Vicious Circle

By Rochele Rosa

An entire society of mutants lives in plain sight. Every move they make is policed by a civilian organization, OMEGA, that has been trying to hack the mutant genome for decades.

Elizabeth Reid has been haunted by an infamous mutant for three year

• Language: English
• Publisher: Arxegos
• Release date: Oct 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798987358528

Book preview

1.png

Ellie

I stumbled down a hill, my shoes scraping against rocks. Running was futile. It always was, but I still tried. The birds scattered, rustling the leaves in the upper branches of the trees. Oh, how I wished I could have flown away like them. Away from her.

Falling, rolling until my back hit the rough edges of a boulder. The world spun as I splashed around in the stream to get through the limestone ravine. Grasping at roots, I clawed my way up the creek bed. My numb legs gave out after a few steps on the other side. I stared at the blue sky framed by the tree branches. On any other day, I would have loved the view.

The black cloth outlined the woman’s slim, angular face as she stood over me. A sleek black pony tail flowed from a hole cut out in the mask. Her dark green eyes pierced through me. She always wore the same thing: black combat boots, black military pants and a simple black t-shirt with a small gray insignia of three upward arrows on the shoulder that read Herod Enterprises underneath.

She never talked.

Kneeling beside me, she brought out a small square device and pricked my finger, sampling my blood. Another device was in her hand, flat with a screen, that showed her the results. She kept me conscious every time, as if taunting me. I never understood why that was necessary. Why couldn’t she let me believe I had fallen asleep in the woods?

Per usual, she unbuttoned a pocket on her cargo pants and took out a small plastic case. The needle and vial. She held it open in her hands for a long moment, looking me in the eyes. Then she stroked my cheek with her thumb. If I wasn’t sedated, I would have cringed.

I wished she would have killed me like she did my parents instead of leaving me to fight for survival. Every few months I had to look her in the eyes, helpless to whatever this was. I was a field experiment. A lab rat. Worthless. Sometimes I think I still am.

She drew the liquid from the vial and stuck the needle into the crook of my arm. I’m doing this for you. I had never heard her voice before. Low, a little raspy. It was permanently ingrained in my brain now.

She cleaned everything up, packed it away in her pockets. This time, she didn’t leave right away. Three years of visits and this one was different.

With the sun high in the sky and a warm breeze rustling the trees, she said, You’re almost ready.

Almost ready. As if I was a stew on the stove.

With that she stepped back and fiddled with her watch, but she paused to look at me one last time. I think The Superior will be pleased with the results. I’ll be back soon. Then she disappeared, leaving me frozen on the ground.

The Superior? How pretentious. If a second terrifying masked adult was coming to get me, I had to be ready to fight for my life.

Almost ready. What did that even mean?

­*****

Hours later, as the sun was low on the horizon, I strolled through the massive garden we had on the homestead. When I was little, my parents and I worked hard to plow this small plot of land and get something growing. Now, it was filled to the brim with an autumn harvest. I placed an assortment of carrots, onions, cabbage, and strawberries in a basket. As I passed the wood pile, I tossed a few pieces into a burlap sack and slung it over my shoulder. Then I meandered onto the front porch and into the house.

I put the logs into the stone fireplace and made my way into the kitchen, dumping the basket onto the granite countertop. A drop of water fell from the ceiling into a puddle on the floor. I would have to fix that before the first frost came in a few weeks.

There was always something to do. Fetch water from the well. Mend the fence for the chicken coop. Tend to the garden. Fix leaks and creaks in the house. Chop wood. Fish. Hunt. All day, every day for about three years.

After starting a fire in the fireplace and plopping the vegetables into the bone broth on the stove, I slipped into the dining room, careful not to tread dirt onto the antique Persian rug that was Mother’s favorite piece in the house. Opening the china cabinet, I grabbed a delicate bowl and a wine glass to set the table. Then, I put a little more water in the vase of flowers that served as a centerpiece, like my mother would do. It was those little touches of normalcy that kept my sanity.

Sitting on the Victorian era couch, wrapped in a quilted blanket, I bit into a strawberry before opening up the sewing kit to mend a rip in the seams.

The masked woman said she’d be back soon and I had so many unanswered questions built up over the years. Questions that I never expected to get any answers to. Why did she let me live? What was she doing to me? And there was a helicopter that used to come to the homestead, with people and supplies. A bald man in a gray suit. An older man in a blue suit. They stopped coming after I buried my parents and I didn’t understand what happened to them. Or why they left me there, stranded in the middle of endless woods.

