Chapter One: Shadows On a Wall

Vincent Valentine

The rain drags its cold, steely fingers down my face and I tug my fedora lower against my forehead. The eerie, almost morbid nature of the weather outside has me wondering if they will even attempt to transfer her. After all, even B.U.L.E.T. can’t take chances like those.

                A hydrokinetic hasn’t shown up in nearly four years, and our kind shows up in some pretty odd places. My guess? They wouldn’t dare show up outside in this rain with someone who could turn the very weather against them. True, she might be slightly sedated, but knowing the nature of my kind, this rain would just make the hydro stronger.

                It has been almost three weeks since I’d located and heisted out Kali, and, no offense, but I was eager for some additional company. So here I was, ten minutes away from the newest B.U.L.E.T. facility, with no insight as to what this girl would be like, or who she really was. Last time I’d tried to rescue someone with false credentials; I’d been stabbed in the back by who turned out to be a member of an assassin’s league called the Pack. Believe me, it’s a long story you don’t want to hear.

                All I knew about this girl was that she was hydrokinetic, someone who could control water on a whim, and simply of the female sex. And once I’d gotten her out of this situation, I knew her reaction—it would either be indifference or shock, astonishment. Kali was definitely an indifferent sort of person, of which I was feeling a bit annoyed about myself.

                I’ll admit, I do have a tendency to like a person once I meet them, and then lose interest the next day. This happened with Kali, as it does with everyone I know. As I slide my hands smoothly into my pockets, I notice that my transponder is no longer there. Though I feel around more, I know that I must have left it at Haven.

                I groan and mentally punch myself—I should have known better than to come up with such a faulty system of communication, especially when someone as powerful as Kali joined the resistance. But while I wallow in self-loathing, I recognize the tell-tale demeanor of a B.U.L.E.T. agent across the street. He checks his watch, which I know to be com-device, and speaks into it softly. His presence and manner predict what I feared would happen: they’re going to try to relocate her anyway.

                Hurried along with a purpose now, I fumble for my cell phone and speed-dial Kali, who doesn’t pick up, of course. Frustrated, I grit my teeth and shove my phone back in my jacket pocket, wishing I had a more caring sidekick. The agent across the road glances around, paranoia in the way he moves—he murmurs something more into his com-link once he sees me and I take a sharp breath as I move quickly before the building I was so close to yet so stupid as to not conceal myself against.

                I would have to do this alone, however much of a letdown if would be if I got myself captured. I hear a slight scuffle behind me on the street, and soon it’s swarming with B.U.L.E.T. agents. A truck starts up and I hear a small, quiet whimper of sorts that I’m surprised I could hear—and the shiver that races up and down my back, along with a feeling of deep pity. And afterwards, a surge of anger at these people who think they can simply take people like me without any ramification whatsoever.

                My anger is quenched by a kick well-planted neatly in an agent’s nuts, executed perfectly by Kali Jade Andrews, herself.

                “Kali?” I call out in disbelief as she levels off two more agents. She smirks mischievously, her regular ‘Gimme a fight any day, suckers’ expression present. “I didn’t think you were coming.” I say, beginning to smile, a small one if anything.

                “And miss the fun?” she laughs and backhands another unfortunate B.U.L.E.T. associate. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

                It was true, Kali had an unusual taste for violence and action, of which she satisfied with random street fights with criminals and vagabonds with a penchant for misconduct. It was in her nature, as was my nature to forget about why were there and join in to whatever Kali was doing.

                I leak into the fight, and though we definitely had more than a few cuts and bruises by the end, Kali and I level off almost a dozen agents. But, of course, by the time we are finished, I remember what we’re doing there. I face plant and Kali snickers, “You let the hydro get away, didn’t you?”

                I say nothing, only silently punish myself and pull down my hat before walking away from the scene quietly. This was supposed my shot to prove to everyone else at Haven that I could do rescues as perfectly well as anyone else. This was supposed to prove that I was capable leader for them.

                My stomach churns at the thought of another leading Haven, someone with far too much zeal and not enough training, or far worse someone who put our kind far before innocents on the street. If this happened……well, let’s just say: God help us all.

