I thought that I was normal. Yeah, I’ve had problems in the past. Nothing unusual, though. I’m slightly quick to anger, sometimes I get a bit edgy, but never anything that would make me want to murder someone. I’ve had a rough past, since I was sexually and verbally abused as a child and suffered through depression for a few years, but I never thought I would want to seek revenge on those who had hurt me. I forgave all the wrongs that had been done to me and moved on. I never thought I was a psycho. I was a 15 year old girl with a loving family, amazing friends, and a plan for my life. I wanted to grow up to get married. I wanted to be a midwife, and help deliver babies. I love Jesus and I’m a strong Roman Catholic. I’ve been declared fully sane by every psychologist I’ve been to. I have absolutely no reason to hurt anybody. Yet somehow, I woke up one morning with blood on my hands and a strong desire to kill. A burning, passionate desire unlike any other I’ve had before. Now, I’m a 15 year old girl with no family, friends, or chance of having a normal life. I’m constantly on the run, being chased by those who created me. The men who decided to play God and try to create something new. Some sort of hybrid, a superhuman. Their experiment went horribly wrong, and they created a monster. A monster with a ravenous need to kill. They created me.

I wake up to the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance and rain hitting against my window. I look outside and frown. This is not how I planned to spend my Saturday. I was supposed to be going to the park with a few of my friends, but I guess that isn’t supposed to happen. I flop back down on my bed, burying my face in my pillow. After laying there for another 15 minutes, I finally decide I should get up and eat something. I roll over just in time to see my baby sister, Ia, walk through the door. “Cece! Get up!” I laugh and sit up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” Ia smiles and run out the door down the hallway towards the stairs with me following close behind. I pick her up and carry her down the stairs, heading to the kitchen where mom is sitting at the computer. “What’s for breakfast? I’m starving!”

    After eating a quick breakfast, I feel like I need some fresh air. I don a raincoat and my rubber boots and head outside into the chilly, wet air. I shiver as a raindrop hits my nose. Something about the day just feels strange. Despite the dullness of the atmosphere and the gray, cloudy sky, I feel more alive than usual… almost as if I have new blood running through my veins. I look up, letting the raindrops hit my face as a bolt of lightning streaks across the sky like a jagged ribbon of light. Everything looks so bright, so vivid. I take a deep breath through the nose and close my eyes, letting my other senses take over. I can feel the icy raindrops hitting my skin like tiny needles, and the wind brushing my hair away from my face. The cold hits my ears, sending a shiver down my spine and I clench my fists. So much… energy. I hear the steady rain hitting the pavement below me and the sound of leaves rustling in the huge maple tree in my front yard. I can smell the musty, earthy smell of new rain in the ground and the air has a fresh, wintry feeling to it.

    I head up the road and after walking for about fifteen minutes, I come to the highway. I take a left, and continue walking for another 10 minutes. Suddenly, a faded blue and white pickup truck drives past, swerving towards me and plowing through a puddle. I’m covered in mud now, and I’m standing on the roof of the truck. The windshield is smashed in and the driver sitting upright, his neck twisted at an abnormal angle. There’s blood on the broken glass, but it’s not his. It’s mine. My legs are bleeding, and my jeans are torn in random places. The truck is resting in a deep ditch beside the highway, and there are no other cars around. I jump down into the tall grass and shiver as I begin to feel the cold air again. My legs sting now, and I feel my senses returning in a rush of realization. I gasp as a lump rises in my throat. My legs hurt like hell and I’m trying to wrap my mind around everything. I just killed a man. Somehow, I managed to grab the rear view mirror and swing myself up, propelling myself forwards and through the windshield. After smashing through the glass and tearing up my legs, I grabbed the man’s neck and snapped it in one fluid movement.

    I look down at my bloody legs and bite my lip. How am I going to explain this? My mind is flooded with thoughts, questions. I know I should feel guilty for what I just did, but for some reason I feel nothing. No regret, no shame. It’s like I’m numb, emotionless. Suddenly, I hear a car approaching on the highway. I look up and see the two small headlights in the distance, getting closer and closer with every passing second. Should I try to get help? Should I call the police and tell them what happened? No, I would get arrested and be declared mentally insane. No one would believe this. I follow my first instinct and run. I run until my injured legs can carry me no more. I collapse in another ditch and curl up into a fetal position, trying my best to protect myself from the cold.

    I look down and my breath catches in my throat. The blood on my legs is starting to dry up. A strange, greenish glow is emanating from the lacerations covering my pale skin. I look at my wrists and hold back a gasp. My veins are throbbing visibly, and the blood running through them is the same neon green color. I feel my body growing warm and with a final burst of heat, I spasm and then lay still for a few seconds. My legs feel completely normal again. My jeans are still ripped and bloodstained, but every wound is completely healed. How is this even possible? Wounds like that don’t just heal. Now my only problem is figuring out what to do about my jeans. They’re still very obviously ripped and bloodstained, and I have no change of clothes with me. I mean, who brings extra jeans on a morning stroll in the rain? Whatever, I’ll figure something out.

    I stand up and stretch, looking around carefully before climbing out of the ditch. Like, for real. Why on earth did the people who dug this feel the need to make it freaking FIVE FEET DEEP? Like seriously, this is ridiculous. I’m 5’5”, so this is extremely frustrating for me. I grab the top of the ditch and pull myself up faster than I ever thought possible. “HA!” I exclaim, feeling proud of myself. I take one step forward and my foot catches on a root, sending me toppling over backwards… right back into the ditch. Wait… how did I fall backwards? Nevermind, I just feel like a clumsy idiot now. I pull myself out of the ditch again and start walking up the road again.

    When I finally get home, I’m not quite sure what to say. I stand outside the door for about five minutes and I literally can’t think of anything to use as a coverup. Suddenly, I feel faint. The world around me seems to be blurry and everything has a greenish tint. Before I even know what is happening, I am back in my bedroom. I frown. How did I do that? This whole day has felt like one big Doctor Who episode. Well, now I’m pretty much expecting a big blue telephone box to appear in front of me. I smile at the stupid idea and head over to my dresser to grab some new jeans. I peel off my soaking clothes and slip into some warm, dry ones. I choose a warm black and grey sweater with another pair of jeans.

    Once I’m dressed, I roll up my ripped jeans into a ball and bring them into the bathroom, where I put them into a white garbage bag. I run downstairs and head straight outside to the green dumpster next to the garage and toss the bag in. Heading back inside, I am greeted by my 3 year old sister Claudia, who is smiling like a jack-o-lantern. I smile back and pick her up, carrying her into the living room where we sit down. She jumps up and runs to the bookshelf, grabs the book of nursery rhymes, and runs back to plop herself down next to me. As soon as I start reading the first page, Ia walks in from the dining room and climbs up onto the couch next to Claudia. If only they knew what I’ve done…

I sigh and set down the ridiculously heavy stack of paper on the desk in front of me. I’ve been here for at least eight hours and it’s only ten in the morning. This is going to be a long day. I head down the hall to the cafeteria, where I am greeted by a few of the other scientists here at the lab. I grab a cup of coffee and sit down at a table on the far end of the room, away from everyone else. I’ve never really felt right here, I guess I just don’t really fit in. Granted, I have skill and intelligence, but that doesn’t make me a scientist. I’m only here because I’ve worked with radioactivity and genetics. I personally think that everyone here is insane, like this isn’t a scientific institution, but rather a mental institution. I mean, who in their right mind wants to experiment with genetics and radioactivity? Mixing the two is like creating a time bomb with no set time to go off. One that will explode at its own will, with or without command. I don’t know why I’m still working here… yet something about the whole project just draws me in, like it’s a huge mystery just waiting to be unraveled. I guess I like the suspense.

    I finish my coffee and leave for the genetics department where I’m supposed to meet Doctor Neumann himself, one of the lunatics who created this institution under the funding of Andreas Kempen, one of the richest men in town. Nah, let me correct myself - one of the richest men in the world. I take a deep breath and push open the door to Neumann’s office. “Hoffman! Come on in!” Neumann says enthusiastically. “Call me Jake, please,” I say with a forced smile. “Jake it is then!” Neumann says with a laugh as he sits down in his black swivel chair. “So,” he continues. “You’re probably wondering why I wanted to meet with you today, correct?” I nod in reply.

    “We’ve been noticing activity in one of the test subjects. I would like you to investigate it for me, track her down on the radar and monitor her radioactivity levels,” Neumann says quietly. “What’s her number?” I ask, now feeling curious. “Trial 53,” he replies, his face growing serious. “What? I thought we were going to shut down trial 53!” I hiss angrily. “You would really shut down your own work? It’s brilliant!” Neumann replies calmly. “Yeah, it was brilliant. But we both know that it was completely unstable. The levels of radiation contained in the experiment were highly dangerous and not safe enough to be used in the trials, Neumann. Why did you ignore my warnings? Do you have any idea the kind of power contained in that one experiment? By activating it and infusing it into the subject, you may have just killed her. Or, worst case scenario, you created a virtually unstoppable superhuman.” I reply through clenched teeth. I resist the horrible urge to punch Neumann in the face and quickly leave the room, slamming the heavy door behind me.

    I rush down the hallway to Rose’s office. Rose is one of my partners in radioactive sciences and she is literally the only person in this place that I can actually trust. I open the door and almost run into her. “Jake! What the heck?” She exclaims, playfully slapping my face. “Hey! What was that for?” I ask with a laugh. “You scared me to death, what do you expect?” She says, rolling her eyes. “Ok, but for real. I got something I need your help with,” I say quickly. “What now, another explosion in the nuclear department?” She says teasingly. “Ok, no. And that was partly your fault,” She laughs, and I continue. “Did you know that Neumann had Trial 53 activated?” Her face grows stern and she frowns. “Isn’t that the one you told them specifically not to activate?” She asks. “Yeah, but Rose... Neumann thinks he can play with the dangerous ones and shut them down just as easily as they were activated without killing the subject. But this…”

I pause, trying to figure out the best way to explain the magnitude of the situation. “This one is different. I would know, I created it. He and I both knew that shutting this one down wouldn’t be half as easy as it would be to activate it. To shut Trial 53 down, that would mean we would have to kill the subject. First of all, killing an innocent human who is under the influence of insane radioactive genetic enhancements is extremely difficult and the moral dilemma would be hard to sort out because it would technically be our fault in the first place. It would be murder, plain and simple. Secondly, this particular experiment, if it didn’t kill the subject, would make them virtually indestructible. Now all we can do is pray to God that it’s not the second one, or we’ve got an entire planet in danger.”

I saw it on the news today, the “accident” that I caused. Apparently the police are baffled by the whole thing, trying to figure out how the guy had a broken neck and all. For some reason, this is really amusing to me. I know I should be scared of being caught. I also know that I should feel guilty for this man’s death. I don’t. It’s as if my emotions are gone, and it scares me. So how am I so chill about this? I look over at dad, who is sitting in his grey Lay-z-boy recliner with the iPad and a cup of coffee in his hands. I wonder what he would think if he knew what I did. Would he disown me? I get up and walk upstairs, where I grab my pocketknife off my dresser. I slip the knife into my pocket and head to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Standing in front of the mirror, I flip the knife open, exposing the gleaming silver blade. I hold out the palm of my hand and use the pointed end of the blade to make a small incision at the base of my thumb, just enough to draw blood.

    I wince as the cold metal slices into my skin and watch as a small beadlet of crimson liquid appears at the tip of the knife. I set the knife down on the counter and let out a deep breath, allowing my senses to become sharper with every passing moment. Suddenly, my veins begin to throb with the same strange glow as before and the blood in my hand begins to run green. It’s a beautiful green, a bright emerald color. It shines as if it were made of some sort of metal, and it seems to radiate some sort of power. Before I know it, the wound on my hand is completely sealed up with no trace of a scar. I look up and I am taken by surprise when I see my reflection in the mirror.

    My eyes are green, like the strange blood that runs through my body whenever I get injured. They are glowing like LED lights, and they look almost electric. I smile and bite my lip. I could get used to this. I mean, who doesn’t want to be able to self-heal and have eyes that glow green?! I wash the blood off of my hand, close the knife, and slip it back into my pocket. Taking a deep breath, I unlock the door and walk out into the hallway. I calmly walk downstairs and head outside, where I take a walk in the field. Once I am out of sight, I try to remember what happened when I somehow ended up teleporting to my bedroom earlier. There has to be something I did, I just need to remember what. Well, I suppose maybe I should figure out where exactly I want to go before I try to teleport again.

    I’ve always wanted to go to Jamaica. Maybe I should try that. I clench my fists and close my eyes, concentrating completely on my destination. After a few seconds, the world begins to feel as if it’s collapsing around me and I open my eyes to see the same green aura as before. I smile to myself, it’s working! Suddenly, the green glow fades and I feel myself falling through space. “What the he-” I am cut off as my body slams into solid concrete. I groan and squeeze my eyes shut, my entire body is on fire. It feels like I’ve crushed every bone in my body and I’m gonna die. I open my mouth and let out a pained scream that echoes through whatever building I’m in and I instantly feel my entire being becoming hot and I can feel power surging through me with incredible force. In a blast of green light, I am completely healed. My body still aches and I think I bruised my entire back, but other than that I’m completely fine. I slowly stand up and look at my surroundings. It’s dark in here, but for some reason I can see everything clearly. It’s almost like I have night vision, and everything has a greenish tint.

    I walk around for a while, and from what I can tell, this is some sort of abandoned workshop. There are various car parts and bottles of oil and gasoline literally everywhere and it smells like grease and burning rubber. I can’t believe how huge this place is. Finally, I come to a closed door with light shining through the crack at the bottom edge of it. I try the handle, but it’s locked. “Seriously?” I hiss under my breath. I give the door a frustrated push, and to my surprise, it flies outward into the sunshine with another burst of green light. Ok, this is just weird. Yeah, it’s cool, but it still feels like some cliche superhero movie. I honestly don’t know what to think of all this.

    The light coming in from outside is blinding, and it takes my eyes a while to adjust. I frown when I see the landscape around me. This is definitely not Jamaica. Well, I guess my teleportation powers have limits. That kinda sucks. Oh well, it’s still cool to be able to teleport! Now all I gotta do is figure out where the heck I am. Of course, I don’t have a phone or a gps or literally anything that could help me out here. Talk about luck. The landscape around me looks just like Wisconsin, so I am assuming I am still somewhere in the middle of the United States. I walk until I come to a road, and I follow the road until I see a small, red car approaching. I wave at the car until it stops and ask the driver where I am. She looks at me with a strange expression before answering. Turns out I’m in Champion, about 20 miles from where I live. I suppose that means that my maximum distance when I teleport is roughly 20 miles. Still pretty freaking awesome. I thank the woman who was driving the car and she nods in reply.

    Dang, this woman’s attitude gets on my nerves. She could have at least said “you’re welcome” and smiled. What’s wrong with people these days? Without thinking, I reach into my pocket and pull out my knife. By now, the woman is already about a mile down the road. I smile, closing my eyes and and letting my awesome powers take over. When I open my eyes, I am sitting in the passenger seat of the car. The woman driving it screams and swerves, almost sending us into the ditch. She opens her mouth to say something, but no sound comes out. My blade is in her throat, and she can’t make a sound. Not like anyone would hear her anyway. Why am I killing her, anyway? I don’t know. It’s not like killing people gives me any sort of rush. It just happens. I have no emotion towards it. I don’t like it and I don’t hate it. It’s like instinct, like I have to kill in order to survive. It feels wrong, but I’m not sure if I even have the ability to differentiate between right and wrong anymore.

    The car swerves and I realize I should probably teleport myself outta here before I end up in the ditch. Not like it would even hurt me, I mean, I heal pretty quickly. Except when I bruise. For some reason, I still bruise. Oh well, I can deal with a few bruises. Next thing I know, I am standing in my field again, almost as if nothing had ever happened. I look down at my hand, which is covered with the woman’s blood. I’m still holding the knife, thank goodness. I wipe my hand on the grass in a feeble attempt to wash off some of the red liquid, but it’s not working very well. Somehow, I didn’t get any blood on my clothes. Just then, I remember that there’s a little pond in the tall grass nearby. I wash my hand and knife, leaving the pond water tinted red. I grab a stick and stir it up, diluting the color. After drying my hands on my jeans, I slip the knife back into my pocket and head back to the house. The sky is growing dark, and it’s starting to rain again. It’s been quite the interesting day...

Jake and I have been monitoring Trial 53 all day. We found out that the subject’s name is Cecilia Ellis and she’s a 15 year old caucasian girl with six younger siblings. According to the record, she has brown hair, brown eyes, and she is 5’5” tall. The record also says that she was injected with the serum and tracking device in her sleep by one of our agents on September 29, 2015 at 23:13 hours. In other words, she was activated last night at 11:13. It’s still a mystery to me how the agents get into people’s houses without anyone noticing. It’s kinda creepy, but at the same time, it’s really flippin’ awesome. I look back up at the computer screen with the radar readings and frown. Something must be going wacky with her tracking device. She keeps popping off the radar and appearing in another location nearby. “Jake! I need you to check the status of 53’s tracking device!” I yell across the room at Jake, who is writing something down in a notebook. He looks up and raises an eyebrow. “Why?” He asks, making his way across the room towards me.

“Watch. She keeps disappearing from the radar and reappearing in a different location,” I say softly. Jake and I watch the screen for a few minutes, but nothing happens. “Are you sure? Cuz it looks to me like you might be going cuckoo,” Jake says teasingly. “Maybe you need some coffee or something.” “Jake, seriously. Are you ever gonna listen to me?” I say, feeling annoyed. Great, now I look like a lunatic. Jake laughs and walks away. “I’ll bring you that coffee, Rose,” He says, still laughing. “I hate you. Bring me a donut, will ya?” I yell after him. I spin my chair around again so I’m facing my computer screen and sigh. I honestly don’t understand why no one around here takes me seriously. It’s really frustrating.

Suddenly, Jake bursts into the room with a concerned expression on his face. “What’s wrong?” I ask, frowning. “Don’t ask. Just look,” He replies, taking over at the computer. He pulls up the news website and brings me to an article about a car accident that happened earlier this morning a few miles away from 53’s house in Denmark, WI. Apparently, the police were called in to investigate a supposed car accident in which the driver of the vehicle was found with a broken neck. The windshield of the car was smashed in, but only on the driver’s side. There were no other injuries reported besides the broken neck, which immediately stuck out to me. “Where was 53 at the time of the accident?” Jake asks quickly. “Let me pull up the charts again,” I reply. I pull up the records from around 8:00 this morning and my heart sinks. “She was walking along highway KB in Denmark,” I say solemnly. Jake’s face hardens. “Where was she around 3:00 this afternoon?” He asks. I pull up the records from this afternoon. “She was in Champion, WI on Gravel Pit Rd.” I say with a frown. “Why?”

“There was another accident reported at 3:48 this afternoon on that road. Police are keeping it hidden from local news in the area until they can further the investigation. The driver of the car was found dead with a slit throat. Police say it looks as if she was stabbed with a 2 or 3 inch blade and died from loss of oxygen and blood.” He says with a blank look on his face. “How on earth are we getting this information?” I ask curiously. “We monitor police activity in the areas of all of our subjects, so we receive all reports from anywhere within 60 miles of where the subject lives. If we see a report that seems different or strange, we have to investigate it ourselves. But Rose, that’s not the point! We’ve accidentally created a mindless killing machine!” He says, his voice getting angrier with every word. “No Jake, you didn’t create a mindless killing machine. Neumann did. I’m sending in a report to Andreas Kempen himself, and we’re gonna track this monster down and bring her back here where we can try to undo the effects of the serum. Okay?” I say softly, trying to calm him down a bit.

He sighs and looks away. “No, it’s not gonna be that simple. I created that serum, and I know how much power in contains. It’s my fault,” Jake says sadly. I shake my head. I want to say something, but I know that nothing will convince him that it’s not his fault. He’s stubborn, like me. Instead, I turn away and look back at the computer screen. “As long as she has the tracking device, we can find her and take her in, simple as that. We just have to convince her that we want to help her.” I say hopefully. Jake sighs, then goes silent. Just then, another scientist walks in the door with a few clipboards and various documents in her arms. She looks overwhelmed, so I jump up and offer to take some of her papers. “Thank you!” She says with a smile. “What’s your name?” “Rose, and you?” I reply. “May. May Heidel. Nice to meet you!” She says with a little nod.

After helping her get all her stuff organized and put away, I ask her what department she’s in. “I’m in charge of the trials, I help Neumann with figuring out who we are going to activate and when we are going to activate them. I also pick the subjects based on certain factors such as blood type, metabolism, and health status, among other things. I sometimes bring subjects in and inject them with the serums myself, but usually to protect them from knowing about the T.R.I.A.L., we send in our drones to activate the experiments. Our drones are tiny, but still large enough to hold the right amount of serum for the particular subject. The only times it is completely necessary to bring in a subject for testing is if we are using waves instead of injections, since the waves can be extremely dangerous, in which case, we have to have our chosen subject first sign a consent form to avoid any possible lawsuits against us if something goes wrong. Most of the time, the experiments conducted here using the radioactive waves are performed on subjects who are going to work for the government. For example, our most recent subject was Jaymie Winter, an 18 year old female. She was activated a few months ago and sent to work with and for the government, since she was advanced in such a way that caused her brain to be able to function at 100 instead of 10 percent, making her incredibly intelligent. The waves also created a receptor in her brain that allows her to access anything on the internet no matter where she is. She has access to even the most secret government files around the word, which makes her extremely valuable to our U.S. government. The only problem with her is that she has been learning, much like a computer or robot. We’ve had her turn against us a few times, and our biggest concern at the moment is the possibility of her going rogue. We’ve had other radio wave activated subjects go rogue before, and we still haven’t located them, but they aren’t the biggest concern since they obviously aren’t causing any trouble to anyone. However, we still do try to keep the wave trials to a minimum since they are dangerous to perform and activate,” She says.

“Wow! That’s crazy,” I say in reply, and she blushes. “Sorry if I rambled a bit there, I get carried away sometimes,” She replies with a little smile. “Nah, it’s all good. I find your work very fascinating!” I say with a laugh, and she smiles. “Well, I better get back to work before someone has to come and find me,” She says quickly, glancing at the clock. I nod and we shake hands before she begins to walk towards the door. Just as she is about to walk out, I realize something. “Wait! I have a question for you before you go!” I call across the room, and she stops and turns around. “What?” “Did you know about the activation of Trial 53?” She frowns as I ask the question. “No, what do you mean? We never activated that one. The experiment proved unstable and dangerous,” she says, a look of concern spreading across her face. My mind is spinning now. How could she not know about this? She’s the head of the Trials! “They activated Trial 53. How do you not know about this?” I say with a frown. “Neumann must have wanted it to slip by me. His intention would be a mystery to me though. He knew just as well as all of us that Trial 53 should never be activated until it was made stable,” She replies slowly, her brow furrowing with concern. “So why did he?”

I lean back in my white leather chair and drum my fingers on the ebony desk in front of me. I slowly nod my head to the music playing in the background, Hall Of Fame by The Script. I’m on top of the world here, but I’m not quite high enough. I need more. I know I’ve basically got the world in my hands but I still haven’t grasped it. I’m still waiting for my chance. I snap out of my thoughts as I hear a sudden knock on the door. I lean forward and press the little button on my pager. “You know, I have an intercom for a reason,” I say, my voice full of sarcasm. “I don’t think we need a pager, bro,” comes the sharp reply. I roll my eyes. Raines and Quentin, my bodyguards. They’re also my older brothers, which makes them particularly annoying. But hey, I was the successful one in the end. Now they answer to me. It’s kind of like I have slaves… oh, the irony of it all. A young black man standing tall over his white older brothers. Yeah, I’m adopted, thank heaven. I think I brought the brains into the family.

“Fine. Come in. I left it unlocked.” The door swings open and my brothers walk in. Dressed in all black, their outfits create a stunning contrast against my white tuxedo. I take a sharp breath through the nose, the heavy aroma of leather and wood polish hitting my senses. It’s not a dirty smell, but rather a clean, crisp scent. Kind of like cash in a pure leather Ettinger London wallet. I push back my chair and stand up as Raines and Quentin approach my desk. I remember back when I was shorter than them, but oh, how the tables have turned. Looking down at my brothers, I raise my eyebrows. “What now, another security breach? I swear…” I start to say, when I am interrupted by Raines. “Andreas, it’s not a security breach again. We tripled security after the last one. This time it’s a few of our scientists from genetics, radioactivity, and trial departments completely freaking out about our latest activation. They’re getting all ticked off about the activation of Trial 53. Neumann’s been working on assuring them that it’s safe, but they keep giving him a bunch of trash about it and he decided to just put this one in your hands. They won’t listen to him. They both claim that Trial 53 was extremely dangerous and unstable, with the power to create something virtually unstoppable.”

