Abnormals/Apprentices

The Vessel couldn’t scream. She had screamed once before, but it had broken her voice, that was why she heard whispers about not being successful enough against arguments that they couldn’t make another one.

She couldn’t scream, and yet she did. The scream came from the air around her, the slight sound of her breath, the ventilation in her accommodations, the chatter that reached her.

The Vessel’s scream broke the glass in front of her, and the walls of of her accommodation, which were shared with two others.

“Whoa,” the resident on her right, a boy with wavy blond hair, said, “What do we do now?”

In answer, a louder sound than the Vessel had ever heard before blared from above. The Vessel screamed again, shaking the building.

“We run,” the other resident, a girl with short white hair, said, grabbing Vessel and the other one before running toward the one wall that hadn’t broken.

The Vessel reached out her free hand, concentrating the scream to break the final wall.

They jumped down, so far down, but something slowed them down enough to land on the ground gently.

She knew what cars were, but she never expected them to be so loud. She tried to close her ears, but the sound just permeated her body.

The others pulled her somewhere.

“What do they call you?” the runner asked, “They call me Hybrid.”

“They call me Carbon,” the boy answered.

They were silent after that, which just made it harder to ignore the sound of cars.

They got closer to walls, some were so hard they made things louder, while others made things quieter. She strangely preferred the harder ones.

They came to a door. The tips of Carbon’s fingers glowed as he gripped the doorknob a few seconds, before twisting it and opening the door. He closed it behind them, and this time the Vessel could hear the chambers click as he locked it.

“What do they call you?” Hybrid asked, looking inquisitively at the Vessel.

The Vessel opened her mouth, and nothing came out. She didn’t know what to do.

“You can’t talk,” Carbon noted, “You talked before. Did they not want you to talk?”

The Vessel only remembered pain after saying something she didn’t remember anymore.

“You don’t need a name,” Hybrid said, “You just need to listen to me.”

“Why?” Carbon asked.

“Because I know who can help us.”

“Who?”

“My dad,” Hybrid said, “He’ll understand us.”

“Who’s your dad?”

Hybrid smiled instead of giving an answer, starting to hum.

The Vessel felt the sound from her again, more pleasant than the cars, more tangible than the ventilation.

The sound was like putty in her hand. She held it, moved it, and adjusted.

“Vessel.”

Her companions looked at her with shock.

“How did you do that?” Carbon asked.

She tried to take the sound again, but it disappeared too quickly. She needed to claim it while it still moved. She offered a shrug instead of explanation.

“We’ll figure it out tomorrow,” Hybrid offered.

Right. It was night time. That was why there wasn’t enough people to stop them.

Vessel tried to stay scared, but she was so exhausted that closing her eyes made her fall asleep on the cold concrete floor they’d found.

The glass will disappear. As the other two collect their bearings, she will grab the feather left in the middle of the chamber, the feather that destroyed all the others but left them alive.

“I can find a way,” she will tell them, “Follow me.”

The boy, Berserker, will stay still, watching.

The girl, Wildcard, though that will not be her name forever, will be too busy panting to disagree. Circe will grab them both and run.

She will know the way, where the guards are always absent with the right timing, where dead ends are not a problem, and finally an exit that no one knows is there, and perhaps will not exist until she wants it.

Before they can cheer, Circe will take them to a small building with letters they can’t read, because they will have to learn that too late, and she will persuade the people to take care of them.

They will be wards, and others will be wary.

Mandie watched Harold sleep, focusing her attention on his eyelids, which clearly had movement behind them.

“His eyes do work,” she noted.

“Yeah,” Catherine said, “But the information doesn’t. We think the curse might just be corrupting the part of his brain in charge of sight, but not the eyes on the whole.”

“We?”

“Harold’s been interested in xenology since he could read. He considers the fact he gets to experiment with himself to be a silver lining to all of this.”

Mandie rolled her eyes. Her sister was a nerd, and her nephew followed the same path.

“I know there’s rose tinted glasses after everything, but you get that it was kind of messed up for dad to publish papers on us growing up, right?”

“Messed up, but useful in the long run,” Catherine said, “Do you know how difficult it is to access information on your own powers when you aren’t in direct contact with the person who helped record it?”

“I understand my powers, and so do you.”

“But there are plenty of parents of kids like us that those papers helped in the long run.”