2: Another Door In My Face

Chapter Two: Another Door in My Face

Vince

                The only thing that wakes me up these days is Kali’s music, suitably blasted through suitably large speakers that she claims her rich uncle donated to her. I’ll never know whether she ever lies or not, and I don’t really want to, anyway.

                The world is still blurry as I stumble out of bed and over across the room to the fridge, where my hand hovers between the beer can and the orange juice jug. I prefer not having a headache on top of a headache, so I grab the orange juice, wondering if it’s wise showing off the alcohol so blatantly when anyone I let in could easily find it and try it for themselves.

                “Mornin’, Mickey.” I hear behind me and find Kali sitting nonchalantly in the spot I’d slept, her eyes hinting at cat-like pleasure, which match the feline curve of her chocolate eyes. Mickey was what she called me; I had no idea why, the same with everything else about her.

                I am the only one in Haven who has my own room, which I keep locked all the time, no matter what. Obviously Kali has gotten in using her abilities: I’m glad she has, too. Kali is…you could say, reluctant to use them. She can do things with shadows…..things that still mystify Kali herself.

                “How’s it going?” she asks, a tiny smile playing on her lips.

                I shrug, “I may or may not have a slight hangover.”

                Kali’s smile fades and turns dark. “Vince, you know what alcohol does to your abilities. It could seriously screw you up.”

                I sigh and set the orange juice down before venturing over to the ancient wooden dresser. “It’s fine, Kali. As long as I use it in moderation—“

                “But you didn’t, Vince.” Kali interrupts, sounding irritated, yet concerned. She groans, pulling her knees against her chest and holding them there with her delicate hands, nails painted informally black. “Believe it or not, Vincent, I actually worry about you sometimes.”

                I look at her strangely. Could this be the Kali I know? I crack a grin, joking, “Uh, hello? Can I speak to Kali?”

                She glares at me, the vehemence of every fight she’s had in her life in her gaze. I can see her jaw tightening in intensity, ready to burst like a dam overfilled.

                “Okay, so that wasn’t the right moment.” I chuckle nervously.

                Kali scoffs, “Not the right moment? Vince, sometimes I can’t believe…”

                Her heated words are cut off by a loud, urgent knock resounding on my bedroom door. I share a ‘we’ll finish this later’ look with Kali before answering the door. All who stands there is Peyton Haylin, a girl Rikki and Kali broke out two months ago. She’s stands about 5’2, much shorter than I, so I look down to ask, “Hey. What’s up, Peyton?” as kindly as I can.

                “Umm….,” she trails, seeing Kali lying on my bed, her pajamas still on. Worse, I have nothing but my pectorals and abdominals showing instead of a shirt.  Oh, crap. I’m giving the wrong idea to the potentially biggest gossiper at Haven.

                I clear my throat and she looks away, lowering her gaze and blushing wildly. “Sorry,” she apologizes, “I shouldn’t be here.”

                “No, go ahead.” Kali urges from behind me, sweeping up around me to address the girl in the regal grace she always possesses.

                Peyton gulps, nervous as she explains, “It’s Jesse. Everybody’s saying he ran away.”

                I grit my teeth and close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose like I always do when I am presented a problem I don’t want to face. I hear Kali sigh next to me, and I can practically read her mind. Why would he want to run away? This kid should appreciate what we’ve saved him from, it took a lot.

                I still don’t have a shirt on, so I tell the girl to not worry, she leaves and closes the door, then I sit down on the edge of the bed, telling Kali to get one for me. She snaps at me to get my own, then walks right over to the fridge and grabs a beer. Yeah. Kali’s back. Who was I to think she was going to change?

                I roll my eyes and call out as I slip on a shirt, feeling the soft cotton come down over my chest, “Thought you said that stuff was bad.”

                She didn’t reply for the longest time, just stared out the window empty-eyed. Finally she opens the can and retorts, “I know.”

                I chide myself for even thinking about comforting her, but do it anyway. “Hey. Remember when I found you?”