I frown when Raines gives me the news. “Names?” I ask. “Jake Hoffman, Rose Valdez, and May Heidel,” Raines replies quickly. I nod and sit down again. “Well, can’t you give them something to keep themselves busy or something? It’s not like there’s been any harm done by activating 53,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “That’s one of the reasons we came straight to you. There have been some… issues… with Trial 53. Jake and Rose found some information tracing the subject and they have uncovered that the subject may have murdered two people for no reason,” Quentin says, crossing his arms. I sit up straight, suddenly quite interested in their little ‘problem’. “Show me what they dug up,” I say quickly. Raines picks up an intercom and calls Jake and Rose to my office, which is on the top story, floor 100. The labs are located in underground networks, which means that those two are going to have a long elevator ride.

After waiting for about 15 minutes, Jake and Rose arrive at the door of my office. They look flustered, and as soon as they reach my office, they pull off their lab coats. Jake is wearing jeans and a plaid button down shirt and Rose is wearing a soft pink shirt with a floral edged hem and black pants. Rose’s light brown hair is up in a ponytail and she’s wearing glasses. I notice that Jake’s left ear is pierced and I frown. Employees aren’t supposed to wear jewelry while they’re in the lab... I’ll have to bring that up with him later. “Come on in,” I say, motioning them over. They nod and head towards my desk hesitantly. “Here’s what we found, Mr. Kempen,” Jake starts, but I interrupt. “Andreas is fine, thank you,” I say quickly. Jake nods and continues, spreading a few pieces of paper across my desk. “We’ve been able to link the Trial 53 to the recent deaths of two people in Wisconsin. Both were released to the public as car accidents, but upon further investigation and tracking, we were able to find some connections. We followed the subject’s locations via her tracking device and she has been present in the locations of the ‘accidents’ at the exact times they took place. I’m pretty sure that’s not just coincidence,” he concludes.

“Interesting,” I say softly, my voice trailing off. “Anything else?” “We noticed some glitches in her tracking records. Unless 53 can teleport, I’m pretty sure her tracking device is screwed up. We need to track her down and bring her in for analysis and get her tracking device replaced or fixed before she kills anyone else,” Rose says with a frown. “Now, let’s not jump to conclusions. Yeah, it looks pretty sketchy. But we can’t confirm it. However, I’ll send Quentin and Raines to investigate. How does that sound?” I say calmly, keeping my voice smooth and steady. Jake and Rose nod in reply and I dismiss them with a wave of my hand. Picking up their white lab coats from a chair near the door, they exit the room, leaving me and my brothers in silence.

“All right, I need you to track down the subject. From what we’ve heard, she seems dangerous. You two need to go armed but stay undercover. If she knows she’s being hunted, she may not be very… friendly. Find out everything you can about her family, her past, and her current life situation. Find out her name, age, where she lives… find out everything you can about her before you start your search. Am I clear?” I say slowly. They nod and turn around, heading for the door. “One more thing-” I say, and they turn around to face me again. “Let me know before you leave for the actual hunt. I want to know everything.” Without a word, they turn and leave, closing the ebony door shut behind them.

I crack my knuckles and lean back in my chair. I pick up my pager and a soft voice says “Hello sir, how would you like your call directed?” I smile. The voice belongs to Kayla, one of my receptionists. She’s really sweet, but not quite the person I was looking for. “Hey Kayla! Can you get Diana on the line please?” I say quickly, and  Kayla laughs. “Sure thing, boss!” The pager beeps a few times before Diana picks up. “Hey Andreas, what’s up?” She says cheerfully. “You wanna come to my office? I got some new liquor I’d like to try out,” I say smoothly. “I have a project for you.”

A few minutes later, Diana is sitting across from me with a shot glass of brandy in her hand. I’ve known Diana since I was about 13, we went to the same church. I’m 22 now, I’ve known her for almost 10 years. She looks awfully pretty today, with her soft brown hair braided over her left shoulder. She is wearing a knee-length purple dress with a black scarf and boots. I resist the urge to smile as she pushes up the corner of her glasses so they’re even again. She’s reading a document I brought up from the T.R.I.A.L. and she seems to be very absorbed in it. I’ve decided to ask her if she wants to be a subject in one of our Trials. She’s always seemed so fascinated by the subjects we’ve activated, so I decided that maybe she would like to become one of them.

Finally, she looks up from the document. “Are you for real right now?” She asks, and for a moment I am unable to tell if she’s angry or excited. I raise my eyebrows and she breaks into a huge smile. “I’ve been hoping to do this for a long time! I can’t believe it!” She shrieks, just before downing the last of her brandy. “Yeah, I thought you’d be happy with the offer. However, you can’t go around telling everyone. Once you’re activated, you will work for me. Usually the subjects are sent to government or kept in containment until we can find use for them, while others keep a portion of their real identity and go rogue. As you probably read in the document, this particular serum will leave your identity and memories intact. You will still know who you are, and no one will know you’ve been activated. Your brain will just become twice as advanced as it is now.” I say with a smile.

“So you’re saying I’m stupid, huh?” She says teasingly, raising an eyebrow. We both laugh and when we are finished, I offer her another shot. “Nah, I’m good. One’s enough for me, that’s some pretty strong stuff! Maybe wine or champagne next time?” She asks, giving me bambi eyes. “Of course!” I say with a smirk. Diana really amuses me. She’s thickheaded, though. “We still on for Friday night? The new Italian restaurant two blocks down?” I ask softly. “Pick me up at 7,” She says. “I’d like a ride in that new black Ferrari of yours.” She finishes with a wink. I smile and nod as she stands up. We shake hands quickly before she walks out the door. I know she’d do just about anything I ask of her. She’s so selfless. She’s my little puppet. My pretty little puppet.

I lean back in my black leather swivel chair and let out a sigh. Quentin is standing a few feet away, leaning on my desk with arms crossed. “Ok, so let’s go through what we know about her - the important stuff,” I say, looking up at my younger brother. Quentin frowns. “Well, she’s 15 years old, white, has brown hair and eyes… she was sexually abused for 4 years starting when she was 6, she was raped at 10, she’s struggled with suicidal thoughts and self harm for a few years, she’s been to a psychologist and gotten better over time, she’s never been admitted to a hospital for any reason, she has a hunter’s safety license, she took two years of Tae Kwon Do, and she’s really good with a gun. Basically anything else we found out about her, such as the fact that she loves Chinese food, is irrelevant,” He says, and I nod in reply. “I wonder if those two murders were possibly a result of the serum tapping into her darker side, such as her suicidal thoughts and self harm issues, causing her to have a dangerous violent side,” I say thoughtfully.

Quentin agrees and we decide we had better get to work on hunting her down. As long as her tracking device remains intact, this should be a piece of cake. All we gotta do is keep a close eye on where she is and try to follow her without being noticed. Once we’ve studied her behavior for a while, we can try to take her peacefully. If things happen to get messy, we’ll be armed and ready. At least we both have training, so we know how to handle some pretty crazy stuff. After Quentin and I map out her most visited areas and her home address, along with a few basic plans and notes, we head to the armory. Yeah, that might sound strange. An armory in a science institution? Well, when you’re working with people like this, you need to be ready if something goes wrong with a subject.

The armory is located in a hidden basement under the south wing of the T.R.I.A.L.s, where we work with the radiowave subjects. We’ve had issues in the past, so we decided it would be smart to install a vault completely packed with weapons of all sorts right underneath the T.R.I.A.L. - just in case. Once we reach the armory, I type in the security passcode and put my hand up to the scanner. Once it finishes reaching my handprint, the huge 5-inch titanium door gives a loud creak, unlocking itself. I turn the large wheel on the door and it slowly swings open. The air inside the armory is thick with the smell of gunpowder, grease, and metal. I flip a switch to my left and the room is flooded with dim, yellow light. The number of various weapons in the armory never fails to amaze me, and I smile as my eyes scan the rows of assorted weapons, from powerful explosives to small silver daggers.

I look to the right and see that Quentin is already selecting his weapons. As he pulls various items off the shelf, he slips them into the specially designed pockets hidden in his tuxedo. Our suits are built with hidden slots for pistols and knives, and we even have pockets designed to hold small hand grenades. I prefer grenades, so I fill twelve of my pockets with grenades. Next, I pick up a small pistol and slip it into a holster on my hip hidden under my suitcoat. “Ready?” I ask Quentin. He tosses a grenade in the air and catches it as it falls. “Ready,” comes his confident reply. I nod and we head out the door. On our way out, we each grab a black trenchcoat equipped with hidden AR-7 rifles. The AR-7s come apart in multiple pieces for storage, which makes it easy to conceal them in a large coat or jacket. To be honest, we pick the trenchcoats simply because they look freaking boss.

Quentin and I make our way to the garage located on ground level. I climb into my brand new black and blue Lamborghini Aventador while Quentin mounts his black and blue Ninja ZX-6R motorcycle. In perfect sync, we reach into the left breast pockets of our coats and pull out black aviator sunglasses and put them on. Yeah, I’ll admit it - we practice. A lot. It helps us feel way more epic than we actually are. Quentin revs his engine and I press a tiny blue button on the door or my Lambo, opening the huge steel garage doors. Quentin shoots out of the garage into the street and I mentally facepalm. I radio Quentin on bluetooth and scold him. “Seriously bro? You know, I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve told you not to be stupid on that thing. You are gonna crash it one of these times,” I say, my voice tinged with annoyance. Quentin laughs. “Oh well,” he says, and I hear the sound of his engine revving again. I roll my eyes. “Whatever. Just be careful bro.” “I will.”

I watch my radar and find his location, then pull forward into the busy street. Cruising along with one hand on the wheel is exhilarating for some reason, I guess it gives me a sense of power. I’m weird like that. Being undercover makes the whole “agent” thing twice as cool. My sweet ride is equipped like a police car, but with about 20% more dangerous weapons and explosives than your average small-town cop car. The doors have hidden compartments filled with various firearms and knives, as well as a few extra grenades. Yeah, we come prepared. Sometimes a little more prepared than necessary. Still, it makes us feel pretty safe. Finally, I catch up to my younger brother at a red light. Rolling down my window, I laugh at him. “Can’t beat the lights, huh?” I say, wiggling my eyebrows. I can’t see his eyes due to the dark sunglasses, but I can imagine he’s rolling them at me.

As soon as the light turns green, I crack my knuckles before shooting forward, leaving Quentin far behind. Yeah, I can’t exactly say that I’m any safer than my little bro on the roads. The cops know who I am, and they also know not to mess with me. Pretty soon, Quentin and I arrive at the airport. Getting through security is a wrap, since we have all-access passes due to the fact that Andreas literally owns the whole airport. By the time we board our plane, both my Lamborghini and Quentin’s motorcycle have already been loaded. We’re taking a private flight on our own personal plane, which was designed like a mix of both a cargo plane and a luxury Jet. Plenty of room for the vehicles in the back, and plenty of room for us up front. The plane is complete with a huge LED screen TV, too many gaming systems to count, a minibar, couches, and full catering service. It’s freaking awesome. Try being a billionaire sometime. Well, actually, try having your youngest brother be a billionaire. It’s cool, but my pride still nags me about it - especially since I’m the oldest brother. But hey, at least he shares his wealth. I mean, he totally could have kicked me and Quentin out into the street. Instead, he gave us plenty of money and a great job risking our lives to save a few people. Real fun.

After about an hour or two of flying (I honestly have no idea how long we were in the air - too many epic new games to try out!), we arrive in the A.S. Airport in Green Bay, WI. We are a 30 minute drive away from the subject’s house, and my adrenaline is already kicking in. I really hope that this one’s not like the last one we had to try and bring in. We never found out her real name, but we nicknamed her Fire and Ice because she was basically a mix of Elsa from Frozen and The Human Torch from Fantastic Four. Pretty much an elemental nightmare. Oh, and I also forgot to mention - she got away and Quentin and I were in the hospital for 2 freaking weeks. Not cool. And her companion? Yeah, he was terrifying. Nothing extreme as far as throwing ice and fire everywhere, but he was insanely strong. I think I heard her calling him Benji, but I can’t be sure. He didn’t have anything terribly crazy about him, but man, this dude was as strong as the Hulk. He picked me up and threw me against a car once. I really did not like that guy.

Quentin and I leave the airport as soon as our vehicles are unloaded, and the ride to 53’s house is unnerving. When we’d been sent to try and bring in Fire and Ice and her buddy, it was simply because the girl kept screwing with people like Jack Frost in Rise of The Guardians. Causing black ice on the highways in the middle of summer, making people slip on sidewalks, creating and throwing handmade snowballs at random pedestrians… you get the picture. This particular “mission” is rather daunting because we’ve never had a subject turn murderous. I mean, this girl killed two people already. She seemingly broke through a windshield and snapped a man’s neck, then later wound up stabbing a woman in the throat. Not exactly the friendliest sounding chick around. On the bright side though, I have explosives and she doesn’t. So kudos to me for being awesome.

Once we finally reach our destination, which is a small bar across the street from her house, Quentin climbs into the passenger seat of the Lambo and pulls up the radar with 53’s location. Once the GPS kicks in, we can see that she’s still in her house. “Well, we’re here. Now all we have to do is monitor when she leaves her room and follow her,” I say with a smile. “Then the fun will begin.” Quentin cracks a smile. “Let’s do this,” He says, crossing his arms. We both laugh for a bit, then sit back to wait. I have a feeling this is going to be a long, suspenseful day. Or week. Or however long it takes her to leave her house again. I am so not ready for this.

It’s Friday morning, October 2nd. 3 days since I stabbed that woman in the throat. I’ve been trying to stay in my room as much as possible, I really don’t want another incident. The past 2 days, I’ve noticed a sweet blue and black Lamborghini Aventador and a motorcycle of matching colors hanging out at the bar across the street. I’ve never seen them before, but something about them is bugging me. They never leave. They seem to be watching me, and it makes me very uncomfortable. I hate being caged like this. I’ve always stayed inside, usually on my computer or reading, but lately I’ve been wanting to get out more. Since my first kill, I feel so alive. I know I sound psycho, but I can’t help it. I need to go outside, just for a breath of fresh air. I rise from my bed and don some clothes, a warm button-down plaid shirt and jeans with my black leather boots. Next, I find myself heading towards my parent’s bedroom closet. I silently open the door and pull out my dad’s black SKS rifle. Next, I retrieve the Glock 19 from one of my mom’s dresser drawers and slip it into my back pocket after inserting the full clip. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on teleporting to the enclosed front porch.

When I open my eyes, I am standing in front of the low wooden shelf above the freezer - eye level with a huge stash of ammo. Dang it, I forgot my jacket. After propping the SKS up against the freezer, I slip inside to grab my black leather jacket. Mom is sitting at the computer in the kitchen scrolling through Facebook, and she doesn’t even notice me. Perfect. I grab the jacket off of the pub table in the far left corner and slip back out the door without a sound. After putting on the jacket, I fill the pockets with ammo for the SKS and Glock, and surprisingly it doesn’t weigh me down at all. I grab the SKS and walk out the door into the crisp fall air, feeling completely invincible. Yeah, you’re probably thinking - who in their right mind walks out into the open carrying an assault rifle? Well, to answer your question, I am definitely not in my right mind at the moment. For heaven’s sake, I just killed 2 innocent people the other day for no apparent reason.

I know I’m crazy. I’ve always known that I’m insane, but I guess I never anticipating having a mental breakdown. I guess something must have snapped, draining me of all emotions. Unless feeling swagalicious is an emotion. Because I feel pretty freaking swagalicious at the moment. I mean, not everyone wakes up with superpowers! Since the highway seems empty at the moment, I decide to take a stroll down the lane right next to the highway. Resting the SKS against my left shoulder, I begin to walk down the road. There is a chilly breeze beginning to pick up, and I’m glad I have my jacket with me. The wind sends a chill down my spine and I feel goosebumps forming on the back of my neck and my breath forms light clouds in the cold air around me.

Suddenly, the doors of the Lamborghini in the bar parking lot swing open an 2 men jump out. They are both wearing sunglasses and black trenchcoats covered in pockets, and from what I can see of their faces, they look like they could be brothers. I’m guessing they’re about my height, and they are both holding handguns. My guess is that these guys aren’t very friendly, which means I should probably take care of them. Still walking, I pull ammo out of my pocket and load the SKS without taking my eyes off my targets even once. “Please put down the weapon!” One of them yells, and I sense a hint of fear on his voice. Instead of obeying, I fire a shot into the air and pump the action to put a new shot in the chamber. “Miss, we do not want any trouble. Just put down the weapon and let us talk to you!” The other one yells, his voice breaking mid-sentence. Jeez, these guys are cowards.

“If you want to talk to me, you can come and talk to me. I don’t take orders from anybody anymore!” I reply, slinging the SKS over my shoulder again. I look forward again, pretending to ignore them as I continue walking down the road. Out of the corner of my eye, I see them discussing something. Honestly, even though I refuse to show it, I am terrified of these guys. They’re obviously here with one intent - to take me. No one sits in a bar parking lot across from my house in an expensive car for over 24 hours waiting for me to come outside just so that they can talk to me. Plus, these guys were armed and ready, which means that they somehow knew that they might need protection. I have no clue why they are here, unless it has something to do with the 2 murders. My only question is - how did they trace those back to me? I mean, I left no evidence whatsoever. Well, maybe I did leave some blood on the windshield of that truck, but I don’t think they would send secret agent dudes to track me down if the police had figured that out. Plus, if the police did figure out who it was, I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t have waited until now to arrest me.

One thing I’m not sure of though - can I handle a bullet? I know I self-healed twice already with some pretty bad injuries, but I’ve never taken a bullet. I guess I’ll just try to avoid any… accidents. Finally, I hear footsteps behind me. I spin around on my heel and face them. “Take off the sunglasses,” I say firmly. “Apologies, but we can’t do that,” the one on the left replies. The other one elbows him in the arm and removes his own sunglasses. “Quentin, seriously? Take them off or you’re just gonna look stupid,” he says with an aggravated tone. The Quentin guy takes off his glasses and rolls his eyes. Yep, they are most definitely brothers. They are the exact same height, have pretty much the same hair and eyes, and look like they could be twins. “So, are you guys like twins or something?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. “No, but we are brothers. I’m Raines, and this is my little brother, Quentin. Nice to meet you,” The one on the right says, reaching out to shake my hand. I take a step back and wrinkle my nose as if the very suggestion of shaking his hand repulses me.

“Why on earth would I shake hands with 2 random dudes wearing sunglasses and trenchcoats and wielding guns who look like they’re straight outta the Mafia? I don’t think so,” I say sarcastically. “Well, technically, we’re not really wearing the sunglasses anymore,” Quentin says, and Raines almost facepalms. “Just shut up, okay Quentin? Let me handle this,” he hisses to his brother. I frown. “Take care of what?” I say, letting suspicion creep into my voice. I swing the SKS back into firing position, resting the butt of the rifle in my shoulder. It’s already loaded, so if they try anything crazy, I’ll be ready. Raines and Quentin exchange nervous glances and I roll my eyes. “Well? Hurry up or I’ll make you talk,” I say, letting my amusement show as I aim and slide my finger into the trigger guard.

Suddenly, I hear a gunshot and Quentin screams through gritted teeth as he grabs his left arm. “What the he-” I am cut off by the sound of another gunshot. I think it was intended for Raines, but never met its target. Quentin is already running towards the Lamborghini in retreat. I spin around only to come face to face with an attractive guy who looks to be about my age. He’s a tiny bit taller than me, with brown hair and brown eyes. “Hi! Nice to meet you, I’m Jacob and I think I’ll take that,” He says with a polite smile as he grabs the SKS. Before I know what’s even happening, he is 50 feet away from me holding my gun. Good job, weirdo. You’ve made me mad. I am not the best person to be around when I get angry. And I really don’t like people taking my stuff. I feel power surging through my body and my fingertips begin to feel warm. I look down to see that there are webs of neon green electric charges sparking between my fingers. I let out a scream and shoot the power surges in all directions, causing a bass-drop type shockwave that leaves everything still and quiet. It doesn’t injure anybody, but leaves them all pretty stunned for a moment. Just then, I look over at Raines. He is now just inches away from me, and his pistol is aimed right at my forehead.

Before I know what’s happening, my Tae Kwon Do training kicks in and instinct takes over. I drop low while making a V shape with my hands, pushing the gun up and away from my face. Next, with a flick of my wrist, I twist Raines’ hand so that the gun is pointing at his face. I raise my eyebrows and smirk at him. “Don’t shoot,” I hiss teasingly. Raines just smiles back, which unnerves me. I guess I forgot about his free hand, because next thing I know, it’s wrapped around my neck. He drops the gun and kicks it aside, proceeding to put me in a headlock. I elbow him in the ribs and he loosens up just long enough for me to slip out of his grasp.  Spinning around, I give him a full 180 degree roundhouse kick to the stomach and he doubles over in pain. Suddenly, a searing pain erupts in my left arm right under my shoulder. I let out a gasp of pain and look down at my arm, which is bleeding profusely.

I look up again to see Quentin holding a pistol with his uninjured arm out of the Lamborghini window. Smart. He is about to fire again when I’m suddenly lifted off the ground by an unfamiliar pair of strong arms. I instinctively elbow whoever is holding me in the face, but to my surprise, I receive a calm reaction. “I’m just trying to help, jeez! Calm down a bit, will ya?” Says a husky male voice. I look back at my carrier out of pure curiosity and my heart almost skips a beat. This dude is pretty smokin’ hot! But then again, he also looks like he’s probably over 18. Oh well, he’s still nice-looking. “Who the heck are you?” I say through gritted teeth. Yeah, I know - not exactly the best first impression, but I tried. He smiles, obviously amused. “I’m Ben Sealey, and I’m gonna be your big brother and bodyguard. How does that sound?” He says with a wink.

“Ok, I don’t know whether to feel honored or creeped out by you right now so could you at least explain what the frickety frack is going on here?” I say, trying to sound annoyed. Ben laughs and I frown. Is he really mocking me right now? “I can’t explain, we’re too short of time. Just… try not to kill any of us right now, okay? I swear everything will be explained once we get you to safety. Sound good?” He replies quickly. “How do I know I can trust you? I mean, you and those Agent dudes showed up at the same time, so how do I know that you’re not just gonna hand me over to them in the end?” I say arrogantly. In response to my question, he pulls out a pistol and shoots Raines in the shoulder without even looking at his target. Somehow, Raines isn’t bleeding all over the place like he should be. Instead he is holding onto his shoulder screaming in pain, and there is a small needle sticking out of his jacket. “What did you shoot him with?” I ask, suddenly very intrigued. “Oh, I shot him with an imitation dart. Nothing major,” Ben says with a cheerful smile. I raise my eyebrows, hinting that I have no clue what he’s talking about. “Oh, yeah, you’re new here. Um, it’s a dart tipped with a serum made by yours truly, that once it’s pierced the skin, it imitates the pain of a real bullet. Pretty cool, huh?” He says boastfully, and I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, that’s pretty swagtastic!” I reply with a wink, and we both burst out laughing.

Suddenly, a female voice fills the air. And trust me, when I say ‘fills the air’, I mean full-on surround sound. It’s like someone is speaking over a huge sound system amped up to full volume. This girl’s voice reminds me of my own, deep but still smooth as peanut butter. She sounds obnoxious, and she also seems to enjoy being everywhere at once. Well, at least her voice is everywhere at once. I look around trying to find the source of the voice, but I can’t see anyone who might be speaking at the moment. “All right, everybody drop your weapons. Actually, only Quentin and Raines need to drop their weapons. Everyone else is good,” the voice says, finishing with a laugh. I look over at Raines, who is still clutching his dart-impaled arm. He looks surprised. He seemed pretty darn confident before, but I guess this voice is familiar to him.

“Yeah, Agent Rainy Day, you know who I am. I wiped your game systems down and stole all your achievements and whatever, and I also made every single computer in that insane lab of yours glitch like crazy until you almost went mad. I don’t think I’ll ever give your game stuff back either, I’ve been having way too much fun making you look like an idiot in the online servers!” The voice says evilly, and I don’t know whether to be amused or terrified. “J-Twitch. Seriously? I thought you were gone, for heaven’s sake,” Raines hisses, rolling his eyes. “Hey, come on honey, you know a girl’s gotta get her revenge! I mean, when the entire freaking internet gets uploaded into your brain, you can’t help but check up on your loved ones every now and then. I just happened to stumble upon some of your secret messages with that one chick. What was her name again? Oh yeah, Ashley.” She spits out the name as if it’s poison in her mouth.

I’m sick of being in suspense. “Ok, hold up everybody! Who the bejeebus is J-Twitch, and who all is on my side here because I’m not sure if this is a two-sided thing or if everyone’s fighting over me right now. Like for real, can someone puh-leez explain this to me?” I yell, using my radioactive energy to amplify my voice to the same level as J-Twitch. Ben flinches and I look up at him. “Sorry about that. You can put me down now,” I say apologetically. Ben sets me down on my feet and I suddenly remember my teleportation powers. In the blink of an eye, I am sitting atop the telephone wire pole as if it’s a thick tree branch. At least now I’m at a decent distance from everyone, but still close enough to communicate with them. Looking down at everyone, I feel pride creeping through my senses. Everyone looks surprised and confused, and no one seems to see where I’ve gone. “What, did you think I left or something? Nah, this is when things get fun!” I call out to everyone.