Part of me wishes I never sought those answers.

After dinner, I made my rounds, locked the front door and checked the barricades on the windows, before turning in for the night. I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in my own room after their death so, I always slept in my father’s office even though that room had always been filled with serious conversations that bothered me.

Bookshelves lined the walls. Two leather mid-century sofas sat on either side of a coffee table with his desk sitting in front of a large bay window. I unclasped my small stone pendant necklace and placed it in a desk drawer alongside other trinkets I had stowed away over the years and a photo album my father had kept there, but I had never touched it. Not since they died.

I curled up in the window seat, which overlooked the barn and the meadow while the sun sank behind the never-ending tree line, and I opened the photo album. The first few pages weren’t of the homestead. My very pregnant mother laughed as my father kissed her cheek and a city skyline sat in the background. In a candid photo, she stood among beautiful things, curating collections for The Metropolitan Museum of Art. In one picture, Father had an office with walls that were all modern and bland aside from a showcase for awards he had won. We were never allowed to talk about his work, even though that’s what brought us out to the middle of nowhere.

Tears streaking my face, I closed the album and stared at the emerging stars in the sky. During my first year alone, I held on to the hope that the people on the helicopter would return and take me to the city my parents wished they could go back to. It wasn’t until the masked woman started haunting me when I realized no one was going to help me. By then, leaving the woods felt impossible. I didn’t know where it ended or what I’d find beyond what had become my world. The one time I tried, I walked for several days before an infection forced me to go back, nearly killing me.

The truth was that I didn’t think I could survive outside of the homestead.

Staring out at the indigo sky, I knew the woman was coming back soon, possibly with reinforcements, and I had a sinking feeling that she was going to take me somewhere beyond the comfort of my forest. I knew she wouldn’t kill me. She wouldn’t waste three years of whatever it was she was doing to me just to kill me now. Especially if this Superior person wanted to know the results of her experiment.

I felt trapped, sick to my stomach even. Pacing in front of my father’s bookcase, with tears in my eyes as a fire rose in the pit of my stomach, my mind spun out of control, trying to grasp at half-baked solutions to my situation. How could I protect myself from her? Maybe I should have left, go to the hunting spots I had built over the years in hopes that she couldn’t find me. No. No, that would have been stupid. The season would have turned soon and winter was brutal outside the comforts of the house.

Overwhelmed with not knowing what to do, I threw books onto the floor. Leaflets of notes flittered in the air. Father’s hobbies. I wiped the tears away and knelt down to straighten things up because if mother were around, she would have scolded me for such unbecoming behavior.

The chicken scratch of shorthand written in the margins caught my eye. Skimming through his notes, I remembered he spent a lot of time in his office reading these books. As I stacked them back onto the shelf, I read the covers. Discovering the Mind of a Prodigy. The Cure to a Sick World. Ethical Dilemmas of Artificial Intelligence.

He always said reading was the key to changing the world. A world I had never seen. So why did it matter?

Ellie

The season would turn soon, which meant leaving the homestead was out of the question. So, I had to make my last stand. Or so I thought. The barn was musty as usual as I heaved open a wooden crate of old supplies. Steel cable. Barb wire. Rolls and rolls of fishing line. All of this stuff my parents used for things around the homestead over the years. But I had other plans for them.

I spent days preparing a minefield for the masked woman and whoever The Superior was. Pits with spikes, hidden snares, trip wires that unleashed a broken tree limb. They weren’t going to touch this place so long as I could help it.

One early morning, I was walking through the meadow, where livestock once roamed, with another pack of supplies slung across my shoulder, expecting to have another long day of human trap setting. Streaks of pink and orange stretched across the sky and I couldn’t help but take a moment to watch the sunrise. The wildflowers in the field were beautiful. With the sun still low in the sky, I could spare a few minutes sitting in the tall grass. I set my bag down and brushed my fingers against the petals. So fragile. They would be gone in a few weeks with the first frost.

The snap of a tree echoed across the field and with it came a shout of pain. She was here. I began army crawling through the grass and everything clinked in my bag. Could she hear it? I was covered in dirt halfway across the field with the heavy bag crushing my back. I carefully sat up to see where she was.

She limped along the edge of the homestead, heading toward the house.

I dropped, burying my face into the ground. Heat pulsed through my veins.

Ellie, I can hear that you’re out there. I don’t intend to hurt you.

