Chapter Four: Scream Team

Chapter Four: Scream Team

            Hannah Tully woke up and tried in vain to shake the grogginess from her head. She was either too tired or not tired enough. She had gone to sleep in her own bed, but here she was waking up in a room she did not recognize. The room was white, sharply angular, and built as though it were a cage and not a dormitory. Someone had changed her clothes. Who here, wherever here is, is sick enough to strip you and change you while you sleep? She wondered. A shimmer of light in the doorway suggested to her that there might be a barrier in place, though she felt little drive to test the theory. She rubbed her eyes and rolled off the bed. As she hit the floor, she felt the tiles suddenly warm up, as though they were heated from an external source. The plates were indeed glowing red-hot, but her skin was not at all harmed. Instead, the heat seemed to be coming from her hands.

            What in the…she thought. This isn’t supposed to be happening! She got to her feet slowly, looking at the palms of her hands in disbelief. Waves of heat poured off her fingers and ignited the air around her. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, wishing the flames away. However, only after her pulse returned to normal did the thermal energy pulses dissipate.

            “Well done,” came a voice from behind her. “It took me almost a half hour to get the hang of mine.” She whirled, trying to see who exactly was behind her. The young woman in the cell with her was a tall blonde with shoulder-length, straight hair and cold blue eyes. Her hair looked as though it had been recently dyed some darker color, but it was difficult to tell exactly which one. Her accent was strange, even for an American. American it was, but it sounded…what was it? New England, she remembered. That was what it was. New England.

            “Just who are you?” Hannah challenged.

            “Emerald Matthews,” the girl answered. “College geology major and, apparently, superhuman terrakinetic.” Suddenly, the walls of the cell began to shake, and bits of dirt began coalescing in front of her. “See? I can move dirt, or use some as a base to make more of it. Makes sweeping the floor a lot easier,” she added with a mocking grin.

            “And mine?” Hannah asked. “Fire?”

            “Technically called pyrokinesis,” Emerald corrected. “But yes, essentially starting fires and playing with heat. It’s pretty amazing, when you stop to think on it,” she mused.

            “Okay,” Hannah muttered. “So we’ve got superpowers. That’s great, truly it is. But why are we here, and where is here?”

            “I’m guessing the powers contributed to the first, but I have absolutely no clue about the second,” Emerald said.

            “Well, are we just going to sit around in a prison cell?” Hannah queried. “It’s not exactly comfortable, in case you haven’t noticed.”

            “What…oh. Breakout?” the other asked. Her cellmate nodded. “I like that train of thought. Careful of the door; it’s got an energy field surrounding it.” Hannah ignited both her palms.

            “Doesn’t matter. Time to make some scorch marks,” she said. Pressing her hands flat against the metal plates in the entryway, she sent pulse after pulse of thermal energy into them. The metal shimmered at first, then went red-hot as the heat increased. Hannah noticed superheated metal dripping down her arms, but it felt like little more than warm water. The heat was coming faster now, burning through the plates like a flamethrower through butter. The field was already flickering; Hannah realized she must have burned through something vital. Keeping at it for several more minutes accomplished her goal, and the field gave in a shower of white sparks. Emerald looked at the results with tacit approval.

            “Neatly done,” she remarked. “Couldn’t have pulled it off better myself.”

            “No, but you could have at least helped,” Hannah said. “It would have been the considerate thing to do.”

            “Perhaps,” the other conceded.  “Still, you seemed to have it well in hand.” Hannah stepped out of her cell, the heat shimmers around her hands dissipating.

            “All right,” she murmured. “So we’re free. Was that the hard part, or the easy one?” At precisely that moment, an alarm blared, and wall-mounted lights bathed the corridor in a crimson glow.

            Emerald cracked her knuckles. “I’m guessing the hard part.”

            “Guards,” Hannah realized. “How are we going to get out of here without killing anyone?”

            The other shrugged. “We’ll see about that when the time comes.”

            Whitewall Room

            Justin shook his head as he watched his sister beating guards into oblivion. “Why do you make mere children do this?” He asked. “Don’t you worry it might be traumatic for them?”