They all look up at me and I smile down at them. I feel like a goddess right now, towering above their little life forms. Suddenly, the Jacob guy who stole my SKS smiles up at me. “Well, that was quite the nice little trick there,” he says, then suddenly a voice beside me finishes his sentence. “But not quite good enough!” says a voice identical to his. I look to my left and almost fall off the pole out of surprise. Jacob is sitting right next to me, and he has the most devilish grin on his face. I frown and look back at the ground again, where the other Jacob waves at me, smiling mischievously. “So, now you have a twin?” I say curiously, looking over at the guy sitting next to me. He laughs so hard he almost falls off the pole. I cross my arms and give him a dirty look. He finishes laughing and begins to explain. “Nope, I’m the guy down there. I’m Jacob. I can bilocate! It’s pretty fun, once ya get used to it. It’s kind of like teleporting, but instead of just getting from one place to another, I can be 2 places at once, simultaneously! It’s pretty awesome,” He says, swinging his legs back and forth over the pole. “Wow,” is the best response I can come up with, because first of all, he just stole my spotlight, and second, I gotta admit - that is a pretty freaking awesome superpower.

He smiles, showing a nice row of pearly whites. A pang of jealousy sweeps over me as I remember that I have braces. Seriously? What kind of superhuman has braces? I mean, that’s just dumb. I lean on my left arm, then with a shot of pain I remember my injury. I look down at my arm again and Jacob’s voice breaks the awkward silence. “Took a shot, huh?” He says as more of a statement than a question. “Noooo,” I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes. Jacob laughs and I look back at my arm, which is beginning to do its self-healing thing again. The area around the bullet hole is beginning to glow green, and I can feel the heat of the energy seeping into my veins. “Watch,” I say quietly as my arm begins to glow brighter. “Oh, I am,” he replies quickly. There’s a final burst of energy and the bullet is expelled from the wound as my skin closes over itself once again. This time, there is a small, round scar where there was once a gaping hole.

Unfortunately, I can still feel the wound. The pain isn’t quite as sharp as before, but it’s still there. Oh well, I’ve never been the luckiest girl around. I guess I can deal with a little pain for a while. All of the sudden, Jacob hisses something under his breath. “What’s wrong?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. “Nothing, I just remembered that I’m afraid of heights,” He says nervously. “Really?” I say with a laugh, and he nods. “Well, have fun with this!” I say playfully as I reach out and give him a little shove. It’s just strong enough to make him lose his balance, and he topples over off the pole. Just before hitting the ground, he disappears and now there’s only one Jacob standing below me. He looks startled, and I can’t help but smile. Man, his fear of heights is amusing. I’m never gonna run out of prank ideas… Looking around me, I realize that the Agent brothers are gone. The Lamborghini and motorcycle are nowhere in sight, so I’m guessing they retreated.

Just then, a girl around my age descends from the sky slowly, leaving a trail of smoke in her wake. Her left hand and foot are literally on fire, and seem to be acting as one sided rockets. Just as she is about to touch the ground, her fire extinguishes itself. To my (and her) surprise, she ends up slipping and falling flat on her face as soon as her feet touch the pavement. From her spot on the ground, I hear muffled complaints as she struggles to stand up. “Need a little help there, fireball?” I ask with a laugh. Bad idea. Next thing I know, I’ve fallen flat on my butt on top of a huge patch of ice that seemed to form out of nowhere. “Excuse me, but my name is Bridget and I swear if you call me fireball again, I will turn you into a human popsicle,” the girl says and she gets back up. I frown and look up at her. So this girl is about 5’9”, long brown hair, and eyes that are completely different colors. Her left eye looks like it’s a living flame, while her right eye looks like it’s full of icy blue frost.

Next, another girl emerges from the ditch nearby. This girl looks to be about 17 or 18, she is short and has long brown hair, and she’s wearing a shirt that says ‘No, I will not fix your computer’. She looks like she’s got quite the explosive sassy attitude. I think I’ll get along with her just fine. “Hey there! I’m J-Twitch the computer glitch! Nice to meet you, I really hope you don’t mind hyper people because you’re in the middle of the most insane group of people you will ever meet,” she says quickly. Her voice is the exact same as the booming voice we all heard before, so I’m assuming she was the source of it. “Ok, so you’re the super loud voice who claims to have the entire internet in your brain and used to be in love with that Raines guy?” I ask curiously. She nods and walks over towards Bridget, who leans forward and whispers something into J-Twitch’s ear.

Next thing I know, a pitch black 15 passenger van pulls up on the highway and my ‘rescuers’ begin to pile in. Before I can decide whether to follow them or not, Ben picks me up and brings me to the van, setting me down once we are inside. There are no windows, except for the windshield, and the vehicle lacks proper seats. I look up at the driver, who is a good-looking guy around my age, probably 16 or so, with blue eyes and light brown hair. Looking back and lowering his sunglasses, he smiles. “Hi! I’m Slade, and I’m the combat trainer here,” he says cheerfully. “Nice to meet you!” I reply with a smile. Slade pushes his sunglasses up again and revs the engine, and I lean back against the padded black wall of the van, watching as the others begin to empty their pockets of weapons into huge compartments in the walls and ceiling. Then, Ben shuts the door behind us and the van pulls back onto the highway, leaving my house far behind.

Love. I grit my teeth as my fist connects with the leather exterior of my hanging punching bag. Fear. I swing my left hand around in a hook punch, causing the bag to sway from side to side. Pain, so much pain. With a final rush of adrenaline, I plant a firm 360° roundhouse kick on the punching bag, breaking the chain and sending it halfway across the room. I let out a shaky breath and my arms hang loosely at my sides as I clench my fists. Then, the beautiful silence is broken as my phone rings from the bench on the far side of the room. I run over to answer it, and I frown when I see the caller ID. It’s rare that I’m summoned by Raines and Quentin for some crazy job, since I’m only called if the case is dead serious - and by dead serious, I mean dead serious. I’m a trained assassin, which means that if they have a mission for me, it’s shoot to kill.

I answer the phone and Raines’ voice greets me. After he’s finished explaining the situation, we hang up and I stand in silence for a while assessing the situation in my head. So, this girl is 1 month older than me. Yeah, I’m only 15. Yes, I am a professionally trained assassin. I was one of the first Trials, back in 2007. I was 7 years old and the experiment performed on me was gentle, but manifested itself as a powerful enhancement. My eyesight was sharpened by 40%, my brain capacity grew from 100% to 150%, which seems impossible - but somehow happened. I guess I just got super smart. Among the other effects of the experiment were small things like becoming a little faster and stronger than normal. I can also hear things through building walls and still be able to distinguish separate voices, which can be pretty awful when I pass bars... Ever since the effects of the Trial started to show, the man in charge here began training me in secret. I never learned his name, but he seemed really ambitious. I liked his ambition, and it was very inspiring to me throughout my training here.

Ever since I was activated and my potential became evident, the people at the T.R.I.A.L.s took full custody of me with the consent of my parents. I’ve been living in a huge underground apartment in the west wing of the T.R.I.A.L. building since they activated me, and I’ve gotten along fine without anyone. Although sometimes, it gets pretty lonely down here all by myself, especially since my training ended. I finished my final stage of training in December of 2012, just 2 months before I turned 13. Since then, I’ve been keeping myself busy with practicing in my gym, working out, listening to music, playing my guitar, and I’ve even started learning piano. Just enough to keep me from going crazy wanting to go out and make friends, which has been impossible for the past 8 years. I had so many good friends back before I became one of the Trials, and the worst part of it is that all my friends were told that I was in a tragic car accident in 2007 and was killed instantly. So basically, all my friends back home think I’m dead and apparently I never even got a proper funeral.

I find myself often wishing for something exciting to happen, since I haven’t had an assignment since 2 years ago right after I finished training. My last assignment was to track down and kill a subject named Tyler, whose experiment had gone wrong to the point where he was pretty much a zombie. He was allergic to something in the serum, causing his body to start decaying from the inside out but he still lived due to the extensive amounts of radioactivity in his brain. He killed 12 people in less than 5 hours, and the whole thing made national news, which was bad for the T.R.I.A.L.s, which no one knew existed at the time and was almost discovered by journalists and CSI people. The whole thing had to temporarily shut down and move from Chicago to Tulsa. I’m surprised they want me to scratch out this particular subject, since she’s only killed 2 people so far and it’s been a few days since. Raines told me that he would send a document to my apartment with all of the information he’s gathered from his encounter with the subject so that I can have a visual as well as a written out description of this girl’s ‘powers’.

After cleaning up in the gym, I head back to my apartment down the hall. Upon opening the door, I find a paper slipped into the entrance. I pick it up and look it over, discovering that it has all the information for Trial 53. I take off my gym shoes and put on my big yellow pikachu slippers before heading to the kitchen to get myself some iced tea and a jelly donut. After I’ve gotten my food, I sit down with the subject record in front of me to study. It’s brief, since the subject is so new, but it contains a lot of helpful information for me. Looking over the document, I am able to plan out a basic attack strategy. I will need something powerful, since the subject can apparently self-heal. Although I’m not completely sure how immune she is to headshots… I guess I’ll find that out when the time comes.

Once I’ve finished my tea and donut, I head for my bedroom to get changed into my less ‘casual’ outfit. I change from my sweats to my assassin getup, which includes lots of leather and weapons, as well as my eyepatch to protect my missing eye and identity. Yeah, missing identity. I don’t have one… ever since I was activated back in 2007, I was stripped of my former identity to the point where I don’t even know what my name used to be. I have no idea how they did it, but they somehow removed my real name, as well as my parent’s last names from my memory while leaving everything else from my past intact. As far as losing my eye, well… I was running with scissors. That’s pretty much all that needs to be said. Yep, I need a life. Oh well, the eyepatch still makes me look twice as boss.

After donning my assassin outfit, I head over to my closet where I keep my 2 Colt 1911 pistols. After getting them from their hiding place, I clean and load them before slipping them into their holsters. Next, I pull on my black leather gloves and black helmet before heading to my garage, where I mount my Harley Knucklehead motorcycle. With a roar of the engine and black exhaust pouring out of the pipe, I burst out into the tunnel leading to the main garage on ground level. Since all the subjects are equipped with tracking devices inserted into the napes of their neck, I can track 53’s exact real-time location. According to my radar, she’s gotten as far as Naperville, Illinois. One strange thing - I remember Raines mentioning that she had been taken by a group of rogue subjects, but none of them are showing up on my radar, which could mean 2 things: she either left the group, or the rogues have all removed their tracking devices. Judging by the fact that they are rogue and their brains have all been enhanced to superior intelligence, they’ve probably removed their tracking devices.

I have a 10 hour drive ahead of me, which means I have plenty of time to try and figure out exactly how I am going to take care of this subject. If she’s traveling with some… ‘friends,’ this might be a lot more difficult than it originally seemed. My biggest reassurances are that I have an HS Precision TTD rifle hidden in the motorcycle trunk behind me as well as a few explosives and various knives. Cruising along at around 70 mph on the highway, listening to my music, and thinking about how exactly I am going to kill someone is a weird way to spend a Saturday morning, but I’ve been training for the past 8 years for this. It’s not my first time, but I have a feeling it may very well be quite the new experience for me. This time, I’m up against a girl who knows what she’s doing and probably has no fear due to her self-healing abilities. A girl my age, with a pretty face and almost nothing to be afraid of. That’s the fun part - I will give her something to be afraid of. She may be a killer, but I’m a merciless hunter who’s been lying in wait for far too long... and it looks like I’ve finally found my prey.

The room goes silent when Agent Raines gives his report on Trial 53. His report ends with the last thing I want to hear - “we had to bring in Deadshot. Other than that, there’s nothing else we can do but wait and hope,” he says, drumming his fingers on the table in front of him. I flex my jaw and let out a deep breath, concealing the fury I could so easily lash out with. I spin on my heel and turn to leave the room when I am stopped by Raines. “We’re sorry,” he says without breaking eye contact. I leave the room without saying a word. Gradually speeding up with every step I take, I make my way to the elevator. Once I’m inside, I close the doors before opening a small hidden panel next to the buttons. Underneath the panel is a scanner, which I press my forefinger against. The scanner reads my print and the screen flashes green and an automated female voice recording tells me “Scan complete. Access granted,” before dimming again. As I put the panel back in place, the elevator begins its long descent.

I’m headed to floor -13, which is the lowest underground level of the entire building. I guess it’s more like a secret floor, since only 3 people in the T.R.I.A.L.s know it even exists, including myself. Half of the scientists here have no idea what they’re even working for. To give a little example - everyone working between floors 1 and 99 believe that they are simply there to fulfill their dreams of becoming great scientists. They are completely unaware of the existence of laboratories beneath them where human beings are taken for experimenting. Occasionally, we take people from the aboveground levels to activate them. We usually tell them that they are being advanced to a more difficult level of study and they always follow. Once down in the laboratories, we explain to them exactly what is about to be done and they are given 2 choices - accept our generous offer or die. Pretty simple. Since we erase the memories of our subjects during or after activation, they don’t remember ever being threatened. Usually, they accept and sign the papers needed to make the experiment legal. Once, we had one of our scientists decline, which was an easy fix due to our wonderful assortment of sedatives available to administer via needle, dart gun, or mask. We used a dart gun on that one before activating him anyway. Erasing his memory took care of the rest, besides forging his signature for the papers.

The elevator bell dings as it hits the lowest floor. The doors slide open and I step out into the long corridor. The walls, ceiling, and floor are all completely covered in the same solid crimson carpeting, giving the dimly lit hallway an eerie, dark feel. There is a single doorway at the end of the corridor, with a security camera positioned dead center above it. Adjusting my red tie and black suit coat, I begin to walk towards the door. Once I get there, I call on the intercom. I’m greeted by a man’s voice, the voice of my boss. “Faith, hope, and…” he says softly. “World domination,” I reply steadily. “Come on in, Adam. I’ve been expecting you.”

I hear a small ‘click’ as the door unlocks itself. It swings open slowly, revealing a small room of the same width as the corridor, with another set of doors. I step into the room and the automatic door swings shut and locks behind me. I take a deep breath and push through the next set of doors into the main room, which is massive. It’s about the size of a football field, filled with a magnificent collection of displays, showcasing everything from underdeveloped futuristic superweapons to ancient knight’s armor. It’s like being in a huge time capsule without limits. The new technology blending with the old to create a masterpiece of innovation, and I am lucky enough to be one of the few who gets to see it. On the back wall of the room almost completely concealed in the shadows is a large desk with a man sitting behind it. His head is down, making it impossible to see his face. He is resting his elbows on the desk, his hands in front of his face as he drums his fingers against themselves.

I slowly walk towards him and he motions to a nearby chair. “Have a seat,” he says calmly as I place myself in the red leather upholstered cherrywood armchair. Leaning forward in the chair, I grab the edge of his desk. “Do you have any idea what that moron Andreas is doing up there? I thought we told him what he was supposed to do!” I hiss angrily, curling my lip. “What do you mean?” he replies, his tone becoming curious. “He sent out Deadshot,” I say, letting the name roll off my tongue as if it were poison. The man curses under his breath as he slams his fist on the desk in front of me. “We need her alive, and I swear if they kill her, I will personally kill Andreas,” He says, the calmness in his voice unnerving me. “What do you need me to do?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. I mean, we’ve been friends for as long as I can remember, but he still terrifies me sometimes. “Your job is simple,” he says, coming forward into the light just so that his face is visible. “You follow Deadshot and take him out, easy as pie. After that, you need to find the group of rogues and befriend them, especially the girl. Remember - we need her alive if you screw up and betray their trust too soon, they will kill you. Try to take her when no one is around. Lure her somewhere and sedate her so that you can bring her back to me peacefully. Oh, and you should tell that girlfriend of yours - Julia, right? - everything. She might be needed later on. Got that?” I nod in reply and turn to leave the room without saying a word, leaving my boss in silence.

Once I’m back in my apartment on the east side of town, I begin to gather things I might need for my mission. After packing the necessary amount of clothes, I slip into a whole new outfit. Jeans, a ripped band shirt, and leather combat boots with a jacket to match completes the “rebel teenager” look I am trying to achieve. Next, I head to the bathroom to dye my hair. Literally my worst nightmare, but pretty necessary if I don’t want my cover blown. I know that none of them have met me personally, but I still need to be as careful as possible. I choose blonde, since I’m pretty sure it will look better than if I dyed my hair black. I decide not to make too drastic of a change, so I end up with a dirty blonde/light brown color. Then, I add a streak of dark blue on the side to finish. After styling my hair, I head to my garage where my lime green Lamborghini Murcielago is waiting for me. I check all the hidden compartments in the seats, which contain my weapons - 2 FN SCAR-L STD automatic assault rifles.

I don’t usually carry more than those babies around with me because I am pretty confident in just using them. After making sure I have everything I’ll need, I decide I better call my partner/girlfriend to give her an update on everything that’s going on. She doesn’t know everything, but I better let her know where I’m headed before I just disappear. I dial her number from my iPhone and she answers almost immediately. “Hey weirdo - let me guess… you have another stupid business trip to go on again, right? I swear, if you have to go on too many more of those, I’ll just have to start taking my own vacations because it gets pretty boring here at the airport,” She says sarcastically and I laugh. “Well, I guess you could put it that way. Except that this time, it’s not exactly a business trip. I haven’t exactly been telling you everything…” I continue to explain the whole situation to her and when I am finished, there is a long pause and I am expecting her to either get mad or start completely freaking out. To my surprise, she sounds overly excited when she breaks the silence again. “Seriously? Why didn’t you tell me this before? This is totally awesome! How soon do we start?” She exclaims. I sigh, wishing that she could come with me. “I’m sorry hun, but I gotta take this one alone. Just sit tight and you’ll be needed pretty soon, okay? Hang in there for me,” I say softly. “Okay, just stay safe,” she replies quickly. “I’ll see you when I get back,” I say and we both hang up.

I stand in silence for a while before climbing into the driver’s seat of my Lamborghini. Before long, I’m hot on Deadshot’s trail, using my radar to track him since he is equipped with a tracking device just like all the other subjects. The cool thing - Deadshot will have no idea he’s being followed, since I have no tracking device. Now, all I have to do is get to a secluded enough location. He’s already been on the road for at least 5 hours, which means he’s way ahead of me. After driving for another 5 hours, I find myself parked on the edge of an abandoned junkyard in Naperville, Illinois. According to my radar records, the group of rogues have been to this particular place multiple times within the past 10 hours, so I am assuming this is their hideout. However, none of them are around at the moment, which means that Deadshot is probably planning on lying in wait for when they return, completely concealed and ready to take down his target.  I hide my car by parking between two massive willows on the farthest edge of the junkyard before getting out to take down my target. It doesn’t take me long to find him, since I’ve been watching the area he parked in. As silently as possible, I get out one of my loaded and ready-to-go assault rifles. Slowly raising it to my shoulder, I slide my finger into the trigger guard and draw in a deep breath. As soon as I have a perfect aim on Deadshot’s chest, I let out my breath slowly as I release 3 bullets. Deadshot lets out a cry, then falls silent as he crumples to the ground. Mission accomplished. Now, all I have to do is wait.

“We should probably be getting back now. It’s dark and I’m starving,” I say to Slade, who is relaxing in the driver’s seat of the van. Sitting up straight, he gives me a sassy look. “Well, if you’re so eager to get home then why don’t you drive us, hmmm?” He says cheekily, raising his eyebrows and giving me a wink. I roll my eyes and smile. “Well, then move outta my way, idiot!” I yell jokingly, and everyone laughs, including the new girl. I gotta admit, she’s pretty cool. I mean, after that whole thing she did with scaring Jacob out of his mind by pushing him off the telephone pole? I’m never gonna let him forget about that! She’s also got attitude, which is pretty boss in my opinion. I think we’ll end up getting along just fine. She seems to have also hit it off pretty well with the others, which is good.

Once Slade’s moved into the passenger seat, I take his place and begin to drive home. Before long, we’ve reached the abandoned junkyard on the edge of town, where our hideout/headquarters are stationed. When I pull into the dark lot, I sense something isn’t right. After signaling the others to keep silent, I slowly slide open the side door and slip outside, grabbing a handgun on my way out. Keeping my steps as quiet as I can, I creep forward while holding the gun with both hands in front of me, scanning the ground around me. Suddenly, a raspy groan breaks the silence and I instantly point the gun in the direction of the noise. The air is heavy and dark, making it difficult to see. “I can see you,” the unknown voice rasps. “Your eyes are glowing, fiery red and ice blue. Please put down the gun. Help me,” The low male voice says weakly, and I hear a low gurgle as he takes in a raucous breath. “Who are you?” I hiss quickly, as I let go of the gun with my left hand and set my palm ablaze with bright fire. As the light illuminates the area around me, a fallen figure appears on the ground about 10 feet ahead of me. “Please don’t hurt me, just help. I’ve got 3 bullets in my torso,” he says softly, his last few words becoming hard to understand as more gurgling sounds come from his throat.

Tucking the gun into a holster on my hip and walking towards the figure on the ground, I call out to the others. “Everybody out! We’ve got an emergency! Jaymie, you’ve got the technology - bring the medical equipment!” I yell, and my crew begins to gather around me. “Jacob, I need you to be two places at once - scope the area for trespassers and help Jaymie with the medical assessment - we need to know how badly this guy’s injured. Ben, I need you to run and get a stretcher. Go!” I give orders as quickly as I can, and watch as Jacob and Jaymie begin to look over the boy, who looks to be around the same age as the new girl. Once I get closer to give them light, I can see him more clearly. He’s dressed completely in skin-tight leather, and his face is covered by a mask. His left eye is concealed by an eyepatch, while his right eye is halfway closed. He appears to have been shot is 3 places like he said, and it looks an awful lot like he’s been shot by an automatic, since the bulletholes are all within an inch of each other. I wonder why his assassin only let 3 shots fire when he could have planted a dozen more?

Just then, Ben arrives and picks the boy up before setting him down gently on the stretcher. As he and Jaymie carry him away, Jacob vanishes. I hear footsteps behind me and turn around, only to see Jacob walking towards me with the muzzle of his pistol against the head of the man he’s escorting towards me. The man looks like he’s about 19 or 20, with blonde hair and a blue streak on the left side of his head. “Who the heck are you?” I say, raising an eyebrow. “Do you happen to be associated with the boy who got shot here a few minutes ago?” As I as the last question, I notice him tense up. Just as quickly as he tensed, he relaxes and a confused look washes over his face. “Someone got shot here?” He asks with a frown. “Yeah, and you happen to be the only one around here at the moment, so if you know anything, speak up or I’ll let Jacob shoot,” I hiss forcefully. “I swear I was just passing through, I’m looking for a place to stay and I have no family, friends… nothing. I thought this place looked quiet enough,” he says, his voice becoming fearful. “I’m Adam, by the way. Do you know where I can stay? Just please don’t hurt me, I’ve been through enough already with losing my job and getting stuck on the streets, ya know?” He says quickly, and I let out a soft sigh. “Well, you’re kinda stuck with us now that you’ve seen this. It’s hard to explain,” I say quickly, and he nods in reply. “Jacob, you can put away the gun. But keep a close eye on this one, and if he tries anything funny, feel free to lock him up,” I finish, and Jacob and Adam follow me into the huge warehouse.

Once we are inside, I shut and lock the door, as well as lowering the shades on the few windows before flooding the room with bright white light. The interior of the warehouse is a crazy awesome mix of mini-labs, living quarters, a kitchen, a gym, a medical room, and training rooms. The warehouse is large enough that there are two floors, including a basement installed by me and my companions last year when we started running out of room. This is the third place we’ve used as a hideout, since all our other locations got us busted by the cops. It’s a good location, very secluded but still close enough to town. Leaving Jacob with Adam, I head to the medical room where Jaymie and Ben have taken the injured boy. “How bad is he?” I ask quietly. “He should be okay, but he’s lucky we got here soon enough. I don’t think he would have survived more than ½ an hour without us,” Jaymie replies with a little smile. “We’ve gotten the bullets out, there were 2 in his shoulder and one got his left lung, but he should be fine as long as we give him plenty of time to recover. He passed out during the operation, but he should wake up pretty soon here.” “Good,” I say, giving Jaymie a nod.

Just then, the boy begins to cough violently, and Jaymie and I run over to his side. The corners of his mouth have a film of dried blood in them, and he’s beginning to cough up fresh crimson. Jaymie mutters something under her breath and hurries over to a small steel table covered with various medical instruments. Quick as a flash, she’s gotten a syringe of vitamin K ready to inject into the area surrounding the bullet wounds, particularly the punctured lung. After cleaning the area again, she slowly inserts the needle into the boy’s chest, right above the lowest shot and injects the medicine. “This should take care of the bleeding, maybe he’ll stop coughing up the stuff. Hopefully it’ll start clotting here pretty fast though, he’s lost a lot of blood,” Jaymie says with a sigh. I cross my arms and look back at the boy’s covered face. His right eye is half open and he seems to be having trouble breathing, which makes sense since he’s got a bullet hole in one of his lungs.