She knew my name? I had never spoken to her before so how could she know my name? It had been years since I last heard the sound of Ellie. It felt foreign.

Let’s not do this again, Ellie. Even from a distance, I could hear the exasperation in the woman’s voice.

Do what again? I didn’t understand what she meant. Sweat dripped down my neck. The morning was cold but I felt like I was surrounded by fire. I stayed glued to the ground, unsure of what to do as my heart thudded in my chest.

I know you have questions and I have answers, but we don’t have much time left. She sounded so close. It’s time to go now.

The adrenaline-fueled fear forced me out of my hiding spot. I didn’t want to go anywhere with her. My skin burned from the inferno coursing through my body. It wasn’t until I nearly reached the tree line when I realized there really was an inferno. Flames surrounded me on all sides, devouring the flowers in the meadow, before it was their time.

She stopped short. The flames separated us. Ellie, look what you’re doing. I can help you control this, but you need to come with me, now.

What? No, I didn’t do this. I didn’t– But then I noticed my hands, covered in flickering flames that grew with the sound of my blood pumping through my ears. I was on fire, but my skin wasn’t melting.

Suddenly, the flames seemed to be sucked up into a ball within the woman’s hands before dissipating, like a wisp of smoke after you blow out a candle. She stepped over the circle of charred grass, edging closer to me.

Stepping back, none of this made sense. A dull ache throbbed in my skull as a pink dome emerged around me, protecting me from her. I screamed, falling to the ground. I glanced down at my hands, afraid I would burn something else, but they were no longer enflamed.

The masked woman tapped the pink shield, sending ripples of lighter pink rings across the surface. I didn’t anticipate you developing this ability. The fire was expected, but not the electromagnetic field.

Wait. This was her plan? All that time, she was turning me into a freak?

It’s fairly weak. She studied it for a moment longer before. Maybe it will strengthen as time goes on.

This was too much to process all at once. I thought for sure this was a nightmare. Jumping up to run the rest of the way to the tree line, my bones ached and a new form of ugliness brushed across the meadow, ragged shards of rock. Spiking from the ground, nearly skewering me, if the pink shield hadn’t been there.

Once I reached the edge of the homestead, I turned back to see the carnage. These monstrous pillars of earth ruined the meadow. The masked woman gripped each of them with her fingertips and threw them back into place, like they were nails jutting out of the floorboard that she hammered back into the ground.

We have to go now, Ellie. The masked woman stared at me with an outstretched hand. You won’t be safe here much longer and I can protect you.

No. That didn’t make sense. Whatever this was –the moving earth, the flames, the pink shield– it was all a trick. It had to be. I spun on my heel and ran toward the trees. Weaving through the forest, passing by the hidden trip wires and pits I set up, tears streaked my face. I heard her yell from a distance as she no doubt got caught up in one of my traps. The ground cracked under my feet as I ran toward the creek.

What just happened?

I needed to be as far away as I could. Away from her. From what she did to me. From home. I couldn’t go back.

A well-worn deer trail provided a precarious path down to the stream. The stepping stones in the water grew taller as I made my way across, elevating me to the tree growing from the side of the limestone wall on the other side. I clung on for dear life as I yanked myself up the last few feet and onward to never-ending solace in this woods that was my world.

Looking back at the pillars of stone that weren’t there moments before, my heart pounded. I-I did that? I moved the earth to help me cross. My body ached. Leaning against a tree, I puked. How was this possible?

As I trekked through the woods to throw her off my trail, my mind spun with a thousand questions. Numb to my surroundings, I wasn’t too sure of where I was going, but I wasn’t lost. Breaking through the tree line, I stopped at a clearing, where the creek ran through to the valley.

Birds flew overhead. We used to have picnics here. Overgrown flowers and shrubs nearly hid the big rocks jutting out of the ground. Their names were written in faded paint, besides their hand prints. Alistair and Vivienne. Father and Mother.

Flashes of memory pounded through my head. A blood-stained rug. The cold green eyes behind a mask. I fell to my knees. The woman who killed my parents was coming back for me. She wouldn’t stop until I was in her custody because…because she said I was safer with her? How was I safer with her?

Flames flickered across my hands, in rhythm with my racing heart. But my hands didn’t burn. Those needles. All those visits where she jabbed me. This was the project. What was the purpose of giving me freaky powers?

She said I wouldn’t be safe here much longer, but was I ever truly safe? She was the one that did this to me. I needed protection from her and whoever The Superior was.