                “Three weeks ago?” she snickers.

                I nod. “You said that if you ever got the chance to save people, you’d take it.” I paused, almost stopping right there, but continuing, “Now you have that chance. But you won’t be much help to people if you’re wasting your time with that.”

                Silence ensues, until we hear another knock on the bedroom door.

                “Come in.” I call wearily. If I had money for a sound-proof system to be installed, I’d use it.

                “The door’s locked,” the impatient voice of an older girl answers.

                I groan, not wanting to stand up, but I do and open the door. This girl is more my age, and my height, and I can look her squarely in her cool green eyes as I speak to her.

                “If you’re wondering about Jesse, yes, I heard that he’s gone. Whether he ran away or was kidnapped, I have absolutely no clue. So, if you want vengeance, you’ll have to contact my secretary.”

                The girl scoffs, resentment firing up her eyes. “You probably don’t even know my name, do you?”

                “Nope.”

                And, yet again, another door is slammed in my face.

                “What was that all about?” Kali asks, sounding like she didn’t get enough sleep, probably from street-fights until 3 am.

                I collapse onto the bed, releasing a breath that I’ve been holding since this morning. “Some girl looking for revenge or whatever. I didn’t even know her name.”

                I waited for a response but heard nothing, and after about three minutes turned around to see nothing but an empty can of beer on the floor.

3: Bowling Balls and Broken Bones

Bowling Balls and Broken Bones

Kali Jade Andrews

                Downtown Minneapolis is always busy, so I don’t find it surprising that by the time we find Jesse, we lose him again. Though this may be due to the fact that I have the most annoying search partner this world has ever seen. She introduced herself as Mady, but I preferred to reference her as ‘Maddening’ instead. She hated that.

                “So, where else could he be, Maddening?”

                She groans indignantly, screeching, “God, would you cut it out?”

                I, of course, gain immense pride at having sufficiently ticked her off enough, and inspect my nails as I carelessly answer, “Eh, I’m having fun.”

                This was the same girl Vince had answered at the door, the same one who’d freaked out on him just as much as she was now—well, a little more so now. Mady claims to be Jesse’s older sister, which, while it gives her a semi-excuse, I’m still not happy that Jesse could have had a down-to-earth, relatively hot older brother.

                Eventually Maddening responds, “He might be at the abandoned hotel up north a little. We used to hide out there sometimes before we found Haven.”

                ‘Well,’ I think, ‘at least she appreciates what we’ve set up.’ Most kids who first come to Haven whine about not being able to play outside or visit their mommy and daddy, while the kids who have actually been threatened by the ever-looming B.U.L.E.T. take care of the griping ones.

                B.U.L.E.T. means buisness; if they’re threatening you and you don’t have a safe hideout or reliable teammates, you are mutant toast. I’d had my share of B.U.L.E.T. by the time I was only 10 years old. Good ‘ol mammy and pappy turned me in to them when they investigated why I always won the fights I started at school, on my way home from school, on the weekends—I started fights everywhere. It started with a little Peter Pan action, then pretty soon I was making shadows do what I wanted. Before I knew it, I could shadow-travel like Nico di Angelo and even make myself into a shadow, if I wanted.

                But I didn’t want that. It was all trap door and wires to me. Smoke and mirrors. My powers were not a part of me as much as, say, my hair color or my heritage. My mother came from a long line of karate and martial arts masters, while my father’s side of the family was way into judo—he even had me watch a bunch of old Bruce Lee movies and other martial arts movies.

                The reason I say ‘was’ is because, of course, how do you go back to the parent that called you a freak and gave you up to an extreme anti-mutant organization for seven years? I, for one, was not entirely willing to knock on the front door and visit some Sunday afternoon.

                Hey, Mom. Dad. You know that secret ‘government’ project you gave me up to? Well, you see, I sort of escaped, and now I hold an underground operation with an insecure 16 year-old male who I occasionally share meaningful glances with. Cool? Cool. Let’s have a luncheon!