            “Yes,” the woman replied. “But trauma is a fact of life, Mr. Tully. As much as we dislike the effects of our training, we appreciate the results.”

            “You mean making a bunch of little killers,” Abel growled. “I can feel the terror and confusion in their minds. It will warp them, you know.”

            “Those it does not warp, it improves,” she responded. “According to our calculations, your teammates will survive the training intact.”

            “You put a lot of faith in mathematics. It almost makes one think you might believe in destiny,” Justin remarked.

            “Destiny is merely a sum of choices made over time,” she admonished. “That sum can be determined by a simple grasp of variables and constants.”

            “Yeah,” Abel said. “Is one of those constants your annoyingly patronizing manner?”

            The woman bristled. “You have little comprehension of this concept, boy, and thus you would be wise to hold your tongue.”

            “You’re wrong,” the American said, grinning in that same carefree and sarcastic manner he always seemed to keep around himself. “I understand it. I just think it ought to come with its own shovel, is all.” Justin suppressed a smile. This boy might be a little impertinent, but at least he had style about it.

The woman seemed angry for a moment, but then she relaxed. In an abrupt change of subject, she asked, “How old would you say I am? Either of you?”

“Probably early thirties,” Justin responded. “Why?”

“She’s not asking about age alone,” Abel surmised, his eyes shut as he delved into her mind. “You’re from another time, but you’re shielded now. You shut me out. Why?”

            “I am not from your time,” she said. “In fact, I am not even from your millennium or your side of the birth of Christ. I came from ancient Greece, in a time of war. The Persians were our enemies then, and they were fierce. But our men were fiercer. We Spartans…”

            “Wait,” Justin exclaimed, incredulous. “You were an actual Spartan?”

            “I was,” she answered. “You and your twenty-first century have a curious idea of honor and war. And also of independence, come to think. You believe yourselves able to choose your own fates, regardless of the effects on others. By choosing your own fate, you willfully ignore the pain and suffering that you cause because of this unshakeable belief you possess in your individual rights. For once, let at least some of you learn that you need to sacrifice your own selfish motives!”

            Abel shook his head. “I didn’t say that or mean it. I’m just asking why it’s you that gets to decide our fate.”

            “Because,” she said, smiling. “We have the power to do so. And, to ensure your cooperation, we assigned two evaluators to your team. Whether or not you like it, we are in control, and we will stay that way.”

            Maze 2

            Hannah raised her hands, sending waves of heat toward two guards. The waves were designedly pointed, melting their weapons closed. The men stared at their weapons in shock, a development that Emerald turned to their advantage to pummel them with coalesced dirt. It seemed a shame, really, knocking so many men out in such undignified fashion. Still, she had little choice. Emerald had refused anything resembling stealth, and that meant pounding them.

            “You know,” she remarked, “there is a better way to do this.”

            “Easier, not better,” Tully corrected. “We are not killing anyone.”

            “So needlessly moralistic,” the other admonished. “You know they’d just as soon do the same to us?”

            “Doesn’t matter,” Hannah replied.

            “Strange, aren’t you?” Emerald looked down at the bodies. Though not dead, they were unconscious by any measure. “Hmmm….wonder where these guys are coming from? There’s no way out of this maze.” She looked at the walls. “Wonder if one of those isn’t solid…”

            Hannah walked up and gave one of the walls a heavy thump. “No, it’s solid, all right. If there isn’t a door, maybe we could make one…” she mused. “I could melt a hole in one of the walls. Any thoughts on which one?”

            “Sure that’s a good idea?” Emerald asked. “That’d make a big mess. But in answer, no, I don’t really have a preference.”

            “Yes, but it’d also get us out of here.” Hannah closed her eyes. “Step away. This is going to get really messy.” Dutifully, Emerald ducked into a nearby hallway. After several seconds of waiting, she heard was a massive whoomph, followed by two more such sounds. After that, silence. Stepping into the hall, she saw a massive pool of molten metal at Hannah’s feet, with under-layers of concrete revealed where the white metal plating had been melted away. Hannah pressed her hand against a concrete wall and sent even more heat into the stonework, only to as equally absorb the energy. The sudden change in temperature created a wide crack in the concrete, and several more heat contractions created a hole wide enough to crawl through.