Even if I did fight back, I would risk destroying the forest, the very thing that would keep me alive, if I won. If I couldn’t fight, maybe I could run. I knew these woods better than her. Once winter came, she wouldn’t want to come chasing after me. Hopefully, I could survive through spring. Staring at the fire in my palms, at least I would be warm.

*****

After a hard rain a few days later, I stood in the limestone ravine. There was nothing to burn down there so it was safe to see what I could do. I needed to know how to control my abilities so I could defend myself against the masked woman when she returned. Heat pulsed through my veins as the icy water swirled around my knees.

The flames were beautiful in their own way. Red and orange streaks flying through the air, striking the water and causing billows of steam to surround me. Walking through the cloud, the rocks shifted, creating piles as tall as me which changed the flow of the water. My bones ached as cracks appeared in the limestone.

Oh no.

Shards of slick rock tumbled into the ravine, blocking the water from flowing. Rising fast, I waded through the stream. I couldn’t let this happen. Damming up the stream would flood the area. And there’d be no water source near the makeshift hideouts I built downstream.

My feet no longer touched the bottom and I flailed as the current pinned me against the wall I created. The pink bubble surrounded me, encapsulating me in a pool of water with the stream rising around me. My heart pounded as the darkness grew.

I thought for sure I was going to drown. Beating against the rock wall, it crumbled and the pink bubble kept me from banging against the boulders. But my head still throbbed from the motion of it all.

I washed up onto a sandy strip in the middle of a wide section in the stream. I didn’t know how far I had travelled. Cold, wet, and shaking, I laughed. If I didn’t laugh, I would have cried. The things I could do were terrifying but amazing. I could fight the masked woman off. I could protect myself. She thought she was creating a pet but she created an enemy.

Dalton

Headquarters was particularly busy that day. The freshly polished marble floors were only being scuffed up by the hundreds of office workers milling about the lobby that was designed to keep people at work as long as humanly possible. The baristas couldn’t keep up with the line. The restaurant tables were already filling up with people taking an early lunch or a late breakfast. This was the heart of Cyprus Industries, with the corridors stretching out around it like arteries that snaked through the rest of the complex.

Dalton stood among his classmates in front of the centerpiece of the lobby, a fountain built to mimic the geyser within the bay of the small city nearby, which could be seen from the floor-ceiling windows to the left.

Dalton’s least favorite front desk secretary droned on about the procedures for receiving a placement within Cyprus Industries after graduation, as if none of them knew already. Everyone’s parents already worked there, which meant everyone already knew their place. He tugged at the tie that felt too tight, wishing his mother hadn’t forced him to wear the suit because no one else was wearing one. Not even the other Directors’ kids.

Mr. Jones, pay attention. The older lady waved the clear tablet in her hands, pointing out that the horde of students had moved.

He trotted along, following the crowd as they made their way down a hall of offices and meeting rooms. These ones were for lower-level workers who interact more with civilians. Most of his friend group would end up in middle management, away from civilian matters.

They were ushered into a room filled with acrylic tables that seated two people each. As he made his way toward the back, he heard a familiar voice ask, Where do you think you’ll end up, poster boy?

Why are you here, Spectre? He slid into a chair at the table in the corner of the room. I thought we were all beneath you.

She slid into the chair next to him, her dark hair pulled into a top knot like it usually was as she chomped on a piece of gum. She always smiled like she knew everyone’s darkest secrets. She probably did. You are beneath me because you owe me.

Not this again. He leaned back, trying not to care about possibly wrinkling the suit. Begrudgingly accepting your help does not mean I owe you. We aren’t the unaligned. We don’t lend and owe favors as currency. We actually make it, thank you.

She leaned in with her arm draped around the back of his chair. How do you think your parents got to be on the Board?

He didn’t like how uncomfortably close she was. They worked for it, just like everyone else on the Board did.

You really believe that? She shook her head with a tsk tsk. You’ll never get out of middle management with that attitude.

A little too forcefully, he said, Shut up, Spectre.

Ms. Acosta, Mr. Jones, is there something you’d like to share with the class? The lady adjusted the glasses on her face.

Dalton straightened up in his seat. No, Mrs. Hargrove.

Good. In a few minutes, you will receive the results of your aptitude tests, which will showcase the department in which you are most likely to be a strong candidate in. She leaned against the front table. You will be allowed to job shadow up to three roles, preferably within that department, to get a sense of where you may find your place here at Cyprus.

