Chapter Thirteen: Victory to Avenge, Murder for Revenge

A Chapter by MJ Cherlylyn

“Guilt is the source of sorrow, 'tis the fiend, Th' avenging fiend, that follows us behind, With whips and stings” -Nicholas Rowe

Two reasons I’m not afraid of death: one, the primary reason, there are very few things that can kill me. The things that kill me also kill humans, so I rarely have to worry about dying. Second, I’m not afraid of the world after this one. That world should be immensely better.

However, both those reasons are now invalid. Someone has found a very easy and effective way to end my life. I could die at any moment. Also, I have become a mass murderer. I don’t think I’m going to heaven. Pretty sure the world I’m going to after this one is far worse. It’s morbid to think that it doesn’t get better than this.

I should have tried to use logic to calm myself down and get through the night with rest and without panic. Of course, though, I don’t. When I panic, I immediately jump to the worse conclusions. In my delusions, I assume that no one is to be trusted, and I have to sit with my back pressed into the window. I eye everything in the room, getting a little shock every time anyone shuffles the slightest. If the moonlight hits anything and shimmers for a second, I have a miniature heart attack.

To say the night is long is an understatement. I just want the night to be over and leave the compound, and each minute is stretched into an hour. I should be twenty-one by now. I should be married with three kids and I’m going to be alone forever and I think I’m going through my mid-life crisis.

I’ve run through about eighty scenarios that will never happen, all elaborating until I die in these theoretical lives, before the first of my team begin to wake. The lucky soul who meets me in the manic state is incredibly apt.

"Good morning." Andrew says softly. His eyes must not have opened, because he thinks that it is a good morning. He sits straight up and rubs his eyes. It’s then he looks at me, curled into a trembling ball. "Are you okay?"

If there is anyone I can trust, it’s Andrew. Well, Andrew and Ty. If they tried to hurt me, they’d be screwed. I know too much about them. "Someone’s trying to kill me." I whisper.

"What?" He asks, snapping to life.

"Someone in the compound, probably a staff member, is trying to kill me." I repeat.

"Do you know how?" He asks. I shake my head. "How do you know? Were you threatened?"

I shake my head again. "Someone cut off all the alarms except the smoke detectors, and they have no idea who. People came by to turn them back on in the middle of the night and I heard them talking."

"Just stay near Ty. He can keep you safe." He suggests.

I roll my eyes. "Great. Dependency. You know it’s not my thing."

"Neither is dying." He responds.

I smile at him. "Where’s this snark coming from? I thought you were too kind for that."

"Snark is kindness to you. I’m just adapting."

Andrew always have been good at going with the flow. He’s not stubborn like Kelli, Ty and I are. I can’t understate how calm Andrew is, which is why I can’t imagine him in battle, fighting human beings. A pacifist, killing in a war. He’d never do the things I’ve done, and I don’t want him to. "Don’t adapt to war." I warn.

"I couldn’t. Not even if I wanted to." He falls back onto his bed, silently and with more grace than if Ty and I were to try an elegant ballet dance. "This environment, their mindset, their goals…" His voice trails off and he shakes his head. "I don’t like it, Amber. It’s not me."

"You’re right." I tell him. "It’s not. I’m glad it isn’t." We have enough weapons.

"I know I was made to fight, but spiritually, I was made to heal." He stares straight above, his entire body still. "Sometimes I feel like I’m trapped in someone else’s body or their life."

"I can understand." How many times have I wished to be someone else? Wanted something I know I can never have?

"You wouldn’t mind if I told you about my dream, would you?"

"Not at all."

"It was weird. I was sitting on the curb of some street. It was cold, there were gray skies. I was reading a book on my lap. I think it was a history textbook. Someone was calling to me, only they weren’t using my named. They were saying something else, and I responded to it. There was this little boy sitting next to me, who looked like a younger version of myself with brown eyes. He talked, and the only words I could hear were an adult’s voice saying, ‘We’re going to make you strong again.’ I closed my book, and the dream ended," He explains. I can hear him starting to zone out.