Reaching down, I gently grab the bottom of his mask and pull it up and over his head. It’s like a leather ski mask, and I have to be careful not to pull it off too quickly. He has soft, yet very pronounced features. He has a very pained expression on his face, and I don’t blame him. “What’s your name?” I ask softly, hoping that he will answer me. “Deadshot,” he replies, before starting to cough again. “No, your real name,” I say with a frown. “I don’t have a name, I lost it. I’m just Deadshot,” he says quietly. “What do you mean, lost it? Where are you from?” I ask, starting to get concerned about this guy. “And, why are you armed? What’s up with to outfit too?” I say, suddenly feeling like I should interrogate him. The more I look at his outfit and the fact that he was armed with 2 Colt 1911 pistols, the more suspicious he seems. Deadshot lets out a raspy breath and looks at me with his one visible eye. “Oh yeah, and what’s up with the eyepatch?” I add quickly, hoping he doesn’t take my question too personally.

“Too… many… questions,” he sputters, before going into another coughing fit. I clench my jaw and lean against the operation table, trying not to look annoyed. After he finishes coughing, he begins to explain. “So first off, I lost my eye because I was running with scissors,” I hold back a laugh while he continues. “Second, I can’t exactly tell you where I’m from. It’s kind of a big secret, so you’ll just have to trust me. Third, I’m armed because I prefer to be ready if anything bad should happen. Fourth, my outfit is because I would rather keep my identity hidden and I liked the versatile design. The suit’s flexible, which is really helpful.” “Helpful for what? What are you hiding? I don’t care how top-secret your mission is, I need to know the details so that I can decide whether to keep you here or find you a new… home,” I reply, narrowing my eyes. “Will honesty save me?” He asks nervously. “Maybe,” I say quickly. “For now though, get some rest. I’ll finish asking my questions tomorrow,” I finish as I turn and head towards the door. As I walk past Ben, I lean in and whisper, “keep an eye on him, okay?” Ben nods and I walk out, silently closing the door behind me.

Everyone seems to be rushing everywhere, which makes things really awkward for me since I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. This whole place is completely foreign to me, with all the crazy equipment and high technology everywhere. The inside of the warehouse seems bigger on the inside, but that’s only because of the bright lighting and whitewashed walls. The building contains multiple doors to new rooms, and my curiosity is getting the better of me. Taking in a deep breath through my nose, the aroma of new concrete, old wood, and fresh paint hitting my senses. There’s a very sanitary feel to this place, as if it has never been dirty - which makes me rather uncomfortable. I’m used to a messy room, with bubblegum pink walls and random junk thrown about haphazardly. I’m not the most organized person, so anything this immaculate scares me to death because I’m afraid of creating a huge mess.

I guess since no one seems to notice my presence, I’ll go find out where all those doors lead to. Sliding off my perch on a white desk, I begin to walk around and explore my new home. I don’t think I’ll be going back to Wisconsin, since I’ve caused enough trouble there already. I just hope that somehow my new friends will be able to contain me and prevent me from causing any more deaths. I’m praying that I won’t have an episode here, since I really like all these people and if I were to, well, kill one of them by accident, I don’t think that would be too fun. I really don’t like killing people, but it sort of happened. Thank heaven it’s only happened twice. The big problem - I’m a Catholic, and even if I wasn’t I know that murder is plain wrong. Which means that I’m going to have to get to confession pretty soon here. I hope there’s a church close enough to here, or I’m in a really bad position. I’m not sure if anyone else here is Catholic, but I guess I’ll find out so I can ask about getting to confession.

The first door I come to is where they took the injured guy, so I’m not sure if I should go in or not. Bridget is standing nearby, so I decide I should probably ask her before barging in on the emergency room or whatever the heck that door leads to is. “Hey, uh… is that room off-limits? Or could I just take a peek around inside? I kinda wanna get to know my way around this place if I’m going to be living here, ya know?” I say quickly, trying not to stutter. I’m so awkward. She looks at me and laughs. “I don’t care if you go in there, we have no rules against visiting injured people!” She says, then laughs again as she walks towards Jacob and the guy he found snooping around, probably to interrogate the blonde dude. I think I heard him say that his name was Adam, but I’m not completely sure. I’m still standing outside of the medical room door, and curiosity gets the better of me. The door doesn’t actually have a handle, since it’s hospital style - swinging doors in case a stretcher needs to be wheeled in, so I just shoulder it and it swings open easily. Walking inside, the coppery scent of blood hits my nose and I shudder. I know, I’ve killed 2 people and I should be used to the smell, but I’m not. It’s still just as horribly nauseating as before.

The first thing that I see is the body laying on an operation table in the middle of the tiny room. Jaymie is standing in the corner, looking over some papers. She looks over her shoulder at me and simply motions for me to remain quiet by putting a finger against her lips. I nod and continue walking towards the table, and I notice that the injured boy is shivering. I can tell why - his entire chest is exposed, minus the areas that are bandaged - and no one thought to put a blanket on him. It’s not exactly the warmest room, either. Glancing around the room, I see a folded white blanket in the far right corner on top of a small cabinet. As quickly as I can without making too much noise, I hurry over to the corner and grab the blanket. Next, I gently drape it over him, leaving only his face exposed. For the first time, I get a good look at his features. He has a soft, kind face with pronounced features, and he looks very peaceful despite the pain he must be in. Then, I realize that he’s probably sedated - I mean, what else would the IV in his arm be for? I guess I really wouldn’t know. I’m not exactly a medical geek. He also has an eyepatch covering his left eye, and I wonder how he got it.

I gotta admit though, he’s pretty good-looking and looks an awful lot like he could be my age. I’ve never really had that much luck with guys, so I put away any ‘ideas’ into the far corners of my mind before I start getting hopeful. Suddenly, his right eye flutters open, revealing a soft brown iris. “Thank you,” he whispers weakly, and I slightly raise my eyebrows. “What for?” I ask, and he smiles. “The blanket,” he replies, and I return his smile. “You looked cold,” I say with a playful shrug. He lets out an attempted laugh, which turns into a violent coughing fit. My smile disappears as I watch him in his agony, knowing that there is nothing I can do about it. I want to make him feel better, but I don’t know how. I wonder… I have been able to self-heal a few times, so maybe I can help heal him?

I slowly lean over him and place my hands over the area where the bullet wounds are located, and after closing my eyes, I begin to concentrate, willing the healing power to ignite by imagining the feeling of immense pain. Before I know what’s happening, my veins begin to glow green again and power surges downwards through my arms and as soon as it hits my hands, I can feel the energy seeping out of me and into the wounds of the boy. Since there are bandages and a blanket covering the bulletholes, I’m not sure if it’s working or not, but the boy’s coughing ceases, which is a good sign. “How… did … you do that?” He sputters, a look of amazement spreading over his face. I look down at my hands, which have lost their electric glow. “I don’t really know,” I say softly, giving him a little smile. I look up to see Jaymie standing on the other side of the table looking stupefied. Without a word, she reaches over and pulls the blanket away before gently pulling off the blood-soaked gauze bandages. To my dismay, the wounds are still completely there. “What happened? I thought this would take away the wounds!” I hiss in frustration. The boy looks up at me and smiles, seeming to not care a bit that his wounds remain just as before. “They may not be gone, but they’re numb now. You’ve taken away the pain,” He says softly. “Thank you,” he whispers as he drifts away into a light sleep.

A smile spreads across my lips and I look up at Jaymie, who smiles back. The room is silent for a bit, until there’s a bit of commotion outside the door. I hear Bridget’s muffled voice from outside yelling for everyone to calm down, and curiosity gets the better of me again. Concentrating hard on moving from in here to a non-conspicuous place outside, I begin to feel the strange energy rushing through my body again as everything begins to blur around me. Next thing I know, I’m standing behind a tall cabinet in the corner of the room, peeking out into the rest of the room where all the others are. Looking around, I see that Ben is now holding Adam’s hands firmly behind his back and Jacob is holding something out to Bridget, but the object is obscured from view.

Stepping out of the shadows, I use the energy I possess to amplify my voice around the room. “Ok, what’s going on here?” I say calmly, sounding like a deep-voiced goddess. My voice echoes throughout the warehouse, and everyone falls silent and looks at me. Suddenly, Bridget stomps her foot like a little kid, her whole left side exploding into flame and singeing Jacob’s hands, which I can now see are holding two sweet guns. “Don’t do that!” Bridget yells, and I burst out laughing. Man, this girl reminds me of one of my cousins back home, except that cousin and I got in a fight and never talked to each other again afterwards. As soon as I start laughing however, she forms a huge snowball in her right hand and nails me dead in the face with it. Now, it’s everybody else’s turn to laugh. “Guys, this is serious!” Bridget exclaims, trying to hide the amusement in her eyes. I walk over to where everyone’s surrounding Adam and Ben, and Adam eyes me as I walk past him towards Bridget and Jacob. I reach down and take one of the guns from Jacob’s hands and look it over, while Bridget pulls out a handgun and aims it at my head. Well, looks like they’re still scared of me. I feel like a Queen.

“Chill out, bruh. I’m just looking at it. It’s a pretty dang nice weapon if you ask me,” I say with a shrug, before dropping it back into Jacob’s arms. “Oh yeah, and you might wanna ice those burned hands, Jacob. They’re bleeding,” I say with a wink, before giving Bridget a sassy look. She tries to hide her smirk with a frown, but I can see right through it. “So, does anyone here want to explain what’s going on?” I say, looking around. Bridget steps forward and looks down towards me - did I mention she’s like 5 inches taller than me? - and scowls. “Tell me, sugarcube, when did you become the boss here?” She hisses, and her breath reeks like bubblegum. I straighten up and look her dead in those weird, trippy eyes of hers and smile. “Haven’t you heard? I’m the Queen, and in case you haven’t realized - you all seem pretty darn scared of me. I’m not planning on hurting you, but if you don’t think I have the rights to know everything that’s going on in this crazy little community, I just might… reconsider... my decision not to kill you,” I say steadily. “Is that a threat?” “Aw, heck yeah it is.”

Bridget sighs, takes a step back, and folds her arms. “Okay, look - we’re not looking for trouble, and the main reason you’re here is because if we don’t keep you hidden, they will find you, and they will kill you. You can’t reason with them,” She says, her voice getting gentle. “Who’s they?” I ask quickly, still wondering why I’m here. “You are an experiment, probably a botched experiment from the T.R.I.A.L.s in Tulsa, Oklahoma,” Jaymie says solemnly, stepping forward. “How did you know about me? How did you know where to find me?” I ask with a frown, and Jaymie glances at Bridget, who nods what I’m guessing is an approval. “Here, hold on one second and I will pull up your records,” Jaymie says, walking over to a nearby table. The surface of the table looks like semi-transparent glass, and the second Jaymie sets her hand on it a huge hologram of a computer screen appears before us.

In a few swift movements, Jaymie pulls up a plethora of information regarding me and the place that used me for experimentation. Not gonna lie, seeing all this makes me unsure of whether to be amazed and excited or terrified. In no time, Jaymie has pulled up my record. According to the T.R.I.A.L.s, I am known as Trial, or Subject 53. “Does this mean that besides me, there are 52 other experiments running around?” I say, intrigued. “Yeah, and we’re all experiments as well,” Jacob says from behind Bridget and Jaymie. “Well, that explains all of your weird powers or whatever,” I say with a shrug. “Actually, Jacob is wrong,” Jaymie says hesitantly, and Jacob rolls his eyes. “There are only 51 others. They had to kill one of their subjects due to a malfunction in the serum they used,” she finishes with a sigh. Looking back at the holographic computer screen, I nod. Jaymie slides her hand along the table and my record disappears, leaving a screen covered in random records and documents regarding the experiments. Jaymie is just about to shut down the hologram when something in the far corner catches my eye.

“Wait!” I exclaim, and she pauses, looking up at me with a confused expression. “What’s that?” I ask quickly, pointing to the top left corner of the screen. I can’t believe I can actually see the picture on the record, since I sometimes need to wear glasses just to read a book, but the image is clear enough to make me suspicious. Jaymie touches another spot on the glass table and the page magnifies, filling the hologram. A gasp escapes Bridget’s lips when the image is completely visible. Right in front of everyone is a Subject Record for the injured boy in the other room. His name is Deadshot, he’s a month younger than me, and he was activated in 2007. According to the record, he is a trained assassin and he has only been sent on 1 mission since his activation. Bridget curses under her breath. “I knew there was something wrong about him being here!” She hisses, slamming her fist on the glass table. Somehow, the screen doesn’t even crack. “Another thing - Adam, you seemed out of place from the very beginning as well, and with these weapons and that expensive car of yours, I have no choice but to believe you are working with Deadshot!” She says through gritted teeth, her voice getting angrier by the second.

“Okay, yeah, I’m here because of Deadshot. But only because I wanted to save the girl,” Adam says, looking me dead in the eyes. My throat tightens and my breathing becomes shallow. “So it was you who shot him?” I ask, my heart sinking. “Yeah, but if I hadn’t, you would have been the one taking the bullets, not him. I saved your life,” he replies, breaking my gaze to look down at his boots. I don’t quite know what to think of this, now that I’m not even sure who is on my side anymore. I let out a frustrated sigh and collapse into a sitting position on the floor, pulling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around my legs, burying my face in between my knees.

I don’t look up, but I know everyone’s looking at me. The room is dead silent, and I’m not sure if I should just teleport myself outta here, or if I should stay and finish unraveling this huge mystery I seem to be the main character of. Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look up into Ben’s face, and he smiles at me. “Hey, don’t stress it, okay? We’ve all been there. I mean, none of us have ever been hunted, but at least you’ve got us to keep you safe, right? Tell you what - I’ll be your adopted big brother, okay? I’ll keep you safe, I promise,” He says gently, reaching out to take my hand. I let him help me up and he gives me a quick hug before taking Adam away for further questioning, as well as working with Bridget to decide what to do about Deadshot. I am left in the huge room with Jaymie, Jacob, and Slade, who has remained silent this whole time.

“What’s gonna happen to Deadshot?” I ask, concerned about the injured boy in the other room. To my surprise, Slade steps forward to answer my question. “Well, there’s not much left that could possibly prove him innocent, so it’ll probably end up with him dead, just like Adam intended,” he says quickly, before turning and walking away. I wish I’d never gotten caught up in this mess. Why did the stupid T.R.I.A.L. people have to pick me? I never deserved this. I can’t think of anything else to say, so I turn towards Jaymie and Jacob and look at my feet. “So… I don’t know if you guys are Catholic or not, but I am and if you guys know anything about where I could go for confession, that would be fantastic,” I say, before forcing a small smile. They both laugh. “Yeah, we can take you to Ss. Peter and Paul in town tomorrow, I’m pretty sure the priest there can accommodate your need for reconciliation,” Jacob says playfully, wiggling his eyebrows. At this, I can’t help but burst out laughing. Man, these guys are idiots - just like me.

Sitting at my desk all day can be a pretty boring job. I mean, I love people, so being a receptionist seemed to be an excellent option. However, it can get pretty annoying to have people calling all the time wanting to talk to Andreas. I’ve already turned down at least 95 people today, and it’s only 10 in the morning. I’m seriously looking forward to my lunch break at noon, even though it’s only an hour long. The phone rings again and I pick it up, answering with the same greeting I always use. “Hello, you’ve reached the Neumann Department of Radioactive Sciences, how may I direct your call?” This person wants to talk to someone in genetics, so I put them on hold until someone in that department can pick up. I set the phone down and lean back in my white leather chair. Yeah, Andreas went all-out when decorating this place. He kept a strict theme of snow white, with a few black and red accents here and there. I like the decor, simple and sophisticated. I have gorgeous black ebony desk, with a red vase holding a bouquet of white lilies on top of it. The lobby is white with black trim, and there are random paintings of red poppies and roses, and things of the sort, as long a they follow the color theme.

For the past couple of days, I’ve been keeping a close eye on Andreas. He still seems pretty oblivious to what’s going on with Trial 53, but I’m starting to think he needs to be told before he completely ruins the whole plan. Now that my younger brother Adam is gone for a while, I don’t have to be as careful about meeting with the man downstairs on floor -13. Adam has no idea that I know anything about the plan. To him, I’m just a receptionist with no life. Oh, if only he knew. Maybe I’d get a bit more respect from him. For now though, I’ll let him have his glory. He’s always been prideful, which can be both inspiring and annoying at the same time. I think the most fun thing about my position is that both Adam and Andreas believe that they stand over me, all high and mighty on their thrones of wealth and knowledge, friendship and involvement in the plan. Little do they know that I have the power to destroy them both, cast them down from their puny thrones and send them into the streets, broke and with absolutely no memory of where they came from or who they are.

As long as they both cooperate, they will be allowed freedom and a place amongst us, a place of prestige and power. I believe that my brother will stick to the plan, since he’s a big dreamer and extremely ambitious - with the knowledge he has of what awaits him if he sticks to the plans, there is almost nothing that will have the ability to take his eyes off his goal. Andreas however, seems to have a mind of his own. He believes that he should be able to make his own decisions, which I don’t think is the best idea. Technically, his own actions could get him killed. He knows barely anything of the plan, but I think that if we want to avoid any… accidents, it would be wise of us to tell him our complete plan. If he disagrees, we have our ways of erasing memories. If he goes for it, he will be given the privilege of experiencing what it’s like to have the whole Universe at his fingertips. I mean, the only reason I was really brought into this whole thing is because of my boyfriend, who runs the whole operation. The T.R.I.A.L.s wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for him. Oh, but there is more - so much more. Too much for the simple human brain to comprehend. Our power, our resources… completely limitless. To give a small example: imagine the power of a thousand galaxies, supernovas, infinite space - and it’s all ours, if only we have the desire and dedication to search, digging for answers until we find something to grasp on to.

Little did we know that somewhere out there, something was searching too. Searching for the same thing we were. We happened to cross paths, an unlikely encounter with the unknown. We were promised power, freedom… even prolonged life. All we have to do now is prove ourselves worthy. My boyfriend and I were careful in choosing who to trust, and my brother seemed to be a nice addition to the few of us who know. Andreas was only let in due to his ambition and wealth. The promise of power… well, to him, was like offering candy to a 2 year old. He accepted immediately, was sworn into secrecy, and is bound by the rules. If he fails, his memory will be erased and he will be stripped of his wealth and high position in society. I believe in him, as long as he knows his requirements and the rewards in the end, he should be just fine. He still doesn’t know about the others, but he will find out soon enough now that phase 2 is finally up and running. Now, all there is left to do is bring in subject 53 and get her under control. Then, we will overthrow governments and the others will take over once and for all. We will be unstoppable, with unlimited power.

My thoughts are broken by the sound of the phone ringing again. With a sigh, I reach down to answer it. I’m greeted by the steady, calm voice of my boyfriend. “Hey Kayla, can you call in a substitute receptionist and meet me down in my office? We have some things to… discuss,” he says slowly, emphasising the last word. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be down in a bit,” I reply quickly, before hanging up and putting the phone back on its base. Next, I call in my substitute, Anastasia. She’s really sweet and amazing with people, so she’s perfect for this job. As soon as she’s situated, I head to the elevator. Before long, I’m on floor -13. As I make my way down the dimly lit red corridor towards the single door at the end, I smooth my hair and try to make myself look as confident as possible. No, it’s not my boyfriend I’m scared of. It’s the others that I’m afraid of. I still don’t know what they are called, but I have a feeling I will be finding out soon. Once I’m inside the office, I sit down across from Patrick’s desk. Yeah, that’s his name. Patrick Atwell. He’s the head of this whole operation, under the advice and help of the others.

As soon as I have taken my place at the desk, Patrick arises without a word and walks slowly towards the far wall on the left. With a swift movement, he whips a pistol out of the holster on his left hip and thrusts it into the wall. The dark red velvet wall splits into a small opening about the size of a large nose and the pistol slides perfectly into place. He slowly turns the pistol like a key and with a small click, the door unlocks. Then, with a sharp grating sound much like nails on a chalkboard, the wall slides to the left and reveals another secret hallway. This one is dark like the hallway to Patrick’s office, but instead of being crimson, the walls are lined with violet satin. The floor is an even deeper color, like dark purple buttercup ranunculus flowers. At the end of the ominous corridor, there are 2 huge wooden doors. A chill runs down my spine when we reach the doors, and Patrick reaches out to push one of them open. As the door slowly swings inward, I take in a deep breath.

Bright light illuminates the hallway and as soon as my eyes adjust, I bite my tongue to hold back a shiver. The room has 5 inhabitants, and each of them look identical in stature and shape. Each one of them are exactly 7 feet tall and quite slender, with gentle curves and soft outlines. They are silhouettes, with the outline of a human body, almost completely concealed by billowy black cloaks. The only visible parts are their faces - or the area of their bodies that should be a face. They have no facial shape or hair, just smooth outlines - and they have no shadows. The first of the 5, their leader, Galaxia, is a silhouette filled with the entire Universe. It is like a massive void, empty - containing no soul, but packed with energy. Limitless, infinite space. The inside of the silhouette glows with the light of a thousand galaxies, and is shadowed by the darkness of countless black holes. It is so beautiful, yet so terrifying. It’s literally looking at every galaxy in the Universe trapped inside a single being, a body - sort of like a type of host, or hostess… these forms have no gender, and I’m not even sure they’re living; but I do know that they are there, and they are very real. I can feel them watching my every move.

The second one, Vitaetmors is filled with life and death all at once, constantly changing. The silhouette is filled with both light and dark, and the fresh, sweet aroma of flowers mixed with the gut-wrenching scent of death and decay emanates from this being with a terrifying beauty. The third, Aeris, is filled with air, a constantly changing mixture of empty space and hurricanes. One moment it is calm, tranquil - and the next, it is a swirling vortex of fury and rage. The fourth, Ignis, is fire, blazing red and orange, golden, blue, and white. The fifth, Aqua, is filled with water. Every ocean, lake, river… every body of water in the entire Universe is contained in this single form. Calm, balmy tropical lagoons and ferocious ocean storms, all in one place. They are so beautiful, right down to their Latin names - but still, they have an ominous presence. They have no face, they are lacking features, but I can still feel them watching me. They are called The Inhabitants, which is both a wonderful and terrible name. They are the only ones of their kind, and have no real home. However, their origin was revealed to us when we first became acquainted with them. They were born in a supernova, back near the creation of the Universe. This was called Nativitate Elementorum, which is Latin for Birth of the Elements. Their goal, our goal, is to achieve Nativitate de Novae Huius Aetatis, Birth of the New Age. They told us that they will awaken a great power, a divine supreme entity that will help them take control of the entire Universe - and I get a front row seat, as well as elevated existence and limitless power. I can’t wait.

I can’t seem to focus on anything right now, my mind is completely filled up with the excitement of what I am about to undergo. It’s finally time to perform the Trial, today I will be activated. I will be subject 54, and I will be receiving multiple enhancements, both physical and mental. I’m a little scared, but I trust these people. Besides, Andreas said that I get to keep my memory. I kinda wish he could be present at the activation, but he told me he’s not allowed in the room while activation is being initiated. Suddenly, I hear the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Looking up, I see 2 scientists in white lab coats walking towards me. A man and a woman, and the woman is holding a clipboard in her left hand. They have blank expressions, which is a bit unnerving for me. Oh well, maybe they’re just so bored by their job that they don’t enjoy it anymore, like it’s just routine. As they get closer, I have a sudden deja vu moment. I recognize these people, I passed them in the hallway as I was heading up to Andreas’ office last week. They had both looked rather ticked off at the time, and were being escorted away Agents Raines and Quentin.

I stand up out of the uncomfortable white chair and shake hands with the doctors, whose name tags read Jacob (Jake) Hoffman and Rose Valdez. “Follow us,” they say in unison, and I frown. This doesn’t seem normal. They’re too perfectly in sync, too blank, too… automatic. Eh, I guess it’s nothing, I’m probably just too excited and nervous for my brain to function right. However, these doctors make me a bit uncomfortable. Hopefully they’ll loosen up soon. We head to the elevators, and Jake sets the elevator to take us to the -11th floor of the building, which is 11 stories underground. My stomach churns slightly when the elevator lurches halfway down. I know that elevators do that sometimes, but I’m overly jumpy at the moment. A chill runs down my spine when we reach floor -11. I’ve never been this far down before, so this is all new to me. The elevator doors slide open slowly, and we all step out into another corridor. The walls and ceiling are white like all the rest, and the floor is covered in blood red carpet. It’ kind of like walking the red carpet, except there are no paparazzis or reporters anywhere to be seen. Just myself and the two blank-faced doctors.

There are multiple laboratory doors on each side of the hallway, labeled with numbers. I’m guessing they are all different trial rooms, specifically designed for whatever experiment goes on within the walls. My heart seems to beat faster with every footstep we take, and after a walk that seems to take forever, we finally arrive at station 19 - the laboratory where my activation will take place. As the door swings open and we step inside, my breath catches in my throat. This is amazing. The room is bigger than I expected, and filled with various medical instruments and whirring machines. The walls are completely white, and the bright fluorescent lighting makes my eyes hurt. In the middle of the room, there is an operation table surrounded by about 6 doctors in white lab coats. They all have blank expressions similar to those of Rose and Jake, which makes me uncomfortable. I suppose it would drive anyone insane to spend all their time in blinding white laboratories working on scientific experiments all day. As I get closer, I can see that their eyes are glazed over, and they seem to be staring off into space. Suddenly, I begin to feel sick. This seems so unnatural, so wrong.