                Yeah. NOT cool. Besides, that insecure male was Vince, who tells me every time we go anywhere public with a lot of people that he feels either entirely drained or entirely ready to hit someone afterwards. I don’t blame him, of course, but in going public I can talk to real people, something I don’t get to experience very often locked away in an underground system that has a chance of being discovered any day.

                For some reason, as Maddening and I walk past a bowling alley, I instantly think of Vince. The setting around me changes and I suddenly envision entirely different scenery; three weeks ago at this very bowling alley.

                “Why are we here, again?” I groan, irritated, and continue to crumple the helpless fast-food napkin in my hands. Vince snatches the napkin out of my hands and tosses it into the trash can across the room.

                “To reintroduce you to what I’m pretty sure is called ‘fun’. Come on, it’s….” he searched for a word besides ‘fun’. “It’s relaxing. Reenergizing.”

                “How can it be relaxing and reenergizing at the same time?” I ask and scowl, not trusting him very much.

                Vince shrugs, pausing to sip on the straw of the Coke he has just gotten at the bowling alley’s bar. “I don’t know. It just…is. But seriously. You have your shoes on, now let’s go bowling!” I moan again, but drag myself up enough to follow him over to the lane he rented.

                He disappears for a second, then shows up with two bowling balls, one smaller, obviously for me, since he is definitely more muscular than me. He hands the lighter, green one to me, and I allow myself to smile for a moment.

                “How’d you know green was my favorite color?”

                Vince simply shrugs again, but this time lets an amused, light smile reveal the crinkle near the corner of his normally intense, unreachable brown eyes. He hands the ball to me, reassuring, “Don’t worry, I’m not telepathic.”

                I look at him with sarcastic suspicion, at which he turns away and clears his throat. I lower my head and bite my lip, making the same ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid!’ rebukes that Vince is probably making. We wait for each other to apologize, until Vincent looks up at the screen that he said earlier keeps track of our progress and tells me without looking at me, “I got a rail set up, since it’s your first time.”

                I nod, and soon, a Michael Jackson song starts playing through the sound system. I jump and burst out, “Ooh! This is my favorite song!”

                 Vince looks curious, and asks as politely as he can, “How? I…well, weren’t you only ten when you got trapped at B.U.L.E.T.?”

                I blush, ashamed that almost half of my life was spent in a holding facility and a testing lab. “One of the guards kept a radio on.” I explain, to which he nods his head in understanding.

                “Well, now seems like as good a time as any!” he exclaims, and hefts his bowling ball up in the air, an extremely heavy thing that could surely injure him. But he catches it, only for me to hear a loud ‘crack’ and see Vince’s arm bend at a strange angle.

                 I am about to scream when he leans in and whispers with a…is that a smile? He says, “Watch this.”

                I observe as Vince’s arm miraculously straightens itself out, snapping back into place with a quiet ‘pop’. My eyes are wide and I look into his chocolate-brown eyes, his bemused expression confusing me even more. “How did you do that?” I whisper fiercely, leaning in to make sure no one could hear me.

                He grinned even wider, answering, “You're not the only one who’s special, Kali.”

4: Vipers in Disguise

Vipers in Disguise

Nicole Lance

               Don’t start a fight if you can’t finish it. That’s what my grampa always said, back when he and I lived deep in the woods of Colorado, away from most civilization, only for me to have to go to school every week, with kids who loved to start fights and never finish them.

                It wasn’t like I ever disregarded Grampa’s words of wisdom; they were smart, of course. But I couldn’t just ignore Hillary’s snake bite of a remark, for that was what the rich, arrogant girls of St. James were: vipers with too much makeup and not enough spankings when they were children. What had Hillary Martin said, exactly? Stupid hick. Low-cortical farm girls like these shouldn’t be allowed to attend. I mean, who dreams of living in the woods so she can ‘be among the world God created’? I mean, come on! No one likes you, Nicole, because you’re nothing but a good-for-nothing little bottom-sucker who will never be one of us.

                That, unfortunately, was where I threw the punch. I’m not saying I regret it, if anything I enjoyed it and did everything but frame a picture of the moment. What I felt guilty about afterwards was what my grandfather had said: Don’t start a fight if you can’t finish it.