I don’t say anything, because I don’t know what to say. I’ve never dreamed. I wouldn’t understand a secret meaning. "What made it so weird?" I wonder. I’ve heard Ty talk about far more peculiar things. Nudity is a reoccuring thing with him, along with frogs.

"I was responding to something other than my name. It wasn’t a nickname, either. The boy was familiar. Not because he looked like me. Because I know I’ve seen him before." Andrew insists.

I have absolutely no idea what to say. I just shrug. "I’m not a good person to talk to about dreams." I admit.

"I know. You might have pointed something out, though." He says. "Cody probably knows something. Or maybe Kelli."

"Yeah," I agree. "Those two always seem to know something."

"You and Ty always have something to say." He reminds me that none of us are perfect, especially not someone named after their eye color, nicknamed for her hair color and obsessed with only associating with warm colors.

"I don’t get it." I blurt out.

"Get what?" He asks.

"Do you seriously not have favorites? How can you be so impartial?" I ask. Even those who don’t intend to play favorites end up finding one better than the other. It’s the way organisms functions. I think I once heard that pandas kill all but their favorite cub.

He shrugs. "I guess it’s like a parent to their children." He briefly explains, which thoroughly clears up none of my questions.

"You’re not even the oldest, Andrew. How do you not get mad or annoyed at one person more than the others?" I ask.

"That’s not how it goes." He says. He sounds genuinely hurt that I would say such things. "I get mad. I get annoyed. I just forgive and forget. I don’t hold grudges. I try to see from their point of view."

I am already skeptical. "You haven’t met many people. Some of them are just a******s." The parents of Mav, Dawson and K.B. aren’t simply misunderstood. They had eighteen years to prove themselves good and pure. They failed.

"Everyone has a story. No one’s evil just because they want to be."

"What about the people terrorizing California?"

He shrugs. "Either they’re threatened and offended by some aspect of our country," He pauses to attempt the theatrics Ty and I have mastered. "Or they’re defending theirs."

I stare at him blankly for a few moments. "You need to be the professors of a philosophy class at a Colorado college." I say.

He smiles at me. The only light comes from the rising sun behind me, overshining my glow. Kelli should wake up soon and get into the shadows before she gets a sunburn. Fortunately for her, we can’t get cancer.

The second to rise is Cody. I feel like the teenager stuck at a family reunion with a bunch of grandparents who constantly complain about today and criticize what became of society. It won’t be long before they start whining of how lazy we are now and how much harder it was for them. I can see it now: "We had to train to be fast! We have to eat and sleep! We can get shot! We can’t fly!"

Fortunately, Kelli wakes. Unfortunately, Cody and Kelli are suddenly a very touchy-feely couple, and poor Andrew and I are left to watch and listen. I envy Ty, who could sleep through a volcanic eruption.

"Enough." I bark at the two. "Save your energy. You’re going to need everything and a little more."

Ty only awakes to the ringing of the seven o’clock bell that plays in every room of the compound. He pulls his face out of his pillow, groans, and pulls his blanket over his head. I look to Andrew, who is already looking at me. I give a quick nod, and we dive for Ty’s bed. Andrew grabs the blanket and rips it out of Ty’s grasp. I reach for the frame of his bed and throw it up, flipping it sideways and smacking it into the adjacent wall. It’s our foolproof method for waking up our resident Sleeping Beauty. The frame slams into the drywall with a loud thump, cracking the plaster around the bed. Whoops. Our walls in the Tahoe compound were stronger.

Andrew pulls the bed down, and there’s an imprint in the wall from the bed and a weird potato-shaped lump in the wall for Ty. His hair is stained with what appears like white chalk, and a dust cloud of ashy drywall falls onto his shirt. He coughs up a chunk of the plaster and sits up. He doesn’t have to open his eyes to say, "I don’t remember requesting a wakeup call."