            “Oh, that looks safe,” Emerald remarked sarcastically.

            “If you have a way out I don’t know about, feel free to share,” Hannah snapped. “Otherwise, quit your whining and climb in.”

            Whitehall Room

            “Impressive,” the woman mused. “They broke the rules of the maze so that they could escape. We would like to encourage further innovation.”

            “Are you going to bring them up to give the same speech that we heard?” Justin asked. “You know that we could just save you time and just tell them.”

            The woman nodded. “That was the plan, actually. We were going to send you four down to the armory to get equipped, to be joined by the other half of your team whenever they arrive.”

            Abel raised an eyebrow. “An armory? You mean we get weapons?”  He looked at Justin and gave a slight nod. “Maybe it’s not such a bad gig, all things considered. So, where’s the armory?”

            The woman opened her mouth, and Justin rolled his eyes. “Oh, no. Another elevator?”

            Armory

            Abel stepped off that elevator and into Disneyland, or at least something much similar. Guns, knives, weapons he did not even recognize, rocket launchers, grenades, bandoliers, armor suits…this was truly the happiest and most dangerous place on earth. Justin saw his friend’s enraptured face and smiled.

            “Something the matter with you?” He asked. “You look like you just met the love of your life.”

            “I might have,” Abel muttered, walking over to a rack of knives. He took one and examined it closely, turning it over in his hands. His finger brushed a button, and he recoiled as two long lines of fiery yellow light extended from the base nearly to the point. “What…” he began, leaving the thought unfinished. He held the knife away and hit a second switch, and the light blades ejected at acute angles from the central one.

            “That looks dangerous,” Justin remarked.

            “It is.” The two boys turned, and they saw a young woman standing behind them. Instead of the jumpsuits they were wearing, she was clad in silver battle armor with aquamarine streaks running down the arms and legs, though there was not helmet to cover her head or neck. Likewise, her hands were semi-exposed, though she wore what looked like reinforced half gloves. Her dark blonde hair was tied back in a tight bun, and her blue eyes had a strange, humoresque twinkle in them. “It’s a plasma scissor dagger. The blades flick out whenever they enter a target for increased damage.”

            “Ouch,” Justin muttered. “Is that a new…”

            “The weapon itself, yes,” she answered. “We just turned one out about two weeks ago. The design, though…that’s old. It actually originated, at least as near as we can tell, in the Indo-Persian Empire.”

 

Justin stopped listening at this point; Abel seemed content to talk to the girl, but he would rather pick out weapons for himself than third-wheel like that. He went over to a rack of armor suits, but they were all too heavy for his tastes. Some had blades hidden in the wrists and boots, a feature that he liked, but their other technology was far too heavy for his tastes. He had gone through about twelve suits by the time he found it. The streamlined contours of the suit allowed aerodynamic efficiency, an important consideration even for temporally-based super-speed. After all, friction was not eliminated, merely reduced. The weave was light enough for him to wear comfortably, and the suit’s wrists had the blades he was looking for. He turned as he pulled the suit on over his clothes. Abel was still immersed in conversation. What could have been so interesting about this girl to him? Justin shrugged. He supposed it was no business of his, anyhow.

 

            “Does it have an owner?” Abel asked. “Some of these weapons have names beside them.”

            “That one doesn’t,” she said. “It’s yours if you want it.” The girl pointed to the wall. “There’s a belt for it, if you want it.”

            “Thanks…I’m sorry. I didn’t ask for your name. I’m…”

            “Abel Gant,” she supplied. “They told me. Sorry about the Council; they’re a bunch of administrative dead weights. I’m Reina Harper, one of your evaluators. Before you get angry at me, I didn’t volunteer for this assignment. They lumped me with it because I’m a disciplinary issue myself.”