Everyone scanned their hands on the table screens.

Dalton’s leg bounced. All his life had been building to this moment. The test that would essentially determine the rest of his life. After all, it had a 92.5 percent accuracy for mapping out someone’s career trajectory.

When the results flashed across the screen, his heart dropped. Intelligence Department. Ideal roles: intelligence analyst, cyber security officer, and network engineer. That was not what he was hoping for. The test had to be wrong because he studied too hard to not get what he wanted.

He looked over at Spectre’s screen. Defense Department. Ideal roles: operations officer, field management officer, specialized skills officer.

Damn it.

She didn’t even want to stay with Cyprus. Why did she score so high for a department that defends it? She then straightened her jean jacket and gave him a side eye. Tough luck, poster boy.

They were dismissed to go file the paperwork needed to begin their job shadowing. Dalton didn’t follow his classmates further down the hall, instead he turned back toward the lobby.

Spectre fell into step beside him, her combat boots hitting the floor hard. Going to try to get your parents to fix it, I see.

The test has to be wrong. Dalton brushed past an intern balancing a tray of coffee on a stack of files.

In the corner of his eye, he could see Spectre raise her eyebrows as she sighed, So much for all that hard work, huh?

He stopped short by the fountain in the lobby, trying to find something quippy to say, but instead he said, "I think the word I’m looking for is càllate."

Oh my God, so you learned a thing or two from my sister. Congratulations. She propped a combat boot against the edge of the fountain and tightened her laces. You could get there faster if you sprinted.

We’re not supposed to use our abilities in the lobby. You know that. He smoothed over the suit jacket. Besides, this is the nicest thing I own and my mother would have my head if I ripped it.

Always the poster boy.

He ignored that comment.

For a few minutes, they were quiet as they made their way toward a different corridor, the one that led to the offices of the higher ups. Where their parents would be. They found the small lounge with hotel-quality chairs and sofas that sat just beyond the meeting rooms where the Board members spent most of their days.

Dalton and Spectre sat down and waited. He picked up a Cyprus newspaper from a coffee table while Spectre stared at the monitor on the wall, watching some trivia show and getting to the answers before the contestants could.

Dalton skimmed through the headlines. Elixir shortage worsens. OMEGA issues more sanctions against unaligned factions. Most of the Cyprus news outlet talked about things that Dalton and Spectre knew weeks prior. Being a Director’s kid meant overhearing and bearing the weight of the truth long before the rest of the company was informed.

After a while, adults meandered through the lobby, wearing suits and exhausted expressions. Dalton and Spectre stood, gravitating toward their parents who were still talking with an all-too-familiar face.

The young black man with tight corn rows on his head was almost the Director of Intelligence a few years ago, but he turned it down. Dalton never knew whether to call him Isaac or Shadow. Spectre always called him Shadow, but field names weren’t condoned in Cyprus. And at any rate, Dalton never understood why Cyprus allowed someone who earned a field name to be so highly ranked within the company. It seemed asinine.

Dalton’s father was dressed in his midnight blue uniform with the polished medallions on the shoulder. The meeting must have been extra serious. It’s new technology, how can we be sure of its accuracy?

Isaac simply shrugged. We can’t know for sure unless we send a ground unit to investigate.

Dalton’s father scoffed, waving his hand. I’m not risking an unnecessary altercation with an Alpha on an educated guess.

Director Jones, I think it’s absolutely necessary. Whenever Isaac talked, the cool confidence in his tone commanded attention. We received the report of Herod Enterprises deploying assets to the area. So, we sent a drone in and it picked up Alpha biosignals. If that is the case, we have a vested interest in understanding what Herod’s intentions are with their presence in the area.

Spectre stepped closer, butting in with wide eyes. Where?

"It’s none of your concern, mija." Her mother placed a hand on her shoulder.

The central boreal forest in Canada. Isaac turned his attention to Spectre. I saw your aptitude test results. Defense Department. Nice.

You and I both saw that coming. Spectre rolled her eyes with a half laugh.

Yes, well… Her mother pressed her lips together, biting back the tense disdain on her face. Don’t worry, Josefina, we’ll find a good role here at headquarters for you to shadow.

Spectre completely disregarded her mother’s attempt to keep her close and turned back to Isaac. The central boreal forest? That doesn’t meet the typical Herod criteria for establishing bases. They prefer places closer to the coasts or to major rivers for easy transport.