"For you, my friend," I tell him as he wipes his eyes clean. "It’s on the house." I turn to Andrew. "Get it?" I raise my eyebrows and point to the wall.

"Oh, my gosh." Ty opens his eyes after he speaks. "I can’t believe you actually made me hate you."

"It’s an art." I wear Ty’s hatred as a treasured medallion, even though it’s easy to be granted.

It takes my team five minutes to get dressed. They have similar outfits to me, gray cargo pants and a white skirt. Kelli has a turtleneck and built in gloves that leave her fingers exposed. Seeing her in white is nauseating. She has black combat boots underneath the pants, and I’d bet they’re thigh-highs. Cody has a long sleeved like me, yet somehow, Ty and Andrew get t-shirts.
"Why the hell do you get tees?" I ask.

"Because Kayd despises you." Kelli says.

"Dude." I lean close to Ty’s face. "Trade with me."

He scoffs. "No. It’s L.A. It’s going to be hot."

"I’m going to suffer!" I protest.

"You poor soul. Not like you’ll sweat or anything." He says.

"I would give you mine if I could, Amber." Andrew says.

"Can’t you just make me a shirt from some fireproof plant or something?" I ask.

"You’re that desperate?" Andrew asks.

I let out a long, disappointed sigh. "It’ll be shot off eventually. Let’s get breakfast before Kayd orders I wear a parka."

The meal is serious. Everyone is preparing for a battle that could last an hour or a week. I insisted that we sit near a wall. I don’t want to put my back to anyone. Someone here is plotting against me. I try scanning the room for familiar faces. Perhaps someone in the group? I don’t find anyone fitting, but I’m still on edge. I don’t trust anything right now.

Once we’re done, Kelli goes to the meeting for superiors while the rest of my team and I get ready in our room. The human soldiers go to the arsenal to arm themselves. Kayd reminds me twice on the loudspeakers that I’m banned from the meeting.

The loudspeaker clicks on. "I repeat: Ashler is not permitted to attend the meeting." Three times.

"I get it!" I shout out loud. "Jackass." I look outside at what we have to fight with and form as many plans as possible.

"What’d you do to piss him off so much?" Andrew asks. He sits on his bed, triple-knotting his laces.

"Yeah. I wanna know what you did so I can do it." Ty adds, hanging his head over the edge of the bed.

"He was mad at me before I even did anything wrong. He blamed me for the results of Santa Cruz, and when I started refusing to take his stupid orders, he tried to manipulate and trick me. I got pissed off and wrecked a bit of the compound." I explain. I’ve done so much worse towards Mr. C. and I’ve received no legitimate punishment.

"Do you abhor Kayd?" Cody asks, pulling his head out of a booklet he picked up near the front desk about recruitment.

"Nerd." Ty snaps.

Cody puts his head right back down into the propaganda. "I prefer ‘nerd’ over imbecile." He mumbles.

"You’re lucky we aren’t in high school." Ty says.

"Why? Would you bully me?" Cody barks, slamming his booklet on the bed. I glance at Andrew, expecting him to break it up. Instead, he stares, intrigued. Cody rarely stands up for himself. Kelli always does that for him. "Tantalize me for being having an elevated intellect you can’t attain?"

"I wouldn’t bully you!" Ty shouts back, sitting straight up. "I would annoy you, sure! I’d piss you off!" I think Ty’s going to win. He has more experience with arguing. "Not because you’re a know-it-all. Because you think that by using bigger words, you’re better than everyone else."

"I do not." Cody fires back.

"Yeah, you do! You and Kelli both have that attitude! You treat everyone not as smart as you like they’re worthless! I can never talk to you about it because you always hide behind your girlfriend! Grow a pair and grow the hell up. You try so hard to be mature, and that’s the most immature thing to do."