Before I know it, I’m strapped onto the operation table. My arms, legs, torso... even my head is firmly secured. I feel so exposed, so vulnerable. Letting out a shaky breath, I reassure myself by repeating the Lord’s prayer in my head over and over again as the expressionless doctors surrounding me prepare for the operation. I close my eyes and the clanging of metal hits my ears with a sharp twang, causing me to flinch. Suddenly, a cold, wet cloth touches my arm on the inside of my elbow, sending goosebumps up my arms as the harsh scent of rubbing alcohol seeps into my nose. I open my eyes just before the long, thick needle is inserted into the vein in my elbow and I wince as the tip pricks my skin. The feeling of the cold steel rod in my arm is disconcerting, since I really don’t like needles. The doctor with the needle looks a lot like my uncle, which makes everything a hundred times more awkward. This guy however, doesn’t smell like cow manure and is clean-shaven. After pulling the needle back out, he takes a small square of gauze and wipes away the beadlet of blood forming on the tender inside of my elbow. After that, he cleans the needle with a tiny cloth and sets it on a metal instrument platter after taking off the vial of fresh crimson blood he’s just collected. I shiver at the sight of it.

After a few minutes, my limbs begin to freeze up. Not a cold sensation, but rather a paralytic feeling running through my body. Before long, I can’t move a single muscle - except my eyes. I can move my eyes and I can breathe just fine, but the rest of me is completely paralyzed. The weird thing - I can still feel. My sense of touch is completely present, and seemingly amplified. What on earth was in that syringe before he drew blood? My mind is spinning with questions, I want to know what’s going to happen with me. Maybe I should have asked what exactly they are going to do to me down here in this little white room. Just then, I begin to notice the weirdest thing about this operation - none of the doctors have said a word to eachother this entire time. The room is dead silent, except for the shuffling of feet and the sound of my own breathing, along with the occasional clink of metal hitting a counter or tray.

Suddenly, the room is filled with a blinding light, swirling with all the colors of the rainbow. It’s like a multicolored galaxy, with stars and supernovas spinning in the vortex of light. It’s almost surreal, like a glimpse of heaven. Am I dying? Then, as quickly as it appeared, the light disappears and standing on both sides of my bed are tall hooded figures. There are 2 on each side and 1 at the head of the operation table, looking straight down at me. Their presence is powerful, suffocating. I want to scream, but I can’t move my lips and my voice is completely absent. These… things - are terrifying and beautiful at the same time. As my eyes dart from creature to creature, I study their faces closely - if they even have faces. Where their face should be, surrounded by the black hood of their cloaks, is an image, constantly changing. The 5 creatures all have different faces - one seems to be made of fire, while another is water. Air, galaxies, and lastly - the one standing at my head. I don’t know what it is, since it goes from light to dark, calm to furious. It reeks of fresh flowers mixed with the rancid scent of rotting flesh. If my muscles could work right now, I would be gagging.

To my horror, the beings begin to outstretch their arms towards me, perfectly in sync with eachother. As their arms hover over my defenseless body, I watch in terror as their fingertips slide out from under the hems of their black cloaks. Their fingers are long and slender, fluid and smooth. The tips come to a sharp point, like tiny daggers. It’s torture, not being able to move, to cry out for help. Completely hopeless, left to the mercy of these foreign beings. Suddenly, all 5 of them thrust their hands downward, piercing my skin with the tips of their fingers. On both sides, there are fingertips pushing into my ribcage, into my collarbone, and into the top of my head like giant needles. Power surges through my body and I feel searing pain like I’ve never felt before. Every inch of my body burns with pain, like molten iron is running through my veins. I can’t move, I can’t scream… I’m going to die. Please, Lord, I pray, take me quickly. If this is how people are activated in the Trials, then how did they survive this agony, this insane torture? I can’t even flinch. I can’t show how much pain I’m in. My face stays exactly the same, frozen in a blank stare just like the doctors in the room, watching as my life is being drained from the shell that is my body.

After what feels like hours of this indescribable torment, the 4 on my sides pull away, letting their cloaks conceal their horrible hands and pointed fingers once more, leaving only the creature at my head. The pain racking my body subsides a little, but not nearly enough for me to feel any less like wanting to scream until my lungs collapse and my throat bleeds. I’m still completely paralyzed, and wondering how I’m still alive. Where the creatures punctured my sides and collarbone, the open wounds are now closing up, leaving no trace of blood or scar of any type. Just then, my head begins to throb as the last creature presses his fingers all the way into my skull, penetrating into my brain, sending a pain so deep, so intense - that it makes the pain from before seem miniscule, irrelevant. Pain so intense that my entire body screams silently, wanting to escape, but it can’t. Frozen, paralyzed, still as death. I am in so much pain, struggling so hard to move, to scream, but all that I am able to do is twitch the corner of my mouth and pray to God that this all ends soon. The creature presses harder, and my memory begins to fade. I hold on to what I can, but I can feel it slipping through my mind. Is this being stealing everything I am? Maybe this is good, maybe I don’t want to remember this. If I live, I would rather live in blissful ignorance than remember all this torture. My mind is becoming a dark void, memories slipping away.

Suddenly, another figure appears next to me - but this one is a teenage boy, with brown eyes and brown hair, wearing jeans and a t shirt, with a handgun strapped to his hip. He has a gentle face, but his eyes are full of fear and fury as he looks around the room. Next thing I know, he is hugging me, wrapping my limp body up in his arms. The creatures around me scream, a piercing high frequency that breaks every glass object in the room. In the confusion, the last creature pulls its needle fingers out of my skull and before I know what’s happened, I am being lowered onto another operation table screaming my lungs out as my rescuer pulls away, covering his ears. I can move now, so I curl up into a fetal position and scream until my voice is gone, nothing more than a feeble rasp. My body still aches everywhere, and the memories that the creature tried to take are still completely intact. Finally, I take a deep breath and being to cry, softly at first, then hard - with choking sobs and uncontrollable shuddering. The boy who rescued me must feel sorry for me, because he sits down next to me on the table and puts an arm around me, whispering to me that everything is going to be okay. But how? How can everything be okay? I trusted Andreas. I thought he would keep me safe. Oh, but was I ever wrong.

I’ve been waiting for 2 hours now, hoping to get word on how Diana’s activation went. My office is silent except for the slow ticking of the huge ebony grandfather clock in the far corner. I’m sitting on one of my white couches in front of the fireplace, which is filled with a bright, warm blaze. The mantelpiece above the fireplace is decorated with various modern art, following my red/black/white theme. I reach over to the table next to the sofa and wrap my fingers around a white and red mug filled with hot chocolate, and as I bring the sweet drink to my lips, I remember the nicknames I was given as a teenager. Hot Chocolate, Chocolate Cake, Chocolate… I’m not exactly sure whether or not I miss those stupid nicknames. The girl who gave me them was white, so I called her Hairy Marshmallow. I’m not sure where the first part of that came from, but I do know that it drove her up the wall when I called her that. She absolutely hated it, which made it twice as hilarious. Oh, those were the days. But now, look where I am! I’m on top of the world, literally. Oh, and speaking of chocolate - my cake should arrive soon. I’ve got my own personal kitchen and a handful of chefs who cater to my every need, and today I felt like chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. I can already smell it, and dang, it smells amazing!

Suddenly, I hear a rapid knock on the door. “Come in!” I shout, and Raines and Quentin burst in. Their faces are red, and they look worried. “What’s wrong?” I ask calmly, and their reply comes as a surprise to me. “She’s dead, Andreas. Something went wrong, the activation failed… I’m sorry,” Raines says quickly. Quentin stands next to his brother in awkward silence, looking flustered. I’m not quite sure what to think of this. I mean, I never actually liked Diana like she always thought I did, but now that she’s gone, I feel bad for playing her. She was a sweet girl, caring, funny, and charismatic. I look back towards where my brothers are standing and say, “Thank you for your report. You two can take care of funeral arrangements and I’ll put a word in with Neumann.” “Okay, but there’s one problem,” “what is it?” “There’s no body, Andreas.” “What the heck do you mean, no body?” I frown. “Well, when the doctors gave us the news, we went to investigate. There was no body, nothing. We asked, and they said she just disappeared. The only trace of her was a pool of blood where her head would have been on the table,” Quentin replies, his voice breaking mid-sentence. Both of them are obviously pretty shaken up, so I decide not to press them any further. “I’ll work on figuring out a cover story as to why there’s no body, and meanwhile, you two take a break, okay?” I say sympathetically, and they nod before turning around and walking out, shutting the door behind them with a heavy thump.

I slump back down in my couch and sigh. Now what? Just then, my pager beeps and I hear Kayla’s voice. “Andreas, your presence is requested on the lowest floor. Here are your instructions - First, go into your elevator. Then, pull off the panel covered with level buttons. Beneath this will be a screen. An automated voice will give you directions. Follow them exactly. Please report immediately,” and with a burst of static, her voice cuts out. This is alarming, since Kayla sounded pretty stern and all business-like instead of her usual cheery self. I have no clue what she’s talking about, but by the tone of her voice she’s dead serious. I get up quickly and walk over to my private elevator and press the “down” button. As I step into the doors, I straighten my white suit coat and calmly step inside. The elevator smells like chocolate cake, and I frown. My cake probably just got out of the oven, and I have to wait to eat it. Life’s just not fair. I lean against the white suede walls of my elevator and relax, since I have a long ride ahead of me. Leaning forward a bit, I pull off the panel covered in buttons that lead to each floor, revealing a secret panel. This panel is a screen, and it looks like some sort of fingerprinting device. “State your name,” an automated woman’s voice says, and I say my name aloud. Then, the screen lights up and the voice says “Place your hand on the screen,” and I obey. Next, a green scan light skims over my entire hand before disappearing. “Scan complete. Access granted,” The voice says, and the screen goes dark as the elevator begins its slow descent. I put the panel back in place and secure it by giving it a firm push, and it slides back into place with a small click.

When I finally reach my destination, the doors slide open and I’m standing in a blood red hallway. The floors and ceiling are all covered in the same red carpet, and honestly, this hallway gives me the creeps. I feel like I’m being watched. Probably because of the security camera above the doors at the end of the hallway. I only know of there being a floor -12, and this looks nothing like it… so does this mean I’m on floor -13? I’ve been running this place for years, and I never knew of any -13th floor. I’ve also never been bossed around by my receptionist. What the heck is going on here? Ever since 53 got activated, everything seems to be going crazy around here. When I get to the door, a voice greets me. “Are your favorite football teams the Green Bay Packers, the Carolina Panthers, and the Cincinnati Bengals?” The voice asks, and I freeze. “Uh yeah, how did you know that?” I answer, trying to keep my voice steady. No reply. Instead, the set of doors opens and reveals another set of doors, which I open myself. What I find behind those doors is impressive. A room filled with so much amazing stuff, it’s almost like a war museum - both ancient and futuristic.

When I finally finish marveling at the wonders of this new room, I let my eyes rest on a huge desk along the center of the far wall. Sitting behind the desk is a man mostly concealed in the dark shadows near the wall. Kayla is standing next to him, her hand resting on a pistol that is sitting on the desk. I frown. Something is not right. “Welcome, Andreas,” the man behind the desk says as he stands up next to Kayla. “Who are you, why are you here, and what on earth is going on?” I say quickly, trying to remain calm. “Oh, but that’s the mystery of it all, isn’t it? The thrill of not knowing,” the man says slowly, and I swallow the fear rising in my throat. Then, Kayla steps around the edge of the desk and walks toward me as she begins to speak, slow and soft, though every word seems to be tipped with poison. “What on earth, you say, but is it really earth that has constructed your little world, here at the Trials? Do you truly believe that your puny bunch of teenage and young adult scientists are the cause of your great success? Or has the wool been pulled over your wolf eyes as you hungrily watch your little sheep become devoured by their work in the laboratories as you pull in paycheck after paycheck? All about money, fame, and comfort. Or,” she pauses and tilts her head to the side as she locks her eyes with mine in an intense stare, “Are you chasing power?”

I swallow hard and she laughs. “Scared, you are. No need, we’re all the same here. You know you want it. Power. You’re driven by your insane ambition, to rise to the very top. You know you would do almost anything to achieve ultimate power, right?” I nod in reply to her question. “Yes, yes I would.” “Perfect,” she says with a grin. “Patrick, bring them in!” She says excitedly. “Oh, by the way,” she adds, turning back towards me again, “Patrick is my boyfriend!” She turns and walks towards him as I stand in silence like a idiot in complete shock. Not just about the fact that she has a secret boyfriend who     somehow has control over my institution, but also about everything else that’s just been said. Suddenly, I hear the slow creak of a door being opened, and I look over to the source of the sound, which is a wall to my left. The guy called Patrick is standing near the wall, cursing under his breath as he attempts to pull the pistol out of the wall. Weird. To my surprise, the wall is sliding open, revealing another hallway. This one is all purple. This hallway has another door at the end of it, and I watch as the door opens and 5 figures walk out towards us in a perfectly straight line. They are tall, and each one is wearing a black hooded cloak. As they get closer, I can feel a massive presence around me, overpowering, terrifying, and exhilarating all at once.

As they approach me, they all spread out to form a crescent shape around me and I feel so small and powerless compared to these beings that seem to radiate power. Just then, I notice something strange about these hooded figures. They don’t have faces. Instead, their heads all seem to be made of a different element. Fire, water, air, stars, and something else that makes me nauseous, but I can’t tell what it is. It is darkness and light, and emanates an aroma of flowers mixed with the gut-wrenching smell of death and decay. Somehow, now that they are assembled around me, I feel peaceful. I’m not afraid of these strange creatures, these otherworldly beings. Instead, I am utterly and completely fascinated. Suddenly, Kayla’s voice breaks the thick silence. “Open your mind. Release yourself from the restrictions of your reality, and let them speak to you,” she says smoothly, her voice like honey melting into hot water. I obey. Relaxing my entire body, releasing my mind. Leaving myself open and exposed to these beings, these god-like creatures. Then, all at once, their voices fill my head, grating and unnatural as well as soothing and beautifully harmonic, blending together as one. “We are the Inhabitants, birthed from a supernova, Nativitate Elementorum. You have been chosen, you are the fourth of the chosen ones. The fifth has yet to be brought here, allowed to share and participate in the glory of Nativitate de Novae Huius Aetatis, Birth of the New Age. You crave power, and so power shall you receive. Unlimited, endless power and glory. Join us, help us. Your lost girl, your 53rd trial, is to be the hostess of our master, Domino Universi, Lord of the Universe. You will help us find her. You will bring her to us. Cecilia Ellis. THE chosen one.”

And with those final words, my sanity left my body and I became one with these creatures, sharing thoughts and emotions, and becoming one mind altogether - and now I know what’s happened to my scientists down below. They are sharing. Mindless drones, controlled by us. The Mind, the uniting power of the Inhabitants. The controlling, dominating, tempting, perfect mind. Their mind. My mind. Our mind. We are all one now, joined together with a burning lust for power and knowledge. I feel like a god. I’m both imprisoned and free all at the same time, and I love it. Now, there’s no turning back.

The girl I rescued the other day seems to be doing better, although she still cries a lot and prefers to be alone. Her name is Diana, and she said she used to be a close friend of the big guy himself, Andreas. She’s in her early twenties, with shoulder-length light brown hair and brown eyes. The only physical evidence that she’s been hurt is the 10 round scabs over the holes from whatever creature was holding her on the crown of her head. The wounds are deep, but somehow they aren’t affecting her brain. She says they still hurt, but other than that there’s no difference in the way she functions, which is strange since the punctures go all the way to her brain. Now, I’ve never actually entered an activation room to “rescue” someone. Normally, they show up with Bridget or Jaymie. This time, I was chosen for rescue since we knew the location. Jaymie had gotten a reading and projected it onto our big computer, which had the information for date and time, as well as location. Of course, they chose me because I can bilocate. They could have sent Cecilia, but none of us can trust her. Not yet, at least. She seems nice, but apparently her violence comes in waves and she doesn’t know what’s happening, and someone ends up dead. It’s only happened twice, but we can’t risk any incidents. Plus, she’s not experienced enough with her teleportation. Honestly, I was not expecting anything of what I saw in that room. I was terrified out of my mind, but somehow I managed to rescue her. I hope I never have to see those awful creatures ever again, but my gut tells me that I will at some point in time if we’re going to try and shut down the T.R.I.A.L.s.

I still haven’t told anyone what I saw in that room. Maybe they’d think I was crazy. I know Diana saw them too, but she hasn’t said a word to anyone. I don’t know if I should say anything, but something is telling me I should. But how do I explain something like that? I told everyone that the holes in her head were from tubes, which is a pretty stupid explanation, but I guess it worked because no one’s asked me yet. Maybe it’s because I’m avoiding everyone. Since the rescue, I just can’t be around people as much. I don’t think I’ll ever be the same after what I saw. The creatures, the frozen figure of the woman on the operating table, paralyzed, with eyes filled with fear. The screaming when we got back to the warehouse. Oh, the screaming. The crying, the rocking back and forth… I just can’t handle stuff like that. I hate seeing people get hurt. So here I am, sitting at the base of the willow tree on the far edge of the fenced in junkyard, trying to calm my nerves. Suddenly, I hear the sound of twigs breaking underfoot coming from behind the tree and I stand up to look around. As soon as I turn towards the sound, pain rips through my abdomen just to the left of my bellybutton and I feel cold, hard steel pressing against my insides. I never even saw the knife. I look up and see a masked face, mouth and nose covered by a blue and black paisley bandanna. The person is wearing black ski goggles, and has the hood of their black sweatshirt up and over their head.

Trying to ignore the excruciating pain in my stomach, I swing my hand up in a crescent motion, attempting to knifehand this guy’s throat, but he ducks and I miss. As he dodges my hand though, he twists the knife in my gut and I let out a choked sob as his other hand swings around me as if he were giving me a hug - but with a knife in hand. The scraping impact of the thick blade hitting my rib slightly before puncturing my left lung is sickening, and I gag on impulse. A pained groan escapes my throat as I taste the bitter tang of blood rising up in my throat. My attacker twists the knife and I grit my teeth as the corners of my mouth begin to feel wet with blood. My entire body shudders and I know I have to fight back or I’m going to die. I’m in too much pain to scream, with the knife stuck in my lung and blood rising in my throat. So in one last feeble attempt to fight back, I snap my knee upwards, hitting the guy just below the abs… where I know it’s gonna hurt. I hit hard, which jars the knife in my gut even more, but I don’t care. I refuse to die like this.

The man lets go of the knives just long enough for me to stagger backwards and distance myself from him. I am so tempted to pull the knives out of my abdomen and back, but I know that if I do, I’ll bleed to death. Instead, I use what’s left of my energy to burst forward and slam the guy against the tree while he’s still unarmed. I want to know who this is. He is caught off guard by my assertiveness and energy, and I use his surprise to grab his bandanna and rip it off his face before slamming his head against the tree to try and break the buckle on the back of his ski goggles. Hopefully they have the right kind of buckle, or this isn’t gonna work. To my surprise, it does. I grab the loose goggles and pull them off his face, and freeze when I see the face under the mask. It’s Adam, the one I captured and we all ruled out as a friend. However, he looks different. His eyes are blank, white and seemingly lifeless. His irises aren’t visible, and he’s smiling maniacally. I grab his head again and slam it against the tree and his eyes roll back into place, so that I can see the color of his irises. “You’ll never learn not to trust strangers, will you? Some people just never learn. Have fun dying,” he says before ripping away from my grasp and sprinting away to where his gorgeous green Lamborghini is waiting to take him away, far out of our reach.

Then, my energy finally begins to collapse along with my punctured lung. I can feel the warm blood running down my chin from the corners of my mouth as it turns cold in the winter air. I look down at my stomach, which is completely blood-soaked. There’s no way I can get back in time. What am I gonna do? I can’t die. Not yet. I’m only 15. I’ll be 16 in a few months. I haven’t lived long enough to be satisfied. It’s not that I’m scared of death, but I know it’s not my time. It can’t be. My knees crumple beneath me and I collapse onto the hard ground as I hear the roaring of a powerful engine as Adam makes his retreat.  “No, no no,” I whisper as I try to get up. Just then, I remember the radio on my hip. Why didn’t I think of this before? I’m an idiot sometimes. I reach down and grab the radio, pressing the call button before I’ve even got it close to my mouth. “Far side of the yard by the willow tree, I’ve got a knife in my lung and another in my gut. Send help, please…” I choke on the blood in my throat as I say the last words. My eyes sting with tears and I’m shuddering violently from the shock, pain, and cold air. I hear the muffled sound of a reply on the radio, but I have no energy left to reply. I need to hold onto precious life for as long as possible. I can’t give up now. Everything around me is blurry even the pain seems to be fading as my vision begins to give out. My lungs, especially the collapsed one, are beginning to fill with blood. My nose and my mouth are full of the crimson liquid. My breath catches and I begin to cough, racking my entire torso with pain as blood sprays from my mouth onto the cold ground beneath me. I’ve given up trying to wipe the blood from my mouth, there’s too much. Please, Lord… let me live. I need to live.

My vision is black around the edges and I can hardly make out the figures running toward me. There’s shouting, so much shouting. Pain, intense pain… and the blood. As they lift me up from the ground, I look down at the pool of blood I’d been laying in. A bright red pool of precious life, drained from my delicate body, leaving my veins empty. I shouldn’t still be alive, but I am. Somehow, I’m alive, and I need to keep holding on. My breaths are getting shallow and blood is still filling my throat, forcing me to swallow half of it and cough up the rest. Finally, my vision is gone and I let my eyes close. “Come on, you’re gonna make it. Just keep holding on,” a female voice says softly, and I smile a little. I don’t know who it is, but it sure is encouraging. Then, my hearing begins to fade as the light shining through my eyelids fades to a solid black and I slip into unconsciousness.

When I open my eyes, I’m blinded by a bright light. Am I dead? Am I in heaven? As my eyes adjust, I realize that I’m in another room, set up hospital-style. I must be in one of our rooms though, because there’s no paintings on the wall or vases of flowers on the bedside table. I reach up with my left hand to rub my eyes and I gasp as a sharp pain shoots through my chest. Dang, how did I forget that? A flood of memory rushes back and I suddenly feel an irresistible urge to cry. I almost died out there, but somehow, here I am. Very alive. I let out a shaky breath as a single tear runs down my left cheek and falls onto my arm, which is bare. I realize that I’m only in a hospital gown, a white one with tiny light blue diamonds covering it in a boring pattern. There’s an IV in my left arm, right on the inside of my elbow, as well as another one on the top of my hand held in with two thick strips of clean white medical tape. There were also a couple round temperature-sensing patches stuck onto the veins of my wrist, and 2 electrodermal activity sensors clamped onto my thumb and forefinger to measure levels of stress by how much sweat I’m giving off. Now that my senses are slowly coming back, I realize that I’m freezing and my wounds hurt more than ever. I can hardly move for fear of reopening the wounds in my abdomen and back. Even breathing is painful. Just then, the door opens and Bridget comes in with Jaymie and ...Cecilia? Why would she be here? Jaymie comes over to the bedside and looks at the reading on the monitor measuring my stress levels and frowns. “Thought so,” she says calmly, before stepping aside. Bridget and Cecilia step up to take her place, and Cecilia says “I think I might be able to help.”

Then, I remember how she had supposedly taken away Deadshot’s pain when he’d gotten shot. Maybe she was going to do the same for me? “This is going to hurt for a second because I have to put my hands on the wounds, okay?” She says, and I nod. “It’ll be worth it,” I say weakly. Suddenly, I have a tiny realization that makes me hope to the heavens above that she can heal through a hospital gown because if she can’t, this could get real awkward when she has to heal the wound in my abs. I mean, it’s not like I’m exactly used to having a girl’s hand on my abs. That would just be insanely weird. As she reaches towards me, I tense up and brace myself, but she’s gentle. She slides her hand around my left side so her palm is resting over the wound in my ribs and she gently presses on it, and I clench my teeth. It hurts, but I really don’t want either of them to notice. Why couldn’t there be like a guy with healing powers or something? Although… I’m not exactly sure if that would be less awkward. Maybe it would be more awkward. I don’t know. Whatever, it seems to be working, because I can feel the pain dulling. Cecilia’s eyes are glowing a really pretty green, and she looks as if her veins are running green as well. It’s a shiny, gemlike green, and I wonder where it comes from. It’s really fascinating.

After she’s done with the wound on my back, she pulls her hand away and the green light in her eyes fades a bit. Then, she reaches down and places her hand gently on my abdomen over the wound next to my bellybutton and I tense again, realizing I was holding my breath and I accidentally gasp, which makes Cecilia start snorting with laughter that she apparently can’t hold back and I can feel my face getting hot as blood rushes into my cheeks turning them red. She smirks when she’s finished laughing and I want to disappear. “Nice abs,” she says before bursting into a fit of laughter that even Bridget can’t help but join in with the hilarity of the situation. I even begin to laugh, which ends up making me cough up blood because apparently her powers only took away the pain but not the actual wound itself. After we’re all done laughing, Bridget hands me a kleenex and I wipe the blood from the corners of my mouth. Awkward. Cecilia places her hand on the wound again and I can tell she’s trying to hold back laughter. She presses down again slightly, and her eyes begin to glow emerald again as power surges through her body and flows from her palm into my wound, numbing the pain.