Unless this is one of their black ops stations. Director Jones skimmed through the clear tablet in his hands, reviewing documents. You mentioned the land is owned by a shell company.

Several hundred thousand hectares are owned by various shell companies that are owned by several other shell companies. Isaac rolled his shoulders back, sliding his hands into his pockets. Which sounds like Herod is covering up what this is.

Dalton’s mother had been quiet. Her expertise as the Director of Biomedical Research fell far outside the scope of what they were discussing. But, she brushed her blonde hair out of her face and chimed in anyway with her posh accent. Director Bravo, under universal mutant law, aren’t there provisions that would grant us clearance to parlay with the superior officer in charge of the facility once contact is made?

Spectre’s mother tilted her head in thought. Yes, there are provisions giving us that clearance. But if this is a black ops unit, then who is to say they will oblige us?

Dalton’s father sighed. We can’t ignore this. If Herod has possession of that much land and we’re receiving Alpha biosignals from this new drone technology, then this potentially is a training ground that we need to be aware of.

Dalton saw an opportunity. He shifted on his feet a little before asking, Could I shadow the special ops unit when you go in?

His father looked at him in shock for a moment. You tested into the Defense Department?

Well, no but–

Then why waste our time? His father tugged at the cuff of his sleeve, which was Dalton’s sign to not press the issue.

I see no harm in it. His mother looked his father square in the eyes. We’ve always talked about the possibility of the test being inaccurate given Dalton’s ambition to work in your division.

That was always the goal. He had to prove to his parents that he could amount to be more than a middle management desk jockey. If he ended up in the Intelligence Department, not only would he be stuck behind a desk all his life, but he’d end up working under Isaac, who was only a few years older than Dalton, so any chance of earning a spot on the Board meant impressing Isaac and he seemed like the kind of person who was rarely impressed.

"You’ve talked about the possibility of the test being inaccurate. His father rubbed his jaw. I’ve seen young adults trying to make their way into the Defense Department despite testing higher elsewhere and they fail the training."

I could go with him. Spectre smirked, still chomping on that piece of gum.

His father pointed at her. With your track record, I’ll see to it that you don’t leave headquarters. But then his shoulders eased a little. Although, if you want to help prep him for a ground operation, I’ll allow it just this once.

Damn it. He would get what he wanted but only with Spectre’s help. She would rub it in his face for sure. He’d never hear the end of it.

Josefina / Spectre

If I’m going to prep him, I’ll need the clearance to use the simulation domes. Spectre had other plans, of course. Dalton was a lost cause. The best she could do was show him a few things to keep him from getting killed. He didn’t belong there no matter how much Director Jones desperately wanted his son to be by his side and no matter how much Dalton wanted to be the son and father duo that the Cyprus higher ups craved.

The nepotism was so stupid here.

Agent Bosch will supervise. Director Jones said.

"Claro." Spectre rolled her eyes. She should have known they wouldn’t trust her.

Spectre noticed the pleased smile on her mother and Dalton’s mother’s faces. Loren just secured her family’s shot at greater notoriety, which they needed still considering how Loren and her husband obtained their positions on the Board. Meanwhile, Spectre’s mother would get credit for her wayward daughter building up that potential legacy family that has yet to live up to the Board’s expectations, although they’ve earned their keep well enough to maybe withstand another round of appointments.

Being a Director’s kid sucked. Spectre refused to play the stupid political games and Dalton was oblivious to them.

Cool. Spectre turned to Shadow. You want to get lunch?

And just like that her mother’s smile dropped, but she didn’t say anything as Shadow and Spectre walked away.

Once they were out of ear shot, Shadow said, I’m meeting with Alice for lunch, but I need to show you something.

He grabbed her arm and in a whisp of black smoke, they were in his office. Holographic screens rotated around a control panel with a small kitchenette off to the side.

Spectre’s stomach churned from the jump. You could have warned me.

Sorry. He stood at the monitors, sliding different windows around with endless scrolling data, live camera feeds and glimpses of files that were only for those with the highest security clearance. He pulled up a string of messages dated nearly four years ago that were encoded and blacked out in many parts.

One line caught her eye: ATTN: Daniel Vela

What is this? Spectre’s heart dropped. These messages were to her dad. Before the exodus. The last message was dated right before he left Cyprus.