Cody, Andrew and I sit in silence. My mouth hangs slightly open, and I don’t dare take my eyes off of Ty.

"You blow off practice to get smarter, but was it smart for a soldier to skip practice?" Ty yells. I would have to side with Ty on this one. Cody’s poor performance in battle is… discerning. "I’m tired of you treating me like a stupid idiot! Someday, you’re going to find out that you’re not as great as you think you are. It’s going to be during a battle, and you’re going to get shot, and you’ll bleed out on the ground. We’ll all say, ‘Poor Cody. He should have pull his head out of his a*s and used his stupid brain to think for two damn seconds!’"

Andrew stands up and walks between Cody and Ty. He holds his hands out. "Enough. It ends now."

"Hell no, it doesn’t! I’m fed up, and no one else is exposing him!" Ty’s shouts get louder, and Andrew walks over.

"Ty." He says, raising his arms to reach his collarbone. "Stop."

"No! He doesn’t make sense! He’s hiding something from us!" Ty accuses, pointing at Cody, who shrinks against the wall.

"That’s enough." Andrew decides through grit teeth. He pushes Ty back slowly, and the two move back.

"Get off me." Ty hisses.

"This fight is over." Andrew growls. His voice is almost too low too hear.

"Why’d you let it go on for so long? Huh?" Ty asks. "Because you wanted to know what would happen when Kelli isn’t protecting him!"

"Enough." Andrew snarls through grit death, backing Ty up until he’s pressed against the wall. The two stare at each other, both with accelerating heartbeats and knit eyebrows. The only sound is their breathing. Cody and I are absolutely silent. I wish I could disappear into the wall and avoid being dragged into the argument.

Ty shoves Andrew back. "Get off me." He mumbles. He storms out the door, and the three of us don’t move. The door closes behind him, and my eyes remain locked on the metal doorknob. It’s gnarled and dented from Ty’s strong grip. Andrew collapses on Ty’s bed and runs his palms along his forehead. I take a stand.

"I’m going to calm him down." I announce, striding for the door.

"Amber." Andrew says before I leave. "He’s pretty heated right now."

"I don’t care." I tell him. "Besides. He can’t hurt me."

I leave and close the door behind me. I look to the left and don’t see him. To the right, I catch a glimpse of him turning the corner. I run after him and call his name. "Ty!" I swing around the corner, and there’s nothing. No one’s there.

I walk forward, and there aren’t anything except dorms. Did he slip into someone’s room? I don’t doubt that we would, because, believe me, he would. I listen carefully to each room for yelling or arguing. Instead, a heartbeat in the halls alerts the presence of my invisible friend, leaning his back against one of the windows. I walk over to him and stand on his right side. Twelve hours ago, the sunshine would have been at our backs. Then anyone could spot him.

We don’t move or speak for about a minute. I try to think of what to say. "I admire you." I finally blurt out. He doesn’t make himself visible or say anything. I know he’s wondering why. "You actually face your problems. I run away from mine." I turn around and face the bustling city. There are so many people with their own stories, and I fear most of theirs will end today. Maybe some of them were about to marry or have a child or begin college. Maybe they were finally retired or done with schooling for good. Maybe this summer was supposed to be when their lives began, when they would start their story. "Not because I’m too weak to face them. I think I could, and I know I should." I lean down and press my elbows against the windowsill. It’s a beautiful day. But no one will remember that. "Because I was made to be a good runner, and I am." This country’s come far since its first recorded war. After this one, though, I don’t think we’ll have to worry about protecting ourselves. No, we won’t. No one will bother attacking a nation with nothing to offer except orphans, radiation and rubble. "Running is easy. Sometimes it’s your only option. Sometimes, it’s better to run." We fight wars to protect. Ironic. War does the opposite. It is not the group that will tear us apart. It is this country’s obsession with going to war. "The thing about running is that if you run from everything, you run around the world and end up right where you started." This country solves its problems by fighting. I solve mine by running. There is a third option we need to find. "You had the courage to break the cycle. And while I’m not commending you for what you did, there’s honor in it."

