understanding or concern. He had no idea the little black domes he''d magnetically clamped to the walls and structure of the ship were simple cameras.


    "You saw us," said Mahmoud.


    Virgil nodded.


    "You knew the soldiers would come. You didn''t warn us."


    "Yes," Virgil admitted. He didn''t seem apologetic at all.


    If Mahmoud still had his rifle, he''d be painting the walls of his home with this American. As things were, he would have to wait. Even though his eyes were adjusting to the gloom of his shack, he could not see if the American was armed or not. Maybe he could call the men of his village to kill this treacherous fool as soon as Mahmoud collected his pay.


    "You will pay more," Mahmoud demanded, "for my men."


    "What was he like?" Virgil asked, ignoring Mahmoud''s demand. He was leaning forward on the table now, his eyes wide with interest.


    Mahmoud shook his head. "Who?"


    "The metahuman," said Virgil. When Mahmoud showed no sign of understanding that word, Virgil said, "The Superman."


    Mahmoud was silent for a moment. Then, he said, "there were only three soldiers I could see. Very dangerous. They had machines." He pointed to his own arms and legs. His English was not so good that he could describe the technology he saw that day, the mechanical body armor that seemed to give those soldiers superhuman strength and speed.


    "Not this one," corrected Virgil. "There was one without a combat frame on. Just normal clothes. He would have been strong. Very strong. And impossible to kill."


    Now that Mahmoud thought about it, there was one different than the others. He''d only been wearing a shirt, with no body armor Mahmoud could see. He''d seemed unkillable, even though Salim had hit him with a rocket. Nothing should have lived through that.


    Mahmoud nodded his head. "I saw him," he answered.


    Virgil seemed excited. His expression seemed almost wild in the shadows, like a demon from hell laughing at Mahmoud''s pain. It made Mahmoud very uneasy. He would have to kill this man soon.


    "What was he like?" Asked Virgil.


    Mahmoud remembered seeing the man emerge from the tumbled stacks of shipping containers as he motored away on his little boat.


    "He was a monster," he whispered.


    Virgil nodded, as though Mahmoud had just said something very wise indeed. The words "No Gods" squirmed and writhed, as though agitated at the mention of the unarmored soldier.


    Mahmoud tore his eyes away from the ink and glared at Virgil. He was done with these games. He wanted his money and to kill this arrogant, crazy American before he cost Mahmoud anything else.


    "I am tired," he growled, "and injured. Pay me my money and go!"


    The American seemed to come to himself, as if suddenly remembering where he was and what he was doing.


    "That''s right. Your payment," he agreed. "I need to give you what I owe you."


    Mahmoud heard the repeating crack of gunfire in the distance. There was often gunfire in the village. Gun dealers often demonstrated the potency of their wares, and those few religious zealots left sometimes liked to shoot in the air as they proclaimed their beliefs. Mahmoud imagined he could probably go find them to take care of the American if he cut them in on some of the pay.


    Then he realized just how late it was for gunfire. The dealers were not usually doing business this late. The village was usually quiet as people went to sleep. Then he listened as the beat of gunfire continued. They didn''t sound like any weapons usually sold in these parts.


    Then he began to hear the screams.


    "What is this?" He demanded. A chill was creeping up his back, despite the summer heat. "What are you doing?"


    Virgil had stood to his feet. There was a pistol strapped to his thigh in the fashion of American soldiers. Virgil reached down with his tattooed arm and slowly drew it from its holster.


    "Don''t kill me," said Mahmoud. He then realized he''d said it in Somali. He said it again, but in English.


    "Every man dies, Mahmoud," said Virgil. "The comfort I give you is that you will die for a noble cause."


    Mahmoud stumbled backwards off his chair and crashed into the ground. He wanted to crawl away, but his arm burned, and his fear made his other limbs go cold. He was too frightened now, realizing just how helpless he was. The gunfire continued, closer now, and the screams of the villagers rose in chorus.


    "We are building a better world, a world without them," Virgil said, raising the gun. "As you say, they are monsters."

 Chapter 4: Natalia

    Alice watched the video again. It was a short video clip from the news, one in which a freight ship captain described an incredible rescue and the extraordinary people that saved his life.


    "They were amazing," said the captain. She could see that he had one arm in a sling. She supposed he''d somehow gotten injured during all the fighting. "I saw things that I thought I''d never see again. Their strength, their speed, and...I mean, one of them even flew! It sure reminded me of the days when Divinity was out there, doing this same kind of thing. I owe them my life."


    It was not the first time someone had brought up the name "Divinity" while reporting this story. In fact, the more research Alice did, the more she was starting to notice reports of superhuman rescuers occurring in the news. Events like this, a freight ship rescued by pirates, villagers pulled from mud slides, soldiers rescued from behind enemy lines, and all by an anonymous group of people who seemed to have powers far beyond mortal man.


    But Alice knew this wasn''t the first time this had happened. Everyone knew it. It was all starting to look a lot like when he was still alive.


    Alice opened another video she''d found. It was one that had gone viral the year before she was born, one of the most prolific videos ever filmed. It had been instantly uploaded, retweeted, shared, and reposted by tens of millions of accounts across the world the moment it posted. Very few people knew the originating account for that video, or even which media platform it had come from, and those that did know were keeping it a guarded secret. Still, no one doubted it was real. It had been studied more intensely than any video file in history. Alice had read some of the articles on the web about it. Some were written by conspiracy theorists, some by investigative journalists. At times, the line between those two titles could be frustratingly thin. Still, their commentary made it clear that this might be the most important video ever posted on social media.


    The first four seconds of the video fade in to and focus on the face of the most influential man of the past forty-seven years before the video''s release: the superhero Divinity. His age, like his real name, was a closely guarded secret by the government, but most people agreed he was at least in his mid-seventies. It wasn''t because he looked his age. In fact, the man could have passed for a graceful late fifty-year-old. His physique and his face seemed to belong to someone who just didn''t quite age like the rest of humanity. Even his hair, which was faded from black to gray along the sides, was still full and healthy as any man twenty years his junior would wish it to be. However, high resolution still-frames would reveal an increasing number of creases and wrinkles forming at the man''s eyes, mouth, and forehead. Some self-proclaimed experts on this superhuman hero would later claim this was an obvious sign of sudden and intense aging, as though the years this hero had somehow cheated were catching up to him in a matter of months.


    Many people were surprised to see him in a simple white dress shirt with no tie, the collar unbuttoned. In all of his press photos, he''d always worn his white and gold body glove, his cape around his shoulders and his golden symbol shining on his chest. It was the first time the public had ever seen him dressed like one of them. He was seated at some kind of table or desk, the background appearing to be a handsome country home interior. More analysis of the image would highlight the reflections in the glass of a cabinet behind Divinity. The reflection appeared to be that of another man in the room, one dressed in a long, khaki coat. His face is indistinguishable. The hero did not seem to be alone when he made his video, or someone may have made it for him.


    As Divinity begins to speak, a warm, fatherly smile beams on his face, framed by dimples and a square jaw. His eyes are a pale green. Some close observers will compare these images to older ones, noting that his eye color has faded over the years.


    "My dearest fellow citizens of mankind," Divinity began in a deep voice showing a hint of the gravel of age, "I hope you will forgive me for being so informal as I send this message to you all from my own home." Later, after years of careful analysis by the best forensic minds in the world, experts would eventually admit that they are unable to figure out the actual location of this home based on any clues in the video. "As I approach a very important milestone in my life, I wish to first express gratitude to all of you for your loving support and confidence in my long career."


    The image of Divinity''s face is replaced by a slide show, a montage of color and black-and-white photos of Divinity in the act of rescuing lives or socializing with fellow rescuers and public servants at disaster sites. There is one of him lifting rubble from the collapsed nuclear reactor in Japan, one of him standing with rescued child soldiers in the Congo, and even one of him shaking hands with both Arab and Israeli leaders at the legendary summit where the greatest peace that region had ever known had been achieved. In every one of the photos, he is positive, smiling, and tender. In not a single one of them is he alone. He is always featured with others in frame. Experts would later point out that about a quarter of the photos were not from any known news site, periodical, or social media account. Many will assume that they were from Divinity''s own personal collection of photos from his career.


    The "career" Divinity referred to was a forty-seven year crusade to accomplish a single goal: to stem the loss of life in every war, act of terrorism, and large-scale disaster in the world. His success in this mission had shaped the world, both in government and society. Even small religions and cults had begun to worship this hero as a heavenly savior, though he profusely discouraged them from doing so in public interviews. This did not always stop people from practicing these beliefs.


    "My work, as all of you know, has been to cherish human life and to protect it. I have not been alone in this work. Many of you have joined me by putting your talents and time and energy into law enforcement, public safety, humanitarian aid, health care, urban development, and countless other worthwhile, noble pursuits. I wish for us all to pause and admire what we have accomplished."


    The slide show stops, and the image of Divinity''s face once again fades into view. Tears trace shining trails down his cheeks, and his smile softens until it seems sad.


    "It is with gratitude in my heart, as well as pride in our accomplishments, that I make this announcement. Effective immediately, I am officially retiring from public life. I will immediately cease from all public activities, including rescue, peacekeeping, and disaster recovery." The tears continue to glisten on his cheeks, but his voice does not waver. His hands are folded serenely in front of him, hands that have lifted steel beams, stopped missiles, and lifted the oppressed. They are as strong as they are gentle.


    "But this does not mean the work will stop. The rest of my associates, publicly known as the Champions, will continue to work with governments and agencies to promote global security and peace for all." A photo briefly fades into view, a group portrait of a dozen individuals, both men and women, in a variety of dress. Some wear tactical garments like special forces soldiers. Others, mechanically enhanced plated armor, like medieval knights. A few wear occupational clothing: laboratory coats, coveralls, and dress suits. All of them are gathered around the upright and impressive figure of Divinity himself. They are his emissaries and operatives, a task force that magnifies Divinity''s influence and effectiveness in his missions. Most people do not believe them to be superhuman, but highly trained and genius individuals.


    "The rest of my work, dear friends, I leave to you. Your hands lifted our societies and nations to unprecedented states of prosperity and freedom. I am thankful I got to play a part in all that, but I could not have done it alone, without support and cooperation from the public and governments leaders. To those of you who believe it takes someone like me to carry on with these goals, I hope you prove yourselves wrong someday. But rest assured that there will be more like me in the future. We are out there, whether we are publicly known or not. Somewhere there are unselfish, powerful people going about doing good, and in time, you will come to know them. Until that day, I leave the world in your capable hands.


    "To all of you, my friends and associates and fellow soldiers of peace, I bid you a fond farewell."


    At this point, the video fades. These were the final images the world would ever have of its greatest hero in recorded history.


    Within six months of this videos release, many people accepted that Divinity had either died or turned his back on a world that still needed him. Within a year, the blissful peace experienced by the nations inhabiting the Middle East shattered, and the stock market began to fall. Within two years, the world was shaken in the grip of a worldwide pandemic, an aggressive respiratory disease, and the stock market crashed altogether. Riots broke out in major cities in America, Australia was ravaged by wildfires, and terrorist activities quadrupled in frequency and severity.


    Within five years of the release of the video, people forgot the world heroes created.


    Alice rewound the video, pausing on the picture of Divinity lifting the rubble of the collapsed power plant.


    Is he back? If he is, why isn''t he showing himself like he did in the past? If it''s not him, is this someone new?


    It occurred to her that this might not be Divinity and the Champions, that this might be someone else. The possibility of other people in the world like her, people with unique abilities, made her head spin. Here she was wishing she knew how to use her powers to help people, and there were people like her out there right now doing it. A whole group, it seemed, of people like her.


    People like me.


    Her experience in front of the Morena Rose had taught her a lot about herself. She didn''t have the first clue of how to make herself helpful to others. She''d been lucky distracting the man from Christine, but she might have caused a lot of trouble. So she had a choice to make. She could continue trying to figure it all out on her own, or she could seek out others like her to teach her what she was and how she could use her power. If she wanted to become more than she was, if she wanted to be the daughter her father deserved, she would need help. That was a choice that made itself, really.


    I have to find them.


    **********


    But it would be weeks before she would ever make contact with the mysterious rescuers from the news. The summer was slowly dying, and nearly seven weeks had passed since she had watched the Fourth of July fireworks while drifting over the James River. It hadn''t mattered to her that she''d already decided it was too risky to fly near the city. She couldn''t pass up the chance to see the fireworks show. The blossoming lights reflected in the moving water of the James like a broken mirror still burned in her memory, and she was eager to be airborne again.


    Alice had been working at Morena Rose, earning a little money and a making a lifelong friend in Christine. Christine had taken to Alice immediately, perhaps because of the bond they shared from their experience on the day of Alice''s interview. Eventually, Christine had introduced Alice into her larger circle of friends and had even arranged for them to go on group dates together. The latest attempt by Christine to improve Alice''s social life was a boy named Thomas. In fact, this was Alice''s second date with Thomas, the first having been to a rock-climbing gym on the outskirts of town. Alice had hoped her first date with Thomas would also be her last. It was nothing against him, she knew. He was handsome enough. He was about her height, and blond, and well-groomed. He held out chairs, opened doors for her, and avoided saying things that were generally stupid. But Alice had just not found him of any romantic interest. His sense of humor was as dry as burned toast, making her count the minutes until the end of the date. Also, Alice had never been partial to blonds. She''d sworn to herself that she was done with Thomas by the time he dropped her off at her apartment and embraced her in the world''s stiffest, most awkward hug.


    And yet, here she was at a carnival game, cheering him on as he hurled softballs at painted, stacked milk bottles.


    "Yes!" Thomas cried in triumph, his ball pinging into the little pyramid of bottles. But his shout of victory quickly became a moan of disappointment as two of them refused to fall. "I just don''t understand how you did it. You made the luckiest shot of all time, I swear!"


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    Alice shrugged. She had to admit that was exactly what it had been: good luck, bad aim, and worse judgment. She had thrown the ball too hard and too low. She''d hit the platform on which the bottles stood, a thick wooden board fixed to a metal pipe driven into the ground. The pipe had bent, the board had come loose, and the milk bottles had scattered like a house of cards. The man running the game had scratched his head and wondered aloud at how the pipe could have become so weakened that it could be damaged by a thrown ball. But he''d also laughed at the girl''s luck and admitted she''d knocked down all the bottles in a single throw. As a reward, he''d given her the stuffed animal of her choice, a sea turtle the size of her torso.


    The real luck, of course, was that the ball had ricocheted off somewhere where it couldn''t be found. Alice was pretty sure the blow had busted its stitching open. That would have been harder to explain.


    Carnival games were just one of the many things to do at Busch Gardens. It was Williamsburg''s theme park, though it had some things Alice had never seen in other parks. Sure, it had roller coasters, but it had European cultural performances, ethnic cuisine, and shops filled with everything from toys and candy to hand-crafted domino masks in the style of the Italian Renaissance. It was Alice''s first time there, and she was sure she would have enjoyed it more if she had not had to pretend to laugh at Thomas''s dry wit.


    "C''mon, Alice," Christine shouted as privately as she could over the sound of the music. "Go talk to him! You know he likes you. You left a really good impression on him last time."


    I''ll bet, she thought to herself. The first date had been a week before, and Thomas had been openly impressed by the fact that she was able to keep up with him on the rock-climbing wall. Even without extra abilities, Alice thought, it was no great feat. He had poor form and no experience. He''d been aggressively hounding her ever since. Alice was beginning to consider this a lesson in self-restraint.


    "He digs you," said Christine. "He thinks you''re really cute." Christine then made a point of looking Alice up and down, as though appraising her. "Personally, I don''t see what the big deal is. Why would he want you when he could have all of this?" Christine then gestured at her figure with outstretched fingers, posing like the white marble statue they saw and laughed at earlier.


    Alice laughed at her friend and looked down at her outfit.


    "Is that what I have to compete with? It doesn''t make me feel like I bring much to the table." She joked.


    Christine clucked her tongue. "You know I''m just playing. I''ve got the curves, as you well know, but you''ve got that muscle tone. The next time I go to the gym, I''m bringing you with me so you can give me some pointers."


    It was something Alice was use to. She was tall and athletic, though she''d never played a sport in her life. Her mother always thought it would give her away.


    "Anyway, you should totally go walk with him. We''ve been kind of separated by gender enough, don''t you think?"


    Perhaps not, thought Alice, shooting another glance at where Thomas strolled beside Christine''s date, a quiet boy whose name Alice couldn''t remember. Thomas looked at the other boy and blurted out, "I bet all these games are rigged. They just choose people to win every once in a while so we don''t see it''s all a scam!"


    We could stand to sit apart from the boys a little while longer.


    "What do you have to lose?" challenged Christine. "Flirt with him. Let him spend a little money on you. It''s what he wants, and it''ll be fun. I mean, what were you planning on doing today besides this, anyway? Apply to school?"


    Alice knew she was right. With her arms crossed over her chest, Alice would look to anyone like she was obviously trying to avoid her own date. Truthfully, she had been trying very hard to think about registering for college classes or socializing with friends, but her evenings were frequently becoming interrupted by a secret life, and Alice was beginning to wonder if it was more of a distraction than it was worth.


    Alice removed her phone from her bag and checked the screen. A weather forecast swirled with greens and yellows and reds above a map of the Eastern United States. She placed one of her ear buds and listened to the weather report.


    "Hurricane Natalia is predicted to make landfall on the coast of South Carolina this afternoon. Residents along Natalia''s path are urged to evacuate. Experts predict wind speeds of up to one hundred and forty miles an hour and heavy rains. Many areas will likely experience flooding."


    "Are you seriously on your phone right now?" interrupted Christine. "I can see you watching the weather channel or something. I have this feeling you''re about to give me some excuse for why you''re about to leave. You''re a terrible liar by the way."


    Alice snapped back to her conversation with her friend. She opened her mouth to refute it, and found nothing to say. Her mouth flapped open and closed, refusing to put any two syllables together to form a coherent word longer than "I". I must look like a gasping fish, she thought.


    "I''m sorry," she said. "You''re right. I don''t have a real excuse, but I really want to go. Thomas is a nice guy. Really, he is, and I''m not doing this to get away from him, but I really have to go now."


    "Mmm, hmm," Christine answered, apparently unimpressed but satisfied her suspicions were correct. "I thought so. Don''t worry, I''ll make up something for you. Just promise me one thing."


    She asked her what it was.


    "One of these days you gotta tell me what you''ve been ditching work and parties and movies and stuff for. I know it''s not because you keep having relatives over."


    Alice realized that if she was going to keep disappearing from her everyday life, she was going to have to tell better stories or embrace a very public life as freak of nature.


    "Alice," called Thomas, pointing up at a roller coaster as the cars roared along a track above their heads, "we gotta do this!"


    Alice mumbled an apology as she dashed away towards the park exit. She rushed past groups energetic friends, secretive couples, and frantic families. She burst through the clattering turnstiles and into the gray afternoon.


    She looked above to a sky that was a blackboard in desperate need of a washing. Streaks of white lashed across a dull, slate ceiling of storm clouds.


    Alice pressed the ear buds in and played a random song from her father''s old playlist, "Something Just Like This" by Coldplay and The Chainsmokers. The familiar lyrics about superheroes and a blossoming romance played accompanied by the thump of the bass and the chime of keyboards.


    The music played softly in her ear as she zipped up her jacket, the familiar words and notes seeming to her like a sign that this might be the time.


    The weather reports promised a rough afternoon for flying. It was stormy, but warm. That was partially because it was simply August in Virginia, which meant occasional gray skies and warm thunderstorms. It was mostly because she was flying south, where headline news suggested Natalia would be kissing land for the first time. She was, quite literally, flying into a hurricane.


    She arrived back at her apartment and fished a backpack filled with clothes from the depths of her closet. Her mother was still at work and was not due to come home for hours yet. Outside, the weather was turning sour, and she guessed her friends would be making their own escape from the theme park any minute.


    She got dressed as quickly as she could, knowing that if she was going to find what she was looking for, she would probably need to leave soon. She took one last moment to stuff her hair under her beanie and put her gloves and ski goggles on. Everyone outside had long since sought shelter from the clouds and wind that threatened rain, so there was no one there to see as she quietly slipped through the window and into empty air, her body gently arched back like an Olympic diver off the high dive. Within minutes, Alice was high enough that the low, grumbling clouds shielded her from the eyes of people below. That also meant the landscape below was nothing to her so much a smudge of trees and roads and rivers in the distance.


    She paused to consult a GPS unit that was tethered to her thick coat. The device''s soft glow marked her general location with a green arrow over a simple map of the ground she couldn''t see below. She''d bought the device after her first attempt to contact the mysterious heroes some five weeks previous. She''d heard that there was an earthquake in California and tried to fly out to see if she could catch them in action. The devastation left by the tremor was terrible, and four individuals with superhuman abilities were later reported to have been seen digging survivors out of the remains of homes and businesses, but Alice never arrived to see them. After hours of flying towards California, she realized she had no idea where she was, the GPS on her phone rendered useless outside the range of the cell phone towers it relied on. Defeated, she tried looking for the interstate. She eventually landed near a truck stop in Wyoming several hours after the heroes had reportedly disappeared again. Dejectedly, she took a Greyhound all the way home riding next to a man named Steve who played air guitar the whole way. That had not been her only attempt to make contact with them, but they all had ended in similar failure. Every outing had some sort of lesson like that for her, and so she''d tried to be prepared when she went out into the storm.


    **********


    This time it was the rain that got the best of her. She flew for hours through headwinds that pelted her with icy droplets that felt as hard as pebbles. She was soaked through her coat within the first hour. She tried flying above the storm, only to find the higher she went, the colder it got. Her sopping clothing became ice against her skin, and she fell beneath the gray surface of the clouds once more to take what little comfort there was in the rain. She was constantly wiping the rainwater from the outside of her goggles and the fog from the inside. She was shivering, miserable, and wet.


    The landscape below her passed in and out of view, frequently obscured by the angry clouds sweeping inland. She saw woodland, suburbs, and cities roll away, wondering how long it would be until someone saw her. Would she attract media attention like the heroes did? Or would she be dismissed as a tabloid rumor, along with aliens and the Jersey Devil? She hoped she never had to find out.


    It was long, miserable hours of rough, cold flying that felt more like tumbling and whipping before the GPS finally announced she''d arrived in the right state.


    Somewhere in South Carolina the weather became nearly impossible to fly through. The wind started hurling her in odd directions, despite her best efforts to fly straight. She had to brace against the wind with her arms just to keep the worst of the hail from shattering her ski goggles. Alice tried to consult her GPS unit to see exactly where she was, but the water had finally got to it, and it fizzled and died as she fumbled with its lifeless controls.


    She descended feet-first through the clouds until she could make out a sprawling seaside city below. Once at treetop level she could see a suburban neighborhood, a nice one, lined with handsome homes blasted with the nearly horizontal rain and ice. She saw a river of water knee-deep coursing through the neighborhood streets and pooling in cul-de-sacs. Miles away, towards the ocean, She could barely make out the silhouette of a Ferris wheel. She squinted at it, sure it was swaying in the wind, though she had never seen a Ferris wheel do that.


    For the first time since she''d been chasing the heroes she saw on the news, she had finally reached the scene of a disaster while it was still happening. She had once arrived in Florida after a tropical storm, only to realize they were long gone, having already done their work there of saving a floundering fishing boat off the coast. The same thing happened when she tried to make it to a deadly shootout between border patrol agents and drug smugglers in Arizona. She came just in time to see the beaten, handcuffed criminals being carted away. But this time she''d finally done it. She had arrived in time to see hurricane Natalia make landfall in a South Carolina resort town. With any luck, she hoped to see the heroes there as well.


    There was little happening in the small suburban neighborhood over which she hovered, so she decided to head towards the Ferris wheel. She passed over more neighborhoods, strip malls, and industrial parks, many of them flooded ankle-deep or more. For the most part, these places were battened down or abandoned, with the only people out doors being those who were packing a few bags and other belongings into their vehicles. Garbage and refuse flew through the air, some of them attaching themselves to fences and trees. Alice suddenly felt a stab of pity for the people who would have to sort out this ruin after the storm passed.


    She was still a few miles from the Ferris wheel when she passed a trailer park. Of all the areas in the city she''d seen, this one was flooded the worst. A river of water cascaded out of the trailer park and into the street. Vehicles shifted and drifted in the current, sometimes bumping into each other or the trailer homes. Alice gave a sudden, soft gasp of sorrow as she saw a few people wading through chest-deep water to get out of the area to higher ground, all the while carrying pets, small children, and trash bags of belongings on their shoulders.


    She paused in the air above that trailer park, hoping this would be the place where those heroes would appear, if only to help some of these wet, trudging refugees fleeing from their own flooded homes. Surely, if there was anyone in the city that needed their help, that person could be found here in the rapids, refuse, and the refugees.


    Something caught Alice''s eye and made her heart jump in panic: a woman on top of a silver Mercedes pickup truck. The vehicle seemed out of place in the shabby trailer park, even more so in the middle of the dirty rapids. The woman clinging to the roof was old, how old Alice couldn''t say, but almost certainly old enough to be her grandmother, with dark, crinkling skin and a few curlers still tangled in her stringy, dripping hair. Her precarious perch on top of the vehicle was made all the more dangerous by the fact the truck was slowly, inch by inch, drifting with the current. Alice could see clearly enough the terrified look in her wide, restless eyes, and the cry for help that was on her lips, even though the sound of it was lost in the roaring wind.


    Alice scanned the sky around her, waiting, hoping for figures to drop out of the heavens to the woman''s rescue. The skies were disappointingly empty, filled with nothing save the angry clouds and the ragged claws of the wind. Alice stared at the woman and wondered if she should run somewhere to get help.


    She suddenly remembered a dark, lonely road she''d run a lifetime ago, when she''d left her own father dying in the dark to find help that would never arrive in time to save him.


    "Go get help. Then come back for me. Do what I say."


    Something gripped Alice''s heart and squeezed as she realized she could not do it again. She couldn''t run away and hope that help would arrive in time. She couldn''t leave him there in the dark to die a second time.


    The woman''s cries startled her, bringing her back to the present. For the briefest moment, it was like she''d been there holding his hand all over again. But that time was gone. She was here, and no one else was.


    There was no one to help that woman. No one but her. She knew she was not the kind of hero for this situation, but no other heroes were forthcoming. She was all this woman had. She would have to do.

 Chapter 5: Heroes

    Alice descended from the sky above the trailer park, her arms gently floating up by her shoulders as though she were drifting down through calm water, despite the fact she was really struggling to stay in one place as the wind snarled and dragged at her in nearly every direction.


    A sound rose to her ears, slowly stabbing through the howling wind as she floated closer to the silver truck. Alice realized it was the sound of screaming. The woman, towards whom Alice was slowly descending, had spotted her in the air while she was still fifty feet above her. Apparently, the sight of this girl in the sky had launched her into a panic, and the only thing that seemed to keep her from fleeing in terror was the water that seemed to hold more terror still. Even so, the woman was shrinking into the furthest corner of the truck''s roof away from Alice, as though seriously considering taking her chances with the rapids.


    "Please, don''t scream!" Alice shouted above the hurricane. She suddenly realized the irony of her situation was such that if the two of them were to talk, they would have to practically scream just to hear one another above the wind. She decided approaching the woman from above might only feed her panic.


    Alice wondered also who else might see her now that she was so close to the ground. She peered around herself and saw some of the other people pointing and staring at her, some of them with fear stamped on their faces just like the woman she was trying to help. She decided that, given the inherent panic caused by the flooding, it would be best to appear as ordinary as possible to avoid adding to the fear of everyone around her.


    Trying to avoid the gazes of the people she could see, she settled down on top of a shed behind a blue trailer. The small, unstable structure nearly collapsed under the combined stress of her weight and the torrent pressing against it. Alice jumped down into the cold water and waded past the home into the street. She gasped as the chill reached through her clothing and squeezed her lungs like an icy fist. The sound of the rain on the flood water drowned out everything but the thunder. The strength of the current surprised her, and she had to be careful not to lose her footing and be swept away. She comforted herself with the fact that if she ever did get swept off her feet by the river, she could simply fly out.


    When she reached the truck, the woman had her back turned, and she was calling out to a group of refugees down the street who had their children on their shoulders.


    "Please, help me!" she cried out to them. Alice wondered if she was wishing for help from the water or from her.


    The family didn''t hear her over the sound of the storm on the water, and so they moved on.


    "Please, wait!"


    Alice made her way around to the other side of the vehicle, the down-river side. She worried briefly about the wisdom in putting herself against both the car and the current.


    "M-m-ma''am," Alice tried to sound soothing but it was a hard feeling to convey under the circumstances "I can help you down!"


    The woman screamed when she saw her, warning her to stay away and praying to God in the same breath to save her from the devil.


    "Ma''am, p-please. I''m t-trying to help you. I''m not the d-d-devil. I''m just a girl."


    The woman seemed to stop long enough to look at her. Whether it was because her hair from beneath her beanie was plastered to her face, or perhaps because she was shivering so badly it was difficult to speak, the woman seemed to finally be convinced Alice was there to help.


    "I can''t swim," she whimpered.


    "It''s not that d-d-deep," Alice answered, trying to coax her down with hand motions. Clearly, she was deathly afraid of the water. She shook her head and whimpered something Alice couldn''t understand and remained clutching to the roof of the vehicle like a newborn to it''s mother.


    "I''ll help you," Alice tried again, holding out her hand to her. "I''ll hold on to you. But we have to get out of here and onto higher ground."


    After a long moment of hesitation, she nodded in agreement, and began reaching for Alice''s hand. Her eyes were so wide she thought they might fall out. When Alice finally grasped her hand in hers, she began coaching her down the side of the vehicle until she slid off and into the water. She gasped whether from terror or cold, Alice was unsure. Alice wrapped her arm around the woman''s waist to keep her from being swept away.


    Then the vehicle moved again. Without the woman''s weight on top, the SUV made another large, sudden drift towards them, threatening to bowl them over. The woman shrieked in surprise, and Alice held out a single hand and braced it against the window of the truck. She felt her feet digging into the mud and rock and garbage on the ground under the water, and slowly the vehicle came to a stop.


    Alice didn''t know what caused the sudden surge of water through the trailer park right then. A swell in the flood suddenly pushed the truck even harder against her hand. Alice heard a sharp clicking sound, and with horror realized it was the the sound of pale, white cracks spiderwebbing out from her hands across the surface of the window. She opened her mouth to shout a warning to the woman, but her words became a gasp as the window shattered the vehicle slammed into her side and pushed her off her feet and into the churning water with the woman in her arms.


    It was dark, darker than Alice thought it ought to be, and the suddenness of the event caught her without a deep breath before the plunge. She coughed, and she felt water in her mouth and lungs. When she tried to stand on her feet, she felt her way blocked by something big and heavy and metal. Her one free hand groped in the dark, feeling above her a distressingly low ceiling of rods and pipes and plating and realizing with mounting horror the truck, carried by the sudden surge in flood water, had settled on top of her.


    Still trying to hold onto the thrashing woman by her side, Alice planted her knees on the muddy ground and her free shoulder against the undercarriage of the vehicle. She pushed hard, straining to both lift and fly if she could. The water exploded around her, and she felt the wind on her face again and sucked in wet, rattling breaths of the icy air. When she opened her eyes, she saw that she was a dozen feet or so above the river of water, with the pickup tumbling off her shoulders and splashing upside down below.


    The woman was gasping and coughing as Alice held her, and then she became rigidly still. She crushed Alice''s forearm with a grip strength born from undiluted fear and the knowledge that the one thing keeping her suspended in the air was the arm of the girl beside her. Alice realized that perhaps she was just as afraid of heights as she was of water.


    She flew herself and her passenger to a small strip of shops across the street where the parking lot was higher than the trailer park. There were some people already there, a few of them pointing and shouting things at Alice, though she couldn''t hear them. She set the woman down on dry ground, and she started sobbing as soon as Alice let her go. She didn''t say a thing to her rescuer. She merely grabbed at the shirts of the two closest people to her and continued to sob, collapsing against them as though they''d been the ones to pull her from a watery grave.


    Alice was in the process of drifting up and away from the stares of the crowd when she noticed him. He was standing on the other end of the parking lot, staring at her.


    He stood out from the other people in the parking lot, in that his clothes were odd. His pants and boots looked military, but she had never seen a soldier wear a mask like the one he had. It covered his face like a balaclava, but it was made of something thick and plated. She could see rainwater beading off the material. His eyes were covered by some kind of set of goggles that hid them behind dark lenses. His short-sleeved shirt seemed to be the only thing about him that seemed out of place. It was black and had "In my defense, I was left unsupervised" printed in yellow across the chest. He was broad-shouldered and muscular, like a bodybuilder. His long, well-defined arms ended in gloves that might have been made of the same material as the mask he wore.


    By the way he stared at her, Alice realized that he was watching her as intently as she was him. This was not surprising. After all, she was hovering in midair above the parking lot. Everyone there was watching her. But something about him made him stand out from the others, something more than his unusual clothes. She felt her eyes locked on him by some invisible force. She''d heard her friend Christine talk about auras, invisible halos that surrounded special people that revealed things about their nature. Alice hadn''t believed in them until maybe that very moment as she looked at the masked man. There was something about him that drew her attention, something that was just beyond her ability to see. Something she felt in her mind and in her chest. It was almost as though the two of them were magnets, drawn together by the very laws of the universe.


    Was this one of the ones she was looking for? Another gifted person, what some on the Internet called a metahuman? Was she looking at Divinity himself, the legendary savior that everyone thought had died twenty years ago?


    Alice felt herself slowly drifting towards him. She suddenly became aware of just how conspicuous she was. She was floating there being gawked at by the refugees of the trailer park with her hair in shambles, her coat soaked and dripping, and her feet covered in mud. She felt self-conscious and decided to stop wasting her time just gawking at him. After months of searching for others like her, she was desperate to talk to him. She had so many questions.


    People backed away from her as she landed. No one spoke to her, though a few of them pulled out cell phones and started snapping pictures.


    He stood there with his arms across his chest, quietly assessing her. When Alice reached him, he tilted his head to the side, waiting. Alice realized that if she wanted to talk to him, she would have to be the one to kick start things.


    "Hi," she said with some trepidation. She tried to follow it up, but nothing came to her. She realized with great frustration that in the past two months She''d never really thought of what she was going to say when this moment arrived.


    "Hi, there!" the man called back. His voice was muffled by the fabric over his mouth. "That was really impressive. How are you..."


    But then he suddenly lost interest in her. He looked away from Alice, concentrating, pushing a finger to the piece of his mask that covered his ear. Alice thought he must be listening to something. And then, without a word, he ran away. He sprinted away from her towards the strip of businesses that were behind him, making a bee line for the five-dollar pizza place. Just when Alice thought he was going to go crashing through the front window, he vaulted himself into the air and cleared the roof of the building in a single leap. Alice stared in awe as he disappeared behind it.


    It had happened. She really had found another metahuman.


    Alice immediately gave chase, taking to the air and soaring above the tops of the houses, trying to keep an eye on him, but she could never have anticipated how fast he was. Within seconds the refugees in the parking lot were nearly a mile behind them. The man in the mask was sprinting, leaping from block to block, running nearly as fast as she could fly.


    She watched as he knocked over or destroyed the things he could not avoid. Fences. Mailboxes. Trees. She saw him plant his hands on top of a car to vault himself over it. The car roof dented in, and the window below shattered as he did.


    Alice looked ahead, trying to predict where he was going. Straight ahead, only a few blocks away, she realized they were headed for the Ferris wheel. The wind, whipping at her and forcing her to fly in a zigzag pattern, was rocking the Ferris wheel from side to side dangerously, certainly more than the structure was ever meant to manage, she guessed.


    As they approached the gigantic Ferris wheel, Alice could see that it sat on a beautiful boardwalk lined with shops, restaurants, and hotels. On the boardwalk in front of the Ferris wheel, directly under its shadow, huddled a small crowd of people and vehicles.


    A small building, probably an overpriced concessions place, had collapsed from the onslaught of wind and rain and wave. She could see firefighters and other emergency response people scurrying over the wreckage, pointing and shouting at one another. People must have been buried when the place caved in.


    Alice looked again at the enormous Ferris wheel rocking in the wind. A sign at its base illuminated by the flashing lights of half a dozen emergency vehicles read "Skywheel". It was positioned perfectly to crush the crowd of frantic rescuers as soon as its support struts gave way.


    And they did.


    There was a metallic groan from the base of the Skywheel, and people screamed and shouted as the huge, colossal frame stopped rocking and slowly started leaning. Alice could hear the almost electric twang of cables snapping. Soon it would fall and obliterate the boardwalk below, along with anyone still on it.


    Alice froze in the air and watched on in horror. At that moment, she realized she was witnessing a natural disaster in progress.


    People below started running as far away as they could from the shadow of the Skywheel. But one person was running towards it. Watching the disaster of the Skywheel unfold, Alice had almost forgotten about the man in the mask.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    He leapt from the boardwalk towards the Skywheel, an impossible jump that made her wonder if he could fly as well. He cocked his fist back by his ear and slammed it into the huge metal structure. A resounding clang blasted the air above the noise of the storm, and the Skywheel tipped back the other way, slowly crashing into the ocean.


    But the danger was far from over. As the man in black punched the Skywheel, the three compartments on top broke loose and fell, trailing broken struts and metal debris behind them.


    Perhaps because she''d already seen somebody take action, or maybe because the noise had shaken her out of her trance, Alice suddenly found herself in motion born of pure instinct. She flew straight at the nearest falling compartment, spurred on by the desperation to keep it from hitting the boardwalk and the people on it. Alice didn''t punch it like she''d seen the masked man do, nor did she even extend her arms to attempt a half-sensible push. She simply slammed into it with her shoulder and, by sheer luck, knocked into the second falling compartment, sending both spiraling into the ocean waves.


    The third and last piece of large falling debris, another compartment with a fifty-foot piece of frame attached to it, crunched harmlessly into an empty part of the boardwalk.


    Disoriented and still following the momentum of her collision course, Alice bounced off the boardwalk and fell into the sea. For the second time that afternoon, she was underwater, though this time her rise to the surface was unobstructed. She poked her head above the water only to catch a frothing wave in the face. She levitated herself above the breakers, coughing and sputtering sea water.


    Skywheel was a waterlogged wreck, with pieces of it washing along the resort beach for hundreds of meters in either direction. Alice could see the boardwalk and the dozens of rescue workers either still working to free the people trapped under the collapsed building or pointing out into the ocean in her direction.


    The most immediately noticeable thing, however, was the girl flying right in front of her. Alice wiped tendrils of hair dripping salt water from her face and stared.


    She wore a mask as well, one made of gray, plated fabric and goggles like an insect''s eyes. Long, fiery hair erupted from the back of it, tossing and whipping in the wind like a crimson war banner. Unlike the man Alice had followed, she wore no tee shirt, but a full-body suit. Plates of what must certainly be armor gave the woman bulk, changing her body shape, but Alice could tell she was a woman beneath it. What looked like metal struts framed her arms and legs, a sort of full-body brace. What caught Alice''s eye the most was what the woman was standing on. It was a sort of hovering platform built around a swiveling jet engine. Alice could see it adjusting as it compensated for gusts of wind to keep the girl hovering in one place.


    Machines, then. Not gifts. Not metahumans as she had thought. Alice''s gut sank like a stone. There would be no answers here for her unspoken questions. The mysteries in her life would remain mysteries, despite the incredible things she saw before her. She pressed her lips together and let the drops of icy rain and sea and tears roll down her face and disappear into the wind with her hopes.


    The woman on the flying machine, whoever she was, turned her attention from staring at Alice. She looked over her shoulder back to the boardwalk, where Alice could see three more masked individuals standing. One of them raised a finger in the air and began to spin it, drawing a circle in the air above his head. The woman nodded, and her flying machine made a lazy circle in the air back towards her group.


    Alice watched as a plane soon appeared overhead, a huge, blacker than black shape that was somehow both bulky and sleek at the same time, like a predatory whale. A cargo hatch appeared in the craft, gaping wide as a whale''s mouth, and the woman on the flying machine flew up to meet it with the other three trailing behind her on some kind of tether, the group of them looking like an absurd, tactical version of a hanging mobile.


    With a speed and fluidity only coordination and practice could produce, the four masked strangers disappeared into the belly of the black, flying whale, which turned and roared away into the low, angry clouds.


    When they were finally gone from view, Alice suddenly felt cold and vulnerable. She''d lost her goggles and gloves. her jacket was badly torn in several places. Her shoes were ruined, and she was soaking wet. She was miserable and discouraged and tired.


    She wrapped her arms around herself as she started to shiver, and she started her long flight home with one last wish still clinging to her lips: to not get lost on the way back.


    **********


    The holoscreen display on the table pieced together a three-dimensional image of the girl using all the footage they had of her from every angle. The result was a partial image. From the front and most of the left side, it was complete. The illusion wasn''t broken until Clawson walked to the girl''s right or the back, where the computer didn''t have enough data to construct an accurate representation. The result was a girl that looked like a shattered, moving piece of living pottery from the back, the only visible portions a mere shell with huge pieces missing to reveal a hollow space inside.