Finally, it’s all over and I can’t even tell that I was stabbed just hours ago. I’m not sure that’s exactly a good thing, since I’ll be tempted to overdo it and they’ll end up becoming broken scabs, open wounds again. Jaymie and Bridget decided that I’m not allowed to walk around, but I won’t be completely confined to the bed - I will be allowed to transport myself using a power-operated wheelchair. It’s not exactly fun-sounding, but it sure is better than laying in a boring hospital bed all day with nothing to do except play lonely games of solitaire and listen to music. Except that there’s no radio in the room. No TV either. Yeah, I think I’d prefer the wheelchair. I’ll think of it as a go-kart that has a top speed of 5 mph. Jaymie estimated that I’d need at least 6 weeks of recovery time, but Cecilia insisted that she could probably speed up the healing process, although I’m not sure I want her to. After her taking away my pain today, she seems drained and a bit tired. I ask if she’s okay, and she insists that she’s fine. I don’t believe her. She and Bridget leave the room and come back a few moments later with Ben following close behind. Ben grabs the wheelchair out of the closet and unfolds it, placing it right next to my bed. Then, he motions for Bridget and Cecilia to leave the room and they obey, shutting the door behind them. “Well buddy, let’s get you outta that ugly gown, huh?” Ben says with a goofy smile and I laugh. “Sure,” I reply, and he pulls an outfit for me out of the dresser near my bed. It’s a simple outfit, just a pair of fresh jeans and a black shirt with a pair of socks. There’s also a blue hoodie, my favorite hoodie on top of the dresser. I’m guessing there’s no shoes because I’m gonna be in a wheelchair for a while, so shoes would really just be unnecessary.

Once Ben’s finished helping me get changed into a fresh, clean outfit, he helps me into the wheelchair. There’s a back brace he’s fitted into it, which will keep my wounded spot from hitting the back of the wheelchair, preventing the risk of ripping the stitches and reopening the wound. I settle into my new set of wheels and begin to experiment with the controls, which are fairly easy, since this type of wheelchair is mostly used by elderly people. At least it doesn’t have a shopping basket on the front - that would be weird. And I’d get claustrophobic. After Ben tidies up the room a bit, we head out for the main room. When we get there, the questions begin. Who was it? Why’d they do it? How do you feel? Was it scary? When I tell them it was Adam, they only look surprised for a brief moment. Then Bridget speaks up. “He had gone missing about 10 minutes before we got your call on the radio, but we hadn’t really put the puzzle together yet,” She says with a frown. “But why? Why would he kill you?” “I don’t know,” I say, trying to recall the whole event. “Did he say anything to you? Did he look drunk or anything like that?” “Actually, I do remember his eyes being rolled back into his head for a while, so that I could only see the whites of his eyes,” I say with a pause, and Bridget nods her head at me, urging me to continue. “When he ran off leaving me for dead, he said something about never trusting strangers. And he said something about how some people never learn, and I’m not sure what he meant by that,” I say, lowering my eyes. “I wonder what provoked him,” Bridget says, and suddenly she seems to be piecing things together in her head. Her eyes light up and she snaps her fingers on her left hand, sending a flurry of sparks around.

“He said he was from the T.R.I.A.L.s - you made that rescue mission just a few days ago! I wonder if that could be linked to your attack?” She says quickly, her eyes beginning to glow with fire and ice as they usually do when she gets excited. “Was there anything… unusual about the activation? Something that they may not have wanted you to see?” She asks, looking me dead in the eyes. I freeze. Should I tell her? I should. I swallow my fear and look away for a second. “There were creatures, tall and hooded in black cloaks. They weren’t human, I don’t know what they were. They were surrounding Diana’s bed, 5 of them - and the one at her head had its fingers stuck deep in her skull, pulsing some sort of energy. They were terrifying, and made the most awful noises when I took Diana from them,” I say with a shudder, and Bridget and the others stare at me in shock. The only person who doesn’t look surprised is Diana, who stands silently in the back, apart from the others, staring at the floor below her. I see a single glistening tear run down her cheek and off her nose onto the floor. “They’re in my head still, Jacob,” she says, so that it is barely audible. Everyone looks at her. “What do you mean?” I ask solemnly.

“When you pulled me away, the thing screamed at you because you stole me. It left the tip of one of its fingers in my head, and I hear it constantly. It wants me back, and that’s all I could tell before. But now I know. It kept screaming, saying ‘he saw, he saw!’ and ‘find, find and kill, he has seen!’ and I never knew what to think of it all before but now it makes sense. Jacob, you saw them and now they’re coming for you. They want you dead. You weren’t supposed to see. Now, they’re in my mind. They fill my thoughts every day, but they can’t access my thoughts. I believe the creatures - The Inhabitants - left a piece of themselves behind in my body to torment me, to break me. Maybe even to finish stealing my memory. Now I know, and you need to remove the fingertip from my head or I am going to lose my memory. Also, Jacob - they know you’re alive. I’ve heard their thoughts. They want to track you down and kill you, and I’m sure they won’t hesitate to kill all of us once they find out that we all know of their existence. We need to move, and fast. They’re coming,” She says as she walks toward me, and her eyes roll back into her head exactly like Adam’s had, before she collapses on the ground before me.

The final chord of Hometown rings out as Tyler Joseph’s fingers rest on the shiny piano keys and the crowd seems to be holding its breath. I smile as the blissful silence seems to resonate in my ears, and the melody of the song runs through my head like lightning, electrifying and igniting every nerve in my body. I’m already 25 years old and this is my first Twenty One Pilots concert ever, and I couldn’t imagine anything better than right here and right now. I wish this amazing moment would never have to come to an end. Just then, I’m jolted back to reality by the buzz of my phone in the back pocket of my black jeans. Well, I guess every good moment has to end eventually. I frown as I pull the phone out of the pocket and look at the caller ID. It’s Adam. “Hey, can I call you back? I’m at a Twenty One Pilots concert,” I say quickly, hoping that his call isn’t for anything too important. “Oh,” comes the soft reply, although I can tell he’s trying really hard to keep his voice from sounding annoyed. “Why? Is something wrong?” “Yeah, kind of. I just killed someone and I need a lift outta here, and fast. I’m near Chicago, in Naperville,” “Okay, but can you wait until tomorrow? I’m in Los Angeles and I can take the Jet out of the LAX airport late tonight after the concert is over,” I reply hopefully. “Okay, should I just hang out at Chicago O’Hare then in the meantime? I should be able to avoid any incidents, since there’s too many people around for them to locate me there,” he replies, and we agree to meeting there as soon as possible. After hanging up, I slip the phone back into my pocket and straighten the collar on my black leather jacket as the beat of Doubt hits, vibrating the ground and filling my entire being. With a deep breath and a satisfied smile, I lose myself to the pounding of the music in my ears.

When the concert is finally over, I head to the airport and board my Boeing 747-8 V.I.P. Private Jet to head to Chicago where Adam will be waiting for me. The 4 hour flight should be a breeze, despite my lack of a copilot. I had one up until she got taken by the T.R.I.A.L.s as a scientist. I guess they saw her potential and thought she’d make a good scientist. It’s already dark when I take off, but the sky is completely clear, giving me a gorgeous view of the stars. There’s some slight train-track turbulence as I go over the Dakotas, but nothing terrible. Thank heaven this flight is nothing like my flight from Africa to Ireland. That trip was a total nightmare - wind, rain, lightning… yeah, not ideal flight conditions.

The remainder of the 4 hour flight is a breeze, and I land safely in Chicago at 5:00 AM CST. Adam is waiting for me at the gate, and I run up to him and give him a big hug. Yeah, he hasn’t been gone long, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss him. He hugs me back, but he’s tense. I pull away from the hug and look into his eyes. “You okay?” I ask, frowning a little. “I’ll be fine,” he says with a shrug. I nod and we head back to the plane in silence. The flight to Tulsa goes smoothly, and he explains what happened during his stay there. Just as we are landing, I realize a horrible mistake on Adam’s part. “Uh, Adam?” “Yeah?” “You shouldn’t have left,” “Why?” “They’ll know it was you,” “How? Jacob’s dead,” “Yeah, but what would you think if one of your friends was found stabbed to death and one of your recent recruits went missing, hmm?” “Crud,” Adam hisses, as he stands up from his comfortable spot in the copilot’s chair. “Moron, idiot, dimwit,” he continues, as he storms out of the cockpit. “Good going, Dumbo. They know where the T.R.I.A.L.s are based, and they know that you come from here, which means that they’ll know exactly where to find you,” I say, crossing my arms. “Yeah, which means that the entire operation needs to move, and fast. If they uncover us, we’re dead. Literally,” Adam replies, suddenly looking worried and exhausted. “Okay, well, you can take care of that later. But first, we are going to chillax at Andolini’s Pizzeria and have some normal conversation, okay?” I suggest with a smile. Adam looks up and a smile spreads across his face. “Did you say… Pizza?”

Next thing I know, we’re sitting at a table in the corner of Andolini’s enjoying a 14 inch S.P.Q.R. pizza. Adam’s favorite. Honestly, I prefer simple sausage pizza, but I let him have his pick this time. Honestly though, I’m starving, so I eat anyway. When we’re both finished, I pull out my sketchbook. Adam’s always loved looking over my work, and I like his appreciation for art. My art in particular. After going through my sketchbook, we shift to another popular topic between us - gaming. Computer games, videogames, board games, card games, you name it. After a long discussion, we decide to head back to my house for some games, popcorn, and soda. We pay for our meal and head back out into the street to catch a taxi, and in less than 5 minutes we are back at my apartment. Once we’re all finished making popcorn and I’ve gotten the soda from the outside porch, we sit down for a game of Bix. We sit cross-legged across from each other about 5 feet apart, and we each have a book. I’ve got Robinson Crusoe and Adam has Treasure Island. I’ve got a white ping pong ball, which I fling at his face. He reacts quickly, smacking the ball back at me, and I hit it back to him with my book. It’s a stupid game, but it’s fun. The objective of the game is to keep the ball from hitting the floor for as long as possible, and sometimes we play by the rule of no smiling or laughing. I’m really good at it.

After playing the game for another 2 hours with only one 30 minute break for popcorn and soda, Adam and I settle down for a movie. Adam has Root Beer, and I have cranberry juice because I don’t like soda. According to Adam, that makes me a boring person. We decide to watch The Princess Bride, which is one of my favorites. By the time the movie is over, it’s already 3:47 AM. We say our goodbyes, and I hug him, and he walks out the door. I wonder what’s going to happen with the T.R.I.A.L.s, after what happened earlier. Maybe they’ll have to move. Or maybe they’ll send out a squad to take out the rest of the rogues. I don’t know, but I sure hope Adam can take a break after all this. I’m worried about him, he’s never the same after his missions. Oh well, I guess I’ll get news in the morning. For now, I better get some sleep - I have a feeling the next few days are gonna take a big toll on me. On us. I stand up from my cozy spot on the couch and head to my bedroom, where I change into my fleece pajamas and don my pink bathrobe that I’ve had since I was a teenager. I don’t know why, but I can’t seem to sleep without it on. It’s just super comfortable. It’s not long before my eyelids begin to feel heavy, and I drift into a dreamless sleep.

I awake to the sound of my ringtone, which is a loop of Tyler Joseph yelling “this is SICK!” Honestly, that’s kind of an interesting way to wake up. Maybe a bit… startling. I roll over and pick up my phone, on which the screen shows that Adam is calling. “What’s up?” I say quickly, answering his call. “I spoke to the boss about what happened. I really wish I’d thought out my plans better, Julia. The entire operation needs to move - and the big guy wants us overseas in a completely new facility by next week. I don’t know how on earth he’s planning on pulling this off without government interference, but apparently he has seven backup locations lined up for if anything were to go wrong, as it did the other day. We’re trying to decide whether to move to the Bahamas or to New Zealand. I voted New Zealand because of Lord of the Rings, but that’s a bit off topic,” he says, and I cut him off with a chuckle. “Of course, of course,” I say, trying to sound serious. “Oh, shush,” Adam says, trying to sound irritated. “Anyway, as I was saying, the T.R.I.A.L.s are moving as soon as possible and I need to know if you can fly a helicopter,” He says, and I frown. “Of course I can fly a helicopter, why?” “Because the whole commercial airline thing is too dangerous now. You can keep the private jet but you need to give up your commercial pilot’s license. Okay?” “But Adam, that’s how I make a living!” “Half of your pay comes from Andreas, Rhubarb,” I smile at his use of my childhood nickname. I would get called Rhubarb if I was being crabby or sassy. “Okay, fine. But only if I get to meet your boss and stuff, because I know Andreas isn’t the big boss anymore like we originally thought.” “I’ll try, but you better get packing. I’ll let you know where we’re going when the location is finalized, okay?” “Alrighty, stay safe,” I say, and we hang up. Well, here goes again. Another crazy trip across the world. Woohoo.

I sit with my back to the wall, watching everyone in the big main room hurry around like a bunch of busy ants as I think about everything that’s been going on lately. It’s been a few days since Jacob got stabbed and Adam ran away like a coward, and things have been going crazy around here. All this stuff about creepy hooded things and a magical fingertip in Diana’s head… it’s like we’re suddenly in a movie - but there’s no green screens and fake monster props and faux blood. This is real, and it’s more terrifying than ever. Bridget and the others have been going into warrior mode, and I’ve been spending countless hours in the training gym with Slade. I used to take martial arts, so there are a few things I already know. However, I’m also being trained in weapons and various kinds of combat. I’m already really good with a gun, so we’ve been focusing more on throwing knives and using a bow. I’m really bad at the whole bow and arrow thing. I mean, wouldn’t a gun just be easier?  Whatever, I guess this will all do me good at some point in time. The coolest thing I’ve been working on is using teleportation to my advantage. I’ve been practicing since I got here a couple weeks ago, and it’s almost effortless now. I barely have to think it out, it’s become almost an instinct, kind of like when you tell your brain to move your arm. Easy as pie. I think the hardest thing I’ve had to here is probably gymnastic combat. I use teleportation for that, but it’s difficult when you teleport in the middle of a backflip off of a table. I’ve hit my head more times than I’d like to admit.

Aside from that, everyone else is preparing for a move, which doesn’t surprise me after Diana told us that “they” were coming for Jacob and her - right before she fainted in front of everyone and scared the living daylights out of Jacob. For real, he had a panic attack so bad that Ben had to take him out of the room so the rest of us could focus on what we’d just heard. Later, Jacob told us that it was only the eyes that had freaked him out, and that he thought that she was going to try and kill him too. I guess I can’t really blame him, but it still was a bit over-dramatic. Lately, Jacob and Ben have been hanging out with Deadshot so that Ben can keep a constant close eye on him while Jacob rests and continues to heal. Deadshot has healed quite fast from his bullet wounds, although he’s definitely had help from Jaymie’s medicine and medical knowledge and my weird healing powers. Although, I’m not sure if my powers sped up the healing process or simply took away his pain to make it seem like he’s healing faster. Either way, he’s gotten better to the point where he and Jacob are able to play basketball in the gym together in the afternoon. Jacob moves around using his wheelchair and Bridget has yelled at him countless times to stop using his arms to throw the ball so much since his back could rip open again. He doesn’t seem to be too concerned though, because he never listens to her.

Jaymie and Bridget are always together, making plans for moving the base and staying hidden. Jaymie keeps us updated on stuff going on with the T.R.I.A.L.s, and it’s nice to have a human internet source. She and Bridget rarely talk to me, and I find myself often either working in the training gym with Slade or hanging out with Diana, who is still having a hard time opening up about everything she’s been through. Occasionally, I’ll get in on a basketball game or some sort of card game with Ben, Jacob, and Deadshot. However, I still don’t feel right here. I haven’t been able to talk to anyone long enough to feel like I have a connection with them, and I constantly feel like I’m being watched as if I were a time bomb with an invisible timer. It’s sort of frustrating, because I really want to know more about why I’m here and who is in charge of those Trial things that are ruining our lives. Seriously, if I ever get my hands on one of the guys running that operation, they’ll regret ever setting foot on this earth. Suddenly, my thoughts are interrupted as Bridget hits me square in the face with a hard-packed snowball.

“For heaven’s sake, slush face! Is there anything more creative that you can think up to get my attention? Jeez!” I say with a frown and Bridget just laughs. “Okay then, sunshine. Would you rather I blast your hair off with a fireball?” I cross my arms and roll my eyes. “Whatever, just please quit it with the snowballs. Unless you can find me some waterproof mascara, find something a little less - messy - to get my attention,” I say as I use my thumbs to wipe underneath my eyes in a feeble attempt to rescue my face from getting all smeared with runaway makeup. Bridget just smirks and turns away “Follow me, we’re gonna need you for something.” I follow her into Deadshot’s room, where the guys are sitting down to a card game. Ben is the first to look up. “Hey girls! Wanna join? We’ve got room for a couple more,” he says with a big smile, and I can’t help but smile back. Even though I don’t know him very well, I can easily say that he would be like an awesome older brother. Like, he’s pretty much the big bro around here for everyone, even Deadshot. Bridget declines the invitation to the card game however, which is a bit of a disappointment to me. “Slade, Jaymie wants to talk to you about weapons. Jacob, you can come with Cecilia and me,” She says quickly, and the boys follow us out of the room without a question. Ben looks a bit disappointed that the card game has been interrupted, and Deadshot quickly offers to play a one-on-one game of war. At least we’re not leaving Ben completely alone.

As soon as we’re back in the hallway, Slade sprints to the computer room where Jaymie awaits him and Jacob trails behind me and Bridget in his electric wheelchair. I keep having to resist the urge to tease him about it, but I know I better not because it’s already hard enough for him to have to sit around all day. Bridget leads us to the training gym, which surprises me. I’m 99% sure that Jacob isn’t ready to get up and practice, so why’d she bring us here? I guess I’ll find out soon, if my questioning brain can shut up long enough. Finally, Bridget speaks up. “Alright, you two. Here’s the deal - you’re my only people who can transport yourselves anywhere you want in a split second, and even though your methods are different, they’re close enough for me. I want you two to train together from now on, even though Jacob, you can’t get out of that wheelchair until I say so. Jaymie and I have decided that partnering people up would be a good idea, and we could definitely use your unique transportation powers. I’ve paired up Slade and Deadshot already, and Ben will be working with Diana, since we’re not sure what she can do yet. I’ll be working with Jaymie, in case you haven’t already figured that out. Any questions?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jacob says, and Bridget raises an eyebrow. “Do I have to be partnered up with a girl? No offense,” he says quickly, shooting me a worried glance. I smile. “No worries,” I whisper, just loud enough that he can hear me. Bridget folds her arms and smirks. “Really? That’s the best you can think of? And yes, you two will be best off working together as a team because you’ve got the most similar powers or whatever. Sorry, pal,” She finishes, leaving the decision pretty finalized. Jacob purses his lips and nods, and Bridget begins to walk towards the door. “Hey, where are you going? Aren’t you gonna give us instructions or something?” I say, and she doesn’t even turn around. “Figure it out yourself, you weren’t put through the trials because you’re dumb - you’re both smart, like the rest of us. Use that,” she says, as she walks out of the room. The door swings shut behind her, leaving us in awkward silence. “Uh, so….” I begin, but he’s already getting up out the wheelchair. “What are you doing?” I ask, frowning. “She isn’t coming back for a while, so I’m gonna get outta this stupid chair for a while and stretch my legs,” he says, as he walks slowly towards the closet where we keep gym equipment. He opens the door and grabs a basketball, which is no surprise to me. “Catch!” He calls from across the room as he throws it towards me. I jump forward to catch it, but suddenly, he’s in front of me and catches it first. “Seriously?” I say with a laugh as I realize he’s using bilocation. “Well, she told us to practice, so this counts, right? I mean, we are using our powers or whatever you wanna call ‘em!” He says with a smirk, dissolving into his “anchor,” which is what he calls his stationary body - the one that stays in place while his bilocating self goes elsewhere. It’s confusing. I shrug in reply, before willing myself to teleport across the room towards Jacob. The look of surprise on his face when I appear in front of him and grab the basketball is priceless.

The next half hour is a blur of teleportation and bilocation and running into eachother when we screw up where we’re trying to go. I’ve gotten significantly faster with my teleportation skills though. Finally, Bridget comes back and yells at Jacob for getting out of his wheelchair as I just stand back and laugh. I think I annoy Bridget sometimes. After they’re done arguing, Bridget finally tells us the plans for relocation of our base. She and Jaymie have decided on a small, abandoned island off the coast of Japan called Hashima Island. According to Bridget’s research, it used to be a coal mine, which is pretty cool. Apparently, we’re going to be buying the island under a fake name, which I point out is illegal, and Bridget just laughs and says, “what isn’t illegal right now? I mean, look around you!” I guess I can’t disagree with that. Nothing is right anymore, not with weird creatures secretly possessing and empowering innocent people with abilities that are not humanly possible. Not with memories being stolen and minds being manipulated. All that I can hold onto now is my knowledge and firm belief that there’s a powerful God up there, and as long as I keep my faith in Him, I should be all right. I’m glad I made it to confession last week, because the whole murder thing has been haunting me. I can still feel the warm blood of the woman I stabbed running down my fist as I pressed my knife into her throat. I can still hear the crunching glass and metal when I jumped through the windshield of that blue and white pickup and I can feel the man’s neck snapping in my hands. It’s been at least 3 weeks now, but the memories are fresh in my mind. I can’t take the guilt as well as I’d like to. I wonder what it was like for the priest I confessed my sins to, hearing about the murder of two innocent people and not being able to turn me in for my awful crimes.

After a few minutes of Bridget finishing explaining, she and Jacob leave the room and I find myself alone in the big training gym. I’ve come to love this place, since I can let out my anger on the various punching bags hanging from the ceiling without anyone judging me. To them, it’s just me training for hand-to-hand combat. To me, it’s being free from myself and my emotions. After I can tell that Bridget and Jacob are out of hearing distance and the door is sealed shut, I break into a run towards a punching bag hanging on the far side of the room, letting out a savage yell. As soon as I get close enough, I leap into the air and plant a solid flying sidekick on the leathery surface of the huge sandbag. The bag swings away and I have to drop and roll to avoid getting hit by it as it swings back into place. The next few seconds are a blur of movement as I pummel the heavy red bag hanging from the ceiling on a thick chain. I let out my built up emotions in a flurry of fast-paced kicks and punches, which works to calm my nerves. I never tell anyone how I feel, and everyone seems to distance themselves from me. It hurts, but I can’t blame them. I mean, who would trust an unpredictable murderer?

I slam my shoulder into the punching bag and as it slides around my body, I elbow it as hard as I can, sending it swinging again. It’s not like I wanted any of this. I dodge the bag as it swings back towards me before I plant a tornado kick on its smooth surface. Ever since I got here, everything has been going haywire. Deadshot showing up with Adam on his tail, Diana’s rescue, Adam’s attempt to stab Jacob to death… It’s all too much for me. I don’t do well under pressure, and I know these people are here to protect me and keep anything bad from happening, but none of it is really helping. I’ve thought about leaving before, but I’m not sure what I would do if I was caught alone by one of the people who seems to have their hearts set on killing us. Although, in the very beginning, those Agent guys didn’t seem to want me dead. If they’d really wanted to kill me, wouldn’t they have killed me before I even had the chance to get a glimpse of their sorry faces? I don’t know. Nothing makes sense, and I wish I could get rid of my powers. They’re cool, but I’m pretty sure that everything would be better off if I didn’t have them. I sigh and grab the punching bag, steadying it. I’m drained of energy, and what’s worse is that I keep lying about my healing powers. I pretend they’re effortless, but in reality, they drain my energy depending on the size of the wound I have to care for. I’ve been losing sleep, too. There’s too much to think about.

Suddenly, I sense someone watching me and I spin around. To my surprise, Deadshot is standing by the doorway with crossed arms. He’s finally been dressing like a normal human being lately, and today he’s wearing red skinny jeans with a black and red flannel shirt that’s half tucked in at the waist. His sleeves are rolled up to just past the elbow, and his brown hair is ruffled in the front so it’s slightly curly. His eyepatch is still a plain, leathery black, but it still looks boss. He has the most devilish smirk on his face and I don’t know whether to laugh, call for help, or ask him what he’s doing here and why he was watching me. I decide to ask him why he’s watching me, but the question doesn’t come out quite as I intended it to. “What are you looking at, creep?” I flinch at myself and mentally facepalm. “I mean… I’m sorry. You’re not a creep, I mean, you... you’re cute... Wait, what?” I can feel my face reddening and I look at my feet. “Sorry, I’ll stop now,” I say, biting my lip to hold back tears or laughter, although I’m not exactly sure which one. Deadshot just laughs, which is a bit unnerving, since I don’t know if it’s a good laugh or a scornful one. “It’s fine, call me what you want. I mean, I don’t exactly have a name, do I?” He says and I look up too see him smile. I shrug, and he starts walking closer. “So…” I say, trying to break the silence.