            “You don’t look it,” Abel said. “No offense, but you seem…”

            “…nicer than a disciplinary issue,” she agreed. “Yeah, that’s what everyone says.”

            “They aren’t wrong,” Abel replied, tightening the belt around himself. “So…is armor standard issue?”

            “The armor is,” she replied. “But we’re free to customize out outfits as we see fit.” He nodded.

            “Any recommendations for armor?” He asked.

            “Take your pick,” she said. “The lighter stuff’s not always better, though. If you’re going to be using knives, I’d pick something easily concealable. You wouldn’t believe how many historical figures try to kill you, and you don’t want it to look like you saw it coming.”

            “Got any coats?” He asked.

            “Lots,” she answered. “What kind do you want?”

            Abel looked wistfully into the distance. “I’ve always thought a trench coat would be nice,” he whispered. “Sorry. Makes me feel…like a kid, I guess.”

            “We have plenty of those, and probably at least one in your size. Come on,” she said. “I’ll show you where they are. Get your weapons first, though.” Abel took three more knives, which he strapped to his belt, and then a long, dangerous-looking pistol.

            “What’s this do?” He asked. “It looks nasty.”

            Reina smiled. “It is. By the way, you do look a little like a kid on Christmas Day.” Abel actually blushed at that. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way. It’s fine, really.”

            “Is it?” He asked. “I mean, they’re weapons.”

            “Hey, it’s all good. What’s a little geekishness among friends?” Abel started at that.

            “Are we friends, Miss Harper?”

            “Yeah, we are,” she answered. “And my friends call me Reina.”

            They showed up about twenty minutes later; Justin was relieved that his sister was all right, and that she had made a new friend. Emerald seemed a little caustic, but that was a character trait that would not keep her off their team.

            “So, where are we now?” She asked. “Oh. Weapons. Cool.” She went over to the shelves. “Are we not allowed to take any of these, because I want them all.”

            “Only the ones with names,” Reina said.

            “And who exactly are you to say?” She asked. “Not that I’m disputing your authority, but I’d like to know you have it.”

            “I’m one of your evaluators,” Reina told her. “Yeah, the bosses don’t trust you enough to let you go it alone.”

            “The bosses?” Emerald asked. “You mean you work for the people that put us in here?” And she started toward the other girl, a knife in her clenched fist.

“Drop the knife,” Reina told her. “We can talk this through.”

“I’d rather do the talking,” Emerald contested hotly. “And I find people listen easier when you have something sharp and dangerous.” Suddenly, she felt herself jerk backward, and she was flung against a wall. Abel lowered his hand, although he kept her in his telekinetic grip. The knife went flying from her hand, and she struggled to pick it up, without success.

“Not a good idea,” he said. “I’d sit down before things get out of hand. No pun intended,” he added, looking down at the knife. “OK, listen up. We’ve been kidnapped by an organization that apparently vanguards time or something like that. Apparently we’re too dangerous to leave alone, so they took us and they want us for some kind of black ops team.”

Emerald struggled to get out of his grip, without success. “OK,” she snarled. “Let’s act like I believe you. So, now what? We’re just going to work for those jerks? They kidnapped us! Took us from our families! We should fight them!”

            “I agree,” Abel told her. Seeing Reina’s surprise, he said, “What? It’s true, isn’t it? They’re manipulating us, aren’t they? But my argument is that we can’t win a war from the outside against people we don’t know. So, love them or hate them, declared war or secret, if we want to fight them, we fight from the inside. And Reina here has the same idea. They’re pairing her with us because they trust her as little as they trust us.”

            “So you expect me to go along with this?” Emerald asked, her face twisted in anger. “I had a family! People who cared about me. People I cared about.” Abel turned to her, his eyes gone from their normal color to blazing orange. His voice sounded strangely reverberating, as though he were speaking into some kind of sound amplifier.

            “Yeah?” He snarled. “Cry me a river, build a bleeding bridge, and haul you butt over it, girl. The universe doesn’t care what you had, could have had, or wanted to have, and neither do these people. The sad fact is, no one cares, present company excluded. You want to walk away from this?”