    Clawson scratched the growth of gray stubble on his chin and stared at the face of the girl. Limp, brown hair plastered to her smooth cheeks and whipping across her dark eyes. Sea water drenched her clothes, which clung to her frame and hung from it like overripe fruit. Clawson could guess from the image that she was tall for most women, almost six feet tall, and that she had squared, well defined shoulders. As of yet, the computers had not matched the girl''s face to a name, but that was merely a matter of time, he thought. Clawson''s intel team had access to every major government directory. With enough time, he would know who the girl was and who she worked for. At the moment, however, there were more pressing questions.


    "How is she flying?" he asked out loud.


    The room was silent, despite the six other people in the room who heard his question. Clawson scratched his stubble again and reached for a cup of stale coffee on the table nearby. He took a long, unsatisfying swallow and tried to rub the fatigue out of his eyes. Resting both hands on the table and leaning forward, he looked at the others seated at the table and tried again.


    "That wasn''t a rhetorical question. How is she flying?"


    It was Priscilla who spoke first.


    "Well, she wasn''t standing on a Sylph jet," she commented, referring to the machine she herself used in the field. "I didn''t see any other kind of tech. Whatever she had, it would have to be small. Compact."


    Clawson nodded. "Mr. Jaa, bring up schematics on any personal flight tech you know of. Let''s see if any of it fits our mystery girl."


    At the other end of the table, a young man''s hands flew across a keyboard with machine gun staccato, and the hologram floating above the round table split in two. One continued to show the girl, and the other began cycling through technical schematics of flying machines. Some of them were sets of wings, and others were platform personnel carriers like Priscilla''s Sylph jet. Some were stranger still, taking strange proportions and sprouting odd appendages that allowed a human to fly in a myriad of ways. Everyone watched as each image appeared and disappeared two seconds later, only to be replaced by something stranger and stranger.


    "So?" prompted Clawson. "Do any of these look familiar?"


    Priscilla shook her head, as did her brother, Joshua. Levi reclined in his chair and shrugged. Ethan didn''t respond. Clawson could see that he wasn''t watching the images of the flight tech at all, but the image of the girl. Clawson knew the boy was easily preoccupied by girls, and it wouldn''t have been surprising if Ethan had been distracted by the girls looks. The girl was, by any standard, a beautiful one, but the look on Ethan''s face seemed to have more concern in it than whimsy. Clawson knew all of Ethan''s tells, and why shouldn''t he? He''d watched the boy grow up right in front of him.


    "The Swan''s signal detection didn''t pick up anything nearby when we ex-filtrated," added Levi, the team''s vehicle and machinery specialist. "I checked the data. The girl had a phone and a portable GPS unit, the cheap kind you put in your car, and that was barely working. Nothing else that the Swan could see. If she was using flight tech, it wasn''t running on electricity."


    Clawson, and subsequently everyone in the room but Ethan, looked at the young man at the keyboard. Mr. Jaa, who all of the younger staff members referred to as Jolly, shrugged.


    "No such technology exists at this time," he explained to the others in his thick, Chinese accent. "All existing flight tech requires computers to regulate and control the machines. Any materials that could have shielded it from the Black Swan''s signal detection would have made it too heavy to fly or too bulky to conceal under her clothing. If this girl is indeed flying unassisted, she must be doing it using technology currently unknown to my department."


    Clawson heard the implication in that final statement. As far as he knew, there was no technology unknown to his department, not on the entire planet.


    "What about her strength?" asked Clawson. "She diverted fourteen hundred pounds of falling steel and fiberglass by hitting it with her shoulder. Can anyone explain that?"


    Athena spoke next. "Could be another combat frame, something lighter, stronger, and more compact than ours, hidden under her clothes."


    But I doubt it, was the unspoken comment Clawson could see in her dark eyes.


    "So, is this another contractor?" asked Levi, pointing up at the girl. "An ORIGIN copycat? Do you think somebody has put together a team like ours and is trying to work the same jobs? Or could this be a government agency?"


    "Has that ever happened before?" asked Joshua. "Have there ever been other teams like us out there? I''ve never heard of ''em."


    "There might be one or two," answered Clawson, "but that''s not what this is."


    Clawson looked again at Ethan, who was still staring at the hologram of the girl.


    "You''re all dismissed," Clawson said to everyone in the room. "I''ll brief you on anything else we find out about our mystery girl from the sky."


    Everyone climbed out of their chairs from around the round table and began to file out of the room through the guarded double doors.


    "Athena and Ethan, I want you both to stay."


    When they joined him, Clawson turned to Ethan.


    "You saw her the most, Ethan. She followed you from the trailer park all the way to the boardwalk. When you left, she left. What do you make of this? Did you notice anything about her? Anything unusual?"


    Ethan grinned at him. "Unusual?" he smirked. "Like, say, that she was flying for no apparent reason? That kind of unusual?"


    Clawson gritted his teeth. He didn''t have time for these kinds of childish games. Not from him. Not today. He hadn''t slept in thirty hours for all the work he''d been doing, and he had no desire for him to make his day more demanding than it already had been.


    "Just give him a straight answer," cut in Athena.


    "How did you react when you saw her?" Clawson asked, silently praying for Ethan to turn down this obvious opportunity for humor, for once. "Did you have an immediate reaction or impression? Did she seem familiar in any way?"


    Ethan''s face fell for a moment. His usual childish grin parted like a curtain, and Clawson actually saw the young man look thoughtful, which spoke volumes more than the boy''s actual answer.


    "I don''t know. Maybe."


    "Maybe?" Clawson repeated.


    "Yeah, well," the boy was looking down at the table, "there might have been something. I don''t know. She looked different from everyone else, you know? Like, brighter, maybe."


    Then the moment was gone.


    "Honestly, I don''t know what you''re looking for Clawson. A girl appears in front of me flying twenty feet off the ground, and you''re asking me if I noticed anything odd. What would qualify? That she was left-handed? She wears socks with sandals?"


    The boy laughed and turned for the door. Almost there, he looked over his shoulder.


    "Can I go?" he asked.


    Clawson nodded.


    When the doors swung shut again, he turned back to Athena. He looked at her, an expression on his face that asked, What do you think? It was a look Athena was quite familiar with.


    "I think he was telling the truth. I think there was something about her that stood out to him. Something we might not understand," she said.


    "You think she might be metahuman," he said.


    She shrugged. "We gave up that search nearly twenty years ago because we had nothing to show for it. Now she just appears, literally floating right in front of us?" She shook her head. "That sounds too easy."


    "Yeah, well, you never trust easy things," he smiled.


    "I''ve never seen an easy thing," she corrected him. "Have you?"


    Clawson nodded with understanding and drained the last bitter swallow of coffee.


    "There''s nothing easy about any of this." He removed something from his pocket. It was about the size of an apple that had been cut in half. The semi-hemispherical object was a dome of shiny, black plastic. "Bravo team found more of these around the boardwalk, all within line-of-sight of the Ferris wheel."


    Athena let out a breath through her nose as she stared at it. "More cameras?" she asked. "Like the ones we found on the cargo ship?"


    Clawson nodded, tossing the simple, cheap device into the air and catching it again, like a boy playing with a ball. "Same design," he said. "And just like before, no fingerprints, no DNA. No evidence to suggest who could have made them."


    "Who could have made them?" Athena repeated, exasperated. "Who couldn''t have made them? School kids make things more technically complex than those in shop class. You could find the materials to make something like this in thousands of stores across the country. And that''s not including online vendors. There''s nothing about these things that can tell us anything."


    Clawson shook his head and pocketed the little camera once again. "The fact they''re there at all tells us some things. It tells us we''re being watched. Maybe even studied. Myrtle Beach. The cargo ship. Lebanon. Tanzania. San Diego."


    Athena looked truly uneasy then. "You think someone''s been watching us that long?"


    Clawson shrugged. "I suspect we may have been dancing to someone else''s music for a few months now. Someone is causing things to happen. Someone wants to watch us work, to see us in motion, to study our operations. And their favorite bait is human victims. I''m willing to bet that if we take a closer look at that Ferris wheel, we''ll probably find signs of sabotage."


    The two of them were quiet for a moment. Then Athena broke the silence.


    "We''re talking more than just espionage, more than simple terrorism. You think that''s what we''re up against here? Someone that deranged? That crazy? That they''d endanger the lives of hundreds of people just to get a chance to see us in action?"


    Clawson looked her in the eye, a hard, serious expression on his face.


    "I think they''d do a lot more than endanger lives. About eleven miles from where we rescued that cargo ship, there''s a Somali village. Homeland Security has suspected this place as a possible haven for pirates."


    "Sounds like a good place to pick up some leads," suggested Athena.


    Clawson shook his head. "Not in the way you''d think. It''s gone. The entire village. Every inhabitant massacred. Every structure has been burned to the ground. I just found out two days ago. Government satellites saw the results. At this time, no suspects."


    "An enemy that murders to keep its secrets is a dangerous one to have," she commented. Then Athena looked up at the slowly rotating holographic image of the flying girl. "How do you figure she fits into all of this?" she asked.


    He shrugged again. "I don''t know if there''s a connection there, but it''s quite a coincidence. We discover that we''re being watched by an unknown enemy element, one that seems to know a whole lot more about us than we do about them, and suddenly a metahuman girl literally falls out of the sky right in front of us. The timing of all this is...unsettling."


    "Do you think she''s connected to all that?"


    "It''s too early to tell," he answered. "If she is connected with someone or something dangerous, we''ll have more luck figuring it out if we can find her and investigate her ourselves. But something tells me she''s not a threat. Whoever is watching us might be watching her, too. Maybe. It''s just a gut feeling, for what that''s worth. Have Jaa fire up the Angelus. I want it calibrated in twenty-four hours."


    "You think you''ll find her that quickly?" Athena asked.


    Clawson looked at the hologram of the young girl one more time.


    "I don''t know exactly when we''ll see her again," answered Clawson. "But I want to be ready when we do. I think she might have been there to find us. If that''s true, we might be seeing her again a lot sooner than you''d think."


    Athena nodded. She turned on her heel and left to notify the head of their technical division of his new orders. Clawson was alone after that, alone with the hologram of the girl. He searched her features, looking at her every facial feature, searching her lips, her chin, and even her eye color for something familiar to him. It wasn''t long before he admitted defeat and retired to his personal living quarters and the bed he saw far, far too infrequently.


    Clawson slept for four hours after that. He awoke when the intel team notified him that they had a name.

 Chapter 6: Found

    Alice had no idea how long it took her to get home. It felt like an eternity. She didn''t even remember anything about the landscape, really, except that she eventually found the interstate and followed it all the way home.


    It was late when she finally crawled in through her bedroom window. The apartment was dark and quiet, and she supposed her mother would have gone to bed by now. She wanted nothing more than to do the same. She didn''t even bother showering. She peeled off her clothes and left them in a big, sopping pile on the floor and crawled under the comforter on her bed.


    When she awoke the next morning, there were leaves and drying mud on her pillow from her hair. Her floor was in a similar state, and she realized she would have to clean the mess if she didn''t want her mom to ask questions.


    Alice looked up to see her mom standing in her doorway. "Where were you last night?"


    Alice thought to make an excuse, or maybe to lie to spare her mom the worry. What could she say? That she''d been out late on her date? She looked around her room and remembered her wet, muddy clothes were still in a heap at the foot of her bed, and a streak of brown marks speckled with grit and leaves adorned her windowsill where she squeezed in. Alice realized with a sigh that lying about all this would have been pointless.


    "I''m sorry," she said as she sat up and pulled away the hair plastered to her face. "It was late, but I didn''t check the time."


    Her mother stared at her, eyes narrowed. "I know it was late, I waited up for you," she grumbled. "I slept really badly."


    And without another word on the matter, she left Alice alone in her room with her muddy mess and her troubled conscience. Alice groaned and tried rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She was terrible at keeping secrets from her mom, and she knew she would have to come to an understanding with her if she was going to keep adventuring out into the world the way she had been. That is, if she kept adventuring out into the world. The whole point of sneaking out to chase disasters had been to find more metahumans, and she had instead found normal people using machines. She realized she didn''t know what to do with herself now. The only certainty left her was her desire for breakfast and a shower.


    After scouring her apartment for food¡ªheavens, she was hungry¡ªshe grabbed a spray bottle and a rag and went to work. As she scrubbed at the crusted mud on her floor, she listened to Freddy Mercury''s voice as he sang "Bohemian Rhapsody" and reflected on just how well some of the lyrics seemed to sum up her feeling that everything that had just happened felt just as much like a dream.


    It makes me wonder if this is the real life, or if it is just fantasy?


    Her rescue of the woman in the trailer park and the people on the boardwalk seemed like something out of a movie, and yet there she was, scrubbing the evidence of her adventure from the floor with a rag. The whole experience still had her head spinning. She''d done things she''d never dared before that day. She''d shown her powers in public. She''d exposed herself to other heroes, though they hadn''t turned out to be exactly what she thought they were. She''d put herself in harm''s way. She had grown up her whole life without ever having been truly injured, but getting out of bed that morning, she''d discovered her very first bruise. In fact, there were several spotting on her shoulder and arms where she''d hit the falling pieces of the Skywheel.


    She''d also saved people''s lives. It felt ridiculous to believe she had ever done such a thing, like a child believing she''d performed a feat of real magic, and yet she had done it. She saved that woman from the flooded trailer park, and she''d saved those people on the boardwalk. It made her feel...what? Proud of herself? Hardly. She knew she''d fumbled her way through each "heroic" deed. She could very easily have failed or made the situation worse, but somehow, she hadn''t. Somehow, everything had turned out all right.


    What would Dad think?


    It wasn''t until her shower ran out of hot water, forcing her to go out and face the day, that she wondered what her mom might think.


    "Good morning, Mama" Alice greeted her as she finally left her room. She was doing her best to sound as calm as casual as possible.


    Her mother looked up from her mug of chamomile and smiled. "How''s my girl this morning? You look tired."


    Maryanne was cradling her cup in her hands and peeking through the blinds to the street below. She turned and looked at her daughter with a long, thoughtful sip from her cup.


    "What are you looking at?" Alice tried again. "Are you stalking someone down there?"


    "No, I''m looking at you. Are you alright?" Maryanne gave her daughter a knowing look, then she left the window to deposit her empty cup in the kitchen.


    Alice''s smile faded. A feeling was rising in her stomach now. "What do you mean?"


    Her mother held up a hand to quiet her, as though listening for something. Alice fell silent and strained her ears. For a moment, there was something unusual. A buzzing sound. It might have been some kind of insect, but it sounded mechanical to Alice. It sounded like it was coming from outside, but it only lasted for a moment.


    "There are little things I''ve noticed," her mom answered, finally breaking their silence after a moment. "Interesting people on the street below. How long has that van been parked across the street from us?"


    Alice walked to the window and peeked through the parted blinds. There was, indeed, a van there. It was an ordinary-looking panel van, the sort that might be used by the power company or a plumber. The sign on the side read "Department of Emergency Resource Management" on the side in brown letters.


    "I don''t know, Mom. It looks like a utility service or government or something." The moment she said the word "government", her mouth went dry, and the air seemed to grow very thin. She closed the blinds and turned, realizing with a start that her mother had silently come from behind her and had been looking through the blinds at the same van.


    Am I being watched?


    Alice had once gone hiking with her mother in Germany. The trail had many switchbacks through rocky, beautiful foothills. At one point, Alice''s foot had slipped when she''d walked a little too close to the edge of the trail. It had been no more than a minor stumble for her, sending a handful of rocks tumbling down a steep, gravelly incline. But those rocks had loosened others, and a chain reaction began. What had begun as a misstep and a few small stones eventually transformed into a rockslide that sent broken boulders the size of basketballs crashing onto the trail below, rendering it practically impossible for hikers to traverse. No one had been hurt. There hadn''t even been any other hikers around at the time, but Alice never forgot the sinking feeling in her stomach as she watched her little slip become a destructive force beyond her control. She was beginning to feel that sinking feeling again.


    Did I just start a landslide? Am I about to face the consequences of my actions last night?


    Her mom pulled her hand and led her to the living room couch, nudging her to sit.


    "Tell me truthfully, Alice. Did anything happen recently? Did you do anything that might attract the attention of some people?"


    Alice shrugged. She shifted uncomfortably, wishing she could dash back in her room. "We''re probably just being paranoid." She wished she was as confident with that answer as she was trying to sound.


    "What do you have to be paranoid about, sweetheart?" she asked with one eyebrow raised. Suspicious.


    Relax, Alice commanded herself. There''s no need to make her worry. She doesn''t need to know about yesterday. It''s not like she can read my mind. Can she?


    "Honestly, Mom, it''s nothing. Please don''t give me that look."


    "What look?" she asked innocently.


    "That look," Alice answered, pointing to her eyebrow. "The look that says you think I''m up to something. It''s not what you think."


    "Really? What do I think?" she said, leaning forward. Alice shook her head.


    "I know you''ve been flying in public."


    Alice froze. She felt trapped in a lie of omission, and she was never any good at it. She hesitated before turning to face her mom.


    "I have been," she admitted, trying not to look like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar, "but I''ve been responsible. No one''s seen me."


    Her mom made a said nothing but picked up the remote for their TV from the couch and pressed a button. The TV on the wall came to life, turned on to some pre-recorded program. Her mom hit play on the recording, and a news anchor narrated a blurry video of an event in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. The video showed a black, shapeless object flying through a grey sky...and colliding with a falling piece of a collapsing Ferris wheel.


    "Metahumans seen at Myrtle Beach," read the headline.


    "Many people fleeing the hurricane reported seeing metahumans in the city," reported the anchor. "Those stories seem to agree there were at least two: a young man with incredible strength and, of course, the flying young woman seen in this footage..."


    "So, you were wrong," her mother said, pausing the program, "about not being seen."


    Alice glared at a vacant spot on the carpet. It was suddenly much easier to look at it than at her own mother.


    Her mom reached out a gentle hand, raised Alice''s chin, and held her gaze. She looked at her daughter for what seemed a long time. "I hope you know what you''re doing." She finally said.


    "No one saw who I was," Alice tried again, pointing at the screen. "I mean, yes, they saw me, but they didn''t see my face. They have no idea who I am!"


    "Alice, I knew a long time ago that you were eventually going to leave home and start experimenting with your..." Maryanne searched the air above her head for the right word, "gifts. And I knew there would be consequences when you did. I accept that. I also accept that you have a need for privacy now, so I can understand when you don''t tell me everything that''s been going on with you. I''ve turned a blind eye to your mysterious comings and goings because I know there''s a lot you need to figure out. But now the consequences of your choices may be putting us at risk."


    Alice knew her mom was right. Her choices had consequences, alright, and they affected more than just her. If her mother was going to have to live with them, she had a right to know. She told her the truth about what had happened in South Carolina the day before, though she left out any details she thought might make her mom fear for her safety. Like nearly drowning under the SUV. However, her mom seemed to read between the lines and guessed all the danger Alice left out.


    "Mom," she protested when her mother huffed at Alice''s claims that she was never in real danger, "I ran headfirst into a Ferris wheel and came out without a scratch. You really don''t have to worry about me getting hurt. Because if that couldn''t do it, nothing will."


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    "Oh, you''re wrong about that, too," she corrected her daughter gently. "There''s not much that can injure you physically. You''ve never had so much as a broken bone. But there''s plenty that can hurt you. You feel pain just like everyone else."


    Alice sighed. She knew her mom was right, of course. She did feel pain whenever she fell down, or whenever she stubbed her toe, or whenever she got a little too careless while slicing vegetables with a kitchen knife. She even cried sometimes whenever those things happened. She was proud of the fact that she was strong. She sometimes imagined that made her powerful in some way, even if she never made much use of it beyond helping her mom move furniture from time to time. She never got sick. She''d never had a blister or a cavity or even a torn fingernail, but she felt pain. She could feel the sharp point of a knife or a needle on her skin. She felt burns from a hot stove. She got cold when it rained or snowed, and she got brain freeze when she drank milkshakes too fast. She felt plenty of pain, but she never had a mark to show for it.


    Except for the bruises on her arms. It suddenly occurred to her that she''d chosen to wear a short-sleeved printed tee. Of course, her mom could see the bruises, but she''d chosen not to say anything about them. Alice suddenly felt a knot in her stomach for making her mom worry.


    "So, did you get to talk to the boy?" she asked, changing the subject.


    "No," Alice answered, the weight of disappointment settling on her once again. "Well, I did. Kind of. I said ''Hi'' to him."


    Her mom laughed with surprise.


    "You went through all the trouble of flying down there, and you didn''t get any answers at all? You didn''t ask him anything? Was he gifted like you?"


    Alice drew her knees up to her chest and looked at her mother. "He''s not like me, Mom. None of them were. They''re not...gifted, you know?" she said.


    "Are you sure?" her mom pressed.


    "It''s all machines. I don''t know how, but they''re doing it with science or something." Alice buried her face in her knees and sighed.


    Her mom didn''t answer right away. She stroked Alice''s back and hair while they shared in the silence. After a moment she stood from the couch, and Alice followed her to the table. There was a box of pastries from their favorite bakery. Her mother had already gone out that morning, it seemed.


    "I know that must be so frustrating for you. It must have been exciting to think you might find someone out there who was like you."


    Alice''s mom had no gift for cooking, but she had commendable taste. Alice consoled herself with chocolate and almond biscotti, raspberry-pistachio tarts, and cannoli dripping with hazelnut cream. The two of them ate slowly, relishing in the silence of good eating. Somehow, the food made all the frustrations and anxieties of that morning seem just a little less daunting. Her world was a safe one.


    Maybe it''s better I didn''t find what I was looking for, Alice thought to herself as she licked a smudge of cream from her fingertip. Maybe I shouldn''t go looking for answers. Maybe, if I''m patient, some of them will come to me.


    Alice''s peace of mind only lasted as long as her mom stayed home with her. They listened to music while Alice filled out college applications and her mother busied herself around the apartment. But after an hour, Maryanne announced she was leaving for work, another twelve-hour shift at the hospital''s maternity ward. Then she was gone, taking the good cheer and atmosphere of safety with her.


    After a whole morning of talking to her mother, the mostly empty space seemed so quiet. It would be hours before she had to go to her own job. She forced herself to stay away from the windows, knowing that if that van was still across the street, it would only make her more nervous than she was. Instead, she tried to distract herself. She took out her phone and scrolled through her contacts, wondering if she should join Christine for a night out after Morena Rose closed. Truthfully, she didn''t know if she wanted to go out or not. She wondered if she would be jumping at every shadow she saw, but she found herself unwilling to spend the evening alone in all the murky silence.


    Four sharp knocks sliced through her thin nerves, shocking her to her core. Her heart leapt so high it nearly choked her. It was a moment before she realized it was someone at the door. She nearly tripped over the couch as she crossed her apartment, so distracted she was by the thumping in her chest.


    What do I really have to be afraid of? What is the worst thing that could be beyond that door? Two men in black suits and sunglasses? Government agents, with tasers and chloroform and a van to pack me away in? Off to some laboratory where I would be studied like a zoo animal? If there were such men here to collect me, would they be able to? If such men were here, would they bother knocking?


    She thought she was prepared to see just about anything as she stared through the peephole of her front door, but a single deliveryman still managed to surprise her. She let out a long breath.


    Get a hold of yourself. You just flew through a hurricane, rescued people from certain death or injury, and chased strange a masked man across a city. One deliveryman hardly seems a good enough reason to be jumping out of my skin!


    He smiled as she opened the door. He asked for her by name, and when she answered, he handed over a large, flat envelope. Whatever it was inside, it was the size of a large tablet computer and protected by a layer of protective bubble wrap. She thought perhaps it was something her mother may have ordered online, but she saw that it was addressed to her. Also curious was the lack of a return address. There were no markings whatsoever on the package that said where it had come from.


    The deliveryman himself should not have been remarkable. He was older than her, but certainly not so much older. His eyes, dark and nearly hidden under heavy, thick eyebrows, were friendly. He was clean shaven, and he wore the brown uniform she recognized, and there was nothing about his appearance or behavior that suggested he had intentions of kidnapping her and dissecting her in the name of science.


    But is he looking at me with just a little too much curiosity? Is he just a little too interested in me to just be a normal delivery guy? Or is it just my imagination?


    But he turned and left as soon as she''d signed his tablet, flashing what might have been a bemused grin before disappearing down the hallway in the direction of the elevator. Then she was alone. He hadn''t tried to kidnap her or arrest her or question her. A normal deliveryman. True, the package was unexpected, but what of it? She was safe here in her home.


    All the same, Alice made sure the deadbolt was locked and secure before she turned her back on the door.


    She was in her room when she finally tore the envelope to see what was inside. She''d guessed it was a tablet computer, and now that it was out of its packaging, she could see she hadn''t been far wrong. It was an electronic device a little larger than a notebook. It was flat, sleek, and matte black. Seams ran along the device in elegant lines, though she could find no screen, hinges, or lid. She found that very curious.


    Then, without having touched any kind of power switch, she could both hear and feel the object hum to life. The sudden signs of electronic life startled her, and she gave out a little shriek as she dropped the thing on the foot of her bed and backed away from it, unsure of what to expect. What she did not expect at all was for it to begin changing shape and moving.


    The device sprouted two small pods, each housing a lens, cameras like a crab''s eyes. They swiveled around the room, each lighting on the surroundings independently until they both settled on Alice. An aperture on top hissed open, and a flat, circular panel of glass glowed like a miniature sun, casting up a pillar of light that painted her room in shades of emerald.


    Pixel by pixel, the head of a man the size of her torso appeared in the air above the device. It was a hologram, Alice realized. It was slightly green and transparent. Waves of pixels washed over it as it moved, the face turning to face her as she backed away towards the door.


    "Ms. Fillmore?" said a man''s voice. "There''s no need to be alarmed. I''m not trying to scare you. You aren''t in any kind of trouble. I just want to have a few words with you, if that''s alright." It came from speakers mounted on the hologram device, and his voice rang as clear as if he''d stood right in front of her. If she''d closed her eyes and listened, she might have believed she really wasn''t alone in the room. He sounded calm and friendly. Nonthreatening. But that did nothing to settle her frayed nerves.


    "By the way, this is not a recording. I am speaking to you in real time. I hope you''ll forgive the way I arranged our meeting. I simply needed a way to ensure that we spoke only when you were alone."


    His face looked quite ordinary. He was older, perhaps in his sixties. His eyes were slanted with wrinkles at the corners and on his brow. His hair was cropped short and heavily speckled with gray. The lines on his olive-tinted, shaved face were deep. Alice might have guessed he was a military man for his grooming and the hard set to his mouth.


    "My name is Gregory Clawson."


    I am Oz, the great and powerful!


    Alice had to cover her mouth. Her raw nerves had chosen the most awkward moment to wreak havoc with her sense of humor. She suddenly could see the great, green head of the Wizard of Oz in her imagination, and the ridiculous similarity it bore to the apparition floating in her room was driving her to a nervous, hysterical fit of giggles.


    "I represent an agency that has a great interest in you and your unique abilities," Clawson continued. "I would love to meet with you so we can speak in person."


    Alice quickly looked around her, nervous to take her eyes off the head, but more nervous still that someone might be there in her apartment, someone other than the digital phantom of Gregory Clawson. She halfway expected to find a group of masked men in the room with her, slowly preparing to surprise her from behind.


    "You need not worry, Miss Fillmore. You are alone. I would not enter your home without your permission."


    "Where are you?" Alice blurted more urgently than she intended.


    "I''m in a vehicle across the street," the hologram answered.


    Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!


    "I''m very eager to meet with you in person. Would it be convenient if I came in to speak with you now?"


    "It''s not," Alice answered quickly. "It''s not convenient. You can''t come in."


    What do you want from me?


    "Why are you here?" she asked.


    "Ms. Fillmore, as I said, I''m from an agency, not the government, but we work closely with them. I''m investigating some things that have happened recently and I just wanted to ask you a few questions. I can come back another time, if you like. Or we can meet somewhere else if that makes you more comfortable. But it''s very important that we talk."


    Alice didn''t say anything for a moment. She felt she knew for certain the "things that have happened recently" had to do with a hurricane in South Carolina. What would happen to her if she met with this man somewhere? She imagined men in masks capturing her and throwing her in the back of a van, even though she knew she was not supposed to be threatened by such things. Though she''d never tested her physical strength against a person, she had distinct memories of tearing through metal with her fingers the night her father died. She was sure that, faced against even a team of attackers, she wasn''t likely to be easily overwhelmed. However, these people weren''t muggers or purse snatchers or any other kind of average criminal. Who knew what they were capable of?


    What could you possibly want from me?


    "We can talk like this," she said. "I don''t know you, and I don''t feel okay with meeting you somewhere, but if you want to talk, I''ll listen."


    The hologram frowned, the deep creases revealing just how disappointed this Gregory Clawson was with her answer.


    "Ms. Fillmore," he began, "do you know why I asked to meet with you?"


    "I don''t even know who you are," Alice said flatly. It was a ruder response than she''d meant to give, but she was unnerved.


    If she''d insulted him with her tone, the man didn''t show it.


    "As I said before, you''re not in any trouble," he said. "I just want to ask you some questions about your activities in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina yesterday."


    "I''ve never been to South Carolina," she lied. It made her sick to say it. Alice hated dishonesty. It never set well with her, and it made her too uncomfortable to do it convincingly.


    "You didn''t break any laws," he went on, ignoring her lie. Then he paused and shrugged thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose you might have violated some air traffic laws, but you might have to be in an aircraft to commit them. The jury''s still out on whether those laws apply to someone who can fly without the help of any machinery. But still. You did some very good things out there. Saving that woman from the trailer park, and those people from the Skywheel''s falling debris. I''m sure authorities would be willing to overlook a lot for all that."


    Alice could feel her cheeks growing hot. "I don''t know what you''re talking about," She tried again. She knew it was lame. He obviously knew everything. But how?


    "I know you must have been eager to meet our team member, the one you saw at the trailer park. We saw the way you took off after him when he left you for the Skywheel. I imagine you have some questions. However, if you would still like to meet him, I can arrange a get together for you two. I just ask that you talk to me for a little while. No more lies. No secrets. Just be honest.


    "And if this goes well, you might find that I have a lot more to offer you than a simple meeting."


    Alice narrowed her eyes. Is this what the man meant to bait her with?


    "I''m not interested in meeting him," she corrected the hologram.


    The hologram raised its eyebrows.


    "Oh? And why not? I thought you were eager to meet someone like you, a metahuman."


    Alice''s mouth hung open, surprised at first that the man would know. But the shock of his insight soon passed.


    Of course, he knows what I am. He''s seen me fly.


    "I saw the machines," she said once she found her words. "Those heroes I saw on the news? They''re not metahumans. They use machines, right? Technology or whatever."


    "Yes," Clawson agreed. "All but one."


    Alice stared at Clawson''s phantom. It wore an expression of satisfaction.


    Is it true? Is there one of them who''s like me? Someone with gifts? Someone with answers?


    "Let''s meet," he said again.


    "I don''t know," she said, after a long pause. "Let me think about it."


    "Whenever you''re ready," the hologram instructed, "just touch the flashing button on top."


    The head suddenly disintegrated into a million crumbling points of light, collapsing back into the flat, round panel of glass on top of the machine. The device folded in on itself, each of the eye-like camera''s disappearing into the sleek shape until it sat nearly lifeless on her bed again.


    The only sign that the flat, dark object had ever been anything extraordinary was the pulsing, round button on top as big around as a bottle cap. It cast golden light on the surfaces of Alice''s room, a dark machine with its own golden heartbeat.

 Chapter 7: Farm

    Maryanne stared at the black device pulsing with yellow light on her kitchen table. Alice had seen her mother angry before, but it was rare to see her truly furious. She could see muscles tensing and throbbing beneath the side of her mother''s head, veins standing on her clenched hands. She had a look in her eyes that Alice would have been afraid to have pointed in her direction, superhuman powers or no.


    "Where''s the button," Maryanne said in a cold, sharp voice.


    Alice was beginning to regret saying anything about the holographic message. She had her doubts of what she should say about it. She had huddled alone in her apartment after Gregory Clawson''s face had disappeared, alone with her worries and her fears, and with her desires too. She''d been looking for a way to use her potential, to learn how to use her powers to help people, and here she was being offered a way to help. By the same people behind the heroes she''d seen saving people in a hurricane, no less. It was frightening to have a secretive organization suddenly requesting to see her in person but thrilling too. And she''d not known what to do about it, so she''d just tried carrying on with her day as though nothing unusual had happened.


    "Alice," her mom''s voice rumbled again, "press the button."


    After her encounter with the glowing head, Alice had gone to work visibly shaken, and Christine had known immediately that Alice was not feeling right. She''d placed her hand on Alice''s forehead, checked the color of her tongue, and even checked Alice''s pulse before declaring with absolute certainty that Alice had something called "la gripe" and sent her home to rest, promising to come by soon with her family''s best remedies.


    But Alice wasn''t happy to be back in her apartment once again alone with the holographic device. It felt a lot like stranger danger. She didn''t like the way it slowly flashed its yellow button on top, the button that would summon the man named Clawson again to accept his offer to meet, so she''d covered it with a blanket and did her best to ignore it.


    But that became impossible once her mother had come home from her nursing shift. Overwhelmed by her terrible secret, Alice disclosed everything as soon as Maryanne asked Alice about her day.


    Impatient to wait on her daughter, Maryanne tried pressing the button herself, but nothing happened.


    Clawson did say he wanted to speak to me alone, Alice thought. Maybe the device is designed to only respond to my touch.


    Maryanne seemed to come to the same conclusion after trying again and failing to get more than just the steady pulse of yellow light.


    "Alice, would you be so kind as to press the button for me?" she seethed. When she saw her daughter hesitate to come closer, Maryanne forced a smile onto her face. "Not to worry, my girl. I''m not upset at you. I just want to have a conversation with the man who spoke to you."


    There was something about the way she said the word "conversation" that made Alice think she could have said "knife fight" instead without changing the overall meaning.


    "Sorry," she surrendered, walking towards the device and reaching out an unsteady hand. "I''m sorry," she repeated. Why did she feel the need to keep apologizing? Maybe it was because she felt she''d dragged her mother into all this by allowing herself to be seen in public. Then again, maybe it was because she could feel what was coming for Clawson if he dared to appear.


    Please let this not end badly.


    She pressed the button.


    The device once again sprouted the crab-like stalk-eyes that scanned the room. Did they seem to stop on Maryanne for a moment? Was Clawson on the other end of this, considering whether to appear in the presence of Alice''s mother?


    After a pregnant pause, the green-tinted, three-dimensional image of a man''s face appeared suspended in a beam of light above the device''s holographic lens.


    "Good evening," he said in round, pleasant tones. "You must be Mrs. Fillmore. My name is Gregory Clawson, director of..." but he never got to finish his polite greeting.


    "Who do you think you are!" Maryanne roared at the hologram, jabbing her finger at him as though it were a serrated knife. "You invade our privacy, you approach my teenage daughter without my permission, you put some kind of weird machine in my home! Do you have children Mr. Clawson!?"


    If it were possible to stab someone to death with just a look, Gregory Clawson''s body would have no longer been identifiable for lack of a face. Alice felt herself withering from her mom''s fury, and it wasn''t even directed at her.


    Clawson, who looked before as clipped and precise as a man used to being in charge, was suddenly stumbling over his own words. Alice was able to make out words like "deepest apologies" and "only the best intentions", but most of his sentences failed to complete themselves, being swept away by Maryanne''s verbal assault like umbrellas in a hurricane.


    "I don''t care if you''re government, I don''t care if you''re the president of the United States! Don''t you ever, EVER come into my house without my permission! And don''t you EVER talk to my daughter again!"


    Alice could sense the situation was quickly spiraling out of her control. She''d been frightened to be approached by these people so unexpectedly, but she was also afraid of missing out on what Clawson had offered her. Her chance to be a part of something that used her power, her chance to speak to another metahuman, maybe the only other person like her in the entire world, might evaporate if her mother continued to batter him.


    She even was starting to feel sorry for Clawson, whose veneer of calm and control was beginning to slip. Alice was beginning to see glimpses of a man who''d realized he''d been caught doing something very embarrassing and inappropriate. Her mom was currently shouting at him so voraciously that she might leave teeth marks on the hologram.


    "...if I even hear one of those little buzzing things snooping around my apartment again, I swear I will find you, bring it to your home, and shove it up your...!"


    "Mom!" Alice interjected, stepping between her and the hologram and holding up her hands in a gesture of peace. "Mom, let''s just calm down, and...I don''t know, talk for a minute?"


    When that furious, barbed gaze fell on her, Alice hesitated, "Please? I think we really need to talk about this."


    Maryanne disdainfully tossed the blanket that had covered the device before over it again. The hologram fizzled and disintegrated, and a ghostly glow shone through the fabric.


    Alice pulled her mother into her room and tried explaining herself. Her words tumbled out, almost tripping over themselves in their rush to get out. She explained her desire to find a use for her power. She tried explaining her need for someone to help her, to guide her and teach her how to use them. She apologized a lot. And she mentioned her father.


    Maryanne listened, a fiery volcano slowly cooling as it met with the sea.


    "I just feel like if I don''t do something," Alice clarified, as though she were having to untangle the mass of words and emotions that had come spilling out of her, "I think that...that Dad might...that I would be..." but there was nothing for it. There seemed to be no words in the whole world that could possibly express this need she had.


    Maryanne, it seemed, was able to hear what her daughter felt more than what she said. She took her daughter''s hands in her own.


    "I think I get it," she said. Her voice was calm, but heat still lingered on her words, like doused iron from a forge still glowing at its center. "Maybe we can work out something with..." she waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the hologram in the other room. "But it''s still my job to protect you."


    The two of them returned to the device, and Maryanne snatched the blanket off it. The hologram returned, regenerating like a video of a melting ice sculpture played in reverse. Clawson''s face reappeared, saying nothing. His stoic face was that of a man resigned, a convict awaiting a sentence from the judge.


    "Alright, Mr. Clawson," Maryanne conceded. "You want to meet with my daughter in person? Fine. But there will be some conditions."


    **********


    Alice took a deep breath. As the giant green head had promised, a black car was waiting for her on the street just outside her apartment. It was sleek and expensive looking, not unlike the holographic tablet projector she had clutched in her hands.


    These people sure seem to have a thing for shiny black things. Like villains out of a science fiction movie. I wonder if I should be worried.


    As she approached, the driver appeared and opened the door for her. Once closer, she could see his face clearly, a clean-shaven face with dark eyes hidden beneath heavy dark eyebrows. A familiar face. She stared slack-jawed at him as she slowly mentally changed his outfit from a dark suit to the brown deliveryman uniform.


    "You," she declared, trading glances between him and the black projector in her hand, "you were the..."


    "I''m Levi," he finished for her, extending his hand. Alice shook it, noticing that his grip was strong, his hands rough with calluses.


    Not the hands of a chauffeur, she realized, nor even that of a deliveryman.


    "We''ve seen each other before," he continued, leaning on the open car door. "Even before yesterday. Though, it was only for a moment, and you may not have recognized me. I was wearing a mask at the time."


    Alice thought back to the masked figures she saw at the boardwalk, remembered them rising through the stormy air and disappearing into the bowels of an enormous black aircraft. Was he the one? Was he the metahuman Clawson spoke of?


    Stolen novel; please report.


    "Please," he said, gesturing to the interior of the car. "We are very excited to get started. We have a lot we''d like to show you."


    Alice stared into the interior of the car and hesitated. It was lushly upholstered with rich, creamy leather seats and polished wood accents gleaming in the sunlight. It was so pristine, she wondered if she was clean enough to get in.


    "Alright, then. Let''s not waste time out here." Maryanne politely shouldered past her daughter and climbed into the back seat while Levi held the door. "Alice, honey, we should probably get going. I''m sure Mr. Levi doesn''t want to attract attention to us out here on the street."


    Alice sighed. This was one of the conditions her mom had set for allowing Alice to meet with him and his agency. Alice was relieved to have her mom with her, to not have to face this alone, but a part of her, perhaps the more rebellious side of her felt a hint of embarrassment at being escorted by her mother, like a girl at her first high school dance. Still, her fear of getting into that car by herself was greater than any embarrassment her mother''s protection might cause her.


    "Oh, and know this, Mr. Levi," Maryanne said leaning out of the open door to look the chauffeur in the eye, "I left instructions with several friends and acquaintances of mine. If they do not hear from me, or if we are not returned to our home by six o''clock this evening, they are to contact the authorities and the media and let them know what happened to me and my daughter. Do you understand?"


    Levi gave a bemused smile. "Perfectly, Mrs. Fillmore. Six o''clock. I understand."


    Maryanne shifted her gaze to her daughter and gave her a nod. "Are you ready?"


    Alice nodded and took a step towards the car.


    This is it. It all begins here. The moment I take a seat in that car, nothing will ever be the same.


    "Hi, Friend! Are you feeling better already?"


    Alice turned to see Christine jogging to catch her, a paper bag held in her hand.


    "Hey!" Alice answered in surprise. She looked back at Levi, and then back at her friend. "What are you doing here?"