I don’t know yet. Shadow sighed, slipping his hands in his pockets, like his younger brothers always did before they got to the point. One of my programs found a hidden server with a lot of redacted files. Not owned by Cyprus or Herod from what I can tell, because it has dirt on both. Might be the unaligned faction that deals in intelligence. I got kicked out about thirty seconds in, but now that I know it’s out there, I need to get back in.

And these were what the program dug up? Spectre reached up at the screen, zooming in, as if she could read through the black lines on the files. The answers she’s been looking for could be in these messages. These aren’t in Cyprus’ investigative files. She would know. She read through the entire 300-page report and scoured through all the evidence her mom had to gather after her dad left.

Shadow stared at the screens. No, they aren’t, and they could change everything that we know about why he left.

I’m going to bring these to my mom. She tapped a few things and sent the messages to her inbox. Maybe she’ll be able to do something with this.

I don’t think that’s a great idea. Shadow shut down the computer with a few strokes of his hand. I’m doing this as a favor to you. It’s not sanctioned.

Spectre shook her head. Since when do you care about what’s sanctioned or not?

Shadow rubbed the back of his neck. Your mom opened an investigation into what I do. I can’t take the same risks I could a few weeks ago.

Ugh, she just hates that you have a field name and you helped me earn mine. Spectre made her way to the kitchenette and grabbed a granola bar from the box of snacks sitting in the cabinet.

You know it’s much more complicated than that. He leaned against the counter. There was a beat of silence. How’s the gum tracer working for you?

She bit into the granola bar. See for yourself.

Shadow started the computer back up and saw the dozens of dots floating on a 3D topographical map of the mountains, where Cyprus headquarters lied underneath. Impressive.

It’s short range though. Spectre pointed to the dots that were sinking deeper into the earth and then disappeared. It can’t reach past a certain depth.

For now. Shadow checked his platinum watch. I’ve got to get going. Alice and I struggled to get this lunch date arranged.

Are you going to pop the question? Spectre threw away the wrapper.

Not yet. A sheepish grin stretched across his face. I have a special dinner date in mind for that.

I better be a bridesmaid. She lightly shoved him. I basically hooked you two up.

Shadow laughed. It was good to see him laugh for once. I’m sure you’d be on the list.

Oh, before you go. His laugh was gone and it was all business again. The Alpha biosignals in the boreal forest.

Yeah?

The modified radar tech is still new so it’s possible that it’s not Alpha biosignals but multiple mutants…like a couple of high Betas.

You think it could be your brothers? Spectre’s heart dropped. It had been almost six months since she last saw them. I thought they were on their way to Cape Town.

They went dark once they arrived, which was around the same time Herod expanded some operations there. He brought up the images of the boreal forest, layered with red splotches where the mutant biosignals were discovered.

Spectre leaned in. Smaller patches were scattered within a few miles from the centeral red splotch. Spectre noticed the wide patch of land that was too manicured for this to be an empty plot. The garden is tended to and there’s a chicken coop. Is this a homestead?

It looks like it. I’m not entirely sure what’s going on here. Shadow moved the map around, circling the subtle construction of outposts surrounding the homestead. I know we have close connections to a few factions in Cape Town and this homestead reads more like a faction safehouse than a Herod black ops station.

But this land is owned by shell companies. I’ve never heard of the unaligned organizing well enough to own shell companies. Spectre paced a few steps. Is that even legal?

Shadow swiped the map off the screen. I’m sure there’s loopholes to exploit, but if there’s even a small possibility that they might be there…

Oh, that’s the game he was playing. He never would have mentioned this to the Board if he didn’t think it could lead him back to his brothers. She nodded, understanding her role now. I’ll give Dalton enough pointers to know what to look for.

He almost left it at that, but he sighed and said, Be sure to tell him to use his field name if he comes across any unaligned. It’ll build trust.

Spectre smirked. Oh, I’m sure he’ll love that advice.

*****

Early the next morning Spectre and Dalton were greeted by Agent Bosch, a gruff German woman who was definitely not a morning person. I hate you, Josefina.

Aw, you’re too kind, Bosch. Spectre offered her a cup of coffee, black with two sugars, just how she preferred it.

Agent Bosch let the rifle around her shoulder sag to accept the peace offering, which was the perfect time to get a read on Bosch’s watch, copying the signal onto Spectre’s watch for safe keeping. Now Spectre had a key pass to almost every area of headquarters and a few restricted areas at the academy.

Walking through the nearly empty halls behind Agent Bosch, Dalton gave Spectre a sideways glance. Are you going to gloat now?