Catherine was too selfless, or maybe she just didn’t want to speak ill of the dead.

“Is it different with Harold?”

“I’m not publishing it for starters,” Catherine said, “And for seconders, he wants to know. As long as I keep it non-invasive, minimize any other risks, he’ll be fine. Better to have accepted supervision than rejected protection.”

It wasn’t Mandie’s place to argue. Harold was growing as well as he wanted to, at least for a kid in his circumstances.

“So, is this a casual visit, or something else?” Catherine asked, leading Mandie out of the room and to the kitchen.

“How are you holding up?”

Catherine paused.

“You know, this is the first year I forgot the anniversary was coming up. I usually keep better tabs on my schedule. I should tell my therapist about this.”

“So you’re fine.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Catherine tapped the rubber duck on the kitchen island, creating a projection on the sloped ceiling.

“Does Harold know you’re talking business without him?”

Catherine wiggled her fingers and the screen showed a map.

“These are electromagnetic signatures—”

“Are you shitting me? Isn’t this computer in charge of the Guild? Why are you wasting resources?”

“Language,” Catherine said, “If Camera can’t handle the load, this program is one of the first she cuts, but it doesn’t actually take a lot of power.”

Mandie doubted that.

“It takes more power to find an exact personnel file than to record energy spikes on a public grid and report any above a certain threshold.”

“So you’re still trying to find him?” Mandie asked.

“Not exactly,” Catherine admitted, “I just want to know that if he ever shows up, I’ll be the first one there.”

Mandie understood, she supposed. She knew how important Pete was to Catherine, and that Harold’s very existence amplified that importance. She just didn’t like the hold he kept on her. Catherine deserved to move on, but she was too stubborn to do what she deserved.

“Why are the spikes important enough to show me?”

Catherine shrugged.

“Didn’t want you to think too highly of me, I guess. I still check each one. Two weeks ago I caught a bank robbery.”

“Any pattern?”

“Aside from people using electricity, no, other than these.” She snapped and most of the spikes disappeared, leaving maybe 10 in their place.

“What’s different about those?”

“There was nothing there, the most incredibly normal situation I ever saw. Either it’s nothing, or someone knows I’m coming and doesn’t want me to see anything.”

“How can you be—”

The projection suddenly showed a new spike.

“Camera,” Catherine began, heading down to the lab she kept her gear in, “We’re heading out. If Harold wakes up before we’re back, let him know everything that’s happening.”

“Before we’re back?” Mandie asked, “What makes you think I’m joining this goose chase?”

“It’s more like I already know you won’t let me go alone. Suit up, Nightingale.”

Mandie held her hands above her shoulders, focused on the threads of her dress and everything else she wore, reweaving it into the Nightingale costume.

“When this turns out to be nothing, I want compensation.”

“I’ll pay you the highest minimum wage in the US for all your time spent with me if this comes to nothing.”

“I didn’t mean it literally.”

Alyssa watched, frozen, as the people came in for the kids. The necklace she wore kept her mentally stable, but it also stopped her powers, so what good was she?

She moved on instinct to block whatever it was with her body.

It wasn’t a blast, or anything else she could block. The man was a telekinetic, and he lifted the kids behind her, a shocked expression on his face.

“They’re kids?” he asked his companion.

“Sometimes you need to get your hands dirty,” the woman explained, eyes glowing red, “But we don’t have to hurt them.”

Alyssa looked from one to the other, then ran to tackle the woman. The kids dropped to the floor.

“Run!”

The kids ran off the balcony, into the pool. That should keep them safe.

Except one of them was electric.

“No!”

She jumped off the woman, prepared to throw her necklace away, but the telekinetic was already reaching down to hold the kids above the water. They must not want them dead. Nightingale was already down by the pool, staring up at the man. Whatever negotiation was going on, the kids were safe.

Alyssa turned back to the woman, but she was already gone.

“Shit.”

The kids cheered as they hit the ground, and the telekinetic ran before Alyssa could do anything.

They don’t want to tangle with the Guild, Nightingale assured.

If it was just the Abnormals, that’s all Mandie would have said. The kids were worth the entire Heroes’ Guild’s interference somehow.

Pete was just that powerful, huh?

Alyssa looked over the pool. The white-haired girl was waving excitedly.

“Thanks, mom!”

Maybe Pete wasn’t the only dangerous one.