He reappears. "Why can’t you commend it?" He asks.

"We’re a team. Like it or not. We need to stick together now more than ever." I tell him.

"I can’t be on a team with Cody. I don’t trust him." He says.

"Why not?" I ask. "He’s the least threatening one. If anything, be afraid of Kelli."

"That’s just it. That’s just it. We were made to be threatening and dangerous and intimidating. He’s such a pushover, and it’s… unnatural." He says.

"What are you saying? That he’s self-sabotaging?" I question.

"Think about it. Smart people don't like it when dumber people are in control. Why does he let himself I on the bottom? He’s smart enough to know that he'll get destroyed in battle. You’d think he’d do something to help him in fights; if he was defending his life." He theorizes.

"What are you saying? That Cody’s a traitor?" I stand up straight and turn one hundred eighty degrees so my back faces the window.

"I’m saying that I don't trust him. He’s hiding something from us."

I have to admit that I’m more than just skeptical. I fold my arms across my chest to show that, because my harsh, judgemental tone isn’t enough. "So what do you suggest we do? Tie him to a chair and beat him up until he tells us what we want to know?"

Ty takes a deep breath. "Keep your guard up around him. I don’t want him to hurt you."

I want to tell him that he has nothing to worry about, that I’m strong and can take care of myself. However, Cody is the only living thing that can kill me in any state of power. Living with him is as dangerous to me as living with me is to the others.

"If he ever tries anything," Ty’s voice drops low and dark. His eyes drag up along the way and to mine. His eyebrows are knit, he’s scowling. He barely moves his mouth as he growls, "I’m gonna kill him."

"No." I respond immediately. "No. You can’t do that. That’s crossing a line you can never return from. You won’t ever be the same again." He needs to know. He needs to know that I regret killing people every single day. That I will never forget the seconds it took to end lives and murder people.

"If he tries to hurt you or Andrew," He repeats, this time louder. "I am going to kill him." His sincerity is terrifying. "Besides." He looks straight forward. He’s absolutely certain. He would legitimately kill Cody. "If you or Andrew died…" His gaze drops to the floor. Very slowly, he shakes his head. "I wouldn’t be the same. I wouldn’t be worth saving."

"You’re an idiot." I snap. My shock has been replaced with fierce anger. I stand straight up and stare into his cold eyes. "You are always worth saving." I wrap my arms around his back and pull him into me, my chin just below his shoulder. He hugs me back. "Always."

He squeezes my shoulders softly. "Be careful." He whispers softly.

I smile, even though no one sees it, because I like the way it feels. "I wasn’t going to listen to Cody or Kelli anyway."

He chuckles the slightest bit. "I know you won’t. Not them. Not Kayd, not me."

We let go and start heading back for the room. "I don’t know. Sometimes you have really profound things to say." I tell him.

"Bet you five bucks Andrew won’t believe you said that." He says.

"And I thought you were over your gambling addiction."

"Another five says I can convince Cody that we’re going to kill him right now."

"I’m not taking you up on either."

"Fine. Ten bucks: when Kelli gets back, she makes out with Cody before saying anything."

"Deal." I’m almost one hundred percent positive that she will first complain about the stupidity of humans. Then she’ll make out with him. Kelli is a lady of class.

We turn left. Ty stands closer to the windows. I look to him to ask him, "What do--"

I stop immediately. My feet skid to a still, and I lock my eyes out the window. Ty stops. "What? What is it?" He asks.

I dash to windows and stare. That can’t be. Can it?

I squint to try and focus on it. It is.

"What’s wrong?" Ty asks. I take a few steps back. Ty looks out the window and gasps. "Get back!" He runs for the walls, trying to bring me with him. He reaches for my arm and I brush him off. I sprint for the window, straight for the missile. "Ashler, no!"