    "I told you yesterday I would bring you something to help you feel better," she reminded Alice. She reached into the paper bag and drew out something wrapped in yellow paper. The smell of eggs and cheese and chorizo and tortilla hung in the air around them like a warm cloud. "I know you''ve had my brother''s breakfast burritos, but mine are better. I put hash browns in mine. And better spices."


    Alice took the burrito from her, almost dropping the projector already in her hands. Its heat radiated down her hand, and her stomach rumbled. In all the excitement and worry of that morning, Alice hadn''t been able to eat. Suddenly, that burrito was beginning to feel as critical to her well-being that morning as her mother''s company was in the car.


    "Where are you going?" Christine asked, making another burrito appear from the sack like a rabbit from a magician''s hat.


    Alice''s attention snapped back from the food in her hand to her friend, and then to the man in the dark suit, and then to the expensive car that stood open for her. Christine seemed nonplussed, more concerned with carefully removing the yellow paper from around her breakfast than the unusual driver and car, but Alice couldn''t think of anything to say in answer to her question. Her mind was a blank, her open mouth empty.


    Maryanne leaned out of the car. "We''re being taken on a tour of the university," she said quickly, a smile on her face. She shot a look at Alice, a look that seemed to say, "let''s get going already."


    "Wow," Christine said, seemingly taking in the car for the first time. "Your grades must be really good, ''cause William & Mary is a really good school. They offering you a scholarship? The must be. My cousin Lorna got one, but not, you know, a full scholarship. She says she''s going to be a vet, but that''s a lot of school, and I don''t think she likes animals that much."


    Alice thanked Christine for the food and made her excuses to leave. Christine nodded and munched contentedly on her burrito, long strands of cheese stretching to her mouth. She waved goodbye as she turned and walked away in the direction of the Morena Rose.


    Alice climbed into the car and slumped into the seat beside her mother with a sigh of relief. She stared down at the burrito in her hand, a talisman that inexplicably filled her with confidence.


    As the driver took his own seat, he turned, a grin still stretching across his face.


    "You two covered for yourselves pretty well," he praised. "Maybe you''ll fit in well with us."


    Maryanne said nothing and rolled her eyes.


    As he started the car, Alice asked, "So where are we going?"


    **********


    Alice thought she knew why the man named Clawson would choose the old spy training base as a place to meet. Camp Peary was government, which she already knew, and as they drove through it, she also saw that it was largely empty. They passed an old gatehouse manned by only two guards, though they seemed thoroughly armed. One of them held the leash of a large, black dog. The road leading in soon began to wind through thick woods that occasionally parted enough for Alice to see a few developed neighborhoods of empty houses. That was where all the government employees, the instructors and the spies and the security personnel lived, in those nice, neat, cozy looking colonial homes. She also saw a collection of low, unimposing buildings that she couldn''t guess the use of. Whatever purpose the base still served, it appeared to be mostly abandoned, and they passed few other vehicles winding their way down those roads.


    Levi chauffeured them deeper into Camp Peary''s wooded interior. Alice looked out the window and saw a beautiful woodland overgrown and embracing the end of summer, green leaves showing only the barest hint of yellow, and here or there she glanced tiny deer. She expected at some point for the view to suddenly reveal a vast, impressive complex. Instead, they pulled into the parking lot of a low, drab building.


    A sign on the lawn in front said, "Department of Emergency Resource Management", and bore a generic seal which Alice immediately forgot. The building itself was a boring mix of shades of brown: brown stone with brown trim around the windows and a brown metal roof. It looked like an oversized DMV, a relic of efficient, practical, government spending.


    Standing in front of it were two men, one of them familiar to her, though she''d only ever seen him in a green-tinted holographic projection, and then only his head.


    There he is, she thought to herself, the man behind the curtain.


    Levi pulled the car directly up to the front of the building so that Gregory Clawson himself could approach and open her door for her. Alice realized she still had the yellow, oily wrapper of the burrito in her hand, and she quickly balled it up and looked for a place to put it. It seemed wrong to put it anywhere inside the pristine, leather interior of that car, so she quickly stuffed it in her own jean pocket and wiped her hand on her leg before climbing out.


    "Miss Fillmore," came the rough, graveled voice of the man she''d only seen as a hologram. "You can''t know how excited I am that you could make it. Welcome to Camp Peary, or here we just call it The Farm."


    It didn''t look much like a farm to her. Clawson, on the other hand, looked just as Alice thought he might. He was a man of average height but with a broad build. The lines of his face looked deeper in person. He wore a dark suit with a tie, and a long coat that swayed gently in the breeze. His shoes were immaculately clean and polished to black mirrors. His hand reached out to her, and she took it. He gently squeezed it and took it with both hands. His dark eyes looked into hers, and a sincere smile spread across his face.


    "And you must be Mrs. Fillmore. It''s a pleasure to see you as well." Clawson held out a hand to Maryanne as well, who eyed him suspiciously but took his hand anyway.


    The other man with Clawson was dressed in a laboratory coat. He was short and slightly built, with black hair cropped short.


    "This," Clawson said, waving his hands towards the man in the lab coat, "Is Dr. Jaa Lee. He is one of our head researchers here. I will speak more on his role here in just a moment. If you''d be so kind, please give the projector to him."


    Alice had forgotten she was holding it. She handed the device over to Dr. Lee, who took it carefully in gloved hands. Alice watched him handle the device with deliberate care and began to wonder if she''d been careless with it without knowing it. Was it dangerous? Or was it simply precious?


    Dr. Lee''s hands made swift motions over the device, and soon its holographic lens glowed to life, displaying rows of text and numbers and even graphs that were unintelligible to Alice.


    "It''s confirmed," Dr. Lee said, his eyes wide with excitement as he scanned the scrolling columns of data. "She has a field."


    Clawson seemed pleased by this news. He nodded his head, a subtle smile on his deeply lined face.


    "What is that?" Alice asked, nodding towards the information displayed above the device''s lens.


    Clawson looked towards Alice and her mother. "We had to be sure," he said, gesturing towards the projector. "We needed something that could detect the special qualities unique to metahumans. So, we built machines that could do this. This is a small, portable version. It tells us relatively little, but enough for us to be certain. It tells us you are who we thought you might be." He looked deep into Alice''s eyes, something that made her feel immensely uncomfortable. "You have no idea," he said, holding the gaze, "no idea how very, very special you are. We have been searching for someone like you for a generation."


    Alice smiled awkwardly. "You told me I could meet with someone else who''s like me," she reminded him. "Another metahuman." She glanced over her shoulder Levi, who stood watching everything while leaning casually on the hood of the car. "Is that him?" she asked, pointing her finger.


    Clawson''s eyes went wide with mild confusion as he looked behind him to the other man. "Oh, no of course not!" he chuckled as he gestured for the man to come forward. "This is Levi Seraydarian. He''s not a metahuman. He''s a member of our team, one of our operators you saw a few days ago."


    "Why isn''t he here," Alice pressed. "Will I get to see him soon?"


    Now that she thought about it, she could feel something familiar here. It was a curious feeling, like something invisible tugging at her chest, as though every heartbeat she had was nudging her in a single direction. She felt drawn to the building behind Clawson, eager to get inside it.


    Clawson nodded.


    "You will. If you and your mother would be so kind as to come inside with us, we''ll take you right to him," he said.


    "Why didn''t he come out to meet us?" she probed.


    "Because, like you, he is special, and we like to keep him away from the public eye as much as possible. Besides, he''s busy training right now, but I''m sure he''ll be nearly finished when we arrive. I thought you might like to see where he works and lives as well."


    Alice looked Clawson in the eye.


    "So, you''re saying the metahuman I saw..."


    "Lives and works right here, in Williamsburg. Well, on Camp Peary, anyway. Did you have any idea you were so close to someone like you?"


    She didn''t. Alice had no idea that the one person in the whole world who might be as gifted as she had been no more than a few miles from her apartment, from where she''d lived until she was eight years old. From the place where her father died.


    "If you''d like, we can go see him now." Clawson gently placed a hand on her shoulder and gestured towards the doors made of dark glass. He didn''t push, but she could see he very clearly, very badly wanted her to go with him.


    The inside looked about as exciting as the outside. Levi escorted them to a security desk where an older, dark-skinned man in a brown uniform asked Alice if she had ID. She happened to bring her driver''s license, which the man, who cheerfully introduced himself as Yancy, asked her to sign her name in a book for visitors. Past him, Alice could see hallways with doors leading into rooms she could not see, but she could hear the normal operations of an office building. The whine of copy machines. The tapping of keyboards. Mouse clicks. Paper. Tedium.


    "Enjoy your visit, Miss," said Yancy behind the desk. He had a warm smile. After she walked past him, she saw that he immediately straightened up as Clawson approached. "Welcome back, Director," said Yancy.


    As they walked past the desk and into a hallway, Alice realized how under-dressed she must have looked. She was in faded jeans and a light jacket the color of drying roses. I look like someone''s kid come to visit them at work, she thought. That further fueled her desire to make this visit as short as politely possible.


    Levi led them to an elevator. She was surprised when I saw it, since the building looked like a single story from the outside. The stainless-steel doors, however, were still unremarkable. What was curious was that Levi needed a key card to open it.


    "You know, not very many people get to come down this way," said Clawson as he stepped into the elevator. "You have to be part of a very special group of people."


    Alice tried to imagine what kind of people he meant, but quickly became distracted as she saw the button panel for the elevator. It was an ordinary panel of buttons, nothing special about its appearance, except for the fact that its topmost floor was marked M and highlighted. The main floor, where they were at that moment. The other buttons were the letter "B" in front of numbers in descending order, from B1 to B13.


    "Just how many basements does this place have?" Maryanne asked, staring dumbfounded at the button panel.


    Clawson smiled. "The bigger the secrets, the deeper you dig to keep them."

 Chapter 8: Ready

    Alice became more and more curious as they dropped, floor by floor, to B12. What kind of secrets might this place be hiding? What would need to be buried thirteen floors under a government building? A metahuman, perhaps?


    When the doors finally opened, Levi led them down a bright corridor to a set of double doors. Inside was a sort of conference room, she supposed. It was a sort of place to have meetings, apparently, with a round, dark table and chairs dominating the space. Dim lights overhead kept the room semi-dark with deep shadows. As Alice approached the table, she could see an engraving inlaid with gold. It was almost black in the low light, but it caught the light from the doors and burned like a sunrise. It was nearly a complete circle, perhaps a crown of sorts, with seven rays of gold spiking out from the ring. She thought she might have seen it somewhere before, though she couldn''t remember where.


    Clawson stood at the far end of the room, staring at something on the wall, which seemed to be painted a dark gray. He looked at Alice, smiled, and beckoned her forward with his hand.


    "It was nice meeting you, Alice, and you as well, Mrs. Fillmore," said Levi as he stepped out of the room. He paused a moment and nodded to Clawson. "Director."


    "Levi," Clawson replied politely with a curt nod. "Thank you." Then he turned to the women. "I''m glad you''re here," he said. "I''ve been looking forward to talking to you in person ever since we saw you. I''ve been searching for people like you for many years."


    "People like me?" she repeated. "Why did you want us here so badly?"


    "Your abilities make you extremely unique. I''m sure you already know that you''re special, that you''re completely unlike almost everyone else in the world. But you are more valuable than you realize, more influential. You represent a great opportunity for this agency, Alice," he said.


    "For the Department of Emergency Resource Management?" asked Maryanne ironically.


    He laughed, amused. "We''ll get to that," he said. "I just want you to know that we went through a lot of effort to get you down here. The moment we found out who you were, Alice, we did a background check on you. We found out who your parents are, your friends, and your grades. We looked up your financial history. Your job history. Your medical history. We bypassed six months of security protocol in a week so we could get you in here as quickly as possible. That''s why we delivered that device to your apartment. We had to know who you were, and we had to know for sure if you were what we thought you were."


    "Why?" Alice asked, her head spinning. She imagined just how much these people now knew about her. It was wrong, somehow. She felt like someone had peeked inside her bedroom when she thought she was alone inside.


    Actually, that''s exactly what they did.


    Clawson was silent for a moment. Then he touched a sort of lighted panel on the wall. Some sort of touch screen control. Then the entire wall disappeared. What she had thought to be a dark gray paint on the wall beaded up like rainwater on an oiled surface and faded into transparency. The room they stood flooded with the bright light of noon. It was midday in that conference room, despite the fact that they were twelve stories underground and that the sky outside should have been an overcast slate. The light caught the crown shape on the dark table and set it on fire, blazing as though it shone with a light all its own.


    Alice had to shield her eyes until they adjusted. When they did, she looked out the newly appeared window that had once been a wall. The room she was in seemed more like a nest, sitting several stories above the floor of a vast, open underground room.


    The room was like an enormous gymnasium. She could see markings on the floor below, like lanes on a track. There was equipment, some clearly for exercise, and some she couldn''t imagine the purpose for. There were people, too. Maybe a couple dozen of them. Almost all of them seemed to be running around the track, all dressed in identical gray tee shirts and black shorts.


    One person, however, was not running. He was against a wall to the side of the huge room. He was standing at some kind of machine dressed in nothing but black shorts. Even from high above, she could still see his muscles trembling with effort as he pushed at a huge metal cylinder protruding down from the wall down at an angle. He looked as though he was being crushed by an enormous pile driver. But as she watched, he pushed against that piston-like machine with a single hand, slowly forcing it inch by inch back into the wall.


    The moment she saw him, she felt the tugging inside her, not unlike the tiny filaments of gravity she felt when she flew, but unlike them, this connection seemed much, much more difficult to sever. She''d felt this feeling only one other time she could remember, and it was only days ago. It was him, the same man she had seen in the hurricane.


    "We brought you here because until a few days ago, we thought he was unique," said Clawson. "The only one of his kind in the entirety of the world. A metahuman. Then, while he was on a mission in South Carolina, we saw a live video feed of a young woman who could fly and who possessed superhuman strength and speed."


    Alice said nothing. She was spellbound. The young man pushing at the machine had apparently reached the end of his set. He quickly stepped out of the way of the machine''s piston, which fell and slammed into a dense, metal plate at its base. The resulting clang shook the room in which Alice stood, and her hands reflexively flew to her ears for the noise. Maryanne had to grabbed the wall to keep her balance. Clawson and the other running people below seemed to have the same reaction to the titanic weight hitting the floor.


    For a moment she thought her ears were ringing, but then she realized an alarm of some kind was going off. She heard Clawson growl something under his breath and start punching commands into the touch screen panel on the transparent wall. Immediately the siren died.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Clawson pressed something else and spoke into the panel. His voice boomed over the gymnasium like the voice of God.


    "Athena," he growled. Somewhere below, a short, dark woman stood at attention and looked up at them. "He just dropped the equivalent of a freight train on the floor. I''d like it not to happen again."


    The woman nodded sharply, like a soldier taking orders, and ran to the shirtless, smirking metahuman. Alice couldn''t hear what the two of them were saying from up in the glass-walled conference room, but she knew a harsh reprimand when she saw one. The metahuman, who she''d seen punch a Ferris wheel into the ocean, was visibly trying not to wither under the tongue lashing he was getting from a woman seemingly half his height. She was like a military drill instructor.


    "How about going down there and saying hi?" Clawson suggested.


    If the large, arena-sized gymnasium looked big from high above in the conference room, it looked absolutely colossal from the floor. Alice emerged from the elevator into the brightly lit space, feeling genuinely overwhelmed by the size of this place. The only buildings she''d ever been in that could compare in size might be shopping malls, though she''d never been in one with such high ceilings.


    In fact, she felt as soon as she stepped in that she''d walked outside into the sunshine. The lighting in the room was as bright and refreshing as daylight and left a gentle heat on her hair and skin the way sunlight would.


    "Welcome to the Ready Room," said Clawson, walking beside her. "It''s our all-purpose training area. It covers many acres of ground floor. As you can see, the whole place is lit by a single solar generator in the ceiling, effectively a tiny sun. Our operators can drill down here for weeks without feeling the depression and sickness people get from spending that much time under florescent lighting. It also allows us to imitate adverse weather conditions."


    In the distance, Alice saw a collection of machinery that she couldn''t quite recognize from above. Once on the ground, she saw they were heavy construction equipment: bulldozers, rollers, and dump trucks, all parked so close together they were nearly touching. She asked Clawson about them.


    "We sometimes construct life-sized building models or terrain simulations for training purposes. It helps our operators be ready for the real thing. That''s why we call it the Ready Room."


    They walked until they''d reached the area marked with running lanes. The woman she saw earlier, the one that reminded her of a drill sergeant, was busy verbally motivating a group of men on their way around the track. To Alice, her build made her look like a professional boxer, but the lines on her face suggested that despite her apparent athleticism, she was older than her mother, or even nearly as old as Clawson. She was mature, striking, and fierce. Alice also found her slightly terrifying.


    "Pick up the pace!" she cried. "Especially you, Gutierrez. That''s right, I''m picking on you! You know why? Because you''re in the back! I will not see a mission fail just because you cannot be bothered to run faster!"


    Clawson called her over.


    "Alice, Mrs. Fillmore, this is Athena," he said as the woman offered her hand to Alice. Her handshake was so firm she wondered if she might be metahuman as well. "Athena is the deputy director here, as well as the chief training officer. The Ready Room is her domain. She oversees the training of over two hundred personnel for missions and emergency response. She''s the field commander of the Rescue and Tactics Specialists, who we call the RaTS."


    Clawson pointed to the group running on the track. Alice realized these men were had been running at a near sprint ever since she''d arrived on the floor. They were all athletes, in peak physical condition. Clawson also pointed to another group. A dozen or so equally impressive specimens worked at fitness equipment, everything from weights to climbing ropes to tires to aerobics equipment. Alice immediately noticed a lone woman among the group. Her flaming red hair was plastered to her forehead as she squatted with a weightlifting bar across her shoulders. Alice couldn''t count the plates from where she stood, but she could see the weight must have been impressive. The woman finished her set and placed the bar back on the rack. As she began to towel off, she seemed to notice Alice for the first time. The two of them met each other''s gaze.


    I''ve seen that hair before, Alice thought to herself.


    Clawson''s voice snapped her back to her conversation with Athena.


    "Athena has personally led these teams in over one hundred successful missions. Some you may have seen in the news. Most you haven''t. She''s also our reigning Scrabble champion."


    Athena smiled broadly. Alice had the impression this was a woman who liked to win.


    "Welcome to the Ready Room, Miss Alice," she said. "I''ve been very interested in meeting you."


    "How''s our boy?" asked Clawson, nodding in the direction of the metahuman, who at the moment was again at the enormous piston machine.


    "He''s learning," reported Athena. "He''ll take equipment safety more seriously from now on, I''ll guarantee you that."


    Alice could see that the young man was certainly learning something. His face contorted in concentration and strain, he was now supporting the huge cylinder with his shoulders, his legs shaking and bent at ninety degrees. He wasn''t lifting the weight, only sustaining it with all the endurance he could muster. The mother of all wall-sits.


    "Good," said Clawson, "but for now I want him to meet our guest. I''m sure she has some things she''d like to talk to him about. After that, you may continue his education."


    "I see you take discipline very seriously around here," Maryanne commented in a flat voice.


    Athena nodded proudly, but Alice was fairly certain her mother wasn''t paying them a complement.


    Athena turned to the young man at the machine. "Ethan," she barked, "Get over here!"


    The young man, Ethan, lowered the huge piston to the floor, but this time he did it with care. Alice felt in her feet only the slightest tremble as the machine came to a rest.


    As he approached, Alice was struck by how handsome he was. He was tall, taller than her by several inches. Broad, too. His skin was unblemished and a shade darker than hers, and his hair was dark, curly, and cut short and neat, though at the moment it was limp against his forehead with sweat. His body was cut and lean, like a professional athlete, and there was a certain grace to his movement. Fluidity. Ease. He seemed to have the waist of a professional dancer, but the shoulders and musculature of a professional football player. His smile was a dominant feature of his face, and it was big and wonderful and bright. In fact, all of him was bright. Alice immediately remembered when she saw him in the hurricane. Then, even with the dark clouds above and the obscuring rain, she''d thought he had a shine to him. He did again, as though he had a glow that was just beyond her ability to see.


    She was suddenly self-conscious he might notice her eyes on him. Alice lifted her chin and raised her eyes to meet his.


    Brown, she realized, but not only brown. Green and gold and red all washed with earth tones, like brown fire opals.


    Suddenly, Clawson and Athena weren''t the only ones that made her feel ill at ease.


    "Clean yourself up and meet us in the galley. I''ve arranged for the two of you to have brunch and a little privacy together," explained Clawson.


    Alice turned and followed Clawson back to the elevator without saying a word to Ethan. She preferred he not notice the heat in her cheeks.


    "You''d think they would have made him put on a shirt," grumbled Maryanne. Alice realized her mother was blushing nearly as badly as she was.

 Chapter 9: Metahuman

    The galley, Alice learned, was a sort of cafeteria, though perhaps the word cafeteria did the place an injustice. It more closely resembled a banquet hall, with tables of many shapes and sizes covered in white tablecloths and servers in white shirts. It didn''t smell like any cafeteria Alice had been in either. Absent were the smells of fry oil and processed meat she knew from her high school. Instead, she could smell spices and fresh bread and a myriad other aromas that suddenly filled her mouth with so much drool she had to swallow.


    Clawson had successfully convinced Maryanne to allow her daughter time alone with the other metahuman, and so he''d led her away to have lunch elsewhere. One of the waitresses, a cheerful young woman perhaps a little older than Alice, ushered her and Ethan to a curtained-off corner of the room with a single round table and a buffet table covered in serving trays. Alice eyed the trays with a little more desperate hunger and a little less dignity than she meant to. She was famished. It seemed that ever since she''d taken up flying, her body just couldn''t seem to get enough food. She wondered at that. Did flying require energy from her? Energy that could be supplied in food? It might explain things if it did. Thankfully, her friendship with Christine and her employment at Morena Rose kept her well-fed. But this place? By the smells and the look of the food here, she thought this place might be designed especially for people who needed more food than normal, and quality food at that.


    Ethan pulled out a chair for her in a gesture that suddenly made the whole awkward situation seem suspiciously like a first date. He''d traded his sweat-soaked exercise shorts for a pressed, tailored white shirt and dark slacks. If her mind had been on something other than her pressing need for answers and her almost more pressing need for food, she might have found his appearance pleasantly distracting. She was not too hungry, however, to be reminded of just how casually she was dressed compared to nearly everyone around her. She''d passed dozens of people in the dining area on her way to this table, and none of them were in jeans.


    As soon as Alice was seated, the young woman who''d showed them to their seats left, closing a curtain behind her so that Ethan and Alice were alone together in a dining room of their own. It suddenly dawned on her where she was, and more importantly, who she was alone with. A metahuman. Like her, someone born with extraordinary abilities, with physical limitations beyond those of mortal men and women. And yet, they were so normal. They were both awkward here, alone together. They were sitting down to a meal, just like normal people would. And she was suddenly realizing that she had no idea where to begin. In all the excitement of that morning, of the discovery that she truly wasn''t alone in all of humanity, she''d never actually thought of what to say to him.


    The boy, however, seemed willing to take a stab at conversation.


    "Clawson''s idea of privacy," Ethan gestured to something behind Alice as he spoke.


    Alice followed his gaze. Sure enough, in the corner of the ceiling was a black, reflective dome about the size of a baseball. A security camera. It made sense to Alice that she was being watched, but it made it no less unnerving to see the camera. Since the day before when she''d first activated the holographic device in her apartment, she''d become familiar with the feeling of being watched.


    "Don''t take it personally," Ethan grinned nonchalantly. "He watches everyone. I just think it''s funny that he considers this ''privacy''."


    Ethan then looked at the camera dome and gave it a not-too-subtle wink.


    Alice managed a tight smile through her nerves. She tried to remind herself that she''d come to this place for a purpose. She tried again to think of the questions that had driven her to come here in the first place. She tried smiling, hoping it would give her courage, and opened her mouth, hoping the words would somehow magically fill it on their own.


    "Before we eat," Ethan interrupted, taking a seat opposite her and resting his elbows on the table, "I have to ask you some questions."


    Alice stared at him, and then she closed her mouth. A thought was dawning on her, an epiphany that landed on her like a falling star. It hadn''t even occurred to her what it would mean for him to be meeting another metahuman.


    I''m just as strange to him as he is to me.


    "I''m sorry," he said with his hands up in a sign of apology, "I''ve just been waiting for this conversation to happen ever since I first saw you, and I didn''t know how to begin. It''s just...I''ve never met anyone like you before. How did you, you know, become special?"


    Alice felt anxiety welling up in her throat. Will he be disappointed that I don''t know? She stared at Ethan in dumb silence. It struck her that they were like two people from opposite sides of the rainbow looking for the pot of gold at the other end.


    "I don''t know," she answered slowly, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I just am. I''ve always been this way, I think."


    What had she expected? Why did she think he would magically be the one with all the answers? How had she allowed herself to believe she was the only one with those questions? Was it because he was a hero? Because had a mask and a uniform and scores of people he''d rescued? Was it all smoke and mirrors after all? An illusion? Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.


    "Do you know how you became the way you are?" Alice finally responded, wringing her napkin in her lap under the table.


    When he''d first spoken, he''d sounded charming and full of fun, but that had evaporated. He looked lost and not just a little disappointed, now.


    "I was...born this way. I grew up like this."


    Alice nodded dumbly, defeated.


    "What about when you look at me," Alice tried. "When you see me, do you see...?" Alice fumbled for words to describe it.


    "Light?" finished Ethan. "Only, maybe not really light? Coming from you, from around you?"


    Alice nodded, feeling like they might finally be getting somewhere.


    "What is it?"


    Ethan shrugged. "I don''t know. I only see it around you. And you see it?"


    "Around you, yeah," she answered. "I think I feel it, too. But I don''t know what it is, either." He stared back at her mutely.


    "Do you ever wonder ''why'' or ''now what?'' Like, what is the purpose of everything we are? What are we for?" she stumbled on. She realized she was desperate for an answer now. She hated to feel this vulnerable, this needy, but this was it, her one and only chance to find out what it all was for. For her powers, for her father''s death.


    His face had darkened. He shrugged his big shoulders. "I just do what they tell me to," he finally replied. "I don''t know if it''s the meaning to my life or anything. It''s just how things worked out."


    No answers. Just more questions. She''d done the impossible. She''d searched the world for another person like her, and once she''d found him, he had no answers for her at all. Not about her origin, not about her purpose. She might have found another metahuman, but she felt just as alone, just as directionless, and just as disappointed in herself as ever.


    Alice buried her face in her hands, unable to hold back a soundless gasp. It was as if all the air had been sucked from the room.


    Everything it took to find him. To meet him. Wasted hope.


    After a few deep breaths to regain her composure, Alice dabbed her eyes with her napkin and stood from the table.


    "I''m sorry you had to see that. This wasn''t what I''d expected. I should go."


    "Wait," he said, standing from his chair. "Listen, I''m normally really busy around here. I don''t get to meet a whole lot of new people. Please stay for a little while. Have lunch with me. We can talk about something else if you want. Or not talk at all. Whatever. But if you go, they''ll stick me back on the Megaton, and I would rather put that off a little longer. I even showered."


    His eyes were bright again. His smile was reassuring. Alice felt herself soften, and she returned his smile. She didn''t want to be responsible for him going back to his back-breaking punishment sooner than was necessary. Besides, the food smelled amazing.


    Alice shook her head, suddenly realized she''d never actually introduced herself to him.


    "I''m sorry things got so serious so fast," she said, wiping one last streak of wet from her eyes and reaching out a hand to him. "I''m Alice. I''m glad I met you. Even if this didn''t turn out the way I wanted to originally, this is nice."


    He smiled back at her and took her hand in his. His grip was firm, dry, and warm. A small, almost imperceptible tingle danced up her arm when they touched.


    "I''m Ethan," he returned. "Thanks for staying. I can''t remember the last time I made a new friend."


    As it turned out, there was plenty to talk about while they ate. Ethan described his unusual life in hilarious detail, like his training, his missions, and his awkwardly uneventful down time. He was funny and engaging, as well as an easy conversationalist.


    The food was, if not better than the company, a very close second. It was a sort of pulled chicken seasoned with exotic spices on warm flat bread with a pickle and creamy garlic sauce. Alice looked down to see that she''d dripped a bunch of the sauce on her tee shirt. She hastily dabbed at it with her napkin, hoping that Ethan hadn''t noticed, and then realized, she was too hungry to care. She took another warm, savory bite.


    "So, they never let you out of here? Like, ever?" Alice asked with a mouth half full of food.


    "Well, they used to let me out once in a while, like, every couple of months to watch a movie or whatever. But since my face first made the news, I''ve been down here. They only let me out to go on missions. Now I just sit in my room praying for disasters."


    Alice''s face hurt from smiling, and she realized she had been smiling a lot. She found herself relaxing despite her earlier disappointment. Ethan was so genuine that Alice felt completely at ease with him, which was unusual for her to feel around other young men. Usually, they made her feel too tall, too physical. Being with most boys was a constant battle between wanting to be herself and wanting to hide her uniqueness. But not with Ethan.


    The dessert was a sort of pie with a cream cheese filling topped with chocolate and strawberries. Alice had water, and Ethan had boxed chocolate milk with a straw, a treat, he said, they only let him have occasionally. At first Alice thought he was joking, but by the time he''d downed his 9th box, she could understand why they felt the need to ration it.


    In some ways, he''s still just a little kid.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Listen," he said, wiping the last crumbs of dessert off her plate with his finger, "you being here is a big deal for these people. Especially for Clawson. You are the only other known metahuman in the world besides myself. And they wouldn''t have asked you to come here without a reason."


    Alice knew that he was probably right. Clawson must have already known she wouldn''t get many answers out of Ethan. Not the ones she wanted, anyway. Alice was about to ask Ethan why Clawson had gone to the trouble of bringing them together when Ethan cut into her thoughts.


    "I think he wants to offer you a place here," he looked up hopefully. "Maybe a permanent one. I don''t know. But I think you should take him up on it." The words spilled out quickly and it took Alice a moment to process them.


    The idea of it was both thrilling and terrifying. Was she even capable of that level of physicality? Of jumping headfirst into disasters, into battles? Could she reach into burning buildings and pull helpless people out of them, unscathed? If she did, if she could save enough lives, could she find that purpose she was looking for, a reason for being the way she was?


    Ethan''s eyes locked onto hers, pulling her from her thoughts.


    "I just think..." he tried. He smiled. It was a wonderful smile, wide and bright, and it filled her with warmth to the tips of her toes. He started again. "I think we should stick together. You know, since we''re so alike and all. You never know. We might figure some things out."


    Alice had never felt so strongly persuaded of anything.


    That was when Clawson appeared, just as they were wiping up the last crumbs of desert from their plates.


    Ethan, with one last look at Alice and the sigh of one with a long, difficult day ahead of him, left place at the table and disappeared through the curtain that had separated the two of them from the rest of the galley.


    I''d like to see him again, Alice realized, but not for the same reasons as before. She smiled to herself.


    Clawson didn''t take Ethan''s place at the table. Instead, he started clearing the dishes, stacking the plates and gathering the silverware in a small, plastic bin from under the covered buffet table.


    "Did you learn anything from Ethan?" he asked as he carefully placed her water glass in the bin.


    That question grated on Alice''s nerves like a nail file on a violin string. The annoyance she felt was as sudden and difficult to suppress.


    "You know I didn''t," she managed with more razor in her voice than she would have liked. "Where''s my mom?" she finally finished.


    It had just occurred to her that she was alone with Clawson, truly alone, for the first time. She wasn''t sure if she should trust him, or if she ever really could.


    "Your mother has agreed to let me have a minute or two alone with you, to talk to you. I tell you, that woman is a tough negotiator. I bet she''s a good mom."


    Alice avoided eye contact and focused on the floor. She thought he must be teasing her, but there wasn''t any cruelty or humor in his voice, as she thought there would be. Only a kind of longing. Before that moment, Alice had only seen him smile like a man who carefully measures every word and keeps his eyes on his prizes, but at the moment, she thought his expression looked quite tender and very real. She watched as he took one of the napkins and gently folded it into a neat little square.


    "I''m sorry you were so disappointed with your conversation with Ethan. And yes, I knew you would be. I''ve known Ethan Beakerman all his life. I could have told you anything about him."


    "If you knew what I wanted to know, and you knew what this would be like for me, why didn''t you warn me?"


    "Would you have wanted to hear it from me? Or would you still have wanted to hear it from him?"


    She stared at him, thinking perhaps he might be right. She shrugged.


    He nodded. "I didn''t want to bring you here to crush your spirits. Even though I knew you wouldn''t find everything you were looking for, I thought it might be important to you to meet someone as special as you. I understand you''re looking for your place in the universe. Your purpose. Though I can''t speak for the universe, maybe I can offer you a purpose here. We do important work here, Alice, and I''d like for you to be a part of it."


    Alice leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. She supposed he was right about her. But Clawson was offering her a purpose, something to do with all her strength.


    Dad, is this why I''m here? Is this what I''m supposed to do?


    "What is this place?" she asked, relaxing a little and waving her arms around to indicate the whole building and the people in it. "I mean, I know you save people and stuff, but is that what all this is for? The Department of Emergency Resource Management?"


    "Oh," chuckled Clawson, "you remember the sign out front. No, that''s not who we are. Not really. That department only exists as a shell, a sort of disguise so the government can continue to funnel money into our agency without looking directly involved."


    He pulled a black portfolio from his coat. Alice caught just a brief glimpse of a symbol embossed on the cover, the golden crown with seven rays. Clawson laid the open portfolio on the table and slid it to her.


    "Since this is the part where I invite you to join us, it might help if I told you who we are and what we do."


    In the portfolio, Alice could see an old print of an illustration from a newspaper. Judging by the quality of the print, she might have guessed the newspaper dated back to the eighteen hundreds. The illustration was of a man with a handlebar mustache in a shirt and suspenders. He was lifting a broken horse-drawn cart off the cringing form of a child.


    "Miracle Man Saves Child!" read the headline.


    "That''s Giles Danville," said Clawson. "He saved nearly everyone from the Princess Alice when it sank in 1878."


    Alice found another picture under that one. It was an ancient photograph taken of an East Indian woman holding a fishing net that seemed to disappear into the odd ground on which she stood. Something about the glassy, reflective surface of the ground bothered Alice until she realized that the woman wasn''t standing on ground at all, but what appeared to be the surface of a lake or bay.


    "We don''t actually know her name. Countless reports from fishermen tell stories of her saving people at sea. After this picture was taken, she disappeared."


    Alice turned to another photograph, and then another. She became aware that her heart was hammering in her chest. There was something about these people, something thrilling and familiar. Were these people her own kind? Relations of a sort? But they came in seemingly every nationality and skin shade she could imagine. Neither did they all seem to have the same abilities. Several seemed to have superhuman strength, but others were stranger still. The young woman who walked on water. Another surrounded by objects held in the air by some invisible force. Each one was more different from her than any person could possibly be.


    "You''re looking at the illustrated history of metahumans," said Clawson. "Some we know a great deal about. Some are little more than rumors."


    Alice turned to the last photo, one far more modern than any picture she''d seen thus far. A man in white floated, arms outstretched, in midair in front of the sun. His features were cast in shadow, and his cape billowed behind him like wings. Alice recognized an ornamentation of sorts that rose from the man''s shoulders and arched over his head. It was nearly a circle, and golden rays pointed out from it in seven directions. It was, Alice knew, the same shape she''d seen on the table and the portfolio.


    "I''ve seen him before," Alice said, recognizing the build and the peculiar white costume. "That''s Divinity, isn''t it?"


    Clawson nodded. "The last great metahuman. He wasn''t just a good citizen doing his part. He was a symbol to all people and an international force for good. The world enjoyed an unprecedented time of peace and stability while he was alive. The world hasn''t had peace since."


    Clawson closed the portfolio and stared intently into Alice''s eyes.


    "It''s our mission to find metahumans and to continue the work Divinity started, to use the abilities of remarkable people like you to protect and inspire all people, here in our country and abroad. We also research metahumans to discover the nature of their powers. I may not be able to tell you why you of all people were born with these gifts, but given time, we may be able to tell you what you are."


    Alice leaned back into her chair and sighed. In her wildest imaginings of what she''d do with her life, she never imagined being called to this. She was no hero, she knew. She was nothing like Divinity. But, she thought of the old photo of the woman walking on water, the nameless savior of those lost at sea. A helping hand. Alice could see herself as that, and there was something about it that felt right.


    "Okay," she flushed, a smile dawning on her face. "I''ll try it. But you guys will have to teach me. I''ve never done anything like all this before." Then she thought back to her experience in South Carolina two days previous. "Well, almost never. I just never imagined myself doing anything like this. Like, you know, a superhero."


    She realized she had a grin on her face as she looked down at the photograph of Divinity. She couldn''t help it. The thought of doing things like he did, of having something good she could pour all of her power and all of her abilities into, it made her feel like something had been turned on inside her, like she was suddenly filled with so much light it might start shining out of her fingertips.


    But her smile faded as she looked up into Clawson''s face again. He suddenly wore a frown, his brow creased as though he''d been surprised by an unexpected setback.


    "I''m sorry, Miss Fillmore," he apologized, leaning forward. "I think we must have had some misunderstanding."


    It was Alice''s turn to frown. "What do you mean?"


    Clawson had that face again. The face of a man who measured everything he said, who picked every word with the care of a surgeon choosing his instruments.


    "The work we do here is...demanding. It''s unpredictable and often very, very dangerous. For that, we have teams of highly trained men and women who specialize in everything from rescue, emergency medicine, and firefighting to engineering, espionage, and combat. Ethan is one such individual. He''s the one we''ve chosen and trained for many years to handle this kind of work." Clawson touched a finger to the picture of Divinity.


    Alice said nothing. She was beginning to have a sinking feeling in her gut. Where just moments ago she''d been filled with hope and light, there was now building a swirling, sickening disappointment.


    "The contribution you would be making," Clawson continued, a soft, careful smile on his face, "would be no less important. For our work to continue, we need to study as much as we can about metahumans. Our science and medical team..."


    Alice didn''t want to let him finish. She didn''t think she could stomach listening to him say something so obvious in as polite a way as possible. She pushed her seat away from the table.


    "You want to study me," she said, shaking her head and standing to her feet. "I should have known. I think I did know. I just...I thought..." but to finish was too painful. She turned to go. She could find her own way out of this place, even if she was a dozen floors below ground.


    It was Clawson''s turn to stand up. "Please!" He held out a hand pleading her to stop. "You don''t understand how important this is! I am offering you the answers you''re looking for, and much besides. You want to know what you are and why you''re special? No one knows more about metahumans than we do! You want to make it worth your while? We pay you handsomely and give you much more besides! Opportunities! Privileges! Luxury!"


    He walked around the table until he stood between her and the curtain. He held his hands up in front of him, as though she were a scared horse he was trying to calm. Maybe even as if she were dangerous.


    I suppose I could be, and he knows it.


    "No one here sees you as a science experiment. You are a remarkable individual, rare and inspirational in ways you could never imagine. We would never do anything to harm or disrespect you in any way. Please, allow us to observe you. Let us run some dignified, non-invasive tests. Let us learn from you as much as we can."


    Now I know why you were so keen to see me without my mother present. If he thought she was bad before, she would have his head if she heard this offer. But still...


    "All you have to do," he begged, "is to name your price. Anything you want, just name it, and it''s yours."


    She should have said no. She should have left that place with her mom and never looked back. What kind of person would agree to be studied like this? To be examined like an endangered species? Perhaps only the truly desperate. And yet, she was desperate. There was something, she realized, that she wanted more than anything else.


    "Alright," she said, slowly nodding, careful to keep eye contact with Clawson. She wanted him to know just how serious she was. "I know my mom won''t agree, but I think I could convince her."


    A look of relief washed over Clawson. It looked genuine. She couldn''t explain why, but she felt for a moment that Clawson was being honest with her. Sincere.


    "Excellent," he sighed. "Please, how can we compensate you? If you like, we can call your mother in, maybe get you a lawyer to make sure everything..."


    "What I want," she interrupted, holding up her finger, "is a job here. Not as a specimen. As a...I don''t know what you''d call them. What Ethan is."


    Clawson frowned again. "We already talked about that. Ethan has been trained, prepared, for years. Surely, we offer you another position as..."


    She shook her head. "No. I want to be what Ethan is. You trained him. You can train me. I can do it."


    She could see the thoughts turning in his head. He wasn''t just hesitating because he didn''t know what to say. He was considering her offer. Weighing. Calculating.


    "You don''t know what you''re asking," he said. Alice was sure this sounded like a warning. "The demands of this work are severe. The physical and mental strain are beyond what you could imagine. You might not be suitable..."


    "Let me prove it," she dared him. Her hands were on her hips now, and a smile was on her face. She couldn''t explain why, but she was suddenly and rapidly filling with confidence. "Give me a chance to prove I can do it. Give me the training. Give me a test. And if I pass it, let me do what Ethan does. If I don''t pass, well, I''ll stay as your guinea pig."