Why would I do that? She bit back a laugh. This kid honestly thought she was out to get him. It was just easy to get him upset, which made him too fun to toy with.

You get to prove you’re better than me. Dalton took a swig of his tea before stuffing the last bite of a pastry into his mouth.

I don’t have to prove what everyone already knows. She smirked at him.

They reached the dome, which was covered in white octagonal panels with a clear strip of glass that marked the observation deck. Agent Bosch headed toward the small door that led to the deck. I’ve already preset it to your specifications. Don’t kill him. That would make my job harder.

Because you’d have to contain her? Dalton half laughed, but he fidgeted with the buttons on his cargo pants. Nervous tick. The kid was so fidgety.

She turned back for a moment with a deadpan expression. No, it’d be a lot of unnecessary paperwork I’d have to fill out.

Dumbfounded, Dalton stood there with wide eyes and an open mouth.

Spectre lightly shoved him. Look alive, poster boy.

The machine whirred and shapes made from nanotech emerged from the ground. Colors swirled around them as the scene was set. When it all settled, they were in a warehouse filled with crates and crawling with fake Herod agents. The masked men and women were loading and unloading boxes onto a truck.

Spectre and Dalton crouched behind a mound of supplies. She looked over at him and his eyes flit around the room, unsure of what to look for.

A flashbang explosion rocked the room and the fake Herod agents swept the place, shouting orders at each other while young adults rushed in, taking them by storm. Spectre turned invisible, floating up to the balcony to get a birds’ eye view. Hanging onto the balcony railing, she could see the layout of the building. One main loading dock, several smaller doors that led out to the world.

Dalton zipped from one hiding place to the next, passing three exits in his panic to evade being caught up in the scuffle. He already failed the test. He was so focused on what was ahead of him that he didn’t see the agent with a rifle nestled on top of a mound of crates, aiming at him.

With a loud burst of gunfire, the warehouse melted away.

Dalton was doubled over, sweating and panting, already wore out from the back-to-back sprints. I don’t understand what the point of that was.

Look alive. I told you that. Spectre gently floated back down to him. That was a re-creation of an encounter my friends and I had with Herod. We were being rounded up to be transported to the institute when a local faction they had pissed off threw out a flashbang and seized a bunch of their supplies.

What was the goal? Dalton looked up at her, sneering.

Get out alive, which you didn’t do. Spectre waved at Agent Bosch and she brought up the simulation again, only this time everything stood still in the thick of the moment right before the agent fired at Dalton. While you were focused on getting to the next hiding spot in front of you, you weren’t aware of what was above you. She pointed to a rusted sign on the wall beside them. Or the fact that an exit was right here.

Dalton rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. I thought you were going to teach me to fight like you do.

You can’t learn hand-to-hand combat in a day. I’m teaching you how to stay alive, which arguably, is more important. She strolled toward the center of the room. Fighters look for fights which could get them killed. Survivors look alive long enough to escape death.

Spectre. Dalton’s desperate eyes drilled into her as his voice softened. This may be my one shot at building a future my dad won’t be disappointed in. You’ve got to teach me more than to be aware of my surroundings.

Shit, he was probably right. Not that she owed him anything, but he didn’t have much going for him and she wouldn’t be around to save his ass for much longer. Spectre’s sister would be so distraught if he got seriously hurt. So, Spectre rolled her eyes and shouted up at Bosch, Run simulation three.

The white dome morphed into a boxing gym. Spectre ducked under the ropes of the ring at the center and Dalton did the same. He bounced on his feet, fists up.

I’ll give you one shot. Spectre clasped her hands behind her back.

The rhythm of his bounces slowed. This is a trick.

Why would I do that? She gave him a sly smile.

Dalton glanced her up and down. What’s the lesson here? He was catching on.

She cocked an eyebrow. Be strategic.

Dalton hesitated, as if mustering up the courage to hit her. Finally, he attempted a haymaker punch to which she blocked and wrapped her arm around his, pushing him to the ground.

With a calm, even tone Spectre asked, What were you thinking? He wasn’t thinking, but she had a point to make.

I was thinking I was going to punch you? Dalton tried to wriggle out of her hold on him. What was I supposed to do?

Be strategic. Spectre let go and Dalton rushed to be on his feet again. Strength is underutilized for merely brute force. Don’t try to win in one haymaker. Tire the person out before delivering the final blow. Spectre demonstrated with a few quick, but pulled