He stops a few feet away from me and frowns, scanning my face. “What the heck?” I say quickly, taking a few steps backwards. He laughs again, not taking his eyes off me. I feel like he’s staring right through me and I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with that. “Sorry, just give me a minute,” he says softly and I fold my arms. “Why, so that you can study my weird face for another 30 seconds? I don’t think so,” I say indignantly as I step backwards once again. “Hey, who said your face is weird? Honestly, you’ve got a nice face to study,” he says quickly, his cheeks beginning to turn slightly red. I’m about to thank him, but he continues talking. “However, that’s not exactly the reason for my staring at you. I’m looking for your tracker,” he finishes, as he begins to walk slowly around me, scanning my face and neck. At one point, he reaches out towards the hair resting on the back of my neck and I tense up, causing him to pause and pull his hand away before it reaches me. “Sorry, could you please hold your hair up for me? I need to see if they planted the tracker in your neck. No two people have a tracker in the same spot,” he says, and I nod before reaching back to pull my hair up and away from my neck. Deadshot thanks me before walking back around me, so I’ve got my back facing him. He’s only behind me for a few seconds, and when he’s standing in front of me again, he nods.

“All right, I found it. Now all there’s left to do is take it out. Except - we can’t put you to sleep for it or you might die, and I can already tell you it’s gonna be pretty dang painful. Also, unless Jaymie knows how to remove an arterial or spinal clamp, which is how they keep the tracking device irremovable, I will have to do all the operations myself.” He says, his face hardening. “And why are you suddenly so concerned about this?” I ask, letting concern seep into my tone. “Because if we don’t, they will get here before we know it and wipe us out. They already know our exact location along with every other location you guys have ever been since your activations. If we want to relocate out without them tracking our every move, we need to rid ourselves of the trackers or we’re dead meat.” “Okay, well I guess we gotta do what we gotta do. But - one random question - how does the tracker work for Jacob if he can be two places at once?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. “Because he has an anchor, a base body. When he does his little magic trick, most of him remains where he was when he started. His other body is really only half there, even though you can fully see him and he’s physically there. It’s hard to explain, but the best I can tell you is that the tracker only stays with his base, his anchor body. That’s why no one saw him come to the activation room when he rescued Diana. Make sense?” He says, looking hopeful. “Nope, but okay. Let’s do this thing,” I say, and we head outside into the hallway to tell the others. I really hope Deadshot knows what he’s doing, or we’re dead. So, so, so very dead.

My head smacks the concrete wall with a sickening thud as my attacker slams his body against mine and pushes his arm to my throat. “Where are they?” He hisses through gritted teeth. I flinch for a second before letting myself go completely limp. This throws my attacker off for a second, and he loosens his grip on me, giving me just enough time to knee him in the groin and smack his ears with my open palms. He stumbles backward and I plant a firm front kick on his chest, causing him to slam into the opposite wall on the far side of the alley. I look towards the dead end to my right, where Raines is lying unconscious on a pile of black garbage bags. Great, just great. As soon as I turn around, I realize I’m alone in the dark alley. Or not. I shudder. I’m not sure what weird powers these guys have, but I know they’re rogues and that never turns out well. Suddenly, a figure seems to emerge out of pure shadow in front of me and I realize it’s the guy that attacked my brother. He must be able to camouflage. Fantastic. As my new opponent begins to advance towards me, I feel a sudden flow of warm, moist air hit my face and I realize with a sickening horror what my attacker’s power is. He’s invisible, and he’s standing inches away from me.

Before I know what’s happening, both of them are upon me, pinning me to the wall again. They look like brothers, my attacker being the younger one. They have the same dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. Both of them are wearing jeans and t shirts with matching college team sports jackets, so they look almost like twins. I try to draw back, but the wall behind my head prevents me from doing so. I hate being this close to people. It makes me uncomfortable. Suddenly, the older one pulls out a small, compact pocket pistol and presses it against my temple and my breath catches in my throat. “Sorry we had to ask you the hard way,” the younger one snarls, “but I will ask you one more time. Where are they?” I grit my teeth and keep my mouth shut, keeping steady, burning eye contact with him. “Okay then, I’ll give you 10 seconds to tell us or he’ll pull the trigger,” the younger one says, his voice laced with poison. I sigh. Not much use resisting now. He’s already at 3 seconds and still counting. “Okay, fine,” I say, and he stops at 5 seconds. Halfway to my death. Fabulous. Am I really doing the right thing? Whatever, I’m not throwing away my life just so that my brother will be tormented until he answers the question himself. “They’re in Naperville, Illinois. Outskirts of town, a huge, supposedly abandoned warehouse,” I say, rolling my eyes. The younger one smirks and nods at his older brother, who pulls the gun away from my forehead. He keeps it trained on my face though, and I’m pretty sure if I make any wrong moves, I’m dead. “Okay, now all we need you to do is-” the gun wielding brother’s words are cut off as the younger one swings his fist around in a hook punch, connecting with my upper jaw and temple on the left side of my head and my world goes black.

I wake up in the same dark alley, but by now night has completely fallen. I can barely see a few stars in the night sky past the bright lights of the city. I clench my teeth and wince as I push myself up into a sitting position, with my back against the alley wall. My head is pounding, and the place where I was punched feels swollen and hot. I look to my right, where Raines is coming to his senses and I can see a huge, dark bruise covering his left temple. Right next to the bruise, his eye is swollen halfway shut. I push myself up and walk slowly towards my older brother and help him stand, and he seems to be okay for the most part. I wouldn’t be surprised if we both had concussions though. As we make our way back to the car, I have a bad feeling that our attackers may have stolen it. As we round the corner, I breathe a sigh of relief when I see the car parked right where we left it, safe and sound. As soon as we’re back in the car, I ask Raines who the rogues were and he says he believes that they’re the Capello brothers. According to our records, they’d been hiding out in Alaska and keeping out of trouble. But now, for some reason unknown to us, they’ve decided to join the group in Illinois. Great, now we’ve got two more rogues to actually worry about. Most of the rogues lay low and stay out of trouble, but the group led by Jaymie Winter and Bridget Bartolazzi seems to be getting into all sorts of trouble, especially since they’ve refused to give up Cecilia Ellis, Trial #53. The only one that we’ve been told to take in multiple times and we can’t seem to complete even that small task.

As soon as we get back to the T.R.I.A.L. headquarters, we head to our little brother’s office to give him our report. Once we’re in the building, I take a bathroom stop to check out the bruises that are probably covering my face and neck. Looking in the mirror, I see someone who looks like they got hit with a bus. The side of my head where I got punched is swollen up pretty bad and already turning a bluish purple color, with a greenish-yellow edge. Gross. Lifting my chin, I see that my neck is also bruised as well, although not quite as badly as my head. Oh well, at least I’m alive and not gagged in the back of a truck somewhere. I turn on the faucet and splash my face with icy cold water before leaving the restroom to join Raines and head up to Andreas’s office. After a long elevator ride, we are standing in front of our brother’s door. I look at him and he purses his lips and shrugs before giving me a nod. I let out a deep breath and press the intercom button. “State your business,” Andreas says from the other side. I roll my eyes. He’s always trying to sound so professional. “Hey bro, can we come in?” I reply quickly, and I hear the tiny click of the door unlocking. Why on earth did he lock it? That’s unusual.

I open the door and we step through, Raines going first as always. When we enter the room, I frown. Something is off. I’m not sure what it is, but something feels wrong in here. Maybe it’s the absence of background music, or maybe I’m just shaken up from our unfortunate encounter with the Capello brothers. I don’t know. Suddenly, Andreas arises from his couch in front of the fireplace and turns to face us. For a second, I swear his eyes were completely white, with no iris or pupil at all. They’re normal now, but I can’t help but feel a little creeped out. He walks to his desk and sits down behind it, motioning for us to sit down on the expensively upholstered chairs on the other side. We obey and give our report, and as soon as we’re finished, I hold my breath, anticipating Andreas’s fist slamming down on top of his desk. He has anger problems sometimes. But to my surprise, he stays completely calm. This whole time, he’s been tapping his fingers on the desk and he hasn’t stopped yet, which bothers me. He’s not himself. What he does next makes me shudder. He smiles. I resist the urge to look over at Raines, who is probably just as confused as I am. What on earth is wrong with Andreas? “That’s okay, as long as we’ve taken care of Jacob Bourne, the one who interrupted Diana’s activation and took her away,” Andreas says calmly, and Raines and I look at each other in confusion.

“What do you mean? Diana’s still alive? And what do you mean by ‘taken care of’?” Raines asks quickly, his brow furrowing into a noticeable frown. “So many questions,” Andreas says, waving his hand as if batting away an invisible fly. Well, I guess he still has his fabulous self in there somewhere. “Anyway,” he continues, “Diana didn’t die. She was kidnapped when the activation was almost finished, by one of the Trial subjects, Jacob Bourne. He could bilocate, be two places at once simultaneously. Adam finished him off last week,” he finishes, leaving both me and Raines speechless. Just then, I notice Raines discreetly pull his phone out of his pocket and pull up the subject radar. After a few moments of silence, Raines straightens up and looks our brother straight in the eyes. “Jacob Bourne isn’t dead, Andreas,” Raines says, his voice blunt and straightforward. Suddenly, Andreas’s eyes go completely milky white and his face twists into a horrible snarl. Raines and I tense up, both of us ready to jump out of our chairs and run for the door. “We need to find him! He saw, he saw! He needs to die, he needs to die!” Andreas hisses, his voice sounding like layers upon layers of different voices as he rises from his chair. He sounds almost demonic, and his repetition of phrases is terrifying. Finally, Andreas’s eyes go back to normal and he sits back down as if nothing weird had happened. “Your next mission is to find him. Take Adam with you if you have to. Find him and kill him. If you fail, there will be consequences,” Andreas says calmly, leaning back in his chair. Just then, Raines lets out an almost indistinguishable gasp and Andreas notices. “What is it?” He asks, frowning. Raines’ hands are shaking, and his face is turning pale, as if he’s about to faint. “He’s not there,” Raines says his voice barely a whisper. “He’s gone!”

I slump down into a sitting position at the base of a huge walnut tree in the middle of a huge wheat field just outside the city. We’ve been running for hours, and I’m really darn glad I’m used to exerting myself when it comes to extreme conditions. Although I must say - this run was lot less terrifying than when my brother Paul and I outran a grizzly bear on the Alaskan tundra. Now that was an adventure to remember. Paul and I have been trying to lay low, staying in northern Alaska in a small cabin in the woods near a small river, but just a few days ago we were contacted by Bridget Bartolazzi. Apparently, she wants us to join her group of rebels so that we can uncover more of what’s actually going on at T.R.I.A.L. and try to shut them down. At first, I wasn’t too sure about it, but Paul had other ideas. It took a bit of convincing on his part, but I finally agreed to go along with it. After all, I’ve always liked the idea of finding out more about where I came from and how I’m able to turn invisible. Apparently, when I was ‘activated,’ I wasn’t quite what they wanted. Neither was Paul, who can camouflage. So we were told to stay away and never use our powers or else the government might try to take us. We agreed and left, but we can’t say we’ve stuck to our promise of not using our powers. I mean, who would actually be able to resist using their power of invisibility? I mean, for real. It really comes in handy when I’m hunting. Or when I’m outrunning a grizzly bear.

    I look up to where Paul is standing and he raises his eyebrows. “You about done lazing around? We gotta move,” my older brother says with a small smile. I sigh and nod, pushing myself up off the ground, using the tree for leverage. Normally, I don’t tire easily, but today I’m extra worn out for some reason. Oh well. “Can we get a car or something?” I ask, crossing my arms for effect. Paul smiles. “Yeah, if you can scrounge up some money real fast,” he says with a shrug. I roll my eyes. “Maybe Bridget can get us a ride?” I suggest, hoping that maybe I’ve beaten my older brother to coming up with a good idea. Paul gives me a look of approval and nods. “Actually, that’s an idea. Nice one,” he says with a smile as he pulls out his phone. After a few minutes of typing away, Paul says we have rides on the way. “That fast?” I ask, surprised. “Yeah, she said she’s sending two of her people who can apparently teleport and bilocate,” Paul answers. “Sweet, that should be fun,” I say, cracking a smile. Paul says that our rides should be here any minute, so we kick back and relax under the old walnut tree. I’m still sweating from our run, despite the freezing winter weather.

    Suddenly, two people appear out of nowhere. One girl and one guy, both with brown hair and brown eyes, about the same height and age. I’m guessing they’re somewhere around my age, probably a bit younger than me. The guy steps forward first and introduces himself. “Hi, I’m Jacob Bourne, and I’m here to get you guys back to our base,” he says proudly, and I laugh. He reminds me of myself, but shorter and totally different looking. The girl frowns and steps forward, playfully pushing Jacob aside. “Excuse me, but I’ll be helping this dork get you guys somewhere safe,” she says, giving him a mock angry sideways glance and crossing her arms. “My name’s Cecilia Ellis, but you can call me The Queen,” she finishes, giving us a goofy smile. I have a feeling I’m either gonna end up thinking she’s really cool or completely annoying. “Nice to meet you,” Paul says, stepping forward to shake hands with the new kids, and I follow suit. As soon as we’re done with introductions, Jacob explains how we’re gonna go about teleporting and bilocating ourselves all the way to Naperville. I can already tell that this is going to get awkward real fast. In order to get us back to their base, they’ll have to either be holding onto us or we’ll have to be holding them. Now, Jacob and Cecilia are about five-foot-five or five-foot-six and Paul and I are both well over six feet tall. I really hope I don’t get stuck with the girl. That would be way too awkward.

    A wave of relief washes over me when Jacob offers to take me. I wiggle my eyebrows at Paul, who is now stuck with Cecilia. He just shrugs and smiles. “Alright, so this could be awkward for a while, since I don’t think I’ll be taking you back in handcuffs, which means that I can’t just hold on to the metal, which would keep the electric pulse running and bring you with me, if that makes any sense,” Jacob says quickly. “Not following you, bro. Speak English, please,” I reply with a laugh, and he smiles. “What I mean is that you’re gonna have to give me a big hug,” Jacob says, hesitating before the last few words. I’m a bit at a loss for words. “Okay, let’s just hurry up and get this over with,” I say with a laugh, and Jacob steps forward. I look over at Paul, who is wrapping his arms around Cecilia and suddenly wonder if it would have been less awkward to hold onto the girl instead, but it’s too late. Jacob grabs me in a big hug and I swear I hear him hiss “here goes nothing,” before we’re both whisked out of space and time. This is absolutely bizarre. It’s like the world doesn’t exist around us. Which is kinda weird, but kinda cool at the same time. Although, I still wish that maybe I’d gotten the girl instead. This is still a bit awkward. Especially since I’ve only known this guy for about five minutes.

    Suddenly, everything stops. I’m not sure if it’s been hours or seconds, but we’re standing in front of a bunch of people. Mostly teenagers, maybe one or two adults. And I’m hugging him. As soon as he lets go of me, instinct kicks in and I have to hold back a laugh when everybody gasps. “Where’d he go?” A tall brunette girl with odd eyes steps forward, and I assume she’s probably Bridget. Jacob is standing right next to me, completely dumbfounded. Just then, Cecilia and Paul show up across the room, sprawled in a heap over a desk covered in papers. They’re both laughing, and Paul helps Cecilia get back up onto her feet. “Sorry, bit of a crash-landing! I’ve never actually teleported anyone besides myself before,” Cecilia says, her face turning pomegranate red. Reminds me of my best buddy Peter, who used to go to the same church as me before Paul and I got all caught up in the Trials and had to move to Alaska. I miss that guy. Oh well, at least Paul and I aren’t alone in the wilderness anymore. I mean, living in a cabin in Alaska was fantastic, for hunting and fishing and all that, but it did get a bit lonely from time to time. Especially since we tried to avoid people as much as possible. All we had was ourselves, a few decks of cards, a bit of cash, a few hunting and fishing supplies, and a rusty Chevy pickup truck, and that was enough for us. At least I had my big brother. I couldn’t have lived alone like that without him. He was and still is good company, and we’ve always been really close.

    Since I’m invisible, I think I’ll mess around with my new potential friends. Who should I pick on first? I have a feeling that the girl with the fiery and icy eyes will probably be the most fun, so I tiptoe over to where she’s standing and squeeze in right behind her so that I’m standing over her right shoulder. “BOO!” I yell, and make myself visible again. To my surprise, I’m suddenly covered in snow, from head to toe. “What the actual heck?” I ask, half confused and half amused. The girl I scared looks angry and embarrassed and impressed all at the same time. “Uh, Jerry? You might not want to scare Bridget like that very often - she throws fireballs sometimes too!” Cecilia calls as she runs over to join the rest of the group. I look back at Bridget, who just shrugs and nods. “Yeah, she’s not kidding,” Bridget says with a smirk. “Nice to meet you, Jerry. I’m Bridget, and I’m your new boss,” she says, and I nod. “Nice to meet you too, but I don’t exactly like the idea of having to follow orders from someone I just met,” I reply hesitantly. Bridget steps forward and opens her mouth to reply, but Paul steps in first and puts a hand on her shoulder, holding her back. “Hey, look. She’s doing us a favor by bringing us here. No one said you’re gonna be slaved around. You just have to listen to her and trust that she knows what she’s doing, okay?” Paul says with a reassuring smile. I cross my arms and look around at everyone surrounding me. So many new faces, and I’m still in hideaway mode. I’m not used to being around this many people anymore.

    After everyone is finished introducing themselves, Jacob asks if Paul and I want to join him in the gym for some basketball with Ben, Slade, and Deadshot. We accept and follow him down a hallway filled with unmarked doors. As soon as we’re in the gym, Slade runs to a closet on the far side of the room and grabs a basketball, tossing it to Jacob. Suddenly, I’m in the middle of a hardcore basketball game. I’m on a team with Paul and Ben against Slade, Deadshot, and Jacob. Halfway through the game, our team is losing terribly, and I realize that Jacob is bilocating his way around, passing the ball to himself. Instead of saying anything, I decide to play along and do my own thing. I will myself to become invisible, and Paul must’ve noticed too, because he’s nowhere to be seen. I run over to where Jacob is about to shoot again, and as soon as he releases the ball, I jump up and make myself visible just as I snatch the ball out of the air. The look on Jacob’s face is absolutely priceless. I scan the room for any unusual movement, and as soon as I catch a glimpse of a glitch near the opposite wall next to the hoop, I toss the ball. Paul appears right as the ball reaches his hands, and in one swift leap, he slam dunks it. “Come on, seriously?” Jacob calls, and Paul and I just smile at him. “If you can bilocate, we can disappear,” Paul says cheekily as he fades into camouflaged nothingness. One cool thing about our camouflage and invisibility powers is that whatever we’re wearing somehow disappears as well, so we never have to worry about floating clothing. It’s pretty sweet.

    Finally, the game is over. It was close, but we came out on top. As always. I would say it’s because of our heights, but that wouldn’t be completely true. Although, we did have quite the height advantage. After a big round of handshakes and everyone telling each other “good game”, we all head back out to the big main room where the girls are all sitting around a table, talking in hushed voices. My first impression is that they’re working on plans for the big trip to their new location, but as I get closer, I realize that they’re doing nothing of the sort. They’re all giggling and fangirling over some “cute British actor”. Yikes. The first one to look up is Bridget, and as soon as she sees us, she makes an exaggerated gagging sound and her whole table erupts into laughter. “Sweaty and gross much?” Jaymie yells, and the crazy, high-pitched laughter starts all over again. I lean back towards my brother. “Remind me, why did I ever let you drag me into this?” I hiss, half sarcastically. Paul just laughs and keeps walking, and as soon as we reach the table, all the girls except Jaymie and Cecilia start pretending to gag and barf. I can’t help but laugh when Jaymie nudges Bridget on the arm, almost as if trying to remind her that she’s supposed to be the mature one running this whole rebel operation. Cecilia jumps up and disappears, which is kinda weird. She better not be doing anything crazy or I’m outta here. Girls are just too weird sometimes. Actually, let me correct myself - girls are weird all the time.

    Thank goodness it’s not too hot in the building, or I’d be really tempted to take off my shirt. Suddenly, Cecilia reappears with a huge pitcher of what I’m assuming is gatorade, along with a big box of assorted protein bars. Maybe she’s not so bad after all. After the guys and I are finished refreshing ourselves with the gatorade and protein bars, I notice that Paul is missing. After another look around, I realize that Bridget is gone as well, and I can’t help but wonder… nah, Paul’s probably in the bathroom or something and Bridget’s probably just getting something. Except that we were never shown where the bathrooms are. I really don’t like this. Within seconds, I’m invisible again and I don’t think anyone’s noticed. I sneak down the hallway towards the gym, where I begin to hear voices behind one of the doors. It looks like an office door, since it has a plaque - but the plaque is all scratched out and illegible. I let myself become visible again, and knock on the door. It opens within seconds, and Bridget greets me. Paul is sitting in one of the two chairs in front of a desk covered in various papers and things of the sort. I think there’s even a stack of plane tickets set aside from the junk, but I’m not entirely sure.

    “Glad you decided to drop in,” Bridget says with a smile, motioning for me to sit down in the chair next to my brother. “I was just giving Paul a rundown on the plans for relocating our base.” I nod and walk over to the chair, where I sit down immediately. It’s a comfortable chair, with a cushioned seat and back - and armrests, which are an automatic win for me. I lean back, stretching my legs out in front of me, crossing them at the ankles. Paul gives me a disapproving look and I shrug. Always so formal, so mature. I strive to be as much like him as I can, but I can’t seem to quite get there. Oh well, I am the younger one after all. Maybe someday I’ll live up to him and his amazing example. Bridget sits down in her chair on the opposite side of the desk, and leans back, crossing her arms. “All right, so… where do I begin? Oh, yes. First of all, you two need to have your tracking devices removed. I’ll make sure to remind Deadshot later on. Anyway, back to our relocation plan. If you haven’t already heard, we’re moving our base to an abandoned island off the coast of Japan called Hashima Island. I’ve already gotten us booked up with flights to Nagasaki Airport and a private boat ride to the island. We’ll be taken to the island on a cargo ship, so that we can load all of our supplies from here. Any questions yet?” Bridget ends her spiel with a question, and I look over at my brother, who is shaking his head. Just as Bridget opens her mouth to speak again, I blurt out the only thing I can think of - “First off, where’d you get the money to organize all this? And second, aren’t we supposed to be undercover or something? We don’t exactly want the crazy people back at T.R.I.A.L. hot on our tail, right? I just don’t see how you’re gonna pull this off without being caught,” I say, crossing my arms and catching eye contact with her.

    To my surprise, she holds my gaze steadily and smiles. “I’ve got connections, boy. Don’t think I didn’t think this out before I set it all up,” she says calmly, and I frown. “Who’re you calling a boy, you little punk? For all I know, you’re younger than me!” I exclaim, and I’m not even sure if I’m joking or serious. At this, Bridget straightens up and her eyes seem to ignite with fire and ice, even more so than before. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Paul literally facepalm. “Yes, I’m younger than you. But tell me, boy,”-she begins, putting a strong emphasis on the insulting name she’s given me-“what have you accomplished since you were told to run and hide after the T.R.I.A.L. people rejected you? I’ve rounded up a team of rogues just like you guys, who were scared and alone with nowhere to go except secluded hiding places and made them my friends, and given them a safe place where they can be themselves without fear of government taking them for military use. Tell me, have you even thought of trying to find and help other Trial subjects-or should I say victims?-like yourselves to find a place in this sad, sick world full of rich, greedy, brainless men and women who think that they can play God? Have you?” Bridget exclaims, yelling the last phrase loud enough to make my hair stand on end and goosebumps prickle up all over my body.

I suddenly regret my stupid comment and wish I knew when to keep my mouth shut. It’s my pride, always ruining things for me. “I’m sorry,” I mumble, looking away from her piercing gaze. “Good,” she replies, and I swear I can hear her voice almost break. Man, why do I always have to voice my opinions without giving them a second thought? I need to work on that. Suddenly, Deadshot bursts through the door without even stopping to knock. Bridget stands up immediately, looking absolutely infuriated, but Deadshot begins to speak before Bridget can make a sound. “Bridget, we need to get Paul and Jerry’s tracking devices out now,” he says, his voice carrying a strong sound of urgency. “Why? What do you mean, now? Why so suddenly?” Bridget asks, and I can’t even tell that she was angry at me just moments before. “Because we’ve got company on the way. Jaymie tapped into the T.R.I.A.L. headquarters and listened in on a phone conversation, and it sounds like we have two agents, an assassin, a helicopter pilot, and who knows how many backup men lined up to take us down, and if we don’t get these guys’ trackers out real fast and get a move on, things are gonna get ugly real fast,” Deadshot says quickly, and by the look on his face, he’s definitely not kidding.