    He stared at her for a long time. Finally, a polite smile broke out on his face. "I can see you are very much like your mother. You drive a hard bargain." He sighed. "I suppose the training and the test will give us valuable data we could use, and if you do prove capable..."


    He looked at her again, and he smiled. So did she.


    "Great!" she exclaimed. "If you promise to give me that chance, then I''m happy to be part of..." She frowned. "What is this place really called?"


    Clawson smiled, throwing his hands up and shaking his head in surrender, like a weak-willed father who''d just given in to the demands of his daughter. He waved an open hand, gesturing, it seemed, to the whole facility and the people in it.


    "Welcome to ORIGIN."

 Chapter 10: Megaton

    "Friend, I find it really, really suspicious that a real government office is willing to hire a pretty, young girl without a college degree," speculated Christine around a mouth full of noodles. "Are you sure they''re not just hiring you for your looks? As, you know, an office decoration?"


    "It''s not like that," Alice reassured her as she fumbled with her chop sticks. They were having lunch in her favorite Chinese restaurant, her mom''s treat. Alice was able to convince her mom that her new job was worth celebrating in a place worth remembering. It was, in Alice''s opinion, the greatest Chinese restaurant on the planet. Red, lacquered tiles painted with tiny golden dragons covered the ceiling, and a smoky, glass partition etched with koi fish separated their booth from the rest of the other diners. The air was heavy with the scents and sounds of the Mongolian grill and the buffet. From where she sat, Alice could see the conveyor belt carrying tiny plates of sushi around the sushi bar and considered grabbing another one of the little rolls filled with coconut shrimp, but she decided to grab another plate of General Tso''s chicken instead.


    "I''ve taken computer applications classes, so I already know about typing memos and using Excel. Plus, they needed someone willing to work really odd, long hours. They''re even sending me out of town for training for a few weeks. Apparently, it''s a really serious job where I''ll be working with fire departments and paramedics and stuff."


    "Will you be actually going out with them?" her mom said as she looked up from her own bowl of stir fry. Alice could tell that her attempts to assuage her mom''s fears about her new employers weren''t yet enough. Her mom was still a little too quiet, a little too stern in her tone to be at ease.


    Alice shook her head. "No, but I might sometimes work kind of like a dispatch operator. I''ll be safe, but I need a lot of training before they''ll let me do it."


    "Whatever," Christine said with a mouth full of pot stickers. "Just don''t let anyone treat you like you''re just a pretty face to make the workplace look good. You''re my friend, and you deserve better than that."


    Her mom, of course, knew the truth about the terms of her new job. Alice had told her as soon as she''d left her secret meeting with Clawson. Maryanne seemed determined to respect her daughter''s choice, but she was no less concerned for her.


    Later, after Christine had gone home, her mom came back to the apartment with her. As they made steaming cups of chicory tea together, she opened her mouth to finally say what she''d been thinking all evening.


    "Look, honey, I still think this whole thing is still too dangerous. I think you should just stay away from them."


    Alice frowned. She knew what she had chosen to do was a risk. But she wasn''t sure how to convince her mom it was a risk worth taking.


    "But they might be able to tell me more about who I am," Alice reminded her. "You know that''s important to me."


    Her mother gave her a sideways glance that seemed to say You are smarter than this.


    "There is more to who you are than what you are. If you feel a need to discover yourself and your potential, that''s fine, but don''t let these people convince you they''ve discovered some secret that you need to know. You don''t need them. They need you, and they might lie to you or manipulate you to get what they want."


    Alice looked hard at her mother, at the suspicion in her eyes. She knew her mother was telling her the truth, yet...


    "Mom, I''m not a child anymore. I''m not saying that because I don''t want you to tell me what to do. I''m saying it because I think that, even though you''re right, it''s my decision, and I think something is drawing me towards these people. This is something I think I have to do, even if it''s dangerous."


    Her mom listened as her steaming cup lay in her lap. "I know," she admitted. "I''ll be here if you need me, okay?"


    No more than a week after her tour of the Department of Emergency Resource Management, Levi had appeared at Alice''s door with a brown manila envelope in his hands once again. Alice took it from him and began to ask him what it was, but the he was already clomping down the stairs with no more than a cursory goodbye.


    Alice opened the envelope and dumped its contents out into her palm. A chunky, plastic device landed in her hand, something about the size of a cell phone, but with no screen. It had a rubbery protective case around it, as though the thing was designed to be dropped from a significant height and survive. Also like a cell phone, it had several buttons along its edge. Alice tried pressing one. A holographic screen appeared in the air above the device, emitted by a tiny glass eye in its surface. The device made an electronic chime as the words "Motherboxx" appeared.


    I get my own Motherboxx! I can''t believe it! My very own Motherboxx!


    Alice didn''t yet have any friends that owned such a device. Even those she knew came from wealthier families only owned smart phones, albeit the high-end models that were completely transparent except for the thinnest frame around the super-strong touch screens. But the Motherboxx was different even than these. Though it could be used as a mobile phone, the Motherboxx was closer to a palm-sized computer and hologram projector in one. While TVs and billboards could project multi-colored holograms, even holographic screens, there was no mobile device that could yet perform such a feat. No device except the Motherboxx.


    "Miss Fillmore," came Clawson''s voice from the machine. Alice tried responding to it, but it droned on as though she didn''t speak. A recording. "This Motherboxx will serve as your personal communications device. Take care of it. Right now, you''ll find on it a list of instructions you must complete before reporting to our office in three days."


    Text appeared, a document with the promised instructions, courtesy of Athena. Much of it was simple. Quit her job. Close her social media accounts. Cancel all appointments for the foreseeable future. Anything that might give someone an excuse to miss her and come looking for her in the coming five weeks. Clawson was basically asking her to wipe her existence from the face of the Earth as much as possible before becoming part of a deniable government project.


    Maybe I should just fake my death.


    Quitting her job at Morena Rose was the only thing she regretted. Christine''s family was good to her, but they wished her well in her new position and assured her that they''d gladly take her back if she ever desired it. Alice had the feeling that Christine may have told her parents of the help Alice had given her the day they met, because her family seemed fond of her in a way that couldn''t be explained simply by her job performance alone. They also gave her privileges and considerations at that job that she hadn''t expected since she''d only worked there a few months.


    If I''d chosen to be a normal person, I''d probably stay there with Christine for a long time.


    But the path she had chosen was anything but normal.


    Athena''s packing instructions were as meticulous as those for clearing her schedule. Her instructions included a very specific, Spartan list of things to bring with her to her "orientation". Many of the items were common sense, like underwear, socks, and exercise shoes. What surprised her was how specific the numbers were. She was told to bring eight pairs of underwear, but sixteen pairs of socks.


    What, do they have math equation that predicts how many socks I''ll go through?


    She used the list as an excuse to buy herself two new pairs of shoes. White and green running shoes and black cross trainers with hot pink accents. Christine helped pick them out.


    "You''re so lucky," Christine told her as she admired her new cross trainers. "I wish I had an easy job that required me to buy new shoes."


    Something in Alice''s head told her this wasn''t the sort of preparation her new employers had in mind, but what the heck?


    **********


    "Congratulations on your selection to be a part of ORIGIN''s candidacy course," said Athena. Alice was standing, bleary eyed, in the empty hallways of the Department of Emergency Resource Management, right in front of the stainless-steel elevator doors that led down to the real headquarters of ORIGIN. It was four o''clock in the morning, and She''d just stumbled out of Levi''s car and into the building for her first day of training. Alice was grateful Levi had picked her up. Flying, even while carrying her bags, would have been easy, but the car ride gave her a few moments to wake up. Moments wasted, to be sure, but Alice was thankful for the ride all the same.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    "Normally, it takes up to as much as a year to complete the candidacy process. We recruit from the best agencies and military branches in the world. But you''re an exception. Because you are metahuman, you will be put through a condensed version of this course. But you will still be expected to pass in order to join our teams in any field operations. You can expect no leniency or privilege here. We chose you for this course because you''re unique. Not because you''re qualified."


    Alice had to agree with her. Athena and other staff members in the building were already awake and working with a purpose while Alice felt as though she were still sleep walking.


    If this is what I''m supposed to act like at 4 am, I couldn''t be less qualified. But still, I wanted a chance to prove myself, so I will. Even if I have to wake up every day at this disgusting hour!


    "My job now is to prepare you for the selection test and to test your commitment to this work."


    Athena paused and let out a long sigh through her nose. She was clearly annoyed, after working for years with elite special rescue and combat units, that this was what she now had to work with. Alice was sure Athena knew Clawson had told her about their arrangement. If he did, she didn''t seem happy about it.


    "I''d try to wake up, if I were you," Athena began again. "The first week of your training is aimed at testing the limits of your powers. It will be my job to make sure you are very uncomfortable. And I''m going to start immediately."


    "Don''t worry," Alice groaned like the walking dead. "I''m awake."


    Athena smirked as she reached for the gym bag at Alice''s feet and hoisted it onto her back. Alice could clearly see the well-defined muscles in her arm and shoulder, the black polo she was wearing stretching to accommodate the swell of her biceps. She escorted Alice to a room somewhere between the ground level building and the Ready Room far below. It was a neat, brightly lit studio apartment with geometric patterns on the spotless furniture and the decor. Golden light filled the room courtesy of elegant lamps, and a soft-looking bed tempted Alice from the corner of the room. The blankets seemed to whisper promises that couldn''t possibly be true. All told, the room looked like something stolen from a nice hotel.


    That made it all the more torture when she was told she wouldn''t be spending much time in it.


    "Get dressed for exercise," Athena said, throwing her bag onto the bed. She handed Alice a key card. "This will get you down to the Ready Room and the Galley. Nowhere else. Do you remember how to get to the Ready Room?"


    When Alice said she didn''t, Athena showed her how she could use her Motherboxx to find her way through the labyrinthine corridors of ORIGIN.


    "Good," she said when she was satisfied Alice could read the map. "I''ll be waiting there for you. You have fifteen minutes."


    When she finally made it down the elevator dressed in gym shorts and a loose tee shirt, she saw that Athena was already waiting for her just outside the elevator doors. Behind her was a small group of six men, all of whom were dressed in laboratory coats and carrying clip boards.


    I guess I''m a science experiment today.


    With them was one other young man, perhaps only a year or two older than Alice, wearing a black polo identical to Athena''s and cargo pants. Alice could see he had numerous pouches around his belt and strapped to his legs. His hair was short and red.


    A little way behind them, Alice could see Ethan. He was dressed for exercise as he had been when she first saw him, which meant shorts with no shirt again. He''d already been working out for a while, it seemed. He was already breathing heavily and sweating.


    "I said fifteen minutes, not twenty-three," said Athena. Her voice was cold and hard as a steel knife. "If you''re late like this again, you might find that your key card won''t get you into the Galley for a while. You might also find yourself spending more time exercising and less time resting. If I give you time to complete a task, I expect it done in that time. No excuses."


    "Sorry," Alice apologized. "I''m just tired. It''s really early."


    "Get used to getting up early and having to be somewhere quickly," she countered. "This is not a nine-to-five kind of job. When you''re assigned to be somewhere, you need to be there. In this line of work, you are only ever called to be somewhere once the worst has happened. That means the time to be anywhere we tell you is five minutes ago. Is that clear?"


    Alice nodded and silently reminded herself that this was something she wanted to do. She wasn''t used to being talked to like this. Her love of sleep, her lack of punctuality, had never been serious problems before. Of course, She''d been told to be places on time, but she''d never been the target of heavy criticism. Her grades were too good, her disposition too cheerful, and her record too clean. No one ever had a need to chastise a sweet teenage girl for having minor teenage flaws, at least not before now. But she''d only been in this place for half an hour, and already she''d been threatened with a loss of meal privileges.


    I''m not the star student here, she reminded herself. I''ll have to earn their trust.


    But Alice was already starting to see how daunting a task that would be. This woman, Athena, was stubborn, uncompromising, and blunt.


    "We already know you''re strong, so let''s start with that," Athena suggested. "Let''s put you on the Megaton and see how much you can lift."


    The men with the clipboards nodded. Alice suspected, since Athena said her job was to test her limits, that theirs was to observe her in action.


    They made their way to the huge piston machine. Ethan, with a broad smile on his face, was leaning on it.


    Athena waved her hand at it, inviting Alice to step forward.


    "This is the Megaton," Athena explained. "What you''re seeing is a small part of it. The rest of it, about ninety-nine percent of it, is below us and next to us, built into the bedrock. It''s the heaviest apparatus made by man. It was originally built to test the limits of Divinity."


    That got Alice''s attention.


    "Divinity?" she repeated. "Divinity the metahuman? The hero? He used this machine?"


    "Yep," Ethan chimed in, polishing the brushed metal surface of the Megaton like a collector shining a vintage car. "This baby was built for the American Titan himself. Some say he only used it to be polite to the engineers that built it. That not even this could really measure the limits of his strength."


    Alice paused, a thought forming on the tip of her brain.


    "Is this where Divinity was from?" she asked.


    Ethan gave a smug nod, apparently pleased she was so impressed.


    "We''ll get to that later," deflected Athena, her face a stone blank. "Tonight, we''ll sit down with you and explain some things. But right now, you''re going to focus on the Megaton. Ethan is going to demonstrate how to use it safely."


    "The first thing you''ll need," said Ethan, "is a new pair of shoes."


    At that, Athena stepped forward and handed Alice a pair of what seemed to be a cross between socks and boots. They were made of a tough, gray material with a thick tread at the bottom. Alice looked down sadly at the new shoes she was already wearing.


    "Can I not wear these?" she pleaded, already feeling she knew the answer.


    "Normal shoes will shred under the pressure you''re about to put on your feet," explained Athena. "Really, your feet probably don''t need much protection, but the tread will give you enough grip on the floor to keep you from slipping."


    With a sigh, Alice removed her own shoes and pulled on the boots. As soon as her toes slipped into place, the fabric tightened until the boot fit her like a second skin.


    If only these things came in better colors...


    Ethan grinned and began what Alice was sure was a very well-rehearsed speech about the features, uses, and dangers of the Megaton. He explained things she already knew from their previous encounter, that one shouldn''t simply drop the Megaton in the middle of a lift. He showed her how the giant piston, about as big around as a concrete storm drain, could be mechanically lifted to a certain height for some exercises. He also showed her the small, subtle grooves where she could grip to lift it from its resting position on the ground. The metal plate it rested on was unlike any kind of metal Alice had seen before. It looked like steel, but it slightly flexed at her touch, like a stiff rubber pad.


    "Alright," Athena interrupted as Ethan was demonstrating a one-handed shoulder press against the diagonal piston. "Let''s see Alice try it."


    Ethan gently lowered the machine to the ground. Then he stepped to a small holographic panel on the wall displaying a dizzying array of settings and graphs. He touched a red, segmented bar with his finger, and dragged it down, changing its color to green.


    "No more than three tons, Ethan" warned Athena.


    "We already know she can lift it," said Ethan. "The truck she lifted off that woman weighed at least three tons."


    "Ethan, do we need to have another talk about equipment safety?" warned Athena.


    Ethan dejectedly lowered the green bar even more.


    "Besides," Athena continued, this time looking right at Alice, "we don''t know exactly how her powers work. They might only be triggered by stress, or during certain environmental conditions. Or maybe she might lose them for no reason at all. Let''s keep the weight down until we learn otherwise."


    Sensing her queue, Alice stepped up to the machine, stretching her arms and fingers.


    "As a matter of fact," Athena went on, "is there anything we need to know about your strength? Something that might be important for us to know before you operate this extremely heavy, irreplaceable machine in a room filled with people?"


    That gave Alice pause.


    After a moment, she shook her head. If her powers were affected by stress, they would have been then. Alice wondered if maybe that had been Athena''s intention.


    "Then go ahead and lift it. Not high. Just up to your mid-thigh with your legs straight. And say ''help'' if you need any."


    "I''ll be right here," said Ethan, leaning against the wall near the panel.


    Alice slid her fingers under the smooth, cold edge of the piston where it rested on the metal plate on the floor. She bent her knees and tried to remember everything she''d ever heard about lifting heavy objects. With your legs, people always say, not with your back. Did that even apply to her? She had no idea, so she tried to pretend the huge metal apparatus in front of her was just a box.


    A really heavy cardboard box. That had once belonged to Divinity.


    She lifted.


    Ethan smiled, and then laughed and clapped his hands together in excitement.


    "That is so cool!" he said.


    Athena looked to the young man in the black polo and nodded. He nodded back and removed something from a pouch at his belt. It was some kind of eye goggle made of black plastic and glass that whirred and telescoped out like the eyes of a snail. He seemed to look almost through Alice as she lifted, as though he were seeing something inside her.


    "Incredible," was all he said.


    It was far from easy. Alice could feel a dull burn in her forearms and fingers from her grip on the machine. Her legs were trembling. She was trying. But somehow she knew she could have done more.


    Athena said nothing until Alice carefully set the Megaton back onto the plate.


    "Make it heavier," Athena ordered. Her face was expressionless.

 Chapter 11: Team

    Alice spent the rest of that day experiencing something completely and utterly new to her: physical exertion. For her whole life, she had worked with her mother to keep her strength a secret. She even had to practice faces in the mirror for when she would be required to lift things around other people. Helping people move. Carrying the groceries. Hefting around a book-laden backpack in school. But most of the time, Alice simply avoided doing anything physical in public. No sports. Very little time at playgrounds.


    But for the first time in her life, she was being encouraged to run as fast, jump as high, and lift as much as she could. It was thrilling. Feeling the trembling in her muscles as she maxed out on the Megaton at thirteen tons was glorious. She relished in the burning ache in her arms and thighs and the joints of her fingers. And sweat! Salty, glistening sweat beading on her forehead and running down her back! Not from heat, but from effort! If she had any doubts about working with ORIGIN, they flew the first moment a bead of sweat trickled down onto her open lips and the tip of her tongue.


    Her bliss, however, was short lived. Athena had not invited her to five weeks of recreational exercise, after all.


    "We''re going to increase the speed," she announced. "Try to resist the urge to fly this time."


    Alice was gasping for breath. She was running all-out on a belted machine that was, for lack of a better word, a treadmill. A reinforced, armored treadmill with a segmented, rough black tread for a belt that was roughly as wide as a pickup truck. The rest of the machine reminded her of a tank flipped onto its back, spinning its treads in a futile bid to right itself.


    The belt was moving very, very fast.


    She was breathing harder than she ever had in her life. Her arms and legs pumped so rapidly they were a blur, and every footfall shook the massive machine like a hammer strike. She focused on every movement, every muscle, every joint, trying her hardest not to stumble. She had a feeling that falling down at this speed would be very, very painful.


    She heard the whine of the massive motors powering the treadmill become even more high pitch as one of the men with Athena obediently raised the speed from sixty-seven miles an hour to seventy-six. She gritted her teeth and pumped her limbs faster, trying to keep up with Athena''s raised expectations.


    But Alice could feel she was nearing exhaustion. She had already spent three hours that day on the Megaton alone. Using the machine, they had tested everything from her maximum lift weight from a dead rest to her muscular endurance. She lifted eight tons one hundred and forty-four times before resting the piston on the floor and collapsing next to it.


    She did fourteen more separate exercises after that. Somehow, she mentally slipped into a sort of trance during her tests, drowning out all sights, sounds, and feelings beside the Megaton itself. It was as though the entire world became nothing but the piston, the warm, dull metal and the whine of massive motors she couldn''t see.


    That trance, that laser-like focus, was slipping away from her on that treadmill after one and a half hours of running. Her legs were becoming increasingly numb, and it was hard for her to keep up the machine-like repetition and speed of her movements. Alice knew, sooner rather than later, that she was going to stumble.


    "Um, Athena," she gasped, "I don''t think..."


    Too late.


    Before the men with the clipboards had a chance to press the large, red emergency stop button on the machine''s panel, she fell. She felt, very distantly, her left foot step too short and her right too long to compensate. Unable to keep up with the speed of the belt, her legs were quickly swept out from under her, and she twisted for a moment in the air before landing on her side on the belt moving seventy-six miles an hour. It shot her off like a clay pigeon, skipping her along the dirt ground of the Ready Room. Dirt filled her mouth and eyes, and her every attempt to fly up and away from the hard ground only sent her careening even harder down or in the direction she was thrown. She couldn''t tell which way was up.


    When she finally skidded to a stop, she was on her back. She made no move immediately, too shocked and numb to even know what she wanted to do. She could hear a muffled yelling from somewhere, and her vision was obstructed by small pieces of grit that stood trapped on her eyelashes. Then, slowly, feeling came back to her. She immediately wished it hadn''t.


    Her eyes stung, and she became aware of a gritty, dusty taste in her mouth. Her skin felt as though it had been burned and scraped off. She writhed in pain before she felt hands on her, and she distantly became aware people were asking questions.


    "Alice, can you hear me?" said someone. Alice had heard that voice several times that day. The man in the polo, the one with the bizarre eye wear that clicked and spun and extended like telescopes. "Do you know where you are?"


    "Move. I can lift her." Alice was pretty sure that voice was Ethan.


    "Step away, Ethan. This is no time to play the gallant hero. She needs to be examined by our med staff." Definitely Athena.


    As they spoke, her senses seemed to return to her, and she realized her body would finally obey her commands. She also realized the pain in her skin and eyes were subsiding. She sat up stiffly, using her hands to awkwardly brush the grime away from her face.


    "I''m fine," she said. "I can get up myself."


    Someone let out a sigh of relief.


    "Are you sure?" Athena asked. Her face, Alice could finally see, had the slightest signs of concern hidden beneath the natural hard lines on her face. "You took a pretty hard fall."


    "Really, I''m okay," Alice assured her. Then she spit on the ground. Her saliva was swimming with little pieces of grit.


    Athena said nothing for a moment. Then she said, "Corpsman? What do you think?"


    The man with the strange eye gear began prodding her with his gloved fingers and examining the parts of her most covered in dirt. Then he took out a small flashlight and shined it in her eyes.


    "She doesn''t appear to have any injuries," he announced. "She doesn''t have a mark on her. No lacerations, no abrasions."


    "It sure hurt, though," Alice added.


    The men with the clipboards scribbled furiously. Athena let out a sigh through her nose. And Ethan looked positively delighted.


    "Girl, you are so boss!" he laughed.


    "Alright, we''re done for now," Athena announced. "Go back to your room and clean up. Then go to the Galley. You''ll be having dinner with the Director tonight."


    "And me!" Ethan chimed.


    "And all of the Meta team," added the man with the eye gear. He was still examining her and watching his telescoping lenses of his eye gear extend and retract as they tracked up and down her body was beginning to make her feel uncomfortable.


    She picked herself up, feeling filthy but otherwise unharmed. Her hair, which had started out pulled into a simple ponytail, was as disheveled as it was dirty. She noticed, embarrassingly, that her shirt was torn at the shoulder. She was missing a shoe, one of the sock-like boots Athena had given her. Ethan had picked it up once she was on her feet. Her shorts managed to mostly stay on, only pulled down low over her right hip. She was thankful for that. It would have been worse to be dirty and immodestly exposed. Especially in front of Ethan.


    Most of the scientists and other observers were leaving the room, and Alice found herself with the closest thing resembling privacy since she''d arrived for her orientation. He''d shown interest in her ever since she''d arrived, perhaps as much interest as she had in him. She could see he had a curious look on his face, and she wondered what exactly this boy wanted from her, and more importantly, what exactly she wanted from him.


    There''s only one way to find out.


    Alice approached him and held out her hand.


    "Shoe, please," she said.


    Ethan had a something like mischief on his face, and he held the shoe above his head, as though to keep it out of her reach.


    "What, this thing?" Ethan teased. "I tell you what, you can have it if you can take it from me."


    "What?" said Alice.


    Alice puzzled at Ethan. She was still learning to read him, to understand him as a person, and she wondered whether he was somehow trying to antagonize her or play a practical joke. She took in Ethan''s muscular build and his height. What she once took as handsome and ideal now seemed intimidating and even a little frightening.


    When she stood for a moment without speaking, Ethan''s smile grew wider.


    "Not feeling up to it? Okay, how about this. I''ll give it back to you if..."


    Ethan was cut off as Alice suddenly darted forward. He reeled backward, caught off guard by her sudden motion, and he nearly fell onto his backside as she launched herself upwards right in front of him. He felt the boot neatly snatched from his hand by hers, and he looked up to see her hovering a few feet above his head, the boot twirling in her hand, and a smile spreading across her lips.


    "If I what?" she laughed. "You''ll give it back to me if I what?"


    Ethan looked at his own empty hand and then up at the girl above him. He shrugged.


    "I was going to ask if you wanted to spend some time together," he admitted.


    She laughed again, a sound which seemed to make him grin against his will.


    "First, let''s see just how much free time I''ll get from Athena." Her laugh faded to a sad smile. "I have the feeling she won''t be giving me much."


    She drifted back to the ground again. As she made her way back to the elevator alone, shoe in hand, she looked back over her shoulder. She saw Ethan, grinning at her with his beautiful, prize-winning smile.


    The last thing she noticed as she boarded the elevator back to her room was the thirty-foot-long groove in the dirt leading from the mammoth treadmill to the spot where she got up from her fall. The long, crater-like line in the ground was bordered by clods of dirt and small rocks. It looked more like a the site of a plane crash than an exercise accident.


    It was then that she realized yet another aspect to her unusual physiology.


    I am very, very hard to kill.


    **********


    Alice''s key card allowed her into the Galley, just as Athena told her.


    On her way to the table reserved for their meeting, this one in its own separate banquet room Alice assumed was reserved for important dinner meetings, she saw that the Galley was busier than the last time she had been there. Maybe a couple hundred people laughed and dined and talked to each other in tight knit groups.


    Behind the door to the banquet room, she saw Clawson, Athena, and Ethan already sitting at a beautifully set table, larger than the one Ethan and Alice had when they had lunch together not so many days ago. Clawson looked the same as she remembered. He wore his suit and tie with the distaste as one who would rather wear something far more comfortable but must look more presentable for work. Athena was dressed identically to Alice, albeit with dark boots instead of colorful sneakers, and Ethan was, once again, wearing a tailored shirt and slacks. Alice could smell his cologne Above the scent of the food.


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    There were several others there as well. The red-headed young woman was there, who Alice recognized had been exercising in the Ready Room when she''d first come on the tour. There was also the man that had the strange eye gear. Now that the two of them were standing beside one another, Alice was sure the two of them were closely related, almost certainly siblings, perhaps even twins. Levi was there as well.


    "Welcome," said Clawson, standing from his chair. Athena, Ethan, and Levi did the same. The twins, Alice noticed, did not. "We were just about to get started. Have a seat," he instructed.


    She did. Alice glanced around the table at the others. The red-headed girl seemed least pleased to see her there, perhaps even annoyed. She affected a thinly veiled scowl when Alice looked her way.


    "Before I have the staff bring us dinner, I thought it would be a great opportunity for us to give you a bit more formal of an introduction to ORIGIN. I also think it will be a good time for all of us to get to know each other. After all, we''ll be working very closely together as a team."


    "As a team?" the red-headed girl asked Clawson, her eyes narrowed. "As in, part of our team?"


    "Yes," Clawson answered. "Many of you know that we''ve approached Alice about becoming a special research subject here to further our understanding of metahuman physiology. What some of you may not know is that she is also enrolled in our candidacy program. She will undergo an expedited training schedule to prepare her for examination. If she passes, she will join us on Meta Team."


    The red-headed girl seemed dumbfounded, and nearly everyone else at the table seemed surprised as well. Athena was as stone-faced as ever, which made sense. She already knew about Alice''s chance to join the team. Ethan alone seemed excited by the prospect, a grin nearly as wide as the table spanning his face.


    Clawson, indifferent to the others'' apparent need for explanation, turned to Alice.


    "If you are going to be working with us, you should know exactly what we are and what we are trying to achieve. ORIGIN is comprised of over five hundred employees, many of them specialists. Technology. Engineering. Counterterrorism. Human resources. Things like that. And each department is headed by its own leadership."


    Alice tried to wrap her head around that. ORIGIN was an even more diverse collection of people and credentials than she''d imagined.


    "You, however, will be assigned to the metahuman Response Department, or Meta, as we''ve come to call it around here. Athena and I personally oversee this department since it makes use of some of our most valued assets."


    Ethan grinned at that, apparently taking Clawson''s statement as a kind of compliment.


    "That''s us," he whispered to Alice for all to hear. "You and I. We''re his most valued assets!"


    "We have all already had a chance to learn about you, Alice," Clawson went on after shooting Ethan a warning glance. "Your history. Your family. Your hopes for the future. We want you to know us, as well. But in order to know us, it''s important you understand a little more history."


    Clawson reached across the table and placed a small device in the center. Alice was beginning to recognize a hologram projector when she saw one. This one was about as big as a hockey puck, but the image that sprouted from it was six feet wide. It turned on, the display showing a faded color photograph that might have been taken from a newspaper. Alice recognized the figure shown flying through the air in the tight, white and gold body suit and cape.


    "A few days ago, you and I talked about metahumans. Tell me how much you know about Divinity," said Clawson.


    Alice shrugged. "Other than what you told me the other day?"


    Clawson nodded.


    "You know, this is going to sound really odd, but when I was a little girl, I thought he wasn''t real. I heard about him when I was nine. I assumed Divinity was just folklore. Just a popular myth for kids. When I was a little older, my friends tried to convince me he was real. It took a while before I believed..."


    "That you weren''t alone?" Ethan finished for her.


    "Yeah," she answered. She couldn''t hold back a smile. She quickly looked back up at the hologram. It had begun scrolling through more photos of Divinity, of him flying, talking to reporters, and even one of him harnessed to a freight train, pulling it like a draft animal while he smiled at the cameras.


    "Other than that I don''t know much. Nobody I knew did. I''d heard a lot of rumors. He was in a chemical accident. He found a magic jewel in an Indian burial site. He was the last son of a dying planet who''d come to Earth as a baby and raised by farmers. Things like that. The comic books and the movies all seemed to have their own ideas. I never knew which of them was telling the truth."


    Clawson chuckled. "I wish it were that simple. But no, there''s no truth we know of to these rumors. Reality, it seems, is more full of mysteries than fiction. We really don''t know where his abilities came from, not even those of us who were close to him."


    Alice looked up from the slide show on the hologram with a raised eyebrow.


    "You knew Divinity? You were close to him?"


    Clawson shrugged and leaned back in his chair.


    "Well, what was it like to know a superhero?" she asked.


    Several people at the table smiled, as though Alice had told a joke. The red-headed girl gave a humorless laugh.


    I''m kinda getting tired of her attitude.


    "I really don''t like that word," Clawson corrected Alice. "Superheroes are for comic books and bad movies. It''s a word the media uses to sell toys and lunch boxes. They see someone doing something they couldn''t imagine, and they invent these ridiculous stories about chemical accidents and dying planets, anything to get readers, all the while ignoring the simple truth. Divinity was a metahuman. Just like Ethan. Just like you.


    "And yes, I knew him. When we first began working together, I was working for law enforcement in Washington DC. I was new to my position, struggling to do something about the organized crime in the city, which was really bad back then. He showed up, and we started cleaning up. When we finished doing that, I suggested he start broadening his area of influence. Soon he was working all over the country, and even the world, fighting dictators, rescuing refugees, disarming drug lords.


    "As soon as he''d established himself as a global presence, he asked me to join him. I quit law enforcement, and I became an intelligence gatherer of sorts. We worked together a long time. Right up until he died."


    "He died?" Alice repeated, surprised. She had read the theories for his disappearance, and death was one of the more prevalent ones, but it was hard for her to imagine it being true. "But wasn''t he special? Invulnerable?"


    "Yes, but not immortal," answered Clawson. "In fact, you could argue he was just as mortal as any other human being."


    "Wait," Alice said, as the image scrolled by another photo of Divinity hefting an enormous tank while soldiers watched in awe. "What do you mean?"


    Clawson looked her in the eye and leaned forward on the table with his fingers laced together.


    "What I mean is this: in all the years I spent with Divinity, in all the years we spent studying him, we never could find a reason for him to be anything more than a normal, healthy human being. DNA collected from his hair and saliva confirms he was human, not an alien. He performed normal human bodily functions. He ate. He slept. He cried. He even shaved. He was nearly impossible to harm in any way, so we never were able to open him up to take a look inside his body. Not until his autopsy. When we did, we found nothing out of the ordinary, besides a pair of bad kidneys."


    Alice was speechless. This flew in the face of everything she had previously thought about the legendary hero the people called "The American Titan". To find out that he was so normal...it was frustrating. Absolutely, inescapably frustrating. Like running around in a maze with no solution. Only dead ends.


    "What about Ethan?" she asked.


    "We''re running into similar problems with Ethan," Clawson answered quickly. Alice waited for him to say more on the matter, but he didn''t.


    "And me?" she asked.


    "Well, today we discovered you have incredible muscular strength and endurance, with a cardiovascular system to match. We''ve already recorded your maximum lift capacity at over thirteen tons. We also know you can fly. And, due to an unfortunate accident you had with the equipment just a few minutes ago, we also learned you have an incredible resilience to physical injury.


    "As for why, we haven''t discovered that yet. But we hope to. That''s one of the biggest reasons you''re here."


    "And the other reasons?" she asked.


    "We want you to understand what Divinity''s work meant to us. The man wasn''t just a do-gooder with superpowers. He was a great visionary and leader, and his work brought the human race closer to stability and world peace than it ever had been before."


    Clawson''s face was solemn, his voice low. Athena''s expression was the same. Their reverence for Divinity sounded to Alice something akin to belief in a holy martyr.


    Ethan, on the other hand, was fiddling with his fork.


    "Divinity accomplished a lot more than cleaning up the streets of our nation''s capital," Clawson went on. "More than lowering the crime rate in the nation to record lows. He inspired people. He made them believe there was a right and a wrong. That good could conquer evil. Our nation became religious again. Communities became safer.


    "But he didn''t just help the U.S. All over the world, people began taking up arms against dictators, putting drug cartels out of business, and putting aside petty tribal feuds. Sometimes, he would help them, but often he didn''t need to. Across the entire planet, people were inspired by Divinity to change things for the better.


    "We felt like we were part of something incredible. A great change for humanity. A crusade."


    "We?" Alice interrupted. "You mean you...and Athena?"


    Clawson smiled and waved his hand at the hologram. The long slide show of photos scrolled by as though he''d physically touched them before stopping on one. Clawson seemed to grab the image and stretch it, enlarging it to zoom in on one particular portion. Alice saw that it was the group photo she''d seen before, the one of Divinity''s team. The Champions. By the aging of the photo''s color and the hair styles of the people in it, she guessed it was taken some decades in the past.


    Immediately she recognized Divinity among those posing for the shot. He was in the middle, wearing the same white and gold body suit as he did in his other photos. She saw his face more clearly than she ever had before. He was grinning from ear to ear, apparently very at home among the people with him. His bright, toothy smile reminded me, in a way, of Ethan''s.


    "See anyone familiar?" asked Athena with a smile.


    She immediately noticed a young woman standing beside Divinity. She did look familiar. Her dark skin was smoother when the photo was taken, not yet lined so much by age and stress. The hair style was the same: slicked back and pulled tight, though the photo showed none of the gray streaks Alice was familiar with. Her clothing was different, but the gray, sleek, harnessed body suit did nothing to conceal the broad shoulders and athletic lines that she saw sitting across the table from her at that exact moment.


    "Athena, you worked with Divinity, too?" she asked.


    "I did," she nodded. Alice was sure there was a hint of a smile at the corner of her lips. "He was such a public figure. And for all his strengths, subtlety wasn''t exactly one of them. When there were situations where he needed someone to accomplish something more discretely, he''d talk to me."


    "She also worked quite closely with me," said Clawson. "Athena''s incredible training made her ideal for gathering information."


    "So, you two are old friends of Divinity? You worked with him, hung out with him? Like friends?" she tried to sum up.


    Clawson shrugged again, the subtle smile on his face making him seem younger for a moment.


    "We were concerned citizens trying to follow a great man," he clarified. "We admired him."


    "So why did he die?" she asked.


    Clawson and Athena''s expressions fell again.


    "The autopsy revealed some kind of kidney failure," Clawson answered grimly. "One day, about twenty years ago, he got sick. And he stayed sick for a little while. And then he died. There was nothing we could do to help him. The same invulnerability that kept him being hurt by bullets and bombs made him absolutely impervious to any help from us. We tried everything, but there''s never been a needle made that could pierce his skin. Not while he was alive."


    They were quiet for a moment, the only sounds being the muted chatter coming from the busy dining hall on the other side of the door and the metallic thud of Ethan''s fork as he continued to play with it.


    "We want to rebuild what was lost when he died," answered Clawson, breaking the solemn silence. "After we lost Divinity, the world slipped back to the way it was before he came. In fact, it''s worse. Civil war, disasters, terrorism. The worst things our species is capable of. Those of us who worked with him did what we could to carry on with his work, but it just wasn''t possible. Many of our number split up and went off to try to make things better in their own ways. But some of us knew what was necessary for things to keep improving. We needed Divinity back. Without his metahuman abilities, we simply didn''t have the resources or the manpower to accomplish so much.


    "That''s why we brought Ethan on," said Clawson, gesturing to him across the table.


    Ethan looked up from his fork and gave Alice a smile, but then his attention slipped back down to his dinnerware again, the smile just a memory. He was clearly not enjoying the conversation.


    "But this work seems to be too big, even for him, to attempt alone. Which is why we have assembled a team." Clawson gestured to some of the others at the table. He pointed to Levi. "Levi Seraydarian you already met. He''s not just a simple driver. He''s our team''s vehicle and remote drone specialist. His call sign is Roll Cage." Clawson gestured to the red-headed siblings. "These are the McGuffin twins, Joshua and Priscilla. Joshua goes by the call sign Corpse, and he''s our team corpsman, or medic if you like. Priscilla is our combat support specialist. Another flier. I think you two met in South Carolina. She goes by the call sign Fox Fire."


    Alice knew that red hair was familiar. This was the girl on the flying machine. Alice tried a friendly nod, but Priscilla simply turned her head to whisper something to her brother, a snide smile on her face. Joshua seemed to shrug at her comment without enthusiasm, as though her words didn''t matter to him either way.


    Alice squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. She''d underestimated the scale of what it was she''d demanded of Clawson, to let her become a part of the team. Before, she''d thought of these people as high-tech rescue workers. But now, Clawson made it sound like they were part of a crusade to return the world back to a golden age when it was watched over by a god.


    "That''s cool," she said uncomfortably. She reached for the glass of water in front of her and took a sip.


    "Is something wrong?" asked Clawson. "I know this is a lot of information to digest."


    What was I thinking? How could I possibly think of myself as being a part of...all this?


    Had she made a mistake? Was this all too big for her? Metahuman, she might be. But was she so important a person that she could consider herself to be a part of a cause this grand?


    And then she finally began to understand the looks on the faces of the others at the table. That''s why they were so surprised to hear Clawson''s declaration that she might become a part of all this. Levi and the red-headed boy named Joshua, they were clearly surprised she was even being considered for it. Priscilla, with her scowl and narrowed eyes, was probably disgusted by it. Was Athena frowning at the monumental task of taking someone as ordinary as her and turning her into someone that would fit in a place like this?


    Only Ethan seemed to believe in her, and Alice wasn''t sure that gave her much comfort.

 Chapter 12: Cold

    Alice stepped barefoot into the laboratory, the cold, hard floor turning her feet numb as though she''d stepped onto a frozen lake. That was something she''d had to get used to in past five weeks in ORIGIN''s subterranean world. Cold. Constant, mind-numbing, strength draining, breath-stealing, merciless cold. Athena had made sure that Alice had scarcely a moment of warmth since she''d arrived for her training. She''d been made to exercise while Athena sprayed her with water from a hose. She''d had to haul concrete blocks the size of minivans up and down the length of the Ready Room, all through knee-deep, freezing mud. Athena would sometimes order her to get down on her belly and roll in the artificial surf of a man-made sea, seemingly put there in the Ready Room some days for no other apparent purpose than to make Alice miserable. And miserable she was. She exercised while tired, while hungry, in the water, in the mud, and in the dark. And in the cold. Always, in the cold.


    In fact, the only times she wasn''t shivering or her teeth weren''t chattering was when she was in her bed, and that was too rare and too brief to be of any comfort.


    So compared to all that, this momentary reprieve from her training to walk barefoot into a bright, sterile laboratory was like a stroll in the park. The floors really were cold, though, and her jaw was beginning to tremble.


    The huge white and gray machine looked like something of a cross between a medieval torture rack and an MRI scanner. The whole thing moved and swiveled like a gyroscope. It was so impressive and incomprehensible that when she saw it, she asked the man beside her if it was some sort of alien spacecraft.


    "No, it''s not alien." It was Dr. Jaa Lee, the man she''d met the day of her tour of ORIGIN. Most staff and team members referred to him affectionately as Jolly. "But the technology is so far beyond anything we could reproduce that it might as well be from another world. Carlo Angelus, the man who invented it, had such a high IQ that many theorize he was a metahuman himself."


    Jolly was a Chinese man in his mid-twenties, and the amount of respect he seemed to provoke from the other members of the technology department led her to believe he might be a capable genius himself.