I throw myself through the glass, shattering it effortlessly. I soar through the air, on a collision course with the head of the missile. I can hear it gaining speed. We’re within ten feet. I spin around so my back faces the ground. I let myself drop closer to ground so the missile will pass over me. I start storing power in my feet and pull my arms out wide.

The missile races past me, and I swing my arms up to catch it. My fingers scrape the sides of the missile, and then lock around it. The second my grip is fastened, I kick myself into overdrive. Flames blast from my feet and I take the missile with me. We move away from the building, and I lean my head back and feet up. The missile now points at the sky, where the group’s jets are flying. I scramble to calculate where the jet will end up and wait a moment.

I release.

I cut off the fire from my feet instantly. I start falling two stories to the ground, watching the missile head straight for where the jet will be. I land on the fence of the compound, bending the metal around my back. I tear through the melting chain links, still being carried by the force of the flames from my feet. I hit the ground around the same time the missile hits the right wing. My head slams against the cement as the jet loudly explodes, my arms following as shrapnels plummet towards the earth. The thundering boom is still rattling the county as I hurry to my feet, looking for the next jet. There will be a next one.

Ty jumps out of the window, landing nearly two hundred yards from me. He sprints toward me as soldiers spill out of the buildings, alarms blaring from all directions. There’s a tower of smoke coming from downtown Los Angeles. I can hear lots of screaming and explosions. I walk slowly forward, the compound behind me, feeling a breeze blow through my hair for the first time in my life. I was in a similar situation last week. I had my friends behind me, and last time, I left them far behind.

Ty knows it. Maybe he can feel the heat or see the glow in my legs increasing. I build up power and crouch closer to the earth. I press into the concrete, the ground cracking beneath me. "Ashler!" Ty shouts. I’m about the rocket off. "Wait!"

I turn to face him. He stretches his hand out to me, and I grab it. I pull his arm around my shoulders and grin at him. "Come on!" I release the fire in my feet, and straighten up. We launch into the sky, and I curve my back towards the ground. I cut the engines, and the force continues to send us up until we’re almost frozen in the air. "See you downtown!" I let go of Ty and shoot flames from my feet. I roll for my back to face the sky and hold my arms to my hips. I stick my hands out perpendicular to my body and fire races out. I get a shock forward, propelling even faster to the downtown area.

The main attraction’s on the streets. There’s a tank rampaging through buildings, trucks running over cars and shooting into the crowd. Group members jump from vehicles and emerge onto roof stops as snipers. There are jets and helicopters flying overhead. Nothing new. Yet.

I focus first on the tank. I fly almost directly above it and drop the power in my arms and legs. I plummet to the ground, and I lean my head forward, tucking myself into a tight ball. I flip forward, increasing in velocity rapidly. I pull myself out of it a second before I land to brace for impact.

I smash into the concrete, shattering it like thin bossil wood. I dig deep into the street, breaching the subway. I hit the metal tracks and bend them, taking them down with me. The shockwave passes through me, and I look up as I slow down in my descent. There’s a huge cloud of dust and smoke waiting on the surface for me. The force wears off, and I jump. I emerge from the dark underground in time to see the last of the ripples carry through the streets. The barrell of the tank is missing, the rest of it has flipped over.

The group members surround me, all armed with automatic assault rifles or weapons of a higher caliber. Helicopters circle me in the sky and trucks pull into the nearby intersections. I start storing fire in my arms as I locate the snipers within range. "Well." I announce loudly. "We meet again. Lovely day, isn’t it?" I need to buy more time to get more power. Come on, heart. Don’t fall behind already. Now’s my chance to really get a good start.

One of the members shouts, "Kill her!"

"You aren’t going to ask me about funeral arrangements?" I ask as they close in on me. There are forty-four red dots on either my chest or head. I keep my restraints on for now. "That’s rude. What if you choose gardenias, and my dear aunt’s allergic?" If I could only draw them in a little closer...