The next few moments are a blur of shouting, running, and collecting various medical instruments for the removal of the tracking devices. Jerry still looks flustered from his short, heavy discussion with Bridget, and I almost want to tell him to just let it go, but there’s too much going on around us for it to be able to have any effect on him. He wants to be mature, and he tries hard, but he’s still got a ways to go. And I’ll always be here for him when he needs a small nudge in the right direction. I look back up at Deadshot, who has assembled a tray of different medical instruments and he nods his head towards the door, prompting me to follow him. I obey and within minutes, I’m sitting upright on a turquoise—colored leather cushioned operation table. I look up when I hear the creak of a door, and a small wave of relief washes over me when I see Jerry leaning against the wall next to the door. At least maybe watching this will help take his mind off things for a while. I look back at Deadshot, who is filling a long, sharp syringe with a wicked—looking liquid. He explains that it’s a shot of vitamin K, which should help thicken and slow the blood in the area the operation will be taking place. I’m okay with that. Although, one tiny detail he added is that I will be feeling every little bit of this operation, since I can’t be put to sleep without risking death. According to Deadshot, if I’m under the influence of narcotics or sedatives and he attempts to remove the spinal or arterial clamp, the tracker’s internal computer will register the drugs, realize it’s being tampered with, and begin to resist the operation, which would most likely cause the clamp to purposely sever its host, killing me in the process. Not exactly my idea of fun.

As soon as I take off my shirt, Deadshot swabs the area he’s going to inject the vitamin K and I feel a tiny prick as the needle end of the syringe slides into the skin above my collarbone, right next to where the subclavian artery is located under my right—side clavicle bone. I have a pretty high pain tolerance, so this is nothing, but I’m not sure how well I’ll be able to handle the pain of the actual operation and removal of the arterial clamp. I have no idea how Deadshot found it, but somehow he was able to locate the tracking device by finding a tiny incision scar on my collarbone. I still can’t see it, but I guess I’ll just trust my new “doctor” and go with it. I mean, if Bridget can trust this guy, then I know I can too. Next, I feel a pulsing, stinging pressure as Deadshot squeezes the liquid from the syringe into the soft skin directly above my clavicle, on the right side of my collarbone. I try to stay as relaxed as possible, but it’s really difficult to remain completely calm when I know I’m about to undergo surgery without the help of numbing agents in the area of the operation. Especially with the knowledge that this whole thing is taking place directly centered on one of my major arteries. If Deadshot screws up at all, I’m dead. Literally. For an extra bit of reassurance, I look up at my younger brother and he smiles and gives me a thumbs up. I need to stay strong, for him. I need to show him that he’ll be fine, and I need to give him confidence by staying as strong as possible. I can do this.

Once the syringe is empty, Deadshot shows me a set of leather handles on the sides of the operation table and instructs me to hold onto them and squeeze hard when the pain gets intense. As soon as I’ve got a good grip on the handles, Deadshot holds out a clean, newly cut strip of leather and instructs me to bite down on it. I do as I’m told, and the gravity of the situation finally sinks in. This reminds me too much of a movie I used to watch. The movie takes place during the Napoleonic Wars, and this whole operation reminds me all too well of my least favorite scene, where a young boy is injured in battle and his injuries required that amputation of one of his arms. Much like myself, he wasn’t able to be put to sleep or given anything to numb the area, and his only consolation was a leather strap held firmly between his teeth. Yikes. Suspense just seems to fill the room, thick like smoke. Deadshot has been silent most of the time, aside from the bits of instruction he gives me.

After what feels like hours of suspenseful waiting, Deadshot finally washes his hands, puts on a surgical mask, and picks up a scalpel from a small metal tray on the counter next to the sink. If he’s nervous at all, he’s not showing it one bit. My palms are already sweaty as I grip the leather handles at my sides and I take in a deep breath, only to let it out very slowly as Deadshot presses the scalpel blade against my skin. His hands are steady and sure, which gives me the smallest bit of comfort. At least he’s not as nervous and shaken up as I am. I feel a sharp stinging pain as the blade presses into my skin, breaking the surface in a perfectly straight line like a hot knife cutting through butter. I have to steady my breathing as the blade presses even deeper, causing a searing pain to ripple throughout my neck and down my arms and I bite down hard on the leather strap Deadshot gave me before he started the operation. I want to pull away, but I can’t. I need to hold still and let Deadshot do his job. Moving only my eyes so that my head and shoulders stay still, I look up at Jerry. I can see so many emotions swirling in his eyes, sympathy for me and fear of what he’s going to have to endure. I drop my eyes as I let out a shaky breath through the nose and my entire body shudders slightly. I can feel my eyes becoming wet with tears that I hope I can keep from falling. Deadshot pulls away for a second, as if giving me a few moments to breathe. Much to my dismay however, he only sets the scalpel down in the sink and picks up a new tool. This one looks like a tiny pair of pliers, and I imagine he’s going to use it to remove the actual tracking device.

“This is going to be the painful part,” Deadshot says, and my heart seems to sink into my stomach. I nod, and for the first time, I catch a tiny glimpse of the incision that has been made above my collarbone. It’s small, but deep. I shiver once more and a drop of blood runs down over my collarbone, leaving behind a warm, crimson trail that soon becomes cold against my pale skin. Finally, Deadshot moves in again to finish the operation and remove the actual device. The tiny arterial clamp that’s latched itself onto my life supply, like a scissors that hasn’t quite cut through a thread. I brace myself as a new wave of pain washes over me, and I have to close my eyes and bite down on the leather strap, letting out a pained scream through clenched teeth. When I open my eyes again, a tear runs down my cheek and I make eye contact with my baby brother for a split second. He looks horrified, and as soon as we make eye contact, he looks away and bites his lip. I squeeze my eyes shut again as I feel the tiny, pointed end of the cold metal pliers moving around under my skin. Just when I think the pain can’t get any worse, Deadshot uses his gloved fingers to pull my broken skin apart and my collarbone, chest, shoulders, and neck seem to explode with excruciating pain. I bite down harder than I even knew was possible and with a sickening thud, my teeth connect through the leather barrier. I’ve bitten clean through the strap.

I’m no longer even aware of my surroundings, the only thing I’m aware of is the gut—wrenching feeling of my skin being held apart and a metal pliers moving around underneath my skin, pushing, prying, probing away. Suddenly, I can feel a slight pulling sensation directly under the clavicle bone, and I become aware of a quick, pulsing throb. My guess is that Deadshot’s found the artery, and he must be removing the clamp. To my surprise, he pulls away without warning and grabs three more pliers identical to the first one. Quick as a flash, he pushes every last one of the pliers into my skin and I have to hold back a scream. “I am so, so sorry,” Deadshot whispers. Before I even know what’s happening, he clamps all four pliers down at once with a soft crunch and I swear I can feel something tiny and metallic break free inside the open wound. Next, he pulls out three of the four pliers and drops them in the sink, only to come back and begin to fish around for whatever he severed before. After a few more minutes of agony, he seems to be satisfied with his work. The tray on the counter now has an assortment of tiny metal pieces that look an awful lot like pieces of a build-your-own-miniature-replica-of-the-evil-four-legged-robot-spider-machine-from-The-Incredibles-movie. I don’t know whether to be fascinated or disgusted.

Finally, Deadshot begins to stitch up the wound and I can breathe easy again. Once the area around the wound is cleaned and bandaged, he shows me what used to be my tracking device. It looks like a four-legged spider robot with a tiny round body. Deadshot explains that the four metal tendrils were attached to the device, as well as being clamped firmly around the artery. All he had to do was cut all of them off at the roots simultaneously so that the tracker wouldn’t have time to react and clamp down even harder with the remaining tendrils. The more he explains the device, the more relieved I am that I didn’t know quite how dangerous it is before he started the operation. If I had known beforehand, I probably would have been a lot harder to work with. I hope seeing all this hasn’t made Jerry hesitant to let Deadshot operate on him, since it seems pretty important that we get the tracking devices out before the unwanted guests arrive. Much to my relief, my brother steps forward, removes his shirt, and seats himself on the operation table. He is silent and calm, but the fear in his eyes is unmistakable as Deadshot moves forward with a brand new syringe in his hand. He scans Jerry’s neck and back for no more than two seconds before pressing the needle into my brother’s back between his shoulderblades, right next to his spine. I still don’t understand quite how he knows exactly where each device is hidden, but it would probably be best to save my questions for later.

Before long, the operation is fully underway. I don’t know how Jerry was able to stay and watch as I got my tracker removed. It was painful enough to see him trying to keep his composure while I was in the intense pain of the operation, and now I have to watch him endure the same torture. According to Deadshot, my operation only took five minutes, but it felt like an eternity to me. I hate being in pain, but if there’s one thing I hate even more, it’s seeing other people suffering. Especially people that are close to me, people that I love. Every little movement of the pliers under Jerry’s skin makes me feel sick, as if I’m enduring the pain all over again. My brother is facing me, but he hasn’t yet looked up. Half of me wants him to look up so that I can let him know that everything’s going to be okay, but the other half hopes that he won’t. I feel as though catching eye contact with him just might be my breaking point. Finally, Jerry does look up, just as Deadshot has finished inserting all four pliers, preparing to clamp them all down at once. His eyes are almost bloodshot, glazed over, on the edge of tears. I want to talk to him, to tell him that it’ll be over soon, but no sound comes out of my mouth when I try. After a millisecond of silence, I hear the distinct sound of snapping metal. Jerry’s breath catches in his throat and a tear runs down his cheek, followed closely by another, and I have to look away. It’s finished. Deadshot works quickly, removing the tiny pieces of the tracking device from underneath my brother’s skin before stitching him up.

As soon as everything from the operation is cleaned up and put away, Deadshot brings out a few new syringes and Jerry and I exchange worried glances. “Guys, chill!” Deadshot says with a little laugh. “These are gonna help with the pain, okay?” “Praise God,” Jerry says quickly, looking up at the ceiling as if he can see heaven through the layers of paint and drywall and wood. After one final needle poke, we’re all set to go. The incisions on my collarbone and Jerry’s back are only a few inches across, which is nice since they won’t limit our movement. As long as the stitches don’t catch on our shirts—which is unlikely because they’re covered by thick bandages—we’ll be good. After a few minutes of silence, Deadshot leaves the room muttering something about needing to talk to Bridget and Jerry and I finally relax. As soon as the door shuts behind Deadshot, I look over at my brother, who is still shirtless. He’s tense, so I decide to lighten the mood a bit with a good laugh. “Hey bro,” I say, cracking a smile. “What bro?” “Nice abs, bro!” I say, wiggling my eyebrows teasingly. Jerry and I both burst into laughter, and I don’t think either of us have had a laugh like that in a long time. It’s good to be with other people like us, even if we have the whole world out to kill us. At least we’ve got friends now. And as long as I can keep fighting alongside my brother, not even the world can bring me down.

    “Guys, we need to move fast or they’re gonna get us cornered in this God-forsaken junk lot!” Bridget yells as everyone rushes around, gathering and hiding various items around the room. Deadshot walks down the hallway towards where I’m leaning up against the wall, trying to stay out of everyone’s way. “How much time do we have?” I ask quickly, straightening up. “We’ve got about fifteen minutes,” Deadshot whispers, and a shiver runs down my spine. “How? They’ve got to have at least nine or ten hours to travel, how could they be so close?” I hiss, frowning. “I didn’t want Bridget to tell me that I didn’t have time to remove the tracking devices, so I bent the truth a bit. They left hours ago, and I have their coordinates. I used to be one of them, remember? I’ve still got some pretty sweet gadgets. And before you ask, yes, I have them wired up so that they can’t track my location. Anyways, let’s get back to business. We need to scatter or they’re going to find us. Tracking devices only make their job easier. However, if we all stay together—tracking devices or not—we’re a huge, obvious target. Now, I have one simple question for you. Will you come with me?”

    My heart seems to stop as his eyes meet mine and I’m not sure what to respond. This is all so sudden, so unexpected. Should I really abandon my friends to escape with this boy who once worked for the bad guys? I don’t have time to respond before Bridget shows up to ask about the operations, which is a bit of relief. At least now I’ll have some time to think. I mean, what Deadshot said makes perfect sense, about being a big target if we don’t split up. I just don’t know. I guess when the time comes, I’ll know. Maybe. As soon as Deadshot is finished talking about how the operations went well, Jerry and Paul appear next to me as we hear the descent of a helicopter outside and the hurried shouts of men outside. “I thought we had time,” Bridget hisses, her eyes glowing with raging fire and frigid ice. Before Deadshot has time to respond, she runs over to a table covered in weapons of all sorts and begins tossing them to us. She must be crazy. Not only is she throwing loaded guns, but she’s also thrown knives, grenades, and other insanely cool weapons. To my surprise, no one misses a beat and pretty soon, we’re all loaded up. Including me, which is pretty awesome considering the fact that I have issues catching a football. Next, she’s handing out weapon harnesses to hold our new gear, and we don them with incredible speed. Despite the incredible chaos inside, something seems horribly wrong. I mean, besides the fact that we’re surrounded by crazy men with guns and a helicopter.

    It takes me a moment to register exactly what is bothering me, but when I do, the realization hits me like a blast of cold air. Or maybe the cold air was from Bridget passing behind me. Whatever. It is completely silent outside. Deathly silent. After a few moments of this, a voice comes from the outside. “Send out Cecilia Ellis and we will leave you alone. None of this has to be done fighting. Just cooperate and the rest of you will be left completely unscathed.” I recognize the voice as Adam’s, which is startling. This whole deal sounds like a pretty one-sided thing; either we lose or we lose. Not exactly the best offer ever. “Show yourself, Adam!” Bridget yells, keeping her voice steady and firm. No sooner than the last words have left her mouth, the door to the front of the building swings open and a man steps through. He looks very different from when I last saw him, since he now has brown hair and the blue streak is completely gone. “Well well, what have we here? You remember me? Wow, I really am flattered!” Adam says enthusiastically, twirling his hand in front of his chest in a downward spiral as he bows with a ridiculously cheesy, fabulous air. I can’t help but let out a snort of laughter at this cinematic entrance, but my little outburst is met with quite a few disapproving glares from my companions. Rescuers. Whatever they are. Especially Jacob, who looks like he’s ready to smack me. Oh yeah, Adam almost stabbed him to death. Oops. Bridget looks as though she might murder me, and the only person who doesn’t look somewhat ticked off is Deadshot. To my surprise, he’s back in his leather outfit. When the heck did he have time to change? Whatever, none of my beeswax. He smirks at me quickly before turning away and pulling his mask over his face, and I suddenly remember his little... question. Oh boy.

    Before I can finish thinking, however, Adam speaks up again “Well? Are you gonna come over here like a good little girl or am I going to have send in my boys? Your choice, honey,” he says with a smirk. Before anyone has a chance to answer, a woman’s voice rises up from outside. “I heard that, kiddo!” Adam’s face turns bright red and the absurdity of the moment is enough to make us all burst into laughter, including Adam and Bridget. This moment only lasts for a few seconds, since Bridget decides to speak up for me. “No, she’s not going with you. Period, end of discussion. Now, you and your friends can kindly back off or we’ll tear you to pieces. Deal?” Bridget’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard compared to the hilarity of the past few minutes, and even Adam looks a bit shocked. This only lasts a mere second however, and with a snap of Adam’s fingers, all hell breaks loose. Armed agents swarm in from all sides, coming through every door they can find. At first, everyone is engaged in hand-to-hand combat and my friends are using their awesome powers to fight these simple, unaltered men.

The Capello brothers are using their invisibility and camouflage to disappear mid-fight, only to reappear just in time to knock out their opponent single-handedly. Jacob is two places at once, fighting like a mad dog. Jaymie is nowhere to be seen, so I assume she’s probably hiding. Bridget has just killed five different men with giant icicles, each of which she’s shot through their necks from her frigid fingers, while her left hand is melting another dude’s face off. I honestly don’t know how she’s not throwing up because that is literally all I want to do right now, which is pretty ironic considering that I’ve killed two people without provocation. I’m weird like that. Looking around once more, I can tell that none of the agent guys have noticed me, which is pretty nice. I get front row seats and I don’t plan on joining in on the movie action anytime soon if at all possible. Suddenly, Adam calls for a standstill. “All right, everybody stop! This is getting really claustrophobic, so can we please move this outside? Thank you!” He yells, singsonging the last couple words. Without a single protest, everybody—including my friends—moves outside, using the closest doors. I could so easily stay behind, where I’m a bit more safe, but the idea of leaving my friends out there just seems wrong.

So, with my mind firmly made up, I slip out of the shadows and head for the front door, cringing as the sounds of battle get a bit louder with every cautious step I take. Just then, someone grabs my neck in a chokehold from behind and I gag in response, before twisting away to try and face my attacker. To my surprise, it’s Quentin. Or I think it’s Quentin, because he looks like the younger of the two annoying agent brothers who seem to be out to capture me. I quickly jab at his face with my elbow, shuddering a bit when the bones of my elbow meet his nose with a sickening crunch. This stuns him just enough to cause him to lose his grip on my neck, and I suddenly realize that I should really teleport the heck outta here before I get myself captured. Although, I don’t think they’d be able to hold me for long since my skills go far beyond the supposed strength of concrete walls and titanium handcuffs. I close my eyes, letting the amazing power I possess flow through every fiber of my body, willing myself to land right next to the old willow tree on the far end of the junk lot where Jacob almost bled to death. Weird location, but at least no one is going to come looking for me over there.

No more than one second has passed before I feel solid, stubby ground beneath my feet and I open my eyes, taking in the scene before me. Everyone is still fighting hand-to-hand, and I’m not sure who is winning. The men from T.R.I.A.L. still greatly outnumber us, but so far, none of us are dead and they’ve lost at least a dozen men by now. Maybe it’s because our enemies haven’t used a single gun yet, which is weird. Suddenly, a gunshot rings out, almost as if it was cued by my thought. I rapidly scan the mayhem by the building, trying to figure out who fired the shot. After a bit of searching, I catch sight of Slade, who is running towards the helicopter as he swings his assault rifle over his shoulder. Just as he reaches the helicopter, another gunshot is fired from within the crowd. Time seems to stop as Slade jerks forward, landing on his knees just outside the door of the aircraft and I barely catch a glimpse of dark liquid spurting from the back of his neck. Then, almost as if it were in slow motion, he flops over to the side and lays motionless on the ground. I can feel my blood run cold, and all I want to do is run and hide and never face the world again. The next few seconds are deathly quiet as everyone pauses to take in what just happened. However, the grieving only lasts for a few moments and before long, everyone is fighting once more, harder than ever.

I can’t stand this far back anymore, I need to know what is happening. I need to know who is okay, and who is not. Within seconds, I’m laying underneath the helicopter, still as death. When I open my eyes, I have to suppress a scream. Slade is laying only a foot away from me, and his eyes are still open. Glazed over and lifeless, staring into nothingness. I look away and retch a few times, my empty stomach trying release contents that aren’t there. Instead, I dry heave a few times before I can regain my composure enough to look back towards the others, trying to avoid looking at Slade’s pallid face. The first person I catch sight of is Jaymie, who is fighting Raines like an angry tiger. Both of them are using martial arts, making it a fair battle of wits and skill. Suddenly, Jaymie has him lying on his stomach, while she holds him in perfect breakneck position. With his chin in one hand and the top of his head in the other, and his arms pinned between her legs, he’s completely helpless. I silently cheer her on, although I’m not sure if I really want her to break his neck. I’ve seen enough death for one day.

Then, to my horror, a huge metal pole smashes into Jaymie’s head with a sickening crunch and she flies to the side, landing next to her ex-boyfriend. Just as I think things can’t get any worse, Raines jumps up, pulls out his handgun, and shoots Jaymie in the head. My breath catches in my throat, and I have to look away. Making the sign of the cross, I close my eyes and let a tear fall to the cold ground below me. I flinch as a pained scream rips through the air like a thousand knives, cold and sharp. Looking up, I see Bridget tearing through the crowd until she reaches Jaymie. She drops to her knees next to her friend, screaming at the top of her lungs. Oblivious to what’s going on around her, she doesn’t even see Raines lifting his gun once more. Within seconds, the muzzle is aimed directly at Bridget’s head. Just as I’m about to jump up and run to help, something flies through the air and hits Raines in the neck. A dart. Benji. Raines screams and slumps to the ground, tearing the imitation dart from his neck before passing out cold. I look in the direction of the dart’s path, smiling a bit when I see Ben. The gentle giant, who would never actually kill someone. The one who invented a non-lethal dart that can imitate the pain of a real gunshot. My so-called big brother and bodyguard. I really love that guy.

To my surprise, Ben catches sight of me and smiles a bit, though his smile cannot mask the horrible pain in his eyes as his gaze connects with mine. Just then, he freezes in place and his smile disappears as quickly as it came. Something’s wrong. Suddenly, he falls face first onto the ground and I see a huge knife sticking out of his back, right on his spine. I open my mouth to scream, but no sound escapes my lips. Instead, I let energy pulse through my body, teleporting me to where Ben lies, still as death. I turn him just enough that I can see his face again, knowing that he’ll die faster if I remove the knife protruding from his spine. His eyes flutter open and he gives me a small smile. “I saved her, and that’s all that matters. I’m sorry I can’t protect you anymore, I didn’t think it would end this way. But you can win this battle. Go save people, Cecilia. They need you. Tell them I love them, okay? I love you too, little sis. Now go, become the hero that I believe you are. Goodbye, little sis. I’ll miss you up there,” he says, his voice never faltering. With those final words, his eyes flutter shut and his last breath leaves his body. I want to scream. Slade, Jaymie, and now Ben. He died to save Bridget. He’s gone, and I never even got to tell him how much he meant to me. I never even got to say goodbye.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Now, if you’d just come with us in the first place, then maybe your friend would still be here, right? All this killing can stop. Just come with me and no one else gets hurt,” Adam’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard to me. I look up at him and scowl. “Never,” I hiss, letting myself catch eye contact with him as hot tears run down my cheeks. “Can’t you see what you’re doing? Taking people’s lives and friends? Stealing our sanity? What did we do to deserve this bloody hell of a life that you’re giving us? We were normal, Adam. Normal!” I scream the last word, making sure to slam every bit of emphasis on it. For a split second, Adam looks a bit swayed, but it doesn’t last. His expression is hard as stone, and I remember that he’s the same punk who tried to kill Jacob as well. Suddenly, a new energy awakens within me and I let it flow through every vein in my body, saturating my senses. I feel the tears on my cheeks drying up unnaturally fast and as I look down at my hands, I realize that my veins are glowing green again, stronger than ever before. Looking up at Adam once more, I feel every bit of emotion left in my body vanish, as if it was never there in the first place.

“You don’t even know loss, do you?” I hiss, my words dripping with poison. “Well, Adam, I’ll show you true loss,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. Moving into a catlike crouching position, I feel renewed, as if I’ve just been given a new life. Still maintaining eye contact with Adam, driven by grief and insanity, I reach my hand out towards the nearest agent. Without even glancing in his direction, I squeeze. Hard. His screams are cut off by low, animal-like gurgles, and within seconds, I hear the distinct sound of a body hitting dirt. A look of horror suddenly washes over Adam’s face and I just smile. One of those insane, Cheshire cat smiles that haunts children’s nightmares. Without even thinking, I move on to the next agent. Time seems to come to a standstill as I kill them all off, one by one. Adam finally breaks out of his trancelike state, realizing just how dangerous I’ve become. Maybe now he’ll know never to mess with me or my friends. Just as my seventh victim falls to the ground, Adam pulls out a gun and fires. I don’t even have time to think. Acting on impulse, I reach towards him and time literally slows down, allowing me to cup my hand around the incoming bullet and hold it in a sphere of energy, as if it is stuck in time. I look back at Adam, smile, and open my hand. The bullet falls to the ground, completely harmless.

Suddenly, a hand grips my shoulder and I spin around, coming face to face with Deadshot. “Stop this madness,” he hisses, and I frown. “We need to leave, now. You’re coming with me,” he whispers, grabbing me in a tight hug. Before I can react, he picks me up bridal-style and we shoot up towards the sky. I feel every last drop of energy leave my body, and when we come to a stop, I take one last look towards the ground. Adam and the others are retreating, leaving Bridget, Jacob, Diana, Paul, and Jerry alone to grieve on the battlefield that was once a simple junkyard. A single tear runs down my cheek as we fly through the night, under billions of beautiful stars twinkling above us. My mind blanks for a moment, and I’m not sure what to say, since I don’t want to remember the awful deaths I’ve just witnessed. So I let out the first thing that comes to mind. “You can fly?” Deadshot smiles a bit at this, and I feel a bit of relief. “Yeah, I figured it out the other night when you guys were sleeping. It’s pretty cool,” he says, looking down at me. I smile a little bit, but it doesn’t last long. “I’m gonna miss them, especially Ben,” I whisper, closing my eyes. “I know, but they died nobly. Someday, you’ll see them in heaven, okay?” Deadshot replies, and his words are only slightly comforting. “Just keep pressing on. No matter how hard the road gets, you just gotta move on and believe that things will get better in time,” he finishes softly. The next few moments are spent in silence as we fly through and above the clouds, and I finally let sleep take over my tired, aching body.