            “Since when do I need anyone else?” She asked, her voice rising too. “I’m just fine on my own. I can take care of myself.”

“Not outside of this organization, you can’t,” Abel replied. “Those people out there won’t let you go, and you won’t like the threats they make to get you back here. You’re stuck with us, and that’s that. You don’t like it? Join the club, sweetheart. I’m not thrilled about the prospects, either. But that doesn’t matter, because if I want to survive, I’ll fight for them until a better option presents itself.” He took a deep breath, and the orange light went out in his eyes. “If you have an ounce of self-preservation, you will, too.”

            “So you’re doing this out of pure selfishness?” Emerald asked. “Doesn’t that just fill me with confidence.”

            Abel smiled, though there was little happiness in the expression. “You’d be surprised at the number of people in this world who wouldn’t do anything without a promise of reward. Selfishness motivates people to do a lot, and a lot more than you’d ever think.” His grip on Emerald released. “Go ahead. Run.” She made no move to flee, merely staring at him with eyes full of embarrassed rage. “So you were listening. Wasn’t sure there for a bit,” he muttered. Emerald got up and walked away, feeling her cheeks growing hot as she perused the racks. Justin and Hannah embraced a short distance away.

            “Jus, Mom and Dad are going to be so worried,” she whispered, tears running down her cheeks. “What are we going to do?” Her brother always knew what to do, she thought. He would have an answer. He did, but she did not like it at all.

            “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I wish I could tell you. But I just don’t know.” She hugged him tighter.

            “I’m scared,” she replied. “I don’t want to lose you too.” He hugged her back, doing his best to keep his arms from shaking with fear.

            “You won’t,” he told her. “And, Hannah…”

            “Yeah?”

            “I’m scared, too.”

            Reina turned to Justin after watching the siblings’ reunion. “Look at them. So…”

            “…happy,” He finished. Even while they’re crying their eyes out, they’re happy.”

            “You have any siblings?” She asked. Abel shrugged.

            ‘Don’t know. Don’t really care. It’s one of the many questions about my family I never want to think about.”

            “Is that why you lit so badly into Emerald?” She asked.

            “No,” he answered. “I did that because she walks in here expecting the world to hand her a decent life on a platter. Whatever good you want out of this world you have to fight to have, because good doesn’t exist on its own.” His hands clenched into fists. “And the sooner you learn that, the less horrible your life will be.”

            “Had it that bad?” She asked, smiling. The question itself sent daggers of pain through his arm. The scars there still burned whenever he thought about his father or his family at all.

            “Worse than you know,” he whispered. He turned and looked toward the elevator. “Shouldn’t the other ones be done by now?” She nodded.

            “They ought.” She took out a small tablet, checking the security feed. “They’re not in their cells, but I’m not seeing them…oh, crap.”

            “What?” He asked.

            “One of them can transmute matter,” she said. “And he changed the cell floor into thin air by accident.”

            “Meaning?” He asked.

            “Meaning they’re falling through the air right now toward the ocean,” she answered. “At this height, it’d be like hitting ten feet of concrete.”

            “So we have to catch them?” He asked. She nodded.
            “There’s a small rescue craft outside for catching newbies when they fall. I’ll take it up and get them. Come on, Flint…where are you?”

            “Flint?”

            “The other evaluator, Flint Haverson. He was being debriefed by OpComm from his last mission. Apparently, he just got done, and he’s coming down. He can watch after the team while we prevent some members from splattering the English Channel in entrails.”

            “I’m coming with you,” he said.

            “Good idea,” she said. “Wind shear’s bad, and I could use a telekinetic.” And she broke into a run toward the door.

            “Where are you going?” Justin called.

            “To play catch,” Reina replied. “Don’t go anywhere, and don’t kill each other before I get back.”

            “Kill…” Justin began. “What does she think we are, a bunch of maniacs?” Reina simply ran through the door instead of answering. He stared after her, shaking his head.

            Emerald examined the rifle she had chosen for her weapon. “Hmmm…maybe. Not sure she’d be far off she’d said yes.”