"Fire!" The same member yells.

I shrug my shoulders. "If you insist." The power I have will have to do. I drop my restraints as the gunfire begins, throwing my arms out wide across my chest. Bullets pass through me, hitting members opposite the shooters. Flames extend my arms, reaching out nearly five times my height. I tense my shoulder blades, stretching my deltoids. It appears as if my arms have been replaced with wings of a phoenix. I separate my fingers and the wings gain some extra length. The flames, still attached to and apart of my body, are mine to control. I violently swing my arms forward, driving them through the midsection of the members. The wings are like blades that slice anything they come into contact with. My hands meet in front of me, and I turn around. I keep my hands together, and throw them to my sides, cutting the other half of their posey.

I look up to the snipers on the distant rooftops. I straighten my arms, increasing the length of the fire wings by decreasing their width. Now more like whips, I can reach the closest sniper. I snap my whip around his gun and yank, pulling it to the ground with enough strength to break it. With the other whip, I lock onto him. I lean back and start spinning, spinning until I’m ready to release. I hurl him into the adjacent sniper, taking them both out. I pull the whips back into my bloodstream, long lines of ash, smoke and charcoal shaping my movements. Not too bad, except my first whip was a little sloppy and the wings weren’t as sharp as they could have been. Just noticing.

A shadow grows overhead, and I look up. A chopper falls above me, the landing gear eager to kiss my forehead. The propellers are crushed, the tail boom is a wrinkled mess of a gnarled, contorted corn dog booth. The tail rotor looks like the haunted windmill in Ty’s recurring nightmares-- Kelli’s shown me. I throw my head and torso back, my arms and face nearing the ground. I pull my legs off the concrete with me until I’m in a sort of handstand. I continue backwards until I plant my feet onto the road. The chopper crashes, shrapnels flying as the metal and glass crunch.

"Real professional!" I yell to Ty.

He lowers enough to shout back, "Thought I’d just drop by!"

An explosion from the north rattles both of us. A jet soars overhead.

"We need to take those things out." I tell him.

"You got a plan?" He asks.

I nod. "Collaboration. Thunderstorm. They’ll have to pull closer."

"Got it. Cover me."

I jump up to the closest rooftop only about ten feet away. Our backs face each other, and I face the enemy. I store energy in my hands and feet, preparing to take on jets. The slight breeze starts turning to a rapid rush that jams my ears. The bright sky begins to darken, and I lock my glare on a helicopter drawing close to Ty. I launch a fireball from my left at it, and--

Something hits my left rib cage, and I’m spinning and launching and soaring through the air. I hear the loud boom of the explosion that forces me off the roof, there’s a tear in my skin. I can feel the air entering into my body and hitting my lungs instead of entering them. I catch glimpses of the roof breaking, a graying sky and accumulating clouds. I crash into the pavement hard, my right shoulder slamming into the pavement. I continue to roll, bouncing above the ground. I skid each time I touch, eventually, smacking my back into a fire hydrant. I look at my ribs, my shirt ripped apart. I can see my fiery lungs and broken bones. They start healing, and I manage to pick myself up.

Does it hurt? It doesn’t feel good, I’ll tell you that much. I have to work through it. Not for myself. Ty’s unprotected, and bullets do a lot more to him than to me. I jump to the windowsill on my way to the roof, a much more manageable jump than five stories up. I jump to the second, then third, and I look up. The sky overhead is dark. The winds are furiously beating against me, the sky above is black with clouds. Thunder shakes the ground, I can hear electricity charging above. Flashes of light beckon me from beyond the clouds.

I hear it this time. I duck down, throwing my hands over my neck. The missile hits only about a foot above me, hitting the glass and completely obliterating it. The building blows, and I go flying. The explosion throws me back, and I can only watch