    Several medical and technology staff members worked together to secure Alice to the machine. Her wrists, ankles, torso, and head were strapped down so that she was spread-eagle over the framework of the machine. As she felt the numerous hands secure her in place, the machine began to hum so deeply that it made her teeth chatter.


    Athena, who was never far away these past weeks, watched the whole thing passively.


    "Is this what the machine is for?" she asked, trying her best to stifle her trembling. "To make me do my best impression of a star fish?" It was possible that her shakes had less to do with the temperature of the floor and perhaps to do with how being attached to this machine made her feel.


    "It''s to show us your Angelus field," answered Jolly. "We''ve been able to detect it before with smaller equipment, but this will be the first time we will actually be able to see it."


    "What''s an Angelus field?" She remembered overhearing Clawson and Jolly speaking to each other about her "field" before and had never understood what they''d meant.


    Jolly grinned, an eager student being asked his favorite question in class.


    "It''s a quantum field made of non-Newtonian particles that interact with space-time. The body acts as a quantum field generator and the particles often change the metaphysical properties of the generator by allowing it to supersede the laws of Newtonian physics and thermodynamics."


    For a moment, Alice was quiet. If her hand wasn''t buckled tight to one of the spokes of the machine, she would have scratched her head with it.


    "So, what''s an Angelus field?" she asked again.


    "It''s a nearly undetectable forcefield generated by metahumans," volunteered Athena. "We have no idea how it works. Only that it might be responsible for your abilities."


    "For example," Jolly added, "it might give you the ability to fly by allowing you to mentally control your own personal gravity field. That''s my hypothesis, anyway."


    "Where does it come from?" They had Alice''s interest now. Anything she could learn about herself might make her weeks-long hardship worth it.


    "We don''t know."


    Well, that was a letdown.


    "How did I get it?" she tried again.


    "We don''t know that either." Jolly said this with an almost embarrassed smile.


    There was a long, pregnant pause.


    "It does seem like your Angelus field might interact with that of another metahuman," Jolly added, trying to patch the gaping holes in his expertise. "You might be able to detect one another that way. It might also draw you towards each other somehow."


    Alice thought of the tugging in her insides that seemed to gently wash her towards Ethan whenever they were near.


    "Well, by all means!" she said, settling into her restraints on the machine. "Let''s see my Angelus field!"


    The machine thrummed to life, and white and metal rings began to spin and rotate around her body until she could no longer follow them with her eyes. The wind of the passing rings roared in her ears, and bright flashes of light blinded her and heated her skin almost to the point of pain. Her skin prickled, like the static before a lightning strike, and soon the infinite pin prick of tiny arcs of electricity began to dance across her body. Her head swam, and she resisted the urge to vomit.


    Then the machine went quiet, and the rings slowed to a stop.


    "Get her onto the table," she heard Athena order the others in the room, "and cover her with a blanket!"


    Alice suddenly felt like that was a good idea. She was freezing cold all of a sudden, cold in a way that made the icy mud of the Ready Room seem a luxurious bath. Her body began to shake beyond control.


    Someone, Alice wasn''t certain who, half-carried her to an examination table and began to check her heartbeat and her breathing.


    "Her heart rate is returning to normal," she heard a staff member say.


    Normal? I''m not sure it''s beating at all! Have I ever been so cold in my whole life?


    Feeling like someone trying to move after being encased in drying concrete, Alice turned her head so she could see Jolly. He was standing at a console, the one that controlled the Angelus. A holographic display was dancing with what seemed to her to be a formless shape. It was as brilliant in color as any rainbow, and it shifted and gyrated as though to some unheard music. The cold, shocking and awful as it was, was not quite enough to distract her from it, so beautiful were the colors. They were like the northern lights, but more lovely. Alice felt an immediate kinship to it, somehow. It was like looking at a photograph of herself taken from a new angle. At the same time, she found herself inexplicably feeling both radiant and humble.


    That''s me, she realized. A part of me I''ve never been able to see.


    "Beautiful," said Jolly, full of awe. "Absolutely beautiful."


    **********


    Alice''s eyes grew heavy, each of them feeling as though they were trying to resist the weight of the Megaton by themselves. She only intended to blink, but when she did, they stayed closed. Her head slipped off her hand and she almost went tumbling face-first into her bread pudding.


    Her head darted up again, and her eyes flew open, and she remembered that she was in the galley sitting alone at a table with her textbook and her dessert for company. The book was titled, Emergency Care and Transportation of the Sick and Injured, 11th Edition. She tried again to focus her eyes on the page. The text swam and darted about the paper between diagrams and photographs of injuries and the techniques for treating them. It was unreadable. She decided to take another bite of the pudding, hoping the cinnamon and sugar and citrus glaze would bring some signs of life back into her own brain.


    It wasn''t helping.


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    What, do they spray these books with chloroform?


    Alice would have cursed books and reading and classes then, but she reminded herself that there was nothing really wrong with it all. She thought the book was interesting, as well as the classes she had to attend between her physical training sessions. For a few days at a time, Athena had been sitting her down behind a desk while she listened to an instructor teach her some new aspect of her new job. So far, in the five weeks since she''d arrived at ORIGIN, Alice had learned about sociology, law enforcement, anatomy, and now, emergency medical treatment. The textbook of the latter now bore an amber smear of citrus glaze across a paragraph describing the proper treatment of shock victims.


    Under normal circumstances, Alice would have thought it all to be fascinating, especially given that she might one day soon use some of that knowledge to save a life, but she wasn''t in normal circumstances. The three-hour classes often lay between grueling sessions of endurance or strength training. She often entered the room cold and sore, and soon the soft breath of warm, recycled air would soon take its toll on her, and she would begin nodding off.


    Joshua, whom Athena had assigned to be her first aid instructor, had taken to spraying her in the face with ice water to rouse her. She had never been so tired in all her life. Much of it was the physical strain of her training. Alice was beginning to understand why most people avoided exercise. It seemed every muscle in her body had undergone some strange alchemy, somehow transforming into dry, splitting wood. Athena often had Alice begin her training for the day¡ªif one could call it day; she usually had Alice sweating before sunrise¡ªby working on the Megaton until Alice could scarcely lift her arms above her head. Then, her real training would begin, when Alice was already so physically spent, she could barely stand.


    The rest of her fatigue could be explained by the sheer amount of stress she felt. It seemed Athena was determined to keep Alice cold, hungry, tired, and rushed. She often did her training while wet and freezing, and on sometimes as little as two hours of sleep. Any time she did spend in her own living quarters was hardly relaxing. She was expected to clean it herself with high standards of cleanliness and meticulous attention to detail she''d never seen outside a hospital. She''d failed four room checks already, and the penalties had been severe. She spent so much time making her bed she almost didn''t have time to sleep in it.


    "Having a good nap?"


    Alice started and found herself staring up at Ethan.


    "Ethan, you scared the crap out of me!" she cried too loudly.


    She was suddenly aware that the other occupants of the galley, a few dozen ORIGIN staff members in a variety of uniforms, all in the middle of their own conversations, had stopped to stare at her. Alice covered her face and looked back down at her book. She hadn''t meant to draw so much attention to herself.


    "Wow, calm down there, Alice. You look like you''re wound a little tight," said Ethan as he took a seat next to her. "I heard you got strapped to the Angelus today. That''s probably why you''re jumpy. That machine always gives me the screaming meemies."


    Alice thought back to seeing that dance of color on the machine. It had almost seemed a crown shaped from the aurora borealis itself. Seeing it felt special, like a life-altering event, but it had left her physically and emotionally drained and full of questions.


    "So, you must have one too, right?" she surmised, pointing her spoon at him.


    Ethan nodded and shrugged, as though she''d asked if he owned something as ordinary as a pair of jeans.


    "Yeah. All metahumans do. Or, at least, that''s the theory. They say Divinity had one, and I have one, and so do you." He tipped his chair back and gazed wistfully at the ceiling. "But all that means nothing. They don''t know what the Angelus field really is. It''s all just a bunch of..." He made his fingers into a pointed mouth and flapped them open and shut, as if to say yak, yak, yak.


    Alice took a slow bite of her pudding, thinking as she chewed.


    "I don''t know," she slurred around a full mouth, "I think it''s great to know a little bit more about us. I mean, don''t you ever wonder where we come from? Why we are the way we are?"


    Ethan shrugged. It was as though these questions bored him.


    "By the way, where have you been the past few days?" she asked, looking at him with suspicion. "I was hoping you''d help me get through this course."


    He opened his mouth to answer her, but he paused, looking over his shoulder and scanning the room as if to see if anyone was listening to their conversation. Finally, he scooted closer and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.


    "Okay, I''m not supposed to tell you this, but I''ve been doing a little traveling with Clawson. Just for a few days. We visited a few places where we ran some anti-terrorism operations and a few rescue missions over the past few months. California and the Middle East, mostly. Clawson''s investigating something, and it''s probably something serious."


    "Like what?"


    He shrugged. "He thinks there might be someone behind some of the conflicts we''ve been working on. Someone behind it all. You know, like how Al-Quaeda was behind the 9-11 attacks and a bunch of other stuff until Divinity took them out."


    Alice looked at him with an expression of real concern on her face. "Is that true? I mean, did you find out anything?"


    For a moment, she was sure he looked uncomfortable, but if that were true, he seemed determined to hide his real thoughts behind a wall of careless bravado.


    "Nah, we didn''t find much. Really, it was boring stuff. Just following up on some jobs we did. We deal with terrorists all the time, so it''s no big deal. If I were you, I''d just focus on the stuff in front of you." He pointed to her book, seeming almost eager to change the subject. "Make sure you study hard. That EMT exam is a monster. And the mission qualification exam, which you must pass in order to go out into the field with Meta..." He shook his head, as if trying to shake off bad memories. "Let''s just say it''s the hardest thing you''ve ever done in your life."


    Alice ran her fingers through her hair and pulled as though she wanted to rip it all out.


    "I don''t know how I''m going to learn all of this," she said.


    "You won''t," said Ethan.


    "What?" said Alice, shocked at Ethan''s frankness.


    "I said, you won''t," he repeated. When Alice stared at him with a mixture of disbelief and hurt, he quickly added, "I mean you''re not meant to. Not in so short a time, anyway. Athena is intentionally making it too hard for you."


    Alice asked him what he meant.


    Ethan began to count on his fingers. "She''s got you exercising nearly all day, every day, right? She takes away mealtimes as a punishment when you don''t make your bed or when you fall asleep in class. Right after your most exhausting exercise, she puts you in a warm, dim, comfortable room and demands that you stay awake and pay attention. And if I don''t miss my guess, you''ve been waking up an hour earlier every day for the past four days. Am I close?"


    Alice blinked at him. Ethan had only just returned from traveling the world with Clawson. How did he know what kind of training she''d been through?


    "How did you know all that?"


    "It''s kind of her thing. She''s our trainer, right? She wants to know how we handle stress and fatigue and disappointment, so she intentionally puts us in stressful situations to see how we react. Has she busted you for leaving a smudge of toothpaste in your sink, yet?"


    Alice''s eyes narrowed to slits. How could he know about that unless...


    "She...she put it there?" When Ethan nodded, she hissed, "I had to skip dinner and put two extra hours in on the Megaton for that! I had been so careful to clean that room! I scrubbed and scraped and went over it with a fine-tooth comb! I knew there was no way I left that in the sink!"


    And that had been the least of it. Training in the cold, in the dark, in the most unfair and exhausting circumstances she''d never imagined, it had all been by design.


    That woman wants me to fail. If Clawson intends to give me a fair chance at becoming a permanent member of the team, Athena sure doesn''t.


    Then a thought occurred to her.


    "Did she do all this with you?"


    Ethan nodded.


    "Yeah, about when I was nine." He grabbed her fork and took a heaping bite of her bread pudding. "Wow, the chefs did really good on these," he said, speaking around the mouthful of dessert. "I remember back before we had chefs. The food sucked."


    "You were nine?" Alice repeated, staring at him, ignoring that he''d just commandeered her food. "You''ve been living here since you were nine?"


    Ethan shrugged and took another bite. "Well, ever since I was a baby, yeah. Clawson discovered my metahuman status really early, so he arranged for me to be raised here."


    What kind of parents would just let their child live here?


    "How often do you get to see your family?" she asked.


    Ethan looked at her, still chewing, and shrugged. He said nothing.


    Is this what Clawson and Athena wanted for her? Sure, she was already grown, so they weren''t exactly stealing her from her crib like the witch in Rapunzel, but she had a life outside of all this. When would she be able to get back to it? Had Clawson promised her a shot at being a rescuer only to intentionally fail her and keep her in this place?


    Alice suddenly missed her mom.


    "So, what do you keep listening to?" Ethan said pointing his spoon at Alice''s earbuds.


    Alice touched them and shrugged.


    "Just music. An old playlist I keep adding to."


    Ethan held out a hand, and Alice obliged. She gave him one end of her earbuds and watched as he popped it into his ear and listened.


    A grin spread across Ethan''s face.


    "Wow, you really like the old stuff, I''m guessing," he chuckled.


    "Yeah," she admitted. "I mean, I like some new things, but time has a way of filtering out the garbage. The longer a song has survived, the longer people have been listening to it, the better it probably is."


    "So, you don''t listen to Old Daddy Darkness? Homeward Bone? Spray?"


    Alice screwed up her face as though Ethan had just emitted a foul smell. "What? No! All that Pound stuff is just too much bass and bad, constipated rapping. I like when the artists could actually sing."


    Ethan laughed and stuffed another spoonful of pudding into his mouth.


    "You sound like a grandma," he teased.


    "No," she corrected him. "I sound like my dad. Most of my songs come from him. We had a game we invented when I was a kid. We would find songs that reminded us of ourselves, and we would save them in this playlist. So, these songs aren''t just ''old''. They''re familiar, like a close friend or a relative. They are more than just noise. They have meaning. After my dad died, these songs were a way I kept him alive. I''d take all this older stuff over Spray and Lil'' Mongrel any day."


    Alice wasn''t sure, but she thought Ethan stared at her just a little longer than necessary just then. She wondered if it was her peculiar taste in music or the fact that she''d just told him her father had died. After all, this was someone who had been given up by his own parents to a subterranean life of non-stop training. Maybe that look in his eye was nothing but pity, but Alice guessed there might be something more.


    She tried ignoring the heat in her cheeks and snatched the remainder of her dessert from Ethan''s grasp. Newfound kinship or no, she wasn''t about to let him finish that bread pudding. It really was that good.


    Just a few more weeks, she reminded herself. I''m already more than halfway through. A few more weeks, and I can prove to them that I can do this. Only a few more weeks.


    But Athena had a talent for making minutes pass like hours, days pass like months, and weeks pass like never-ending, soul-crushing, agonizing years.

 Chapter 13: Casualties

    It took another month of training before Athena and Clawson would even speak to Alice about participating in rescues.


    "Wait for the engineer, Alice," she heard Athena''s voice crackle into her earpiece. "We don''t want the whole place to come down on top of them."


    Alice was standing outside a partially collapsed house, the result of a thirty-three-foot-wide sinkhole. The structure was two stories high, or at least it used to be before the ground opened up underneath it and crumbled its foundation within minutes. The building was horrendously sagged and splintered, and it looked as though a giant had sat on its roof. The front door, once a beautiful design of wood and glass, hung crooked and broken with its bottom two feet underground. The garage, large enough for two vehicles, sat mysteriously unharmed.


    Alice hovered twenty yards away from it, waiting for instructions while she could hear a frail, tiny voice crying from somewhere in the debris. The failing light of the day started casting deep shadows shaped into nightmarish designs by the broken house. She couldn''t see who was calling for help, but she knew for certain that whoever it was wasn''t having fun.


    "I can hear a child," she said. "She sounds hurt." The microphone, a black, flexible strip of nylon and electronics strapped to her throat like a choker, transmitted her voice back to a control room in the command center, where Athena sat watching and listening to the whole thing. Alice was pretty certain Clawson was watching as well, wherever he was.


    "Like I said, wait for the engineer," Athena repeated herself. "If you start moving stuff around it might cause the whole thing to cave in even worse.


    "Ugh!" Alice hissed, frustrated. What was the point of having all these abilities if she couldn''t pull someone out of a hole in the ground without a committee''s decision first?


    Athena''s trying to make things difficult for me again.


    She watched as a small team of men emerge from a black SUV that had arrived a few minutes after she did. The men were RaTS, rescue and tactics specialists, dressed in gear and body armor that made Alice think of a cross between a firefighter and a police officer in riot gear.


    One of them was Levi. This time, he was no mere driver, but Meta team''s designated engineer, and he set to work right away converting the sensitive equipment installed in the vehicle into a mobile, temporary command center. A complex-looking array of antennae and dishes unfolded from the SUV''s roof like mushrooms growing in a time-lapse video. Alice could hear the electronic click as his headset tapped into her communication channel.


    "Alright, Alice. We are all set to go," he announced into her ear piece. "Let''s see about digging these people out of there."


    "I can hear someone, a kid, I think," she told him. Her eyes scanned the debris for something, maybe a tiny hand poking out of the wreckage, but she saw nothing. She''d watched television shows and movies about superheroes with x-ray vision, and she wished for a moment she''d been gifted with that among her other talents.


    "Don''t you worry," said Levi cheerfully. "The drone will sniff out the survivors."


    The word "survivors" churned Alice''s stomach. To her, that word was meant to designate the people that did survive a disaster from the ones who didn''t. Which meant she might find more than survivors in that heap of twisted wood and crumbled drywall. She might find the dead.


    She watched as Ferguson retrieved a piece of equipment from one of several black cases in the vehicle. It was matte gray, and about the size of a beagle, only with two circular fans attached to either side of it like wings. A blunt snout made of highly sensitive detection equipment poked out like a nose with odd whiskers. He finished its assembly and activated it. The creature-like drone beeped and whirred to life, blasting its fans and bringing itself into a shaky hover above the vehicle. Then it made for the house and began to circle it like a vulture some sixty feet in the air.


    "I''m starting to get images," Levi announced. "I see five people inside the structure. One adult with three children on the north end of the house. I think they''re in what used to be a kitchen. I have the other adult in the east end, but on the second story. Maybe in a bathroom."


    Levi was reading a series of monitors that showed him a hoard of data passed on by the buzzing drone above. Since Athena had already briefed Alice on the drones, she knew it was using a mixture of RADAR, infrared, and high frequency sound waves to scan the mess of a house.


    It was a marvel of military and rescue technology. It was also irritating in that it was slow.


    "Levi, what''s the quickest way for me to get to those kids?" she asked, perhaps a little impatiently.


    "First, we''re going to the adult by himself in the east side of the house," he countered.


    "But the kids!" Alice protested.


    "Going in that way first is the safest way," he said.


    Alice sighed. She had occurred to her more than once that day how much Athena seemed to want Alice to fail. Would she be willing to sabotage this rescue just to make her look bad? Was Levi in on it? "Okay, tell me which pieces are safe to pull away."


    She waited for Levi to start guiding her through the entry process, removing parts of the structure in order to get inside it without tearing the whole thing down. Her heart hammered in her chest as she flew to a crumpled window that at one time had been large enough for her to fit through, but no longer. She was perspiring, but not with heat or strain. She was stressed.


    "Don''t move, Alice," said another voice over the radio. It was Ethan. "You might be saving one person instead of four."


    Alice froze. "What do you mean?" she asked. That was a voice she hadn''t been expecting. She hadn''t even seen Ethan that morning, and she wasn''t told that he''d be a part of this.


    "You''re not a part of this mission, Ethan," warned Athena. "Let Levi do his job."


    "He''s wrong," Ethan warned. "I''m tapped into the data feed from the drone, too. That structure will probably give out in only a few minutes. There may not be enough time to save everyone. Go for the kids."


    "Wait," Alice said, looking to where Levi sat inside the SUV "is that true?"


    "Beaker''s reading the data right," explained Levi, "but he''s not seeing the whole picture."


    "Alice, there''s no time for this," Ethan pressed again. "That structure''s about to give out."


    What to do, what to do? Should she listen to Ethan? As far as she knew, it seemed like Ethan was hijacking the communications frequency to warn her. He wasn''t even assigned to this mission. Listening to him, according to Levi and Athena, could spell disaster. On the other hand, Could Athena be trusted? Did she want Alice to succeed here?


    "Get off the channel, Ethan," warned Athena. "This is Alice''s mission. Alice, do what Levi tells you."


    "Stay out of this, Beaker," joined Levi. "She needs to do this on her own."


    But it was too late. Alice was already moving to the north end of the house. She reached what looked like the remains of a sliding glass door just as she heard a groaning, crackling sound coming from deep inside the debris.


    Ethan''s right. There isn''t any time left.


    She blasted in through the glass door, spraying the inside of the room with shards. In the poor light, Alice spotted small, human forms huddled together among the rubble. She threw herself on top of the nearest one just as the house finally gave up the ghost and disintegrated around her. There was a loud crunching, cracking, and shattering in her ears, and then darkness.


    Then she heard the bell signaling the end of the examination.


    Athena''s going to kill me.


    Still trying to hold onto the limp, life-like doll of a human child, Alice used her shoulders and one free arm to lift the wreckage off herself. Some of the wooden debris and nails caught on her black body glove, pulling at the tough, flexible material but not tearing it. Finally, she emerged on top of the wreckage with her survivor in her arms.


    She looked to the SUV, where she saw Levi dismantling and packing away the drone. He met her gaze and shrugged, a sign of quiet, contained frustration.


    The lighting in the Ready Room returned to normal levels as the solar generator above ignited, chasing away the shadows and the gloom that had added to Alice''s stress and uncertainty.


    "Alice," roared a voice through the room. Athena''s voice. "Why did you ignore your engineer''s instructions?"


    Alice jumped from the top of the crumbled house and drifted to the ground near the SUV, where Athena was waiting for her. She held the lifelike dummy about the waist and held it up for Athena to see.


    "I had to save the kid," she answered. Then she braced herself for what she was sure would come next.


    I rescued one person, so that should be worth something. Who knows, maybe that''s enough to pass the exam, she lied to herself. She braced herself for what she was sure would be a withering, face-melting reprimand at full volume.


    But to her surprise, Athena said nothing. She simply walked to where Alice stood, extended a hand, and plucked something from the face of the dummy. A long, sharp shard of glass about the length of a steak knife.


    "Thank goodness you were there to save him," she said, quiet, razor-sharp irony dripping from her voice like acid. "If it hadn''t been for you, he would have been crushed under the house. But thanks to you, he''ll bleed to death in your arms. The day is saved."


    Alice dropped the doll on the ground, where it crumpled and rested on its side. She put her hands on her hips and pressed her lips tight together. She was beginning to get used to these little talks with her trainer. She knew the best thing for her was to quietly listen to the criticism and say "yes, ma''am" and "no, ma''am" as many times as it took to get through it.


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    Was this all rigged too? Of course, it was. Just like the room inspection. Just like my classes.


    "Okay," Alice countered, "so I went through the glass a little fast. I won''t do it again."


    "You think this is about glass?" she asked, her eyes narrowing to hard slits of obsidian. "You ignored Meta team''s engineer. Because of that, you failed your mission. Instead of rescuing five people, you sacrificed four of them so you could badly injure one." She threw the glass shard into the dirt at her feet and turned to walk away.


    "But Ethan said..." she tried again, but Athena rounded on her so quickly the words caught in her throat.


    "Ethan was not the engineer assigned to you," she hissed.


    "But if I''m a part of this team, I''m not always going to have an engineer, am I? I''ll sometimes have to work on my own!"


    Deep inside, Alice could hear a feeble voice reminding her that this would not help, even before the words left her mouth, but her patience had run too thin to give it much heed.


    "No. You''re right," Athena agreed, "and if your performance today was any indication of what your judgment is like without experienced specialists to assist you, I''m having serious doubts about sending you into the field at all."


    "But I have abilities..." Alice began to protest.


    Stop talking, the voice inside her said.


    "And what good have they done you?" Athena cut in.


    Alice opened her mouth to answer, but she couldn''t find a single word to say. Images of an overturned SUV on Airport Road flashed in her memory, her dad alone in the dark as she left for help. None, she knew was the answer to Athena''s question. They haven''t done me any good at all.


    Athena was, in Alice''s opinion, the kind of woman who always knew how to get the final word in the conversation. Athena stood there, waiting for Alice to say something in her own defense, but no words were forthcoming.


    But what did it matter? She''d failed her test. Nine weeks of brutal effort, all wasted. She had never tried to achieve something so hard in her life, yet she still failed at doing the job she was sure she was born to do. Athena had made sure of it.


    "If you don''t want me here, you should just say so," Alice managed to mumble as she turned to leave.


    Soon she was grinding her teeth in frustration as she stomped away from the test site. She took long, quick strides to put as much distance between her and the woman who''d made it her personal mission to make Alice''s life as difficult as humanly possible.


    She found her way to the elevator blocked by the one person who might be able to make Alice feel worse. If making Alice miserable was a sport, Priscilla was gunning hard for a strong second place to Athena.


    "Priscilla, please get out of my way," Alice warned her.


    As was her usual demeanor, Priscilla had her arms crossed over her chest and a nonplussed expression on her face that made Alice seriously consider shaking her by the shoulders. She stared up at Alice''s face with a mirthless smirk that showed just a corner of her sharp, white teeth.


    She was never far away whenever Alice was training. Alice had tried several times to be kind to Priscilla, to reach some kind of mutual respect at least, but her frigid, condescending attitude made that impossible. She was always sneering, whispering to her brother or to Levi or to any other staff member that would listen how she thought Alice was a waste of time. Her whispers were somehow never quite quiet enough for Alice not to hear.


    "Failed your test?" Priscilla jabbed.


    "I''ve never hit a person before," Alice seethed, "but so help me, Priscilla, if you test me..."


    She raised a fist and held it under the redhead''s chin to make her point. Alice wasn''t used to making threats, to showing so much aggression, but her previous encounter with Athena had made her seriously willing to try. If she was being honest with herself, the gesture fit her poorly, like a suit tailored for someone else. It made her uncomfortable to brandish her fist like that, but what choice did she have? Priscilla was getting in her face, and this seemed to be the only language the girl would understand.


    However, Alice didn''t seem to be the only one who could tell she was uncomfortable playing the tough girl.


    "I wish you would hit me," Priscilla challenged. "At least then it would prove you might actually be suited to this life."


    Alice stared at her. For a moment, she had nothing to say. Without thinking about it, Alice dropped her fist until it hung by her side like a dead fish. Then it suddenly clenched into a fist again.


    "I don''t know what your problem is Priscilla," she seethed. "Is it because I fly too? That I can do it better than you? Is it because you realized you''re suddenly becoming the most useless person on this team?"


    Alice regretted it as soon as she said it.


    Priscilla didn''t change expression, but Alice thought she could see her face flushing with color. She wondered if Priscilla''s pale skin would flush until it was as red as her flaming hair.


    "You know what your problem is, Fillmore?" Priscilla asked, her eyes narrowing conspiratorially, as though she were about to impart a valuable secret to Alice. "You don''t bleed enough."


    Alice felt her stomach tie itself into a knot. "What did you say?" she squeaked.


    "Relax, Fillmore," Priscilla laughed. "It wasn''t a threat. It was a fact. You don''t bleed enough to do what it is we do. You''ve never suffered. You''ve never had to struggle. Not you, and not Ethan. You have no idea what it''s like for the people we rescue. So, to you, this is all just a game.


    "But not to me. My brother and I? We joined the military as soon as we were old enough. We both made Special Forces before we turned nineteen. We both rotated to Iran twice. I did a tour in Nicaragua. He did one in Kurdistan. I''ve been shot, blown up, and broken. I''ve been stabbed," she reached out a finger and pressed it to Alice''s stomach just above her right hip, "right here. I''ve come that close to death. So has he. Because we''re human. We''re soldiers. We know what it''s like for normal people out there. We have the training and the understanding of what people really go through. We''re acquainted with death.


    "I may not be able to fly without my Silf Jet, and I might not have your strength, even with my rig, but I can do my job." Priscilla pointed a finger at the site of the collapsed house, where human-shaped dummies were being pulled from the debris as ORIGIN construction crews prepared to sweep away Alice''s failed test. "Can you do yours?" Priscilla asked.


    Alice felt her fury and rage and threatening posture melt away until nothing but a puddle of shame and frustration was left.


    Priscilla took a step closer, until her face was so close to Alice that they would butt heads if either of them sneezed.


    "You failed for a reason. You''re not suited to this life. I suggest you go and use your talents for something you''d be suited to. Show business, maybe. You were good enough at acting like you belonged here with us. For a while, anyway."


    Priscilla stepped aside enough for Alice to pass. Alice did, but slowly, unsure, no longer knowing what to think or do in her situation. As her desire to get away to wherever no one could see or talk to her grew, her footsteps grew faster.


    She refused to talk to anyone until she''d had a shower. It was strange for her to simply walk to her room without being told she had permission. For weeks she''d been living like a soldier. She''d eaten when they told her to eat, trained when they told her to train, and slept when they told her to sleep, which wasn''t often. To suddenly make her own decision, even one so simple as to take a shower, made her feel as though she''d dropped something heavy, like she was suddenly unburdened, at least a little. She kept waiting to feel the crash, to experience some harsh consequence, for someone to stop her. But no one did. She walked through those hallways alone, and everyone she passed ignored her.


    She somehow managed to peel off her body glove, a nearly skintight garment that covered her from her neck to the bottoms of her feet. Clawson and Athena had made her wear it since the day they''d tested her flight capabilities over an old, abandoned airstrip a few miles away. Her flight test had allowed Jolly and some of the other medical staff members to see her airborne and identify some her shortcomings. They saw that she tended to become very cold the higher and the faster she went, and that regular clothing could rip to rags under the force of the wind when she flew quickly. The body glove was the answer.


    But in truth, she hated the thing. She hated wearing something that tight to her skin. It made her feel naked. She stared at it, now a pile of gray glistening with her sweat.


    At least I might never have to wear it again. After today, I might be done playing the hero. I suppose that''s the upside of failure. Once you''ve failed, you don''t have to keep trying.


    Alice felt the sting of tears behind her eyes and resisted the urge to sob with frustration. She stood under the water, turning it on as hot as her skin could stand it. She knew that she couldn''t simply rinse away all the pain and the fatigue and the anger she felt, but it didn''t stop her from trying.


    **********


    "I need to leave," she stated in as calm and frank a voice as she could muster.


    Clawson leaned forward on his desk and laced his fingers together thoughtfully.


    "You''re already cleared to have a week of leave in two days," he reminded her. "Are you telling me you can''t wait until then?"


    Alice shook her head.


    Clawson stood from his desk, and looked Alice in the eye, but with no sign of an attempt to intimidate her. He just looked disappointed.


    "Is this about what happened today in the Ready Room? Your rescue examination?"


    "It''s..." Alice tried to say, but she felt a sharp lump in her throat. "It''s a lot of things. But yes. You promised me a chance at becoming a member of this team, but you lied to me. That test wasn''t fair. My training hasn''t been fair. You and Athena have put me through two months of..." her breath shuddered with the effort of expressing all the pain that was in her at that moment, all of the anger she felt towards Clawson and Athena and Priscilla and Ethan, and even herself. "Athena thinks I''m unqualified for this, and she made sure I would fail that test. And you know something, she''s right. I''m not ready."


    The words tasted bitter. They were the words that had been slowly forming in her mouth since her failure in the Ready Room, congealing like spoiled milk. She had imagined herself becoming something different from the little girl who''d done nothing while her father slowly died in the dark, but it seemed she could never be anyone else. And she certainly wasn''t Divinity.


    "I know you''re not ready," Clawson conceded. "Your training program has been designed to put you under immense stress to see how you would respond," he explained. "You are a metahuman, but emotionally and mentally, you are as fragile as any other person. We intentionally put you under extreme duress to test your commitment and your ability to act under pressure. And nothing brings that out more than an unfair test."


    "But why?"


    "In our line of business, we frequently must deal with hardship. You will have to face some of the most horrible scenarios conceivable by man. You will be confronted by enemies who want to kill you. You will hold people while they die. It will all be terribly, unapologetically unfair. We needed to be sure you could handle all that."


    Alice''s eyes stung. She wiped at them with the heel of her hand.


    "I don''t think I can," she admitted. "I''m not a soldier. I wasn''t raised to this. I want to help. I want to be involved, I really do, but I can''t stay here like this. I have to go home."


    Clawson nodded. When he looked at her, she thought his eyes looked sad, as though he truly sympathized with her.


    "Perhaps it was a mistake to train you like a soldier. Divinity certainly wasn''t one."


    The two of them walked to the wall-sized window that looked out over the Ready Room. Below, Alice could see crews of workers operating heavy machinery, using them to scrape away the landscape that had been the sinking house. Her exam, the evidence of her failure that day, was being wiped away.


    "Divinity never did feel partial to military training," Clawson explained. "In fact, he was a sensitive man. If I hadn''t seen him punch a hole through a main battle tank, I would have thought him a soft man, incapable of doing what needed to be done in a serious conflict." Clawson stole a glance at the young woman beside him. "You remind me of him in that way."


    Alice stared. In that moment, she didn''t think it was possible to feel more different than the decisive, unshaken hero she''d seen in all those pictures, all those videos. Besides the fact they were metahuman, what did they have in common?


    "I remind you of Divinity?"


    Clawson suddenly smiled, and his eyes twinkled as though he were suddenly remembering something fondly.


    "Oh, yes. Soft and strong at the same time. People close to him used to tease him for being so sensitive. The media never really captured that side of him, the man who cried for hurt children, who became sullen and frustrated whenever he made a mistake. He would sometimes disappear for days, just to be with his loved ones. It was his way of processing it all, of staying sane."


    Then Clawson looked at her, a curious look on his face. "Do you know, you''ve already lasted longer than many of the people we consider for employment here? Athena''s succeeded in making hundreds of people quit, people who lacked the commitment to stick with the training. Most of them didn''t last as long as you."


    She didn''t know how to answer that. What did it matter how long she lasted? She''d failed, hadn''t she?


    Clawson turned back to his desk and dropped back into his chair. He seemed to be considering something.


    "If I give you leave to go home, will you come back?"


    Alice sniffed and wiped at her eyes again.


    "Come back?"


    Clawson nodded, looking like he''d come to a decision. "Yes. Come back and take the test again. If I gave you some time to recover, would you come back and recommit to this program?"


    She knew she didn''t have to. She could be done with it all, with the unfairness, with Athena, with all of it. But maybe there was a part of her that hated her failure more than it hated the unfairness and the cold and the pain. Maybe there was a part of her that still hoped to become something more, whatever the cost.


    "Seven days," Clawson warned her. "You have seven days to decide. If you come back in a week, we continue your training."


    He didn''t have to tell her what it would mean if she didn''t come back in a week.

 Chapter 14: Escape

    "Good morning, friend," Christine announced when Alice opened the door for her. Alice had to haul herself out of bed to answer it. The only reason Christine didn''t just let herself into Alice''s apartment was because her hands were too full to manage it. She waltzed in with a cardboard box full of pots, pans, cooking utensils, and food. "I hope you told your bureaucratic slave masters that you''ll be absolutely unavailable this weekend."


    Alice held up the Motherboxx and waved it like she did for her mom, though she was still too drunk with sleep to respond quite so cheerfully. It was, after all, still morning. "I''m still on call," she slurred.


    "A Motherboxx. They really do have you on a leash. At least I now know what you''d exchange for your soul," she smirked, and she placed the box on Alice''s kitchen counter. "Today, you are mine. Now, go shower. I refuse to be seen in public with you until you look cute. Then we cook huevos rancheros."


    The thought of eggs, potatoes, peppers, and cheese roused Alice from her walking coma, and she stumbled off to the shower without protest.


    She''d come home the night before. The emotional shock of being back home after two months away had been overwhelming, and her mom''s hug had tipped her over the edge. She''d begun to cry and talk at the same time, not being able to stop either for a long time. She''d told her mother everything, and the two of them kept talking long into the night. Alice had no idea what time she''d finally gone to bed, but by the time she''d finally awoke to hear Christine at the door, her mom was already gone, another twelve-hour shift in the NICU.


    It was strange to be back, to be in her own bed and her own apartment and her own shower. It was like she''d woken up from a dream, a strange dream in which she''d tried to be a superhero, but no matter how hard she tried, she could never be one. What if it all had been a dream? Now in the familiar trappings of her own home, all that she''d experienced, the training and the cold and Athena and Clawson and Ethan, it all seemed so surreal.


    "Friend," Christine said when she poked her head in through the bathroom door, "There''s someone at your door. He says he knows you, and for your sake I hope it''s true."


    Alice dressed herself quickly, and with still-dripping hair went to see who''d come calling. She''d seen that look on Christine''s face before when she''d arranged for Alice to meet a guy. She was worried for a moment it would be Thomas requesting another date of rock climbing.


    Just inform my gentleman callers that I''m far too preoccupied to be courted at present, she thought to herself as she left her bedroom and opened her front door.


    "Ethan?" she choked.


    She was dressed as stylishly as always when he wasn''t in a body glove or exercise clothes. He smiled when he saw her, that same winning grin of his with shining teeth, but he also seemed nervous. He was arching his neck, trying to see around the corner that led towards the stairs and the elevator. It was as though he expected someone to appear at any moment. In his hands were two plastic shopping bags bulging with some groceries.


    "Ethan, what are you doing here?" She winced as she said it, because she knew she''d sounded too disappointed to see him. In fact, she wasn''t. There seemed to be a light that turned on inside her every time he was near, but seeing him brought the memories of the last two months flooding back in a rush, something she hadn''t been ready for.


    "I, ah, I thought I could use a day off from work, and I decided I''d come see if I could hang out with you."


    At first, she thought about telling him no. After all, if she hadn''t listened to him the day before, if she''d listened instead to Levi and Athena during her rescue examination, she might not have failed, and the all the frustration and anger and tears might never have happened. Part of her wanted to be angry with him.


    But then she looked at his smile again. A big, pearly, toothy smile. And she felt something then for him. Something different than what she normally felt when she saw him smile. Before then, she felt like his smile was the sort that could end any argument, win any entreaty. The kind of smile that made most girls feel butterflies in the pit of their stomachs and instantly want to touch his lips. But not anymore. Now, she felt pity. She knew he must be in as much trouble as her for what had happened. She''d seen the way he was treated at ORIGIN and felt sorry for him whenever she saw him get chewed out by Clawson or Athena. But if he was in trouble, why was he here?


    "Come on in," she said, waving him in with her hand.


    There seemed to be a tangible wave of relief that washed over him, and he hastily came into the apartment and made his way to the kitchen. Christine was there unpacking her cooking utensils and groceries from her cardboard box.


    "Christine, this is Ethan," Alice explained. "We work together."


    "Oh? You two are friends?" she asked, looking at Alice, probing. "Good friends?"


    Ethan opened his mouth, but looked at Alice, unable to answer the question himself. It appeared to Alice he didn''t know for sure exactly what they were, and was afraid to presume, even after what had happened between them the day before.


    "Yeah," Alice answered quickly. "We haven''t known each other long, but we''re friends."


    A wave of relief seemed to wash over him, like a prisoner expecting a harsh sentence from the judge, only to receive leniency instead.


    Christine gave Ethan a warm smile. Alice knew that smile. It was most common when Christine found someone she found attractive. Who wouldn''t? Ethan was, Alice had to admit, very handsome.


    It came as no surprise, therefore, when Christine proposed the idea to let Ethan tag along with them for their planned day out. Normally, Alice would not have opposed at all. She quite liked the idea of bringing Ethan along, but she knew what Christine''s intentions were. She was enjoying this, the thrill of setting them up as a couple. Improving the social life of Alice Fillmore was what Christine considered her great act of service to the world. Alice, for her part, could have done with a little less charity.


    "I don''t know, Christine," Alice countered, trying to be as subtle as she could. "Ethan''s supposed to be at work today, and he might get in big trouble if he''s caught skipping out on the office."


    "Oh, playing hookie, are we?" Christine teased.


    Ethan shrugged his broad shoulders. "It feels like it''s been months since I''ve had a day off. Besides, they need me around there. I''m kind of hard to replace, so I think I''ll get a slap on the wrist at most."


    "That settles it!" cheered Christine. "Ethan is taking a ''mental health'' day from work, and he''ll be spending it with us!"


    Christine excused herself to Alice''s kitchen, where the smell of eggs and peppers in a skillet radiated out in plumes of steam. As she cooked, Alice lowered her voice to a whisper.


    "Did they really give you time off to come see me?" she asked, already thinking she knew the answer.


    Ethan shrugged. "I may have taken initiative in choosing my own schedule for the next day or so." He winked.


    Alice tilted her head and stared at him, dumbstruck. "You escaped?"


    "See, the word ''escaped'' implies that the place I left was a prison, but it''s just where I work."


    Alice craned her neck to see if Christine was still in the kitchen. She was, and the sounds of sizzling pork carried on the air, offering cover for their hushed conversation.


    "You know what I mean. Are you allowed to be out here? Especially after everything that happened?"