                He told me this, especially, because he knew how much I was, in previous days, bullied, also, just in a different setting, and for different reasons. Simply because no one thought I just quite normal, I didn’t meet their quota for popularity; because I was inferior to their superior. Okay, admittedly, I was kind of a weirdo, and still am. I was one of those kids across the playground with a distant look in their eyes, a longing feeling emanating from them. Children didn’t have mid-life crises like I did, which, I concur, was pretty odd. But what can I say? Weird was just something I like being. Usually.

                “Hey!” Beth screeches across the parking lot, waving her arms like we were in a war movie and she was the signal. I tried not to laugh, failed, and waved her over, to which she grinned like the Cheshire Cat and sprinted towards me at.

                “Guess what, Lance?” she asks with a smirk, leaning on my crappy little old Ford and looking me straight into the eyes, mischief sparking a flame I did not want to kindle.

                “Yeah?” I reply, glancing one more time at the detention slip in my hand from earlier today before crumpling it in my hand, feeling my grip tighten stronger than I expected.

                Beth speaks with her hands as well as her voice as she explains, “Kaye Andrews and Chantelle Davis were caught at a drinking party and suspended from the cheer squad.”

                “And I should care about this…why?” I ask before mirroring Beth’s leisurely action.

                To my horror, she then takes out a piece of paper that has me cringing. “I thought we could sign up while they’re on leave!” I face-plant, sigh, and wonder why my only friend had to be a cheer enthusiast, or something of the sort. “What? It’s a great idea! We could be like Michele Crawford-Carnegie or something, it would be awesome!”

                “Whoever that is.” I mumble, to which Beth frowns at.

                “Nicole, what’s up? Seriously.”

                I can tell she’s serious because she uses my first name, something she rarely does. I sigh and slip my purse onto my shoulder after having taken it off then on again for the fifth time. “It happened again.”

                Beth grows quiet, until she inquires, “You mean the phero—“

                “Yeah,” I interrupt. “That thing. With Hillary earlier today.” I groan, feeling like hitting myself, and begin to pace around in front of my car. “Ugh! I just wish I wasn’t like this! You know?”

                I look over at Beth, who is, strangely, looking like she’s trying to keep from bursting out in anger—I’m using them on her, too.

                Forcing myself to calm down for Beth’s sake, I look her in the eye and apologize, “I’m sorry, I promise I’ll try to get a handle on this, even if it means staying away from people.”

                “No, Lance,” she replies firmly, the most sure-sounding she’s sounded since she believed unicorns were real in second grade. “Friends don’t just abandon friends, even if it means that the friend has to go and master their superpowers. I’m going to stay with you until you kill me with your powers, you hear?”

                Whoa. This was, by far, the longest, most movie-like speech she’s ever given…and it’s about my…the things I can do. I rub the back of my neck and roll it around, cracking it like Beth hates. “Alright. I’ll consider leaving with a goodbye.”

                Beth gives me a dirty look and crosses her arms to match the stance she’s in; weight all on her right hip. “Nicole Gina Lance. Look what you have done to me. Am I your sidekick now that you have to punish yourself because of your mojo and leave me behind in the crosshairs?”

                Despite the situation and how serious my friend was, I struggle to contain laughter. “Mm-hm.” I agree. “I mean, uh, no. No, Beth, you are the best friend ever, and I was stupid to think I could leave you behind in life.”

                Beth beams, her pleasurable mood instantly having returned. Now that I am in her good graces, I ask sweetly, “So….no cheerleading?”

                She waves the question away like a bothersome fly. “Are you kidding? We are onit like Donkey Kongit, sister.” She puts her arm around me shoulders and leads me back to school where tryouts are probably ensuing, those little Miley Cyrus wannabes conspiring in perfect cheer formation. “After tryouts, which we are going to pown, take me to your training grounds you must, young Padawan.”

                I fight the grin on my face and roll my eyes as I involuntarily follow my Jedi Master, sighing, “After tryouts I swear I will kill you, Beth Jacobson.”