    The smile faded from Ethan''s lips. It didn''t leave entirely, but it lost all its warmth.


    "Clawson came to see me after your test. I was scheduled to have some leave time in a few weeks. He canceled it."


    Alice''s heart sank. Ethan hardly ever left The Farm, and she knew the loss of that time would have been devastating to him, who seemed to want nothing more than the freedom to socialize with normal people and live his life aboveground.


    "So why are you here?" she asked.


    "To keep you from quitting," he answered, suddenly serious. "You can''t just leave us now. I know you failed that test, and sure, I might be partially to blame for it, but you can''t let disappointment stop you from doing what''s right. If you quit now, you''ll be letting yourself down, and a lot of other people besides. You think Athena is unfair? Life is unfair. You need to get over it and come back."


    "It''s not just a question of trying again, Ethan. I''m not sure...that place...is right for me. I''m not sure that life is what''s right for me."


    Ethan shook his head. His smile was gone now, and she could see the muscles of his jaw working, as though he were grinding his teeth with frustration.


    "Well, I never took you for a coward," he said flatly.


    Alice stared at him, dumbstruck. She thought if anyone might understand what she''d endured for those nine weeks, it would be Ethan. But it seemed she was wrong. Perhaps his harsh treatment had taught him to be harsh. Perhaps a hundred rescues had made him calloused to the pain of others. Or perhaps he just hadn''t spent enough time around people in all his years of training. Whatever it was, she knew she could never explain to him why she needed to come home, if only for a little while.


    "Look, Ethan, maybe you should go," she said, looking him in his hazel eyes. "I came home to rest and to gather my thoughts. I''ll make a decision about coming back on my own."


    She turned away from him and started towards the kitchen. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw something she didn''t expect. She thought he might be angry with her, or frustrated or disappointed. Instead, his face was buried in his hands, as though he might begin to cry.


    "I''m sorry," he said through his fingers. "I shouldn''t have called you that. I''m sorry for getting you in trouble. I was so sure that engineer was wrong. But I was wrong. I was just trying to help. I know this sets you back from going into the field." He looked up, and she could see his eyes were wet. "It''s my fault you failed. My fault. Not yours. I know passing that test meant a lot to you. Everything to you."


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    He was right. She knew Athena doubted whether she could ever be trusted with actual missions. She''d been training hard for months. She''d learned first aid and other lifesaving skills, everything from CPR to treating someone with a spinal injury. She''d learned about firefighting, building demolition, and radiation exposure. And Athena assured her there was much, much more to learn. But now, it seemed, Athena had made it clear that she was more interested in getting rid of Alice than training her. Hadn''t she made that more or less clear on her first day?


    We chose you for this course because you''re unique. Not because you''re qualified.


    Alice sighed. She sat on the couch and invited him to sit with her. He collapsed into it and kneaded the bridge of his nose with his fingers, apparently still too ashamed to meet her eye.


    "We both made mistakes yesterday," she said. "But I think mine hurt you more than yours hurt me. I mean, Athena got upset with me, but I think she''s almost always upset at me."


    He nodded and barked a mirthless laugh. "Yeah, I know what that feels like."


    She knew he did. She had noticed that Athena and Clawson tended to be particularly hard on him. Even besides the frequent criticisms and punishments, Ethan was the only person she knew of at ORIGIN who was almost never allowed to leave. She wanted to know why, but she didn''t know how to bring it up. What if he''d been in some sort of serious trouble before she came here? Or what if he''d done something terrible in the field, maybe something like what she''d just done to that poor training dummy? She didn''t want to stir up bad memories or ask him to share such personal information with someone he''d only known for about a month. But she hated seeing him so sad like that.


    It was then that Christine returned, plates nearly overflowing with food balanced in her hands. For the first time in months, Alice ate a meal in peace. The food seemed to cheer Ethan as well, who seemed as happy to talk to Christine as she was to talk to him. She grilled Ethan with questions about himself, where he was from, what he did at work, and what kinds of things he was into. Ethan, Alice was surprised to hear, was a master of misdirection. He fed her clever half-truths and incredibly dull descriptions of their workplace that she accepted without a second thought. By the time Alice had scraped every last speck off her plate, Christine was under the impression that Ethan was a sort of fire marshal for federal property.


    "That''s cool," appreciated Christine.


    "It''s alright," Ethan shrugged. "What about you, where do you work?"


    "La Morena," Christine answered as she began to stack their plates. "I cook and cater events. My parents own it. But enough talk about work. What do you do for fun?"


    Ethan grinned. "I love superheroes. Comic books. Movies. Video games. Novels. Anything that tells a superhero story." He stood from his seat and took their dishes to the sink.


    Christine smiled and winked at Alice. "I guess boys have hard time growing out of that kind of thing, huh? My brother''s into that sort of stuff, too. Superman. The Hulk. Power Rangers."


    "Yeah, there''s that stuff," answered Ethan from the kitchen. "And there''s also The Iliad. And The Odyssey. And Sherlock Holmes. Those are all stories of people with superpowers, too."


    "Yeah," agreed Christine. "Why such a huge interest in superheroes?"


    Alice found herself uncomfortable at all this talk about superheroes. She couldn''t help but wonder if Ethan might accidentally say too much. If Christine somehow figured it out, what would happen? Would government people show up at her house or at La Morena, put a bag over her head and shove her into the back of a van? Would Clawson send his own people after her?


    "I guess it''s kind of like soul searching," Ethan kept explaining. "All heroes have quests. I think I''m trying to find mine."


    Alice started sensing a need for a change in subject at that moment, so she started racking her brain for something to talk about.


    "Oh, so you''re a hero, huh?" quipped Christine. "What''s your power?"


    Alice cringed.


    Ethan smiled his brightest, most prize-winning smile. "I''m cute."


    Christine barked a laugh and began to help him in the kitchen.


    Alice sighed, trying to relax. She was happy Christine had taken the whole thing as a joke, but she wondered how many more brushes with the truth she would have that day.


    But suddenly, it was Ethan who looked uncomfortable. He was looking out the kitchen window, one that looked down at the street far below. Alice joined him, and she saw what it was that had him so tense.


    "What are you guys looking at?" Christine asked, standing on her toes to try and see over their shoulders and out the window.


    A black SUV was parked in front of the building. Standing beside its open door was Clawson in his dark overcoat. Even from up this high, Alice could see the mirror bright shine of his shoes.


    "Your dad looks pretty mad," Alice said, hoping Ethan would catch on. He did.


    "Yeah. My dad. Um, the office probably called him when I didn''t show."


    Ethan reached for Alice''s hand. It was so unexpected, Alice nearly jerked away from the contact. But Alice immediately noticed the warmth of his touch, the smooth, unblemished skin of his fingers, and the reassuring squeeze of his grip. She realized then that Ethan was probably the only person in the world she could honestly give a hard squeeze like that without it resulting in injury. It made her smile.


    "Thanks," he said, "both of you. I think I really needed this."


    Alice''s mouth hung open, and she scraped her brain for words to say.


    "Good luck. You''d better hurry. Your old man looks like he''s about to come up here looking for you," Christine warned. And then she tilted her head, curious. "How does he know where you live, friend?"


    Christine was right. Clawson was looking straight up at them from far below, clearly knowing which windows belonged to Alice''s apartment. His face seemed to be equal parts incredulity, rage, and desperate self-control, as though he''d come almost positive Ethan wouldn''t be stupid enough to be there.


    "I had fun," she said finally, and she was rewarded with another genuine smile. "Let''s do it again some time."


    Ethan barked a laugh. "Yeah, let''s do that. See you at work."


    He let go of her hand and left.


    Christine and Alice watched in silence as Ethan appeared a moment later on the street below. He and Clawson exchanged words they couldn''t hear, Clawson looking like the veins in his neck might explode. Ethan then climbed into the vehicle, as did Clawson. Then they were gone, speeding back to The Farm where, Alice had no doubt, Athena waited with a list of well-calculated, brutally difficult training exercises for Ethan.


    As the black SUV bore Ethan and Clawson away, Alice found herself thinking again about how she herself had gotten in trouble with Athena for listening to Ethan instead of her engineer. It was a mistake that had cost her Athena''s confidence but had led to a remarkable morning in which she''d finally gotten to know the only other human being in the world who knew what it was like to be special in such a very specific way. She''d learned that Ethan was out of touch, perhaps, with normal, everyday people, and that his responsibilities weighed on him in ways she had not realized. It was information she would not have traded for anything.


    She already knew she wanted to go back and try the test again, meaning she had to find it in herself to apologize to Athena, a superhuman feat in itself. But she also realized she had another reason for going back.


    I can''t leave Ethan there alone.


    **********


    The apology, as it turned out, was not so hard as she thought it would be. Alice had Athena''s hard, practical personality to thank for that. Here was a woman who seemed the living incarnate of pragmatism, the guardian of all that was sensible and simple. Alice guessed that if she wanted to persuade her to give Alice another chance to prove she was ready for the field, she would have to do it in a way Athena would understand and appreciate. That meant no drama on Alice''s part.


    "I know there''s no excuse for my failure the other day," Alice told her as they stood on the hard-packed dirt floor of the Ready Room. A full week had passed since Alice had last seen her, and she hoped it was enough time to soften the edge of their conflict. "I should have listened to Levi. I ignored him. I understand why that would be a major problem if there had been real lives at stake."


    Athena nodded, appreciatively it seemed, and Alice tried to withstand the urge to explain why she listened to Ethan and what emotional pressure she''d been under at the time. True, the unbelievable stress of her field test changed things, and her relationship with Ethan tended to make her give him the benefit of the doubt, but she knew these things would not have meant a thing to Athena. She was convinced by results, not emotional explanations.


    Alice took a deep breath, looked Athena in her brown, steely eyes, and tried to continue without drawing things into an unnecessary, emotional tangent.


    "I can''t argue with your decision to keep me out of the field," she continued. "Not based on my performance last week. But I think you should give me another chance to pass that test. As soon as I can."


    Athena raised her eyebrows in interest. That, at least, was better than the scorn Alice thought she might find on her face, or even worse: indifference.


    "And why do you think that?" she asked. "Why should I let you take the test again so soon?" Athena''s hands went to her hips as she said this, and the pose made her look like some sort of gladiator in an arena.


    This woman even reasons with the posture of a prize fighter.


    "Because," Alice answered, hoping beyond hope that her answer would be the right one, "I would pass it. I know what my mistake was, and I won''t make it again. Besides, if there''s a chance I could help Ethan in the field, there''d be no point in keeping me here just to make sure I learn a lesson. I know you want your team out there working, saving lives. I can help them do that. So, give me another chance. That''s why you been training me, right? To get me ready for the field? Well, I''m ready now."


    For a moment that seemed much longer than it was, Alice watched Athena as she deliberated Alice''s proposal in her head. Alice believed that if her mind actually had been made of gears, she would have been able to see them turning behind her eyes.


    Finally, she spoke, and with short, blunt, even tones. The speech pattern of someone who knows they don''t owe you a thing in the world.


    "Your assuming, Miss Fillmore, that your failure to listen to your engineer was the only reason I failed you," she corrected. "But you''d be right if you thought it was the biggest reason. You''re right. I want you in the field. I''m not out here running you through all this training because it''s a hobby of mine. Believe it or not, I hate yelling at people. I didn''t enjoy failing you. But I want to be sure your performance on this test, if you pass, if I let you take it again, is how you''d react on a real mission."


    "It''s your call," Alice said, tempting fate. "Either give me the test again or don''t and make me wait. Whatever you think is best. But I''m telling you I''m ready for it now. I know I am. And it will be how I''d react in the field. Let me prove it to you."


    There was another eternity of silence and Athena''s cold, calculating eyes before she finally barked a laugh. The sound was so unexpected that Alice jumped a little when she heard it.


    "You need to teach Ethan how to talk to me that way," she said with a knowing grin on her face. "A boy that big shouldn''t be that afraid of me."


    Then, turning to a crew of men operating heavy equipment behind her, "How soon can you have the playhouse ready?" she barked.


    "Seventeen hundred hours," shouted one of them.


    Athena turned to her with eyes no longer cold but blazing with challenge. "You have until five o''clock today to get ready," she warned. She turned to leave, but she paused. "I''m surprised you came back at all."


    Alice looked up, not expecting Athena to have more to say. "What?"


    "I''m surprised you came back," she repeated. "Do you know why we make our trainees live here for months while we test them? We put them through a lot if they want to join the teams. A lot of cold, hard training. If we allow them to go home, they''re more likely to quit. They get back to their families, to their own beds, and a lot of them don''t want to come back. They''re too afraid to come back."


    Alice nodded, understanding a little of how some of those men must have felt. "I was afraid," she admitted. "I still am."


    Athena nodded and smiled. "You''re afraid, but you''re not a coward."


    Alice smiled and went to her room to get ready.


    Though she had heard from Athena herself that the intricate setting would be ready by late that afternoon, Alice still could not believe it when she finally emerged from the elevator to find the Ready Room exactly as it had been when she''d first taken the test. The huge pile of demolished building materials had been transformed back into the neat little home being swallowed by a monstrous hole in the ground.


    How did they do that so fast?


    ORIGIN was full of mysteries, and not all of them were about metahumans.


    Her second chance at the house in the sinkhole went as smoothly as she could have hoped. She had a different engineer that time, a German named Heinrich, and the survivors were placed in different rooms than before. She followed Heinrich''s careful instructions as she encountered obstacle after obstacle, a collapsed window, a locked door, a fallen beam, until she''d finally removed the last unharmed dummy from a house on the verge of imploding and falling into the simulated sinkhole.


    Athena watched in silence as Alice carried out her orders, and she walked quietly between the "survivors" as they lay arranged on the grassy lawn in front of the house where Alice had placed them after their rescue. She inspected them, like a drill sergeant inspecting weapons.


    "A marked improvement, Miss Fillmore," she said as she investigated the artificial face of one of the dummies. Alice had no doubt she was looking closely to see if she could find another of the long, spear-like shards of glass that had ended the "life" of Alice''s only rescue in the previous test. "Keep this up and I might be able to find a place for you in the field."


    I certainly hope so.

 Chapter 15: Arsenal

    Halfway around the world, four men and two women skulked into the gloom of an unlit parking garage. They wore tattered old coats, combat boots, and fatigues that were decades too old for modern military. Their faces were hard and in varying states of uncleanliness, some with makeup to suggest homelessness, some with scars and crooked noses that betrayed a life of hard conflict to a anyone with a trained eye. There was no need to cover their faces. The weakness in the security here, they''d discovered weeks ago, was that the cameras relied on the lights for a clear picture. If one cut the power to those lights, they could render the cameras useless. And so they did.


    Even with the cover of darkness, they were careful to remain unseen. Even if the cameras footage could never identify them, they wanted to leave nothing to chance. They scurried along the walls low to the floor like rodents. They carried gas cans that sloshed with something that was certainly not gasoline. They stacked these containers at the bases of four different concrete pillars and waited.


    One of them, the only one with a cleanly shaved face, went to each pillar one-by-one and deftly arranged wires and electrical devices with the speed of long, careful practice. As he worked, the sleeves of his shabby coat rode up his arms, revealing elaborate tattoos inked in large Gothic letters. They read, "No Gods. No Devils. Only Men."


    The job was done thirty-seven seconds faster than they''d planned. It gave them more than enough time to disappear into the city alleys and derelicts before the show began. They saluted the man with the tattoos before scattering in different directions, each one of them taking a different planned route back home across the sea. Only one stayed behind with their leader. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder, admiring a job efficiently and discretely done.


    One of them stroked his beard thoughtfully. His face was creased with concerns.


    The other one pulled the sleeves of his coat back down over his tattooed arms and looked at his brother''s face.


    "What''s got you so worried, Eustace? It was a pretty clean job."


    The one stroking his beard looked down at his brother''s tattoos and back up to his face. The tattoos were recent, and he wasn''t sure he cared for them. He just wasn''t sure why.


    "When I signed up for this, I knew we''d be fighting enemies." He gestured to the bombs they built around the pillars. "I just didn''t know it would be like this, Virgil."


    Virgil shrugged his shoulders, like he didn''t see what the big deal was about the eighty gallons of explosive gel they''d placed in the garage.


    "Demolition was one of the first things he taught us, Eustace. It''s part of our core doctrine." Virgil made the holy sign of the arsenal with his hands by bringing his them together and lacing his fingers together, pointing them straight out.


    Eustace did the same, but his face didn''t soften.


    "That''s not what I mean. I guess I mean that I didn''t think our enemies," he pointed up to the concrete ceiling and to the building above it, "would look like this, you know?"


    Virgil turned to his brother and placed his hands on his shoulders almost tenderly. He looked at him like a priest might look on a wayward soul.


    "Brother, this is why you were never chosen to be a cleric. You have the skills, that''s for sure. You''ve got the grit. But you lack the vision. You know who the real enemy is." He pulled up his sleeve once again, baring the illuminated words "No Gods" so colorfully and artfully rendered, Eustace could still easily read them in the dark.


    Eustace bowed his head and nodded. He was a man with doubts he could not articulate, with convictions and fears that could not quite reconcile themselves into outright acceptance or denial. All that left him with was complicity.


    But Virgil seemed unconcerned with what he saw in his brother''s eyes. He slapped him on the shoulder and led him out of the garage into the streets above. They darted between shadows with the training of covert military operatives. As soon as they''d reached the city park, they stood beneath a tree and looked back at their target. A vast, gaudy, ugly hotel loomed above the parking garage they''d just fled.


    "How do you catch a god, Eustace?" Virgil asked as he produced a small flat device from his belt. He fiddled with it, turning a key set into it and flipping open a cap, revealing a button. "You bait them with their favorite food: men."


    With a look of pure rapture on his face, Virgil made the hand sign of the arsenal again and pressed the button.


    A moment later there was a cracking, crumping explosion, and a cloud of hot dust and ash began to billow out through the city. The Latigo brothers disappeared into the night, leaving only cinders and the wails of the dying behind them.


    Alice started awake to the blaring of trumpets and drums that constituted Darth Vader''s theme music in Star Wars. It was a ring tone she thought appropriate for Clawson, and so she''d set it some weeks before, even though it was against the terms and conditions she''d been given when she received her Motherboxx. After all, the other Meta team members had loaded their Motherboxxes full of television shows and games. All the better, they said, to pass the time in between training and travel. Was is such a big deal she''d loaded her entire music collection onto her own?


    "Hmmmm?" she moaned at the device. She''d meant to say "Hello", but it never quite made it out.


    The holographic screen projected by the Motherboxx was of Clawson''s face, though it took her a moment to recognize him. "Alice, we need you to come into the office. Right now."


    She tried to check the time on her device, realized she was looking at the battery icon, and tried again.


    "Dude, it''s, like, two-thirty in the morning. Can this wait?"


    "No," he answered coldly. "You need to be here in five minutes. I suggest you get ready."


    Alice tried to wipe the film of night sweat and oil off her face with her hand. It had been nearly a month and a half since she''d passed her test. Alice thought that once she''d proved her worth to Athena, her training would slow to a pace that was, if not easy, then at least less strenuous than her preparation for her examination had been. How wrong she was. It was true that she could now return to her own home every night after training, but Athena seemed to compensate for Alice''s newfound freedom with higher expectations in both her physical training and her classroom studies.


    Because of all of this, Alice had come to love sleep with a passion that bordered on religious worship. The bed was holy, and sleep was divine. To be woken before her routine five o''clock alarm¡ªjust so she could arrive at work by five-thirty¡ªwas a grievous sin.


    "Clawson, are you for real? Is this another drill? If it is, let''s just skip it today, okay? I really need to catch up on some sleep."


    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    Alice had already responded to two drills in the past month. At first, she''d been ecstatic, believing she was about to be sent on her first mission as a metahuman rescuer. But every time she arrived at ORIGIN headquarters only to discover Athena with a stopwatch and a long list of exercises for her to do, she secretly told herself the day would never come when she''d do it for real.


    "It doesn''t matter if it''s a drill or not. Be here in four and a half minutes," he warned.


    And then he hung up.


    Alice lay staring at her Motherboxx for a full minute before she finally dragged herself out of bed and into some jeans. She didn''t bother with a real shirt and just left on her over-sized pajama shirt with Christmas print. After realizing that she could hear the pattering of a cold winter rain outside, she also donned a raincoat.


    A sharp ache stabbed at the muscles in her arms and legs as she stretched and walked toward her window. She''d been working like a dog for Athena in the past few weeks. She''d only had a break from her brutal routine on a day when there''d been a training accident in the Ready Room. Alice had arrived to see a wall demolished and several pieces of construction equipment turned over, as though some kind of explosion had tossed them aside. Alice had been instructed to continue her classroom instruction for two days after, as mentally exhausting as work on the Megaton was physically demanding. Still, it had offered her a chance for her body to recover from the punishment of her workout routine.


    Alice had meant to ask Ethan what had happened in the Ready Room, but he''d been mysteriously absent during that time. A few days later, when he finally appeared in the Ready Room for physical training, she''d forgot to ask him.


    Alice flew her assigned route to The Farm. Athena and Clawson had prescribed her a flight path to take in emergencies, one that would ensure her the least likelihood of being spotted and identified by pedestrians below. Luckily, the rampant tree growth throughout the state made that easier than one might imagine.


    Levi was waiting for her at the front entrance. Had she not been half-asleep and half-frozen from her flight, she might have noticed the look of urgency on his face.


    "Let''s go, Alice. You don''t want to be late today."


    "I know," she said, stumbling in from the dark like a member of the living dead. "Last time Athena made me squat under the Megaton for an hour. I wanted to die."


    "Good morning, Miss Fillmore," said Yancy brightly as she shambled past.


    "Morning, Yancy," she yawned.


    Why can''t everyone treat me like Yancy does? He''s always happy to see me.


    Besides the cheerful security man, the whole building seemed empty. Levi escorted her past ghost-quiet hallways and hibernating copy machines. He opened the door to the elevator for her and practically shoved her into it.


    "Hurry, please," he said. "Today is, uh, not like those other days."


    Instead of reporting to the Ready Room, Levi guided Alice through ORIGIN''s upper levels towards the parking garage. He nearly had to drag her through the double doors and into the concrete space towards a grouping of black vehicles.


    "Rise and shine," Levi said as he gently nudged her towards the cars. "Get into the lead car. The rest of our team is waiting for you."


    It took her mind a moment to register the word "team", but when it did, the sleep fell away from her eyes like a torn curtain from a window.


    Wait, is this the real thing?


    She dashed to one of the black Suburbans in the parking lot. It was the only one not currently being loaded with bulky, black equipment crates by staff. She pulled open one of the doors and jumped into one of the pilot seats.


    "Top of the mornin''," said a cheerful voice to her right.


    She turned and saw Ethan sitting in the other pilot chair, dressed in flannel PJs and holding a mug of something hot in his hand.


    She turned and saw the seats behind her were occupied by the twins, Priscilla and Joshua sitting shoulder to shoulder. They were dressed in black coveralls and had the distinct no-expression she had come to be familiar with whenever the two were particularly focused.


    But the twins'' unreadable facades were broken when Priscilla saw Alice climb in. Her expression turned sour, the sort of look that told Alice exactly what Priscilla thought about her being there. You''re about as welcome on this mission as a bag of horse crap, that look seemed to say, but if that was what Priscilla was thinking, she never vocalized it. She just broke away her stare and resumed looking as serious as an undertaker.


    If Ethan weren''t in the car, you''d think we were going to a funeral.


    But they weren''t. That much was clear. Wherever they were going, it was some place serious. Some place real.


    "What''s going on?" Alice asked, suddenly filled with more energy than she knew what to do with.


    Ethan grinned and saluted with his mug to the front passenger''s seat. "You might want to ask her," he said.


    The passenger in the front seat turned her head and looked at Alice. It was Athena.


    "You''re late," she said, "but not as late as I thought you''d be."


    Alice didn''t have time to react before the interior of the vehicle was suddenly filled with an almost unbearable light. Several small projectors came to life and painted a holographic screen in midair in the middle of the vehicle''s interior. Alice squinted at it. She quickly realized she was staring at Clawson''s face again, yet another live holographic feed.


    "Good morning, Meta Team," he said in a flat, professional drone. "You''re on your way to Pyongyang, North Korea."


    The image on the screen changed, and Alice had to rub her eyes as they resisted adjusting to the changing light. She found herself looking at a tremendously ugly building. It looked like it wanted to be a pyramid, a skyscraper, and a cartoon rocket ship at the same time. Alice found herself wishing someone would destroy it.


    "Four hours ago," Clawson continued, "the Ryugyong Hotel collapsed, trapping or killing as many as eleven hundred people inside."


    The image changed again, this time to what Alice assumed was a live feed from a Korean news network. The camera angle was the elevated, slowly rotating point of view from what was undoubtedly a helicopter. Behind a veil of smoke and dust lay a mountain of smoldering concrete and steel. Arcs of white water streamed from fire trucks onto the wreckage. Alice was no firefighting expert, but even she could see the feeble number of emergency vehicles around the corpse of the Ryugyong Hotel were not enough to deal with the calamity on their hands.


    Alice had learned about North Korea while at ORIGIN. She''d only been briefly instructed on world politics, a class she took from Clawson himself. Financially bankrupt, culturally reclusive, and politically abrasive, North Korea seemed like the kind of place that would rather see its people starve before asking for America''s help, and yet Alice was on her way there to provide emergency disaster relief.


    "Hey, Clawson," interjected Joshua, who seemed to be thinking the same thing she was, "why go out of our way to help North Korea? Did they ask for American help?"


    "No. As a matter of fact, North Korean political leaders were quite insistent that Americans stay out of this matter. But their emergency response services are too underfunded and undermanned to handle something like this. There are likely hundreds of people still trapped under that rubble, some of them American expatriates, and without our services they will all probably die. You will be responding to this emergency unofficially. You must infiltrate, provide support, and exit without the consent of the North Korean government. Their law enforcement and military are too busy to spend much effort apprehending you, but they might try. Avoid arrest at all costs. Your primary objective is to assist in the rescue of any survivors. You are also to determine the cause of the building''s collapse."


    Priscilla and Joshua nodded their heads in understanding. Ethan took another noisy, slurping sip of his cocoa.


    Alice was shaking with anticipation. She''d been trained in several practice scenarios just like this one. Collapsed buildings were as much a part of her education as were forest fires, avalanches, floods, and earthquakes. Athena had even talked of training her in counterterrorism in the near future. But now the training was over. Whatever she''d been trained to do, she''d never had anyone die as a result of her failures in the Ready Room. Now, lives were on the line. Now, people were going to die, and probably dying that very moment, without her help.


    "Clawson," Ethan interrupted, a chocolate mustache clinging to his lip "why not just stay out of this? Why risk being captured by North Koreans to give them help they don''t want?"


    Immediately she felt the eyes of every passenger in the vehicle shifting to Ethan. Even Athena had turned in her seat to glare at him.


    Clawson''s voice was tinged dark with irritation.


    "Ethan, your focus right now should be on your mission at hand. If you have any more questions, ones that are relevant to the success of your mission, you may direct them to your team leader."


    Athena gave Ethan a look that dared him to say another word to her or anyone. Ethan slumped back into his seat and slurped his mug and shrugged.


    Alice wondered what could possibly bother Ethan so much about this mission. People needed help. Even if they were North Koreans, wasn''t their need more important than petty politics?


    Or is this your way of punishing Clawson for treating you like a prisoner?


    "I wish you all the best of luck," said Clawson. "I''ll see you all when you get back."

 Chapter 16: Rescue

    Alice struggled to understand why on Earth she should be so uncomfortable flying in a plane.


    The Black Swan was a marvel of modern engineering. It was as subtle, elegant, and comfortable as it was durable. The stealth cargo plane was propelled by six cutting-edge jet engines. Yet, the matte black metallic skin of the craft muffled the high-pitched SCREEEE of the machinery so much that the people on board were hardly aware of it.


    But even with the sound insulation, the advanced technology, and even the alloy airframe that made the Black Swan capable of surviving crashes and airspeeds that would rip any military-grade plane to ribbons, Alice couldn''t help but feel as though she were plummeting out of the sky in an iron cage.


    It was made all the more embarrassing that Alice was fully aware that she, more than any other passenger on the Black Swan, was supposed to be at home in the sky.


    "Just breathe," said Ethan with a smirk as he watched her lean against one of the portholes. "They say you''re more likely to die in a car accident then in a plane crash."


    Alice tried to settle the fluttering in her stomach. She tried to glare at him as soon as she heard his laughter but seemed unable to tear her eyes away from the view outside. She would have been willing to do about anything to be out of this clumsy metal bird and out into the open sky.


    "Shut up, Ethan!" she growled. "This isn''t funny!"


    "It is a little funny," he chuckled.


    "No, it''s not," someone interrupted. "It''s sad."


    Alice turned her head and saw Priscilla. She walked past the two of them without sparing either of them a glance. She was dressed in her combat rig, a hissing, whirring mechanical frame that attached to the outside of her body glove, making her roughly as strong as a bear.


    "You''re a flying metahuman who doesn''t like to fly," she said with more than a little disdain. "You don''t have the training or the discipline necessary for a mission like this. And worse, I have to rely on the both of you. So, yeah. Not funny. Just really sad."


    "Give her a break, Priscilla," said Ethan in Alice''s defense. "It''s her first time out. I''ve seen her train. I think she''s going to be fine."


    Priscilla looked at him with a venomous smile.


    "Beaker, you''re no better. Your assessment of her ability is worth less than nothing to me."


    She walked away towards the weapons locker. Alice and Ethan let her go without protest.


    "Don''t listen to her," said Ethan as soon as Priscilla was out of ear shot, "or any of them. They think they can tell us how to do this job because they have military training and tech and stuff. But they''ll never be as naturally gifted as us, will they?"


    Is that what this team is made of? Alice thought to herself, Us and them?


    Alice had begun to win some modicum of respect from Athena, but Joshua and Levi still seemed indifferent towards her, and Priscilla treated her with outright contempt. She wondered what it would take to earn the trust of the rest of Meta Team, as well as just what kinds of problems she''d run into until that happened.


    Ethan stood, no longer in his pajamas, but dressed for the field. It was a simple black shirt, the sort worn by the rest of the RaTS, but with the long sleeves rolled back so that she could see the thick, corded muscles of his arms. His pants were a dark gray, as were his boots. His hands were fitted with custom-made black gloves laced with high-tech fibers and circuitry.


    Alice, too, was dressed and ready for the mission, Priscilla''s criticisms notwithstanding. She was once again in her high-tech body glove. She also wore a black and gray jacket worn by many of the security specialists. Her uniform, like Ethan''s gloves, was also made of circuitry and fibers designed to work in tandem with the team''s computers and equipment.


    Athena appeared in the compartment with them. Alice was used to seeing her in a security uniform but had never seen her strapped with so much gear. Body armor and a combat rig added to her bulky figure, and a compact automatic weapon was strapped to her chest.


    "Five minutes," she warned them before turning to leave.


    "Hey, Athena," called Alice. She gestured to Athena''s gear. "What''s with all the firepower? I thought this was a rescue thing. You think we''ll run into that much trouble?"


    Athena answered with a cool, matter-of-fact tone that she might have used to explain why she was carrying an umbrella on such a beautiful day. "I''m about to jump out of a plane into a hostile country with only five other team members, knowing that if I''m captured, I''ll likely be tortured and incarcerated for the rest of my life in a North Korean prison. And, unlike you, I don''t have superhuman strength or invulnerability. I feel like I''d like to be prepared for anything."


    Alice nodded appreciatively. "Good point," she admitted.


    Athena left their compartment. As Alice leaned against the porthole, feeling her stomach turn somersaults, she was aware that Ethan was speaking, but she had no idea what he was saying. Her mind was elsewhere. Thoughts raced through her already busy mind, asking things like What if I make a mistake and What if someone gets hurt because of me, or dies? What if Priscilla is right, and I''m really not ready for any of this? She was all too aware that she was suddenly somewhere other than the Ready Room, that nice, controlled environment where buildings were built to be destroyed and the disaster victims were made of plastic. This was the real world. Things were going to happen. Had already happened. She hadn''t even arrived yet, and people were hurt and dying. This was worse even than when she went to North Carolina and saw the people caught in the flood. Those people lost their possessions, and a few got hurt. Here, people were already buried under thousands of pounds of burning concrete and steel.


    Alice was suddenly overcome with an unexpected emotion: shame. She''d been practically begging Athena to let her into the field, to give her a real mission to test her mettle, and now that she''d gotten her wish, she was afraid.


    "Hey, Earth to Alice."


    Alice felt a hand on her shoulder. She saw Ethan, donning that million-dollar smile of his.


    "Nerves? About the mission, I mean?"


    She gave a shallow nod, pressing her hand harder still against the smooth, cool surface of the glass porthole. She realized she''d have to be careful lest she break it.


    The hand that rested reassuringly on her shoulder gave her a brisk slap on the back. She felt the weight of that slap, the power of it. She imagined he''d done it with enough force to knock a normal man down. But not her. She was like him. It was a gesture only she could appreciate.


    "Don''t worry," he said. "It''ll be fine."


    Alice waited for him to say more, but he just stood there smiling at her, as though waiting for thanks for what he said. Her face fell into incredulity.


    "That''s it?" she demanded. "It''ll be fine? That''s your pep talk? Holy cow, Ethan! I''ve read fortune cookies with more personalized advice!"


    Ethan just grinned wider.


    "Your lucky numbers are seven, thirty-two, ninety-eight..."


    Alice just shook her head, her ponytail bobbing back and forth like a loosely coiled spring. She wanted to shout at him more, to vent her discomfort and her frustration on him like a dragon breathing flame. But the anger she felt towards him was fading. The corners of her mouth seemed to float towards her eyes of their own accord. Dispute herself, she was smiling at what he said. She loathed to admit it, but he had made her feel a little better. His encouragement, shallow as it was, had eased her turning stomach, and had taken the edge off her anxiety. He had an effect on her, and she had no idea whether to love it or hate it.


    Five minutes later she stood in the cargo bay. She stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Ethan and the rest of the team. Athena and the others wore helmets with goggles and breathing masks that made them seem like alien creatures from science fiction. Ribbed hoses struck out from their faces like elephantine trunks while the dark, smooth surfaces of their eye protection reflected the red-lit machinery of the bay at distorted proportions.


    Alice realized she and Ethan were, compared to the others, carrying almost no gear at all. Their only accessories were their body gloves and breathing masks. Alice wasn''t even wearing a parachute.


    "Thirty seconds!" Athena''s voice crackled in Alice''s earpiece.


    Alice grabbed the high-tech goggles perched on her head and lowered them onto her face. Immediately, bright green figures and numbers danced in front of her eyes, and green halos illuminated the members of her team so that she''d see them, even in the dark. Once her breathing mask latched in place over her face, a cool breeze of oxygen tickled her lips and nose.


    The cargo bay door gaped open with a deep, metallic groan like the mouth of some flying, robotic whale. The air outside whipped into the cargo bay with a FOOM! Beyond the red lights of the cargo bay, the horizon glowed with the pale light of a sun not yet risen. Immediately Alice felt the tumbling in her stomach ease. She now had access to the sky.


    Athena signaled the team to prepare to jump.


    "Hey, Ethan!" Alice shouted over the din of the rushing air. "Think you''d live if you did this without a parachute?"


    "Oh, definitely," he shouted back matter-of-factly. "But it really stings!" He must have known she had a surprised expression despite the mask. He added, "Iraq, three years ago! I''ll tell you about it sometime!"


    "Go, go, go!" ordered Athena.


    Six shadowy figures tumbled out of the Black Swan, which immediately closed its cargo door and powered away, not to return again until summoned by the team.


    Five of the six dark figures tumbled in the pre-dawn light, dropping like stones towards the Earth below. One did not drop, but soared, maneuvering the gale-force winds like a skier lazily switching back and forth down a snowy slope.


    Alice listened to the rushing of the wind in her ears and felt the sting of the cold on her face. This was her element. Above the Earth, there in the sky, free to move as she wished, she was ultimately herself.


    As she soared through the heavens, Alice touched a button on the Motherboxx strapped to her wrist to turn on her music. The beat of "Geronimo" by Sheppard thundered in her ears, and she could not hold back her smile as she whispered, "Bombs away!" as she broke into a tight dive.


    "Reign it in, Alice," Athena''s voice crackled in her earpiece. "We''re not here for fun. The more you play around up here, the more likely the North Koreans are to discover us on the way down."


    Alice quieted her music and gave a brief acknowledgment. She let herself free-fall, falling in next to Ethan, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself all the way down.


    "This part never gets old!" he cried.


    The six of them were falling towards a low group of gray clouds. Only after she stared at it for a moment did Alice realize that what she was looking at was actually smoke. Just as they reached the top of the billowing cloud, Athena gave the order, and five parachutes strung out behind the team members and billowed open like a time-lapse video of mushrooms.


    Alice slowed her own decent to match those of her teammates. Together, like a flock of dark birds, they descended through the smoke.


    Alice had been training with Athena in the Ready Room for months, and so she thought she might be as prepared for what lay beyond the gray cloud as any person might hope to be. She''d been through simulations of collapsed buildings before, not to mention earthquakes, tornadoes, and bombing wreckage. She''d even responded to a real flood on her own before she''d even heard of ORIGIN. But this was different. When the smoking corpse of the Ryugyong hotel finally appeared, she realized she was pathetically, embarrassingly unprepared for any of it.


    Even before the team cleared the smoke enough to actually see ground zero, Alice could hear it. Her body glove''s systems amplified the sounds below her in stunning detail. Sirens blared from fire trucks, and their hoses blasted jets of water in an attempt to stop the fires in the wreckage. A man on a megaphone attempted to give instructions. Whether the man was attempting to direct the rescuers or the countless civilians gathered around the hotel, Alice couldn''t be sure.


    Most disturbing of all the noises were the voices of the frightened, the injured, or the dying. Somehow, through the din of all the other incredible noises that day, theirs floated above all the rest. Though they spoke Korean, and Alice did not, it made no difference. Most of them were screaming.


    The team touched down in a poorly kept city park of sorts. It was a pale, crunchy field of grass with a few sparse trees surrounded by unattractive gray buildings.


    One by one, each ORIGIN operator hit the ground running, trailing their wilting parachutes behind them. Alice didn''t land at all, but stopped two feet from the ground, her arms wrapped around her body as though she were trying not to shiver in the winter chill. Her body glove was designed to keep her warm in almost any climate, but her trembling had nothing to do with the weather.


    "We''re four blocks from ground zero," announced Athena when the others gathered around her. "Once we arrive, I want Rollcage set up in a discreet place, up high if you can."


    Levi nodded in response. Just as they''d been instructed, Athena was using each team member''s call sign. Now that they were out in the field, they couldn''t risk using real names.


    "Fox Fire, stick with Roll Cage. Don''t let anyone disturb him. We need those drones."


    Priscilla, who''d been busy adjusting her face mask and her insect-like eye gear, looked up in surprise at her orders.


    "I should be out there digging," she protested. "Make the new girl do the babysitting."


    Athena shook her head.


    "I need all my heaviest lifters out there, and I can''t leave Rollcage alone. Not here. Corpse is our medic, so we need him there with the wounded. That leaves you."


    Priscilla shot another venomous look at Alice, but she said nothing. She stalked away from them and began preparing her bulky Silf jet, the jet-propelled platform that carried her through her missions like a screaming angel of death.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Alice would have been lying to herself if that didn''t give her some degree of personal satisfaction, but her nerves for what was to come left her no room to enjoy it.


    Athena turned to Joshua, Ethan, and Alice. "I want you two to proceed directly to the hotel. Start assessing, help where you can, but don''t move anything heavy until your engineer says so."


    Alice nodded her head emphatically. She was determined not to make a costly mistake here.


    "Whatever you say, Mom," chuckled Ethan.


    Does Ethan not take this seriously? Is this all one big joke to him?


    Alice walked side-by-side with Ethan towards the hotel. The streets between the ugly buildings were choked with shouting, crying, and disturbingly quiet people. Alice saw shock, horror, and resignation in their dark, slanted eyes as she pushed her way through them towards the site. She could smell them. She wondered if the sharp, almost bitter odor in the air was, in fact, the collective fear of tens of thousands of people in one place.


    As they reached the final block of buildings, Alice watched as the other team members peeled away to find vantage points. She watched as Levi and Priscilla made their way to the roof of an apartment building, Priscilla''s Silf jet firing up to a whining roar. She grabbed a hold of Levi and pulled him on to the device, which lifted both Meta team members up a couple dozen stories and deposited them above. Alice could see Levi begin unzipping the heavy bags he carried and unfolding his equipment until he had a small, temporary nest from where he could pilot his drone and relay her instructions.


    "Athena," Alice said into her mic, "The crowd''s getting too thick. I can''t get any closer without physically shoving my way through."


    The buzzing, convulsing sea of people around her pressed in like the deep water of the ocean attempting to crush a submersible. Even with all her abilities, Alice still felt like she could be trampled to death. The sorts of crowds she''d experienced in concerts were like nothing here. It would have been impossible for her to move through them without hurting someone.


    Alice paused to lift a woman who''d tripped beside her on the street. The woman, Alice guessed she was in her thirties, muttered something in Korean but didn''t even look at her as she continued to flee into the press that nearly killed her.


    My first rescue of the day.


    "You''re too close for us to worry about subtlety now," answered Athena. "Fly the rest of the way in."


    Alice took a deep breath and let go of the forces that kept her on the ground. She realized this was the first time she''d deliberately flown in public since her adventure in North Carolina. As people shouted and pointed, she grabbed Ethan''s outstretched hand and carried him with her, soaring ten feet above the heads of the people below.


    Within seconds, they reached the police barriers that kept the undulating sea of people at bay. Korean policemen seemed desperate to maintain order. Few of them noticed the pair flying above their heads, so absorbed were they in the cacophony in front of them, but the few who did froze in shock and disbelief.


    "Hey, toss me to the far side of the wreckage," shouted Ethan above the voice of the crowd. "We''ll start at opposite ends and work our ways towards the middle."


    Alice obliged, grabbing Ethan''s wrist with both hands and hurling him like a hammer. Ethan flew through the air in a graceful arc and disappeared from Alice''s view over the summit of the gray wreckage. He landed on a small pile of debris over a hundred yards away with a faint KRUMP and a puff of dust.


    Alice found a small pile of her own to land on, and touched down gently on a tilted, cracked, dusty concrete slab. Looking around the mountain of debris around her, she saw a confusing, nightmarish landscape of crumbled concrete, broken glass, and twisted metal girders and rebar sticking out of the mass at odd angles like broken bones puncturing the skin of a massive beast.


    The noise was incredible, but through the constant screams of sirens, shouts, and cries for help, Alice heard the radio buzzing in her ear that meant Levi had made radio contact with her.


    "Meta Six, can you hear me okay?" he said, calling Alice by her temporary call sign. Alice worried what creative name they''d give her in time, especially if she proved herself to be nothing more than a clueless teenage girl with powers.


    Maybe I''ll be known as "Mall Rat".


    Alice told him she could hear him just fine.


    "Good," he replied. "Now, I''m going to need you to do something for me. I''ve already got my drone in the air, and I''ve got a nice view of the debris from above."


    Alice looked up and immediately recognized the familiar shape of Levi''s drone. Its fans twisted beneath the domed shell as the tiny aircraft darted side to side like a hovering insect.


    "What I need is a view of the debris from the inside. Just touch your fingers to that concrete slab you''re on, and the sensors in your glove should give me a pretty good idea of what things look like underneath the surface."


    Alice did as she was instructed and crouched, placing her fingers on the surface of the tilted concrete surface. Immediately she could feel the circuitry-laced material of her gloves hum with vibration. She knew from training that the gloves were using something like sonar or ultrasound to make an image of the chaos under her feet, a map of sorts, and that other electronics in her tight-fitting body glove would send those images to Levi, who could read them.


    "Beautiful," said Levi when Alice''s gloves stopped humming. "I''m getting a nice view of things in a fairly large area. Now let''s get to work."


    As Levi relayed instructions to Alice, she began darting from place to place looking for survivors.


    The first of them were easy to find. If Levi had not told her where to look, she would never have made sense of it on her own. At first, she thought she was looking at a small, slender animal flopping around in the rubble. Then her mind registered what she was looking at: a slender, grimy arm, hand and fingers scrambling and waving, poking out of a cavity in the debris. The arm was soon joined by another, which emerged from the small hole like an animal leaving its den.


    Alice was suddenly aware that she could hear faint, exhausted sobbing coming from that hole.


    "Go ahead Meta Six. Rip it up. You don''t have to be very gentle here," said Levi in her ear.


    The cavity was large enough to allow a human body to crawl through, but it was barred by bent, ugly pieces of rebar that seemed as secure as any prison cell window. She reached her fingers into the concrete space below and found a grip.


    "Watch out!" she warned the people inside. "I''m going to get you out, but I need you to get away from the opening."


    Alice wondered what good she could do by giving such instructions in English. How many people in this country spoke English? She had no idea. Her meaning, it seemed, got across anyway. Alice watched as the dirty fingers disappeared back into the hole.


    With a faint grunt of effort, Alice pulled at the concrete covering the entrance to the cavity. Though the large chunk of debris was the size of a refrigerator and connected to other large pieces by nearly invisible pieces of steel, it bent and crumbled as Alice lifted it away.


    Sunlight streamed into the dusty depths of the cave-like space under the debris. Alice saw the hands again, and shoulders, and desperate faces. Two women gazed up at her, their mouths sputtering words Alice couldn''t understand. One of them was young, maybe younger than Alice by a few years. The girl seemed filthy beyond adequate description, but she appeared to be unharmed. The other woman was older, and she slumped into the closet-sized space as though she could no longer find the strength to stand. Alice saw that one of her legs was bent at an angle that made her stomach turn over.


    Alice reached for the healthy girl first and lifted her out of the hole as though she weighed nothing at all. The girl seemed to be unable to stop jabbering until Alice lifted her in her arms and flew her to the nearest group of paramedics. When she did, the girl fell morbidly silent, her eyes as wide as dinner plates. Neither she nor the rescuers seemed to be able to find words as Alice left her to their care.


    The second woman, the one with the injured leg, had no intentions of going so quietly.


    "What do I do?" cried Alice as she attempted to get a grip on the frantic woman. The woman was screaming what Alice could only imagine were threats and warnings as she beat at Alice''s reaching arms with her fists. She retreated as far as she could into her cave, refusing to be rescued.


    "Whatever you have to," answered Levi. "She needs help, and she''s afraid of you. But she can''t hurt you, and you''re strong enough to hold her, even if she struggles. Just don''t injure her any more than she already is."


    Alice growled with frustration as she leapt into the hole and scooped the thrashing woman into her arms. The thrashing stopped as soon as Alice took to the air. The woman, instead of trying to get away from Alice, now embraced her in a death grip as her wide, terrified eyes became inseparable from the ground below them.


    The emergency workers seemed to have found their voices again when Alice appeared before them with yet another patient. They shouted and backed away from her as though she were some sort of toxic substance. They stared at her, hissing at each other in their native language, pointing at Alice and the woman in her arms.


    Alice decided it was no use to try to explain herself or to reassure them. She pried the rigid fingers of the woman from around her neck and left her on the ground in front of the workers. The woman lay motionless on the ground, staring, as Alice flew away.


    Many of the other rescues that day were much more difficult. Though Alice was sure her body was up to the challenge before her, the job was running her emotionally ragged. Levi directed her all over the surface of the hotel debris, occasionally instructing her to touch a hard surface here or there to update his image of the wreckage beneath. The constant streams from the fire fighters'' hoses and rescuers'' attempts to dig survivors out kept the entire structure minutely shifting and changing to small degrees.


    There were so many people to save, and so many of them, most of them, were badly hurt. Alice felt numb from the sheer number of cuts and broken bones she''d seen that day, and she''d only been there for an hour, though it felt like an eternity.


    "Meta Six, I''m picking up what might be a trapped person about thirty feet below you. You''ll need to clear a lot of the top away before you can get down that far."


    Alice wondered what a nightmare it must be to be buried alive under all this destruction. As she carefully removed piece after piece of the hotel and carefully placed them in a nearby pile out of the way, the faces of the people she''d saved thus far flashed through her mind. Their dirty, horrified, blood-smeared faces. She worked faster, desperate to find whoever was down there and to free them. The anxiety was excruciating.


    But if she could just stop the suffering of just one more person...


    Alice lifted a gargantuan, groaning, cracked pillar with her shoulders. Her eyes fell on a shape in the rubble now exposed to the gray light of day. It was messy and broken and half-buried in the coarse rubble. It was also in pieces, and to Alice it seemed like a toy that had been disassembled by a destructive child and buried in the sand. It wasn''t until Alice saw an eye, dark, motionless, and staring, that she realized what she was looking at had once been a human being.


    "Meta Six, why aren''t you moving? Remove that pillar so I can see what''s underneath. Meta Six?"


    Alice was still staring, oblivious to the voice in her ear and the drone that suddenly appeared by her side.


    Suddenly another voice began speaking to her: Athena, who hadn''t spoken a word to her since she first arrived at the site.


    "Meta Six, your heart rate is spiking," warned Athena. "You''re going into shock. You need to focus on what you''re doing. You''re currently lifting eight tons of concrete. If you drop it you could shift the whole thing and some of the people trapped underneath might die."


    Alice barely registered a thing. She did feel tired and numb, and she felt her legs shaking. The enormous weight on her shoulders was shifting, nearly falling.


    There was a Crunch and a small explosion of rubble beside her as Ethan appeared, landing catlike despite his hard impact. She screamed and dropped her load. Ethan, looking like a statue of Atlas come to life, caught the pillar in his thick, corded arms and lifted it gently onto his shoulder.


    "Pull yourself together!" he growled, concentrating on balancing the weight to keep the pillar from breaking apart. "Help me carry this!"


    Alice, with trembling fingers, took hold on the pillar and helped Ethan move it to the safe pile.


    "What happened?" demanded Ethan. "What''s gotten into you?"


    Alice landed on the pile, doubled over, clutching her stomach, and vomited. Her breaths between retches became erratic, as though every breath was blindingly painful. As she gagged her last few dry heaves, she collapsed in a heap on the side of the pile and drew her knees to her chest. Her eyes were wide and staring, as though she were still seeing something that was no longer there in front of her.


    "Something''s wrong with her," Ethan said into his mic.


    "She''s suffering from shock," replied Athena. "She wasn''t psychologically prepared for what she was going to see here."


    "So, what do we do?" asked Ethan.


    "Get back to work," ordered Athena. "We''re down one Meta. That means twice as much work for you to do. So get to it, and pick up the pace."


    "Roll Cage''s location is secure enough," came a voice over the radio. It was Priscilla. "Let me take Meta Six''s place."


    There was silence over their coms for a moment as the team waited to hear Athena''s decision.


    "Permission granted. Fox Fire, take Meta Six''s place at ground zero."


    Ethan took one more look at Alice with a mixture of pity and frustration, and then he crouched like a track runner at the block, and he leapt into the air, returning to his previous area of the debris.


    Alice made no reaction to his departure. She still sat on the ground, her knees to her chest.


    A few seconds later, Alice could hear the scream of Priscilla''s Silf Jet as she passed. She saw her shadow descend from the dust-choked air and land on top of the debris pile, and she watched as the redhead''s combat rig hummed to life as she flipped chunks of concrete and twisted steel ten times her own body weight aside to reveal the empty spaces beneath.


    "Meta Six," Athena said in her earpiece.


    Alice didn''t respond. The voices in her ear were just noise. She wasn''t even sure who was speaking, nor to whom.


    Athena sighed.


    "Alice, I know you can hear me. I know you''ve just seen something terrible. I know you''re still seeing it, and it''s hurting you inside. But you need to suck it up. That person is dead. More are dying. If you want to make a difference, if you want to go home knowing that you saved the lives you could have saved, you need to get up right now."


    Fine words, but there was no strength in Alice''s legs to get up from where she huddled in the dust.


    There was a shrill cry that pierced the dust. A survivor, a woman as gray as the concrete, emerged from the rubble and limped away as Priscilla held a slab aloft, her combat rig whining with effort.


    "Fox Fire," came an urgent voice over the radio. "Be aware, the rubble under your feet is unstable. It''s going to shift any minute."


    "I copy, Roll Cage," Priscilla answered as she dropped the slab at her feet. It must have weighed as much as a taxicab. "Just give me a minute to...yeeeaarggh!" she cried.


    Alice suddenly stood from where she was and saw that the ground had literally moved under Priscilla''s feet. The piece of rubble she''d been standing on had cracked under her weight combined with that of the slab she''d been lifting, and the gap had swallowed her left leg up to the hip. Immediately the redhead removed her mask, spilling her fiery hair over her dusty shoulders like napalm, and attempted to climb out. Judging by the awkward position of her body and her pain-twisted countenance, Priscilla was stuck and possibly injured. Though her combat rig whined and hissed with effort, she seemed unable to free herself from the concrete trap into which she''d fallen.


    Alice''s feet moved slowly at first, and then more freely. Her heart still hammered in her chest, threatening at any moment to burst out through her sternum, but she was able to tame her breathing into long, controlled drafts of the dirty air. She was halfway to Priscilla across the broken landscape when she finally remembered to fly. Then it only took two bounds to reach her.


    Priscilla''s face was red and sweating when she reached her. Alice looked down at her and froze. Priscilla saw Alice standing above her and glared, as though daring Alice to say something snide.


    And something in her wanted to. Her emotions stirred, disturbed by the horror she''d seen and the abuse she''d endured at the hands of this red-headed bully. Her fear was suddenly replaced by anger, and Alice found her mouth filled almost to bursting with a great many things she wanted to say. Why should she hold back? Suddenly she didn''t care where she was or what she''d come to do. She just wanted to yell at this girl, to make her cry the way she''d made Alice want to cry. Why shouldn''t she say exactly what was on her mind? It''s what Priscilla would have done.


    Priscilla stared back at her and said nothing.


    Alice reached down into the rubble and forced her hands into the crack that held Priscilla pinned. She wrenched them apart like a clam shell while Priscilla gritted her teeth and growled at the pain of it. Alice grabbed the girl''s combat rig at the shoulder and pulled her out until she was belly down in the dust, a gasping fish pulled from the water.


    "My leg is broken," she hissed through her teeth. "You need to finish the job."


    "I''m afraid to," Alice admitted. She had not meant to be so honest, to say something so open to Priscilla, of all people. But it had just come out on its own.


    Priscilla rolled onto her back, wincing with the pain. Now that Alice saw it, Priscilla''s leg seemed slightly bent at an odd angle. Even the combat rig seemed bent out of place. It turned her stomach to look at it, so she diverted her gaze back to the dusty rubble on which she crouched, as though she were trying to bore holes through it with her eyes. What would she see if she could? What else lay just beneath the surface of that concrete dust?


    "I know you''re afraid," panted Priscilla, "but that''s not even why I don''t like you. I''ve been afraid plenty of times."


    Alice stared into Priscilla''s green eyes. She realized she believed her. How many battlefields had this girl seen in her short life? How much blood?


    "You''re letting that fear get the better of you," she continued. "You''re running away from people who need you to do your job."


    Running away from people who need me?


    "And if you sit there doing nothing, you''re going to prove me right. You''ll prove I was right about you all along, that you don''t belong here, that no matter what abilities you were born with, you''re too much of a coward to fight the battles that need fighting."


    Alice turned her head, looking around her at the remnants of the Ryugyong hotel. Her eyes fell on a collection of ambulances that had gathered at the area where she''d been habitually bringing her survivors. She could see the paramedics from where she sat, and she watched them as they stood by their vehicles, many of them looking out over the debris but not actually venturing out into it. It was like they were waiting for someone.


    They''re waiting for me. Just like he''d been waiting for me, and I made him wait too long. He died waiting for me.


    "How many people have I saved?" Alice asked, her voice still quavering. Her mouth felt clumsy, like the muscles in her face had forgotten how to form the words she wanted to say. Tears had begun to slowly trickle down her dirty cheeks. Her dark hair, now tangled and dotted with small pieces of debris, waved in the gentle breeze.


    "Twelve, I think," answered Priscilla. "And there are dozens more of them out there. So why are you still here?"


    Alice looked at her hands and watched them shake. Then, slowly, she climbed to her feet.


    "You are wrong about me," she said.


    No more running. No more hoping for someone else to save the day. No more turning away from people who need me.


    Priscilla relaxed her neck, looking away from Alice and to the dust-gray sky above them.


    "Prove it," she said, closing her eyes.

 Chapter 17: Pressure

    The throaty hummm of the Black Swan''s engines was the perfect white noise. It drowned out most of the sound of Alice''s wet sobs as the cargo plane trudged eastward, taking Meta Team home again after their business in North Korea was complete.


    Alice''s hands gripped the sides of the steel basin in the cramped aircraft bathroom, crying so hard it felt like there would be nothing left inside her when she was through. The things she''d seen at the ruins of the Ryungyong hotel danced in her mind, refusing to be subdued or quieted. Despite her best attempts to think of other things, to conjure up happier memories of her home, her mother, her father before he died, those images of broken bodies and smears of blood sank hooks in her mind and refused to budge.


    How could such horrible things happen to innocent people?


    There was a gentle knock on the door.


    "Alice," Athena called through the door, "I''d like to have a word with you."


    Alice looked in the steel mirror. Her face and hair were dirty and disheveled. Smudges of dirt and dust seemed to age her, adding false wrinkles and graying her hair. Her red eyes were puffy and wet.


    She ran the water in the sink and splashed it onto her face. She watched streaks of gray, dirty water swirl into the drain. She calmed her breathing as best she could, trying again to not feel, to not think. Neither worked.


    She opened the door.


    Athena stood on the other side, looking just as dirty in her dark uniform and equipment harness. Alice saw that Athena had removed all her equipment from the mission, including her combat rig, making her look a lot smaller than she had looked for the last ten hours.


    Alice realized it must be difficult to be a normal human being and to carry all that gear. The comms equipment, the weaponry, the medical kits, all of the things normal ORIGIN operators carried with them into the field had to feel oppressively heavy. The combat rigs helped, of course. Each one made the person wearing it stronger and more agile than ten men, but operating them wasn''t effortless. Athena had expended herself, pushed herself to her own limits and beyond in that mission. They all had. Even the combat rig didn''t save Priscilla from breaking her leg in the dangerous, shifting mountain of debris.


    So why, if she was built so much stronger on the outside, was Alice the only one reacting this way to things they''d seen as they cleared away the concrete, glass, and steel from the wreckage of the hotel?


    Why am I the only one crying like a child?


    "We should talk," Athena said. "Come with me, please."


    Alice followed Athena to a compartment separate from the one where her team members now sat in plush seats and sipped bottled water. This compartment looked like an office, and held a desk with a computer, switched off, and a couple of chairs.


    As Alice tried to take her seat, the plane lurched, and she remembered again that she hated flying in machines. She slumped into the chair.


    "You''ve had a hard day today," said Athena. It wasn''t a question.


    It had been a hard day. After Alice overcame her shock at the indescribable human suffering she witnessed, after she''d wiped the vomit from her grimy lips and stood from where she''d been huddled and rocking and crying, she only saw more of it. It seemed to Alice that the deeper and deeper she dug into the rubble of the Ryugyong Hotel, the more and more likely she was to find a corpse instead of a survivor. She''d seen so many dead she eventually felt like she''d become one of them, a shambling, broken shell that was once a human being. She knew she wasn''t past feeling. No, somewhere deep down, in her soul, she was sure, Alice felt things tearing. But the pain didn''t reach the surface. Since Priscilla gave her what Alice was sure was the worst pep talk ever, Alice had been able to avoid having another emotional breakdown. Not until they finally finished.


    Not that a job like that could ever be finished. No matter how much debris she cleared, there was always more. No matter how many cries for help she answered, no matter how many people she clawed out of that hellish place, there were more.


    It wasn''t that anything appeared to be finished at all. It was Athena''s voice that called Alice and Ethan and the rest of Meta Team off the job.


    "People are starting to ask why we''re here," Athena''s voice crackled in her earpiece. "And military vehicles are coming this way. It''s time for us to leave."


    In all that time digging and scrabbling to pull people from the wreckage, Alice had forgotten she was in a place that did not welcome her.


    The escape plan was simple. Since the Black Swan couldn''t land in North Korea without being shot out of the sky, Alice and Priscilla would simply carry the team to the Swan.


    Athena, Ethan, Levi, and the twins gathered on top of the roof where Levi had set up his nest. All equipment gathered and stowed away in black bags, the team tethered itself together with thick, heavy straps and harnesses into two groups. Alice secured herself to a harness and Priscilla to the other. They took off into the sky, now orange in the west and bruised with purple. Even with only one good leg, Priscilla insisted on doing her part of the heavy lifting. She''d somehow bent her combat rig back into shape and used it as a splint to keep her leg straight as she stood on her Silf Jet. It must have been agony.


    No missiles came to knock them out of the evening sky. A few bewildered jets screamed by a few miles away, unsure of what to make of the spectacle of a young woman apparently flying without an aircraft and with a team of black-clad people in tow.


    Not a moment too soon, the Swan appeared, her cargo bay door wide open, and Alice flew into it, careful to maneuver her passengers into the bay without bashing them against the black hull of the jet.


    And only after hours of back-breaking rescue effort, after a white-knuckle escape from an unfriendly military force, after unharnessing herself from her team and excusing herself to the tiny bathroom aboard the Swan, did the numbness go away and the white-hot feelings surface.


    Alice cried so hard she thought she might die from the pain of it. The rest of the team no doubt took notice, she knew, and so here she was with Athena, puffy-eyed and fragile.


    "People who go into this line of work typically have experience with...hardship," Athena said quietly, almost softly. "Most of my staff spent time overseas in combat zones or refugee camps. They don''t usually have this kind of emotional difficulty by the time they get to us."


    So that was it. Athena was concerned that she had a na?ve, emotional girl on her hands. She wanted a soldier, Alice realized, because she is a soldier.


    But she got me.


    Alice smirked, a task that was surprisingly painful. She''d never been so exhausted that it hurt to make a facial expression. But she found it darkly funny that she had all the power in the world a person could possibly ask for, and yet she was still a little girl.


    "There''s someone I want you to see when we get back," Athena said. She opened a drawer in the desk and rummaged through it, producing a small, white business card. "She''s a counselor, and she can help with these kinds of things. Go see her, get your head right, and get back in this."


    She placed the small card face down on the desk in front of Alice. Alice didn''t take it. She just stared at it.


    "Why?" Alice asked. It was the first word she''d uttered since emerging from the bathroom, but it felt like her first word in weeks. It rasped out of her mouth like a hot, dry desert wind.


    Athena steepled her fingers together and rested her elbows on the desk. Her gaze was piercing, but somehow gentle. The look on her face confused Alice. It looked completely different from the normal range of facial expressions she was used to seeing on Athena. It looked somewhere between discomfort and sincerity.


    Alice realized that Athena was trying to be sympathetic. As hard as it was to believe, this hard, salty woman, the deputy director and training instructor for ORIGIN, was trying to show sympathy.


    "You were invaluable today. You saved a lot of lives. Many of the people you saved would not have made it if they had to wait for their own rescue workers to reach them.


    "Lives were lost, and that can''t be avoided. It''s a terrible reality we live in, Alice, that people like us are never called on until after people have been hurt. And it''s never pretty to look at. You''re not the first person to hurt inside from what you''ve seen today. But those losses, those deaths, are not your fault. You did good work today, and you saved hundreds of people.


    "I may have been hard on you in the past. I may even have had doubts about you. But not after today. You belong here. I hope you know that."


    Alice gave a brief, hollow thanks and left the office. Somewhere in that aircraft were sleeping compartments, and Alice was determined to find them. Her exhaustion was becoming unbearable, and she wished to fight it no more than she wanted to go back to North Korea.


    She tried to squeeze past someone going the opposite way in the aisle, looked up, and found herself face to face with Priscilla. The redhead was balanced on a pair of crutches, and Alice could see she was already wearing a proper splint bandaged around her leg. Her brother''s work, no doubt. But even in her injured state, Alice could still see the hard look in Priscilla''s green eyes. Her heart, which already seemed to be at its lowest point, dropped further.


    Here we go, she warned herself.


    Priscilla opened her mouth to say something.


    "I know, Priscilla, I know. If you hadn''t been there to babysit me, I would have let more people die," Alice said for her. "It should have been you out there in the rubble."


    Priscilla stared at her for a quiet moment, as though considering carefully what to say. She shifted on her crutches and one good leg.


    "Actually," she said, "I was going to tell you that you did well for your first time. Better than I expected. And I was in the rubble." She looked down at her leg. "And it was you who pulled me out."


    It was Alice''s turn to stare. She listened to the redhead''s words again in her memory, trying to see if she had understood her right.


    Priscilla reached into her pocket and drew out a chunk of gray concrete the size of a golf ball.


    "Here," she offered, placing it in Alice''s hand. "I usually bring something back from missions, but I was more of an observer in this one. Or maybe a victim. You should have it. To remember."


    To remember what?


    Priscilla didn''t give her a chance to ask. She turned and continued her way through the bowels of the aircraft with the awkward gait of one who is unused to walking on crutches.


    "Did she give you a hard time?"


    Alice turned and saw Ethan coming the other way. That hallway, it seemed, was a regular place to find Meta Team members. He leaned against the wall with his thick arms crossed over his chest. His uniform was torn in a dozen places where the material had snagged on rebar or given way to friction with massive slabs of concrete. He had that expression on his face again, the same one he had when he took the pillar from her earlier that day: a strange mixture of irritation and concern.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    When she didn''t answer him, he tried again.


    "I said, did she give you a hard time? Priscilla, I mean. I saw you two talking just now."


    Alice shook her head and fiddled with the chunk of concrete in her hand.


    "No," she said, hardly aware of the words coming out of her mouth. "That was nothing. Don''t worry about it."


    Ethan looked down at the egg-sized piece of rubble. He frowned. Alice shoved it into her pocket and folded her arms.


    "Well, I can understand why she''d say something. Here at ORIGIN, we have a tradition. It''s called, ''let''s make sure you know all the stuff you did wrong.''"


    "What?" Alice said, not following.


    "I''m just saying, the day''s incomplete without a little constructive criticism. For example: you did fine on all the training. You knew what we were here to do. You knew what was happening to the people here. Why''d you get all...I don''t know. You started acting like a deer in headlights. You freaked out. Why?"


    Alice felt like those words were coming from somewhere far away, like she was hearing them through a telephone with poor reception.


    "I don''t know," was her soulless reply. "Sorry."


    "Sorry isn''t good enough," said Ethan. "I mean, this is what we are, you know? This is what we do, you and I. No one else in the world can do the things we do, and that makes us special. We have to be above all this, so suck it up, okay?"


    When Alice was quiet too long, Ethan''s face split into a kidder''s grin.


    "Oh, c''mon," he chided, nudging Alice with his fist. "I''m just kidding. You know I was just kidding, right?"


    Alice felt sick. She didn''t have the energy to answer him. She turned to leave, to find somewhere quiet where she didn''t have to talk to anyone.


    "I''m sorry!" He cried. The smile was gone from his face, replaced by a twisted look of shame and misery. "I didn''t mean it. Alice please...I''m sorry."


    She took her leave without answering him. She didn''t see Ethan grimace and reach for his head as though to nurse a headache. She just stumbled away in search of a sleeping compartment.


    She found it: a small, almost closet-sized space that held small sleeping niches on one wall. Each bunk was no larger than a coffin, and each one reminded her of the refrigerated compartments where bodies were kept in morgues. She grabbed the handrail to the nearest bunk and lifted herself in.


    The space was cramped, but comfortable. She wormed her way into the featureless sheets and blanket and pulled the pillow over her face. There, in the dark, it was quiet except for the distant drone of the Swan''s engines. Her breath quickly warmed the small space, stifling the air. The tight space, the taste of the stale air, made her feel like she was buried alive in that bed.


    The door opened a crack, letting in a growing cone of light. A broad-shouldered, tall silhouette slid inside, feet padding soft on the floor. There was a bench beside a locker in the room, and the figure slumped onto it.


    "I don''t know what''s wrong with me," he said into the shadows. "I don''t know why I said any of that."


    Her eyes were still adjusting to the darkness, making it nearly impossible to see his face, but she was sure she could hear a quiet sobbing.


    Alice acted without thinking. Her legs swung out from the bed and stood and carried her to sit beside him on the bench. Her side pressed against his, and she could feel his warmth through the fabric of their filthy clothing. She softly nudged him, and a moment later he nudged back.


    The memories of that day were with them in that little room. The images of what she''d seen beneath the rubble seemed to linger like stains on her eyes, and before she knew it, she was wringing her hands together, her fingers desperately gripping and twisting and pressing into the meat of her palms, but the tension would not leave.


    She felt a hand in the dark take hers. Strong, dexterous fingers slowly, firmly massaged her hands, her fingers, her thumb.


    "My mom used to do this whenever I was stressed," she mumbled. "But she couldn''t press quite hard enough."


    In response, he pressed more firmly still. She knew it was enough pressure to break a grown man''s hand, but to her it was a relief.


    Athena strode through the halls of the Black Swan, her back ramrod straight, her sharp, dark eyes taking in the tasks of each crewman, each team member in a moment, ticking off boxes on an eerily accurate checklist in her mind. Each person, each job, each piece of equipment was stored there, and she assessed them all until she was satisfied.


    Only then did she permit herself the luxury of privacy. She excused herself to one of the private offices, locking the door behind her. Once the bolt slid into place with a metal click, she sank to her knees and let out a long, ragged breath. Her body trembled with the strain of that day''s hard work, with the pain injuries. Some of them were fresh, a thousand bruises and abrasions and minuscule cuts from digging through a mountain of concrete, broken steel, and shattered glass. Many of her injuries were old, leftovers from previous missions and heavy training sessions. With each passing month, they took longer and longer to heal, compounding on each other like interest on a bad loan.


    She pulled off her body glove until the peeled upper body section dangled at her waist like partially shed skin. The effort was nearly more than she could manage on her own. The office had a mirror in the inner door of a storage locker, and she stumbled to it and stared at her sweat-soaked undershirt, the mottled bruising along her arms, the old scars, and her ever-deepening wrinkles. She took out a med pack and tore open the paper pouches of bandages with her teeth, carefully taping them and cold packs in place. She popped six pills into her mouth and swallowed them dry.


    Only once this familiar ritual was completed did she power on the computer at the desk and key in the command to make contact with ORIGIN headquarters. Pixels of light blossomed in the dark until they formed a face. Clawson''s head hovered above Athena''s desk, his eyebrows creasing as he took in Athena''s condition.


    She was lounging in her chair, a clinking class of ice water in her hand. She winced like she was finally allowing herself the luxury of feeling pain. Clawson seemed to watch her for a time without speaking.


    "We''re not as young as we once were," he reminded her. "Maybe we should step back and let the younger ones start taking over." There was tenderness in that voice.


    Athena took a sip from her moisture-beaded glass.


    "I will once they can do the job as well as I can," she answered. "Until then, I''ll be with them to make sure the job is done right. Would you do it any differently?"


    Clawson smirked. "Good point." Then his smile faded. "I want you to consider retiring. For both our sakes."


    She seemed to glare at him over the rim of her glass. Ice crunched between her teeth.


    "I''m bored of this topic already," she warned him. "I flew all the way out here for a reason. Let''s talk about that."


    Clawson opened his mouth as if to apologize, or perhaps to say something else, tender words that seemed to hang out over the edge of his open lips to fill the empty air between the two of them. But in the end he said nothing and simply nodded his consent.


    Athena pulled a data card the size of her thumb nail from her pocket and loaded it into the base of the holo-projector. The card was from her combat rig, and it contained all of the imagery collected from her scans of the hotel debris.


    "Data package is uploading now." Then she collapsed back into her chair and continued sipping from her glass. She closed her eyes while she waited for Clawson to look over her findings.


    Clawson''s head was replaced by a floating schematic of Ryugyong Hotel. The image focused in on the base of the structure, where several pillars stood in a parking garage, each of them highlighted by a glowing halo.


    "This was no accident," Clawson said as the image continued to turn and magnify. "This was a carefully planned attack. Chemical traces of a homemade yet potent explosive are all over the debris of the lower levels, explosives applied to these key points."


    Athena nodded, unsurprised by this analysis. She had seen enough demolished buildings to know a controlled demolition when she saw one.


    "Has North Korean intelligence identified any suspects? Terrorists? Freedom fighters?" She asked.


    "No. No one has claimed credit for the attack. In fact, as far as the public and much of the North Korean government is concerned, this is just an accident. They may try to pin this on some political rivals later, maybe the South Koreans, but they''re not even trying to gather evidence."


    Athena knew this tone of voice. "But you have an idea," she probed. "That''s why you sent us in, isn''t it? Not just because you thought the North Korean government needed a little help. You think this is connected to whoever burned a whole village of Somali pirates."


    Clawson''s glowing head nodded.


    "So why not tell Miss Fillmore? The rest of Meta Team knew we were looking for evidence of terrorism. Why leave her out of it?"


    "She''s not ready. I don''t want our newest recruit jumping at shadows because a clandestine terrorist cell is gathering information on metahumans. This new world is scary enough for her."


    Athena let out a mirthless laugh.


    "Well, maybe you shouldn''t have told Ethan either," she commented, tilting her chair back and resting her legs on top of the desk. "I think he''s scared now. He''s been snapping at his teammates all day, been overly critical of them, especially of Alice. It''s a stress reaction. He''s afraid, and his fear limits his leadership ability. You shouldn''t have involved him in this investigation."


    Clawson sighed. "I wonder if that boy really is cut out to be a team leader."


    Athena''s eyebrows raised so high they nearly left her forehead entirely.


    "That''s an interesting thing to say about a young man you spent nearly twenty years and billions of government dollars training to be the future team leader of Meta," she observed.


    Clawson said nothing. He simply nodded. His creased forehead seemed twisted in serious thought, and expression Athena knew meant he was bracing himself for a hard decision he''d have to make soon. Athena waited for him to say more, but he seemed to have nothing more to say on the matter at present, so she chose to move on.


    She pointed back to the projection of the building. "So, what are we dealing with here? What do we know about these people?"


    Clawson was silent for a long time.


    "Sir?" Athena prompted.


    "Please don''t call me that."


    It was Athena''s turn to sigh.


    "Sorry. Habit. Greg, tell me what you''re thinking."


    "I think we''re up against a tough, motivated, well-trained enemy. These are not just some fanatics in a training camp. They''re more than that. A lot more dangerous. Better trained. Careful planners. Patient. They might be as dangerous as we are."


    "Why do you say that?"


    Clawson nodded to the holographic building. "The way they did this..."


    "Yeah? What about it?"


    "It''s the way I would have done it."


    Virgil Latigo stalked through the tight corridors of the bunker with his brother trailing behind him. They passed storage lockers of carefully cataloged and stacked ammunition cans, rows of recruits learning how to meticulously clean their weapons, and shrines built from gun parts and combat knives. When they reached the door to the chapel, Virgil signaled for his brother to stay behind.


    "He only wants to see me," explained Virgil.


    The look of hurt on his brother''s face was clear, even beneath the tangle of his beard.


    "That''s not how we used to do things!" he hissed, careful to keep his voice low so as not to be overheard by the others. "I''ve been here as long as you! I''ve been on as many missions! I have just as much a right to see him as you do!"


    Virgil shrugged.


    "He''s changing. He''s becoming more than he was. You know this. You''re changing too. You didn''t always use to be so faithless." He disappeared into the chapel before the look of outrage finished crossing his brother''s face.


    The inside of the chapel was lit with candles and the glow of a holo-screen. A high-backed chair of dark, hard wood stood before a round table in the center of a circular room. The walls were lined with shrines, benches, and intel boards. The wooden work benches were covered in pieces of wire, mason jars of sharp-smelling chemicals, tools, and ammunition. Wrinkled schematics of a bizarre hotel, one that had until recently stood in North Korea, were pinned to the wall.


    As Virgil entered, he removed his olive-green shirt, exposing the taught muscles of his back, the skin there inked with one word in lovingly elaborate script, "APOTHEOSIS". Virgil knelt and laced his fingers together in the sign of the arsenal.


    "Well, isn''t she something special?" hissed a voice in the dark. "When I asked you to bait the gods into the open, I had no idea you''d find something so...interesting."


    The man was tall, very tall, and dressed in nothing but a pair of camouflage pants. Even his feet were bare, and if metal shavings and other sharp detritus from the work benches threatened the soles of his feet, he showed no concern for them. He stroked his gray-streaked beard and sat back on his chair. He stretched his long legs out and crossed them in gentlemanly fashion. His shirtless, naked torso rippled with bulky muscle under time-worn, leathery skin.


    Virgil stood and approached the screen.


    The television showed news footage of a collapsed building and of a young woman seemingly floating across the top of the debris. She stopped here or there, either to lift Volkswagen-sized pieces of rubble away or to draw frantic, dirty people from the wreckage like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat.


    "A New Hero in Town?" read the headline.


    "Is she a government lapdog, too?" asked Virgil.


    "Oh, I''m sure she is, Cleric," hissed the tall man. "She wasn''t when we first saw her in North Carolina, but I think she is now. I think the first time she was just looking for the others. Now, she''s one of them. She''s just like the other one now, just like the boy." His eyes followed her form across the screen, watching with a sort of wonder.


    "She''s just another false god, just like him. But she might be more dangerous than him. She can fly," observed Virgil.


    "Yeah. Isn''t that something?" The masked man reached his hand forward and brushed the image of the girl with the tip of his finger. There was nothing physical for him to caress in that image; it was nothing but floating pixels of light. However, there was a faint crackle of static as his finger traced the shape of her jaw, like the rough hiss of skin brushing on skin.


    Virgil watched this gesture and shifted uncomfortably. "Does this change our plans? You promised me a chance at glory. Witnesses."


    The taller man looked at him then, and something in his stare made Virgil shiver.


    He chuckled, a mirthless, cheerless sound. "This doesn''t change a bit," he answered. He looked at the wall above the work benches, where another schematic was taped to the crumbling wall, this one depicting the sweeping lines of a passenger jet. "In fact, I couldn''t have hoped for anything better. Fear not, Virgil Latigo. Your great and dreadful day is at hand." The man placed a hand on the crown of Virgil''s head, which was bowed in reverence. "Carry out your missions. Lure them out. Make them careless. And finally, once they''ve thought they''ve won," the man paused and gazed once again at the schematic of the aircraft, "take everything from them."


    Virgil shook with adoration and fear. He knew the road ahead of him was a hard one, that he was challenging forces more powerful than he could ever hope to be. And he knew he would win. He licked his teeth, pressing his tongue against one of his incisors and grinned like a wolf.


    "When the time comes," said the man, "be sure to leave Eustace out of it."


    Virgil nodded.


    "I know he''s not ready."


    "It''s not that. It''s just that I have a purpose for even him."

 Chapter 18: War

    "So what is it like?" Alice asked.


    She and Ethan sat in Ethan''s living room. Both were focused on the large flat-panel TV with a 3-dimensional display in front of them. They were playing a video game, a shooter. Alice and Ethan were both playing the roles of soldiers, the screen showing the world as seen down the sights of a combat rifle. Alice sat cross legged on the floor in her street clothes, a pair of red jeans and a Sherpa-lined hoodie. Her Echo sneakers were off and resting next to her backpack filled with her workout clothes. Ethan lounged in what they jokingly referred to as "the throne", a microfiber overstuffed armchair.


    "What is what like?" he responded.


    She took her eyes off the screen to look at him. "Combat. You know, the missions where you fight and..." she paused.


    "And kill people?"


    She nodded. She wasn''t paying any attention now, and her character on screen had just been shot dead. Ethan paused the game and scratched his head.


    Alice had just finished her daily training with Athena, and she''d come here to Ethan''s personal rooms to pass the time with him. They''d become closer over the past couple of weeks, ever since they''d sat together in the dark on the way back from North Korea. She''d begun to not only feel drawn to him, but to enjoy his company. She''d taken to staying late at ORIGIN to pass some time with him. Clawson still seemed reluctant to let Ethan ever venture out into the world, even though he seemed content to let Alice come and go as she pleased, so the number of places the two of them could hang out was limited.


    But her reason for seeing him on this particular day was much more urgent than any other.


    "Well," he sighed, "I guess Athena told you you''re going to start going on combat missions, right?"


    It was true. Athena had informed Alice of this new stage of her training only minutes before she''d come to see him. She realized he must have known because Clawson and Athena probably discussed this with the rest of the team.


    "As soon as I get some training, yeah," she answered. She put down the bulky controller in her hands and spun around to face Ethan. He seemed to be looking at her with a pained expression on his face. Was it pity?


    "I don''t really know what to tell you." He shrugged. "On a lot of those missions, people shoot at you, and you fight back. You, ya know..."


    "Kill them?" she finished, biting her lip.


    He raised his hands as though to say he didn''t know, and then let them fall in his lap. "Yeah," he answered. "That''s combat. Life or death. Killing a terrorist or a soldier could save lives that might have been lost if that person were to live. That''s why they send us on those missions. We''re not assassins, you know? We don''t just go kill people who are dangerous. We only show up when things have already gotten...violent."


    She hugged her knees. "Does it hurt?"


    He barked a laugh. "What, getting shot? I think it depends on what they''re shooting you with, but I think most small arms fire just kinda stings a little. Nothing to be afraid of."


    She shook her head, as though disturbed by an unexpected answer. "No, not us. Does it hurt them? You know, when you kill them?"


    Alice regretted saying it as soon as it had been said. She knew it made her sound like a child, but she couldn''t think of any other way to voice the growing knot in her stomach.


    Ethan looked at her, his eyebrows knit as though he were trying to solve a difficult riddle. Then his face split into a beautiful grin, and he took his game controller in his hands again and unpaused the game.


    "I don''t think I''ll ever understand you," he said, his eyes drifting once more to the screen. "Maybe you should ask Priscilla or Joshua, or Levi, even. They''ve all been in the military for years."


    Alice didn''t touch her controller again. Instead, she reached for her shoes and bag.


    "I should go," she said.


    Ethan was still playing when she left a moment later.


    She was walking with her mother through a grocery store. Maryanne pushed the cart through the produce section, carefully selecting potatoes and carrots and onions and celery with deft, practiced fingers. She seemed to have a knack for picking out the most perfect veggies from their bins. Each one was large, full, and almost completely without blemish.


    "So you''re a soldier now," she said with the same kind of polite, interested tone she might have used if her daughter had become a baker or a teacher or any number of normal, safe, non-violent occupations. "Are you excited?"


    Alice tailed along behind her mother and watched her switch her attention to the meat section.


    "Not really," she answered.


    "So you''re scared," her mother inferred. She scanned the whole chickens and picked a smaller one. "And not of being hurt. You''re never scared of getting hurt. So, I''d have to guess you''re afraid of hurting others."


    Alice nodded. "Yeah. I think so." She turned her head and searched the faces of the shoppers around them to see if anyone had been listening. Everyone seemed to be ignoring them, absorbed in their own purchases.


    I guess you could talk about anything in a public place without being noticed if you say it casually enough.


    "Did you already talk to your friend Ethan about this?" she asked, steering the cart down another aisle. Alice nodded. "Thought so. Did he say anything that helped?" Alice shook her head. Maryanne sighed.


    "Well, I mean, it made sense," Alice explained. "He''s been in combat before. He''s done it all. And it''s not like we''ll be military weapons. Most of the stuff we would do is hostage rescue, medical evacuations of troops, and border defense. You know, good things. Stuff that should be done."


    Maryanne stopped in front of a shelf of fruit pie fillings. She scanned the labels and plucked out a can of peaches.


    "Did he say something about taking a life to save others?" she asked.


    Alice stared at her mother. "Yeah," she answered, "he said something almost exactly like it. Why, is he wrong?"


    Maryanne turned and looked surprised at her daughter. "Oh, no! Not wrong." Then she seemed to search the air above her for words. "And yes. He''s half right."


    "What do you mean?"


    "Well, what Ethan said was absolutely right. I''ve heard it before."


    "From whom?" Alice asked as they made their way to the checkout lines.


    "My great-grandfather. He was a pilot in World War II. He told me something similar when I was a little girl and asked him if he''d ever killed anyone. He told me that it was better that some men should die than an entire nation."


    Together, they began putting the contents of the cart on the conveyor belt.


    "But you said that was only half right," Alice said in a voice low enough so their cashier, a friendly, older man, couldn''t overhear.


    Maryanne nodded. "My great-grandfather also told me that life is precious and that it should be spared when possible. You see, Alice, life is not full of bad people who need to die and good people who must live. Most people are in between."


    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Alice nodded, a smile on her face. It always surprised her when her mom did nothing but say a few words, and yet the whole world would seem changed.


    How does she do that?


    "What is all this for?" she asked, gesturing to all the food being scanned and sacked and returned to the cart.


    "There''s a young couple in our congregation who just had a baby. I''m taking them dinner for a few nights to give them a little break. Want to help?"


    Alice winced. Her mom never could say no to an opportunity to volunteer, but if this young couple was going to have any chance at eating a good meal, she decided she''d better help her mom with the cooking.


    Soon they were back in Maryanne''s home peeling carrots and chopping onions. It took a couple of hours to finish a chicken pot pie, a recipe Christine sent her, but Alice judged from the smell that it was time well spent. When they dropped off the containers of chicken pot pie and peach cobbler at the apartment of the grateful couple, it was already getting dark and cool. Alice had left her hoodie in her mother''s house, and so she shivered in the autumn evening breeze in her jeans and tee shirt. Soon they were driving back to her mom''s house to get Alice''s things.


    Alice had her hand on the front doorknob when she felt her mother''s hand on her shoulder.


    "Here, I want you to have this," she said. She had a brown, leather jacket in her hands with a fleece collar. "It''s my great-grandfather''s bomber jacket."


    Alice gazed at it with admiration. "This is really cool, Mom."


    Maryanne nodded in agreement. "I used to wear it when I was your age, but I was never tall enough to make it look good. It''s better on you."


    Alice slipped it onto her shoulders and admired herself in a mirror by the door. "I love it."


    "My great-grandfather once had to jump out of his plane behind enemy lines in Europe. He survived the drop, but he was soon found by a lone German soldier. My great-grandfather had a pistol, and he had the chance to kill the soldier before he killed him."


    "But he didn''t," Alice guessed.


    "But he didn''t," Maryanne answered. "Neither one of them wanted to die that night, so they parted ways, and your great-grandfather was rescued soon after. You are here because your great-grandfather realized that there''s more than two choices: to let your enemy live at the expense of innocent lives or to kill him to save them. Sometimes, you can have your cake and eat it too."


    Alice nodded, smiled, and hugged her mother. "Thanks," she said. "I needed to hear that."


    "I know." As they broke off the hug, Maryanne stared into her daughter''s eyes. "Ethan is a good boy. He really is. And he has done nothing wrong by taking lives in the defense of the weak. But he does it without seeking for a better way. That''s what you''ve been trying to find tonight."


    "A better way?" She repeated.


    Her mom nodded sagely. "It makes you different from him. It makes you different from all of them." Then she looked Alice in the eye, as though to tell her the gravest, most important of secrets. "Do not change. You have learned all you can from them of what it means to be a hero. Now they must learn from you."


    The next morning found Alice and Ethan assembled in the Ready Room dressed in shorts and tee shirts for exercise. The sun had not yet risen completely above the horizon outside, but inside the Ready Room, the solar generator had the artificial landscape illuminated like noon day.


    Alice stretched her arms and ran her fingers through unkempt hair. As she finished a wide-mouthed yawn, she opened her eyes to spot Ethan quickly looking away.


    Are you checking me out?


    Alice took a moment to steal a glance at Ethan as well. His gray shirt and black shorts did nothing to hide his lean, broad build. His face, hair, and skin were nothing less than stunning. He had a classic, masculine beauty about him that Alice knew almost any girl her age would fawn over. He had a sense of humor and of adventure, and he was certainly no stranger to charm.


    But she''d known all this about him since she''d met him months ago. She''d trained with him, exercised with him, hung out with him, eaten with him, and suffered alongside him in missions. To boot, he was the only other metahuman in the world besides herself. The only person on the planet who was her physical match. The only person she''d met that had that irresistible, nearly invisible glow.


    But is that enough?


    Her mother''s words from the night before still rang in her ears. There were big differences between herself and Ethan. She remembered his comments after her first mission to North Korea, and his answers to her questions the day before. He was funny, smart, and attractive, but he''d never been able to actually comfort her.


    Does that matter?


    "Good morning, you two," said Athena as she marched onto the artificial landscape. The Ready Room had been arrayed like a suburban neighborhood, complete with several blocks of what Alice was sure were hollow houses and a playground. She could see that the street she currently stood on ended in a cul-de-sac.


    Athena, herself was dressed in sweats and a hoodie, something Alice wasn''t used to. It appeared as though Athena had plans on exercising with them. She was closely followed by some of the RaTS Alice had talked to or worked with before, members of the Bravo Team. They, too, were dressed for a workout.


    As the group assembled on the faux suburban street, Alice raised her hand.


    "Wait, I don''t see any weapons or anything. Are we just working on...I don''t know...fighting with our hands? Don''t soldiers start with guns and stuff like that?"


    Ethan smirked as Athena answered. "Great question. If I were training security operators, then yes, I would start them with firearms and supplement with hand-to-hand combat training. But you''re metahuman. A single punch from someone with your strength and speed is many times more effective and devastating than small-arms fire. I will likely never need to issue you a weapon of any kind. You will learn about weapons, however. In time you will be able to identify a variety of firearms, explosives, artillery, and military vehicles, as well as their functions and roles in combat. That knowledge will help you better engage the enemy and achieve your mission objectives. But before we get to all that, I need to teach you the most basic facts about combat: how to survive, how to establish position, and how to control your range. Do you have any questions before we start?"


    Ethan raised his hand and spoke before Athena acknowledged him. "Is it true that there''s a place on the human body where if you punch it just right it you can make the guy crap himself?"


    Athena glared at Ethan, unwilling to dignify his question with an answer.


    "We''ll start with striking."


    As Alice paired off with an operator who would coach her on her form, she quickly turned to Ethan with her nose scrunched in disgust. "Wait," she asked, "is there really? A place on the human body where, you know..."


    She was rewarded by Ethan''s hushed snickering as Athena rolled her eyes.


    "Let''s try to be adults for the next few hours, please," Athena warned them.


    Alice began to reflect on how knew phases in her life were signaled by new kinds of pain that were, as of yet, completely unfamiliar to her. While she was no stranger to the aches and pains brought by long, hard work on Megaton, Athena seemed to feel that the combat training signaled a need for a more intensified, brutal workout regime. Alice had begun the habit of going straight to bed as soon as she left work, dropping onto her mattress as though she''d been suddenly assassinated. This did little to help her sleep more, however, as she frequently tossed and turned in bed as sharp muscular pain stabbed at her arms and legs and made breathing a Sisyphean task.


    "Christine, can you go shopping with me today?" Alice groaned from her bedroom.


    Christine was in her kitchen putting the final touches on a shrimp ceviche. "Why? What are you looking for?" she asked as she spooned a heap of the citrus, shrimp, and tomatoes onto a crispy tostada.


    Alice stomped out of her bedroom in shorts holding a pair of jeans in her hand. "I need..." she shuddered to finish the sentence. "I need pants."


    "Why? Your legs are getting too big?" Christine commented without looking up from her work. She placed both plates of ceviche on Alice''s table with obvious pride.


    Alice narrowed her eyes. "Yes, how...is it that noticeable?" She slumped into a chair in front of one of the plates. She picked up a tostada and took a crunchy bite. Immediately her expression softened. "Wow," she sighed.


    "Yeah, I noticed. You think I wouldn''t notice my best friend getting all buff and athletic all of a sudden? I mean, you looked like a sports kind of girl before, but you''ve been filling out." When Alice looked at her with hurt eyes, she added, "you know, in a good way."


    "How is it good that my pants don''t fit around my thighs anymore?" Alice whined.


    "They''re only big ''cause they''re muscular. And it''s not just your thighs. You''re getting that way all over. Your arms, your calves..."


    Christine suddenly pointed her wooden spoon at Alice with an expression that could only be mild menace. "And since we''re on this topic, I''ve been meaning to ask you something. You never talk about going to the gym."


    Alice stopped eating mid-chew, her eyes going wide.


    Is this how my cover gets blown? My secret life as a metahuman is exposed to the world because my best friend noticed my thighs are getting fat?


    "Is it because of Ethan?" Christine finally asked.


    Alice swallowed prematurely and almost coughed up her shrimp. "Is what because of Ethan?"


    "All the working out. I mean, I assume it''s because of Ethan. Look at him. He looks like he was carved out of marble by Michelangelo. I wouldn''t want to date a guy that fit unless I was hitting the gym myself at least a little. So, are you doing it with him? Or are you just doing it so he''ll notice you?"


    Alice sighed, relieved this was more about Christine prying into her love life than finding out about her work. "Honestly, I''m not trying to get him to notice me. He invited me to start going to the gym with him, so I have been."


    Christine said nothing but stared at Alice with an accusing grin.


    "I''m not dating Ethan!" she shouted, exasperated.


    "Sure, I believe you," Christine said, finally sitting down to her own plate. "You know, if you want, I could go to the gym with you."


    The two of them ate in silence for a moment. Alice smiled as she chewed, imagining how bizarre it would be to go to the gym with Christine and pretend to strain at weights that normal people lifted.


    "You really don''t think my thighs look fat?" Alice asked.


    Christine laughed. "Who said fat thighs look bad? Trust me. My cousin Lorna wears this skirt when she goes clubbing, and it has butt pads built in. You know, to make her look bigger. And she gets guys all the time. Your fat thighs will not scare Ethan away."


    "They''re not fat," Alice murmured, taking another bite.

 Chapter 19: Armor

    The squeal of machinery pierced the air like the cries of a colossal dying animal. Alice strained at the Megaton, her muscles trembling with the effort of lifting the titanic piston above her head. She could hear the grinding of her teeth and the rushing of the blood in her ears, even through the music that poured out of her earbuds. Beyond that she could hear the machine emit hissing and clunking sounds as the mysterious inner workings of the world''s heaviest apparatus pressed down on her with enough weight to crush an armored vehicle like an aluminum can.


    She''d been training hard in the months following that first traumatic mission to North Korea. Since then, Athena had not only pushed her to her limits and beyond in the Ready Room, but she''d also towed Alice along for two more rescues.


    One was a race against a tidal wave that raced towards the coast of the Philippines and threatened four villages and a fishing vessel. RaTS aided with the search for survivors while Alice towed the half-sunk fishing boat back to shore. The other rescue had been a collapsing bridge St. Louis. There, Alice and Ethan had worked together to bolster the collapsing structure of the bridge while the Black Swan air lifted cars off to safety. From each, Alice had taken a small souvenir. The dresser beside her bed now held a wave-polished stone from the Philippines and a small piece of shattered steel from the bridge beside her chunk of concrete from North Korea. Every time Alice woke in the morning and saw her miniature gallery of mementos, she found herself wondering where the next piece might come from and whether she should buy herself a display case to make the collection seem more decorous.


    But pieces of keepsake debris weren''t the only things Alice had gained from her forays into the wide world. Alice was slowly gaining favor with her teammates, who counted on her for more and more with each passing mission. Joshua and Levi would smile and trade jokes and teasing with her during their training, and Priscilla''s coldness towards her had thawed to...well, if not friendship, then something resembling mild respect. Even Athena had more than just criticism for her, some of her comments in serious danger of being mistaken for compliments.


    "That''s a good pace," Athena coached as Alice continued her shoulder-press workout on the Megaton. "Keep it there. And your form is starting to improve." They''d been Athena''s only real words since Alice''s hour-long workout session had begun.


    Alice smiled and licked the salty sweat off her top lip. She was beginning to relish these exercises, to find satisfaction in the dull ache of her muscles and the progress after each consecutive session. She was beginning in the past few months less like a lost little girl and more like a woman who could do things, important things that mattered.


    Athena stood close by, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched Alice''s workout in silence. Around her, four other medical specialists in white laboratory coats watched data readouts on slate computers. As Alice hissed a breath from between her teeth and raised Megaton''s piston another two inches, graphs and numerical readouts on the slates danced and flashed, and the men in white coats began to whisper excitedly to one another.


    Athena continued to watch in silence, her dark eyes never moving from Alice or the machine in her hands.


    Alice hissed again and made an effort to lift the piston another inch. Sweat poured from her face, and her arms, thighs, and feet burned with muscle fatigue. She pressed harder, willing herself to move the piston, summoning more of the inexplicable strength from within herself.


    That was when the alarm sounded. She gently set down the Megaton piston on its floor plate and followed Athena, who ushered her towards the elevator that would take her to the briefing room.


    She joined Priscilla in the hallway. She was headed in the same direction Alice was.


    "Any idea what this is about?" Alice asked, still catching her breath after her workout.


    "I may have overheard the word ''terrorism'' on the way here. Whatever it is, I have a feeling it''s nasty. Clawson has that look on his face."


    Alice looked at Ethan''s grinning face. "What look?" she asked.


    "You know, the look," Priscilla explained. She mimed a look of grim seriousness, one that was an unmistakable copy of an expression she''d seen dozens of times. "The look."


    The scene in the briefing room seemed to confirm Priscilla''s vague premonitions of things being "nasty". Clawson stood in front of the dark, round table in a semi-lit gloom. It was the table she''d seen when she first arrived in that place six months ago. The golden corona, the symbol of Divinity, looked nearly black in the low light.


    As ORIGIN staff members filed in and took places around the table and the walls, Alice could see Clawson place his fingertips on the polished surface of the table with immense calm. Deliberate calm. The kind of calm worn like a protective blanket. Athena, who leaned in the corner behind him with her hands neatly folded, was no better.


    "See what I mean?" Priscilla said. "That''s the look. Whatever he''s about to ask us to do, it''s going to be good."


    Alice shot Priscilla a look. There was something about the way he said "good" that was troubling.


    Ethan was the last to arrive, and he took up a seat beside Alice. Priscilla seemed to subtly turn away from him as he sat, Alice noticed, as though she would rather pretend he wasn''t there. Her behavior towards him was typical of the rest of the team. No matter how warm the others became towards her, she noticed they never quite let Ethan be one of the group.


    "Good morning," Clawson began. "Moments ago, we were contacted by the Department of Homeland Security. They gave us a very serious mission to complete, one which requires the special talents of our metahuman operators."


    A hidden projector in the ceiling came to life and cast a holographic screen behind Clawson with the still image of a passenger jet sitting on a busy airport runway. The craft was sleek, bright white, and reminded Alice of a sort of flying whale.


    "At 0938, this Boeing 797 Olympian left Oakland International Airport in California on a direct flight towards New York City. Within minutes of takeoff, Homeland Security became aware that several armed men took control of the aircraft. These men issued a single demand: that all other aircraft stay away from theirs. They made it very clear that if they detect any aircraft on radar they would kill everyone on board. At this point, we are unsure of these men''s motives or intentions. It is possible that we are dealing with suicidal terrorists."


    Several of the security leadership raised their hands.


    "What is our objective here?" asked one of them.


    Clawson gestured with his hand the hologram, and the image behind him changed to a simple map of the United States. A line in blue seemed to indicate the flight path of the jet.


    "Our objective is to intercept the Olympian here," he said as a yellow dot appeared along the path. "Our operators will board the aircraft and eliminate the threat on board. We will then land the aircraft at the nearest possible airstrip."


    Another operator raised his hand.


    "If the terrorists are checking radar for any approaching aircraft, how do we intend to get close enough to board?"


    "Excellent question," Clawson answered, his gaze fixing on Alice. "Stealth aircraft could get us close enough without appearing on radar, but the daylight would give it away. This is why our metahuman operators will be the only ones to board the aircraft. Miss Fillmore''s flight capabilities will put us withing range of our target, and her radar profile will be too small for them to notice."


    Alice felt a hand on her shoulder give a squeeze. Ethan was behind her, gently shaking her with excitement and encouragement. It was then that she realized her heart was hammering so hard in her chest it might burst its way out.


    Clawson led Alice down a corridor to a locked, guarded door. "This way," he instructed after placing his hand on a scanning pad on the wall.


    "What are we here for?" she asked. She''d never been in this part of ORIGIN. It seemed to her that this place was an ever-expanding labyrinth, every day sprouting new rooms and functions like a strange, mythological creature.


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    The door hissed open and Alice found herself in a room that made her head spin.


    "This room has a long, uninteresting name that no one seemed to be interested in using," Clawson explained as he escorted Alice into a vast, open room lined with countless aisles of shelves. "We just took to calling it the armory."


    Alice''s mouth hung open as she observed aisle after aisle of racks holding guns, rockets, and tactical equipment of every kind. Many of them she recognized. Since her training with Athena, she''d memorized dozens of different types of weapons. She could see assault rifles, submachine guns, pistols, and shotguns, all of them neatly resting on cradles and hooks. She could see teams of RaTS sorting through and selecting equipment for their current mission. But even with her education in weaponry, she still found herself raising an eyebrow as she passed by devices that were quite obviously meant to be a weapon of some kind, though their bizarre appearances made them seem more like something out of a science fiction film. She could not even guess at their functions.


    "If you see anything you like," Jolly said as he approached them from behind a worktable as long as a buffet line, "you only need to ask."


    Clawson waved a hand to the ranks of worktables behind the one from which Jolly had just come, many of them much larger and crowded with machinery and parts. "When Jolly is not directly advising me, he''s here. This is where he and his team of technicians and researchers try to develop and apply the most advanced technology in the world."


    Jolly grinned, obviously proud of the cavernous, technological stadium around him. "Come," he said, "let me show you around."


    Alice watched as dozens of people dressed in hazmat suits, lab coats, and welding aprons looked up from their projects to give an obeisant nod to Jolly as he passed. Apparently, he was as dominating a figure in this realm as Athena was in the Ready Room.


    Alice passed more worktables stacked with experimental weaponry, medical supplies, climbing gear, pieces of vehicles, and even the robotic drone craft the engineers used to survey rescue efforts. She eventually started seeing tables of clothing. There were bulky, armored vests, body gloves, belts, boots, gloves, and helmets.


    "Our progress in metahuman outfitting has seen a major jump recently," Jolly beamed. "With the data we''ve collected from your training, we think we can supply you with equipment that will augment your strengths while covering some of your vulnerabilities."


    He led them to another worktable displaying an assortment of clothing. She immediately noticed that the apparel on this particular table were all designed to fit a woman.


    This is just another day of shopping for me!


    She examined each of over twenty individual pieces. She began with the left-most end of the table, hefting a bulky, black vest. She could tell immediately it was too heavy to be worn by a normal person.


    "This is one of our earliest attempts at tailoring combat clothing for metahumans," Jolly explained, cocking his head and frowning almost in apology. "It''s simple body armor, though since both known metahumans have skin tougher than any ceramic plate armor, we lined this with something a little more..." Jolly searched the air above his head with a smile, "...robust."


    Alice narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean ''robust''?" she asked with a smirk.


    Clawson leaned forward and said in a low voice, "he means tank armor."


    She nodded her head appreciatively and set down the vest. The table shook as she set it down. She guessed it weighed more than two hundred pounds.


    Heavy. Chunky. Stiff. Is it wrong that I worry it''ll make me look fat? Besides, it''s tank armor. I don''t need to worry about being hurt that badly. Do I?


    The next item was still heavy, but lighter by far than the armored vest. This appeared to be a sort of full-body flight suit. It was a thick, insulated body glove with thin membranes of parachute material stretched between the arms and the ribs. It came with what appeared to be a motorcycle helmet, though Alice could immediately see that its interior was filled with communications devices. The body glove had a sort of collar at the neck that Alice could not guess the purpose of.


    "Ah. That''s our high-altitude suit. It''s fully insulated, and the collar on the neck seals with the helmet. You could continue to breath in the stratosphere. You could even survive in the total vacuum of space for a short time. With the wings, you could glide for miles and miles without needing to actually fly."


    Unnecessary. Also, I would look like a flying squirrel. Like a crime-fighting flying squirrel.


    She ran her fingers over piece after piece the way she might dresses on a rack at the mall. Each item seemed to be designed with her specific difficulties in mind. There were helmets, goggles, and face masks built to protect her sensitive eyes and to supply her with breathable air. Body gloves often came insulated from heat and cold and more often than not sported pouches, packs, and harnesses for equipment or weapons. There were also various forms of body armor. Many of them, like the first vest she inspected, were like bullet-proof vests built for those who would not be inconvenienced by several hundred pounds of protection. Some mimicked armor from bygone eras. One even resembled a full medieval suit of armor.


    Who am I? Joan of Arc?


    "Find anything you like yet?" called a voice from behind.


    She turned her head to see Ethan coming, striding confidently in boots, military pants, and a black t-shirt with "I have the body of a god" written in bold yellow print above a stylized picture of a fat Chinese Buddha.


    Clawson frowned as he saw Ethan coming. "You will be wearing something more professional on the mission, I hope," he grumbled as Ethan stood beside Alice at the table.


    Ethan waved a dismissing hand. "Of course," he chuckled. "You don''t think I''d really go out in the public like this, do you?"


    He turned back to Alice. "So, what do you think of our metahuman Macy''s?" he grinned.


    Alice nodded and looked back over the items she''d already looked at. "What does it say about me that right now I''m most disappointed in the color selection?"


    Ethan thrust out a hip and held his hand in a feminine gesture. "I''d say you''re a very discerning client," he lisped.


    Alice laughed, but then caught sight of Clawson''s grim face. It was then she remembered there was a terrorist holding a passenger jet hostage and it was up to her to rescue them. There wasn''t much time for jokes. Her laugh died quickly, and she cleared her throat.


    "You''ve been on more missions than me, and I''ve never been in combat before. What would you suggest?"


    Ethan scratched the scruffy hair on his chin. "Good question," he admitted. "I don''t get my augmentation from clothing..."


    "Ethan," growled Clawson. To Alice, it sounded like a warning. A warning of what?


    "Right," Ethan said quickly. "I mean, I don''t usually wear anything all that special on missions. Just communications stuff to talk to engineers and RaTS and stuff."


    Alice looked at Ethan''s face in silence. He seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden. She wondered what he''d done to merit a warning from Clawson like that.


    He looked up and down the table, frowning a little. It was as though he was searching for something that he expected to see but wasn''t there.


    "Jolly," he said, wagging his fingers at the items on the table, "didn''t you put together that outfit I designed for Alice?"


    Jolly''s eyes went wide for a moment, and then he cleared his throat, the universal sign of one bearing disappointing news. "Your design concept was very...stylish."


    "Yeah, it was stylish," Ethan boasted, the smile on his face a mile wide. "It''ll make our girl here look like the glorious offspring of Batman, Wonder Woman, and Lady Gaga."


    Jolly seemed to ponder that for a moment. "That was actually a very apt description, but I''m afraid we didn''t go through with production. Despite its...artistic merit, we had concerns. For example, the uniform seemed to leave a large amount of skin uncovered. Particularly the shoulders, the midriff, and the thighs. Alice does, after all, have a sensitivity to temperature. Leaving so much uncovered seemed impractical."


    Alice blushed and said nothing.


    "Maybe," countered Ethan, "but her physique would inspire fear in her enemies and confidence in her fans. Half these battles are mind games, you know," he explained, tapping his skull with a finger.


    A moment of uncomfortable silence passed.


    "The stiletto boots were also too high, and the cape seemed unnecessary," Jolly added quietly.


    "This one seems interesting!" Alice blurted out, holding up the next item.


    In fact, the body glove she was currently holding was somewhat more stylish than some of the others. Instead of being olive green or tactical black like the others, much of the body glove seemed to be made of brown leather. The fleece-lined collar reminded her immediately of the World War II bomber jacket that had once belonged to her great-great-grandfather.


    Ethan seemed unimpressed, but Alice held the garment up higher, examining it more closely.


    "What makes this one so special?" she asked.


    Jolly walked around the table until he was next to her.


    "This body glove is insulated with automatic climate control," he said, pointing with his pencil. "The armor is highly segmented, giving you almost total freedom of movement. The armor itself is based off the blast-away armor on M-1 Abrams main battle tanks. It can absorb an incredible amount of damage, though it destroys itself to do so. It can stand against small arms fire all day. But if you took a Hellfire missile to the chest, it would become useless. You''d be fine, but you could only do it once before you needed to replace the plating."


    Alice''s face was blank. "I have been worrying about those Hellfires," she drolled.


    "Oh, and I almost forgot to show you," Jolly blurted. He dove his hand into the collar of the body glove and touched something Alice didn''t see. The suit gave a sort of low, electric hum, and the brown, leather-like material turned black, and then it shimmered with what looked like electric ripples across a black pond. "We call this feature ''Skycamo'', optical stealth technology developed for aircraft."


    The once brown body glove transformed into a bright, blue field streaked with white. Now, it was as blue as the sky, as though she were holding a window to the heavens in her hands. Only the fur of the collar and gray trim remained unchanged, as though the body glove were stitched together with pieces of the sky.


    "Oh, wow," she gasped.


    "The leather-like material is a flexible LCD display. This tech is pretty old, though it''s never been used this way before. The idea was to make you difficult to see to people below. Not invisible, mind you, but less like a dark human shape against the sky. The panels will change to reflect the appearance of the sky at that moment, no matter the time of day or the weather."


    "It would have been better with a cape," Ethan grumbled.


    "Oh, this is definitely me," approved Alice.

 Chapter 20: Legacy

    Alice walked into ORIGIN''s hangar bay, a large metal tunnel where technicians and mechanics kept and maintained the Black Swan. The huge, black jet whined and occasionally roared as it prepared for takeoff.


    Alice was walking confidently in her new body glove. The brown, leathery material felt like a second skin, and the jacket felt perfectly warm. She pulled at her sensor-packed gloves and adjusted the goggles on her head above her eyes. Her heavy boots clicked rhythmically on the concrete floor. Before boarding, she gave a final tug on the bomber jacket around her shoulders.


    Athena, who was waiting silently by the open cargo door to the Swan, furrowed her eyebrows. "You do realize that brown leather hasn''t been a part of military uniforms since early last century."


    "I know," Alice said with a smile, "but this has special meaning for me. It looks like something I own."


    Athena, her interest piqued, asked, "family heirloom?"


    "My grandfather''s," she answered. "He was a bomber pilot in World War II."


    Athena nodded appreciatively. "There were other models with more armor."


    Alice shrugged. She felt right wearing it.


    Athena, apparently approving of Alice''s choice in outfitting, led her and the rest of the crew aboard. Ethan scrambled on last, now wearing a black, tactical jacket over the t-shirt she saw earlier.


    "I''m still working on my own costume," he whispered conspiratorially.


    Alice grinned.


    "I''m sure it''ll be glorious," she said.


    As the Black Swan rocketed towards the airspace where Alice would intercept the passenger jet, Clawson and Athena re-briefed everyone aboard on the specifics of their mission. Once the Swan was just outside the jet''s radar range, Alice would depart carrying Ethan. The two of them would wait for the airliner''s pilot, who was still secretly in communication with outside help, to open the landing gear just enough for Alice and Ethan to get inside. Clawson showed them diagrams and blueprints, explaining how to access the cabin from a series of mechanical access hatches. Their orders were to get as close to the hijackers as possible without them knowing they were there.


    "I don''t need to remind you what might happen if these guys realize two operatives had just boarded their aircraft," he warned.


    Alice''s imagination was good enough to imagine what might happen, though she wished it wasn''t.


    Clawson also briefed their complement of RaTS, including the remaining members of Meta Team, that would meet the jet once it had landed. They would secure the hostages, take the hijackers into custody if they were still alive, and administer medical aid to any injured.


    He dismissed the crew to continue their preparations for the rest of the flight, and the RaTS set themselves to the task of outfitting themselves with weaponry, clothing, and equipment.


    "Hey, Alice," called Ethan above the drone of the Swan''s engines. "Check this out!"


    Alice watched Ethan grin as he took a black oxygen mask from a rack on the bulkhead. The mask, Alice knew, was designed for jumping out of planes at high altitudes, but Ethan seemed to have found a far more amusing use for it. He slapped it on his face, and though the mask concealed his grin, it did nothing to hide the mischief in his smiling eyes.


    "Clawson," Ethan gasped between heavy, exaggerated breaths, "Clawson!"


    Clawson, who''d been speaking in hushed voices with Athena and Joshua, gave Ethan an exasperated look.


    "Clawson!" continued Ethan, apparently not intimidated by the ORIGIN director''s glare. "I am your father!"


    Clawson''s eyes went wide, and his body appeared to tremble with rage. "Take that stupid mask your face and stop acting like a child!"


    Alice''s heart leapt in her throat at the sound of his anger. She knew that Clawson was occasionally hard on Ethan, but she''d never before been present to hear the disciplinary exchange.


    "Oh, c''mon," Ethan said as he took off the mask. Alice could see his smile, though still present, had lost its edge. It was softer now, more sheepish. "It was just a joke. I thought you liked Star Wars."


    Alice saw crew members make a point of not looking directly at either Clawson''s or Ethan''s face. They busied themselves with tightening harnesses and checking weapons.


    Clawson advanced on Ethan and lowered his voice to a coarse, menacing growl. "If you spent half as much effort developing yourself as a team leader as you did making stupid jokes, you wouldn''t be standing here wondering why no one takes you seriously." And in a voice even lower, Alice barely made out, "And don''t you ever joke about my father, Ethan."


    Clawson was shorter than Ethan, and Ethan was a nigh indestructible powerhouse metahuman, yet it was Ethan who backed away. His face, Alice could see, was the sort of practiced blankness that comes with years of enduring hard criticism. Though Ethan was unreadable on the outside, she had a feeling he was anything but calm on the inside.


    Clawson returned to Athena''s side and whispered "keep everyone on task" before he disappeared into one of the Swan''s many compartments.


    When Alice tried following Clawson, she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Athena.


    "It''s probably best you stay out of this," Athena said. "This isn''t the first time. These two just have...difficulties sometimes. They both just need space."


    Alice looked Athena in the eye. "I have questions," she said. "I think I need answers."


    Athena was silent for a long time, seeming to have difficulty deciding whether she wanted to look at Ethan, who was busying himself with something at the other end of the cargo bay, or at the door Clawson had disappeared behind.


    "Go ahead," she said, letting go of Alice''s shoulder. "Tell him what you need to tell him. Ask questions if you like. But I can''t guarantee he''ll give you any answers."


    The inside of the compartment was identical to the one Alice had visited after her first rescue mission when she spoke to Athena in private.


    Clawson looked up from a holographic display. He had been reviewing maps, diagrams, and blueprints of the passenger jet.


    "You should be getting ready," he said.


    Alice nodded her head. "I think I am ready, but I''m worried."


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    Clawson steepled his fingers. "You''re concerned about that little chastisement I gave Ethan."


    Alice nodded.


    "Don''t worry about it. You''ve known for a long time that Ethan and I don''t always see eye-to-eye. He needs guidance."


    Alice sat in a chair opposite Clawson and tried to read his facial expression, but she might as well have tried to read a block of ice.


    "Clawson, I want to keep doing this. I want to help. I want to make a difference. But if I''m going to do that, I need to understand the people doing it with me. I don''t understand why you''re so hard on him. I don''t know why you keep him so confined and criticize him and expect so much of him. I need to know why. And I need to know why his stupid Darth Vader impersonation made you so upset. Ethan and I work very close together, and I depend heavily on you to help me make sense of...all this. I need to trust you."


    Clawson said nothing as he leaned back in his chair. Alice began to wonder if she''d gone too far. Perhaps she was sick of watching Ethan be emotionally kicked like a dog. Maybe she just had fewer answers than she could stand after spending almost half a year in the service of ORIGIN. Maybe she just hated it when people she liked couldn''t get along.


    After a long, quiet minute, he tapped some keys on his desk. A picture appeared on his screen, though Alice was unable to see it well at that angle.


    "How much did I tell you about Divinity?" he asked.


    Alice shrugged, not knowing how her answer to his question would help. "He was the first publicly recognized metahuman. He was strong. He could fly. You worked with him. I don''t know, a lot of stuff."


    Clawson drummed his fingers on the desk, his eyes focused on something Alice couldn''t see. A memory, maybe.


    "I didn''t just work with him," he corrected. He turned the screen so Alice could see it properly.


    The picture displayed was a photograph. It looked like a professional family portrait. There was a man, a woman, and a young boy, maybe only eight or nine. The woman was beautiful and brown skinned with slanted eyes, probably Filipino. The boy had teeth missing from his wide smile, and his eyes sparkled, eyes shaped much like the woman''s, though he had lighter skin. The woman behind him was obviously his mother; she could see the two of them also shared the same round cheeks and wide mouth.


    But it was the man who stood out most. Alice only took a moment to recognize the classically handsome features, handsome in the ways Ethan was handsome, and soon she realized the truth. She wasn''t used to seeing him in something so normal as a striped, button-up shirt and a wristwatch. Only in his farewell video had he looked so ordinary. The face she recognized from a thousand news reports, blogs, memes, t-shirts, magazines, and book covers. She''d seen the same intelligent, slightly squinting eyes, dark hair, and broad chin on the face of the most powerful, mysterious man in modern history.


    "That''s Divinity?" she asked, knowing the answer to her own question. "And this is his family?"


    Clawson nodded.


    Alice looked at the picture, and then looked at Clawson again. "You said you didn''t just work with him. You knew his family. You knew him personally."


    She squinted at Clawson, trying to imagine him with color in his hair. She stared long and hard at his cheeks and lips, the truth dawning on her like a door into sunlight being thrown wide open. Divinity had been getting old before she was born. And Clawson looked like he could be the right age.


    "You''re the boy. You''re his son," she declared.


    A sliver of a smile appeared on the corner of Clawson''s mouth.


    "Everyone at ORIGIN holds Divinity as an inspiration, a hero, and a model for the future. But for me, he was Dad. I ate with him. I slept in his bed when I was scared. I cleaned the garage with him."


    Alice found herself unable to take her eyes away from Clawson''s face. He was lighter somehow, as though buoyed up by his memories. She''d never before seen a look of fondness on his face, nor of admiration and love. He was, for a moment, that boy in the picture who loved his father but took so much after his mother. She had a feeling this was a side to him not many people had ever seen.


    "My father was a symbol of strength and a herald of peace to the world, but to me he was more. He was a representation of everything a man could be if he chose."


    Clawson''s face grew heavy again, the worries and cares of directing rescues and battles in a world without his father sagging his chin and stretching the skin on his forehead, gathering wrinkles under his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. He was Clawson again, the man who brutally scolded Ethan for a silly impersonation, and Alice was beginning to understand why.


    "I had been helping Dad with his work for decades by the time he died. It had been his wish that I continue his work. He promised that if I did, there would be more people like him to pick up where he left off. He left behind some followers, normal, everyday people who stepped up to the challenge of bringing justice and safety to the world. People he''d trained to do things ordinary people thought would be impossible."


    "Athena," Alice said.


    "Yes," Clawson confirmed. "People like Athena. People so well trained, so motivated, they almost seemed like metahumans themselves. But they weren''t. For all their skills and talent and genius, they weren''t him. And they weren''t up to the future my dad had promised. I knew back then, like I know now, that we needed someone more than human. More than talented. More than incredibly skilled."


    "You needed more metahumans," Alice finished for him.


    "I started ORIGIN with one purpose: to find and train the next metahuman to pick up my father''s life''s work where he''d left it. And we met Ethan."


    Alice thought of all the jokes Ethan told, all his antics, his goofy tee shirts, and his numerous escape attempts. She thought of Clawson, hoping beyond hope to find someone like his father, but finding Ethan instead.


    "When we got him," Clawson continued, "I knew this boy would be pushed harder than any other boy could ever dream. He would be held to so much higher a standard...he would have so much expected of him, that to make him into the man the world needed him to be, I would have to be hard with him. Cold. Perhaps even cruel.


    "I''m not stupid. I know what every American boy wants for himself. I know he wants freedom and friends. I know he wants someone to pat him on the back and hold him when he''s sad and laugh when he tells a joke. But he''s not every boy. You see that don''t you? That''s why we can''t treat him like others. He must be more than them. He must be stronger and smarter and more disciplined. That''s his sacrifice. That''s his offering to peace and justice and security. That''s why I must treat him like that. I inherited my father''s legacy, and I must pass it on to the next metahuman hope for this world. Ethan must sacrifice his own emotional needs to be what the world needs him to be. And the world needs him to be Divinity."


    It was Alice''s turn to be quiet. She had listened, trembling, as Clawson described Ethan''s "sacrifice". The word kindled something in her, a sort of towering thunderhead of thoughts and indignation threatening lightning she could not contain.


    In a moment, she was on her feet.


    "Sacrifice?" she thundered. "What kind of sacrifice is taken from someone against his will? You aren''t guiding Ethan. You''re enslaving him. You''re breaking him. Did it ever occur to you that you''re preventing him from being the man you need him to be? Did your father beat you down and break you apart and belittle you to make you who you are? Ever since Ethan left his own family behind to be a part of your father''s legacy, you''ve been the closest thing to a father he''s ever had. Athena is probably the closest thing he has to a mom. Don''t you feel bad about that?"


    She realized that she was no longer standing on the floor but floating above it. She had been towering over Clawson, especially since the shorter man was still sitting in his chair. Clawson, however, didn''t look intimidated. He didn''t look angry. Mostly, Alice guessed, he looked sad.


    "You may be right," he admitted as she silently drifted back to the floor and sat in her seat. "I know that. I haven''t been the father that Ethan needs. But I did the best I could to ensure that my father''s promise was kept. Perhaps this is all too much for Ethan. Maybe we have expected far too much of him. And if we have, I am responsible for that. I have learned lately that perhaps there is another way to continue my father''s work without needing to drive Ethan to be so much like him."


    Alice felt a ball of ice forming in the pit of her stomach, not sure she wanted the answer to her next question. "How?" she asked.


    "You," answered Clawson. "My mistake was using Ethan in the first place. I had no idea that you existed. I had no idea that somewhere in Virginia was a little girl who was concealing the fact that she could fly. You already display powers that more closely resemble Divinity''s own than Ethan. And you are so much like him. Athena knew it, too. We both knew the moment we met you that you were like him in so many ways. You''re courageous, selfless, and honorable. You put others before yourself. You''re compassionate. You''re kind."


    "We''re done here," Alice interrupted, standing from her seat again. Her lips pressed together in a hard line, unwilling to let more words spill out.


    This is why you brought me into ORIGIN? Because I''m the person you''d been beating down Ethan to be? So I could replace him, now that you''ve learned you don''t need him? So you can discard him like a mistake?


    "You have no idea what you mean to everyone," Clawson said as she marched to the door. "What you mean to me. You are my father''s promise fulfilled. You are going to do a lot of good for this world."


    Alice gripped the doorknob so tightly that it squealed and bent in her grip like a ball of aluminum foil. "After this mission, we''ll see how much I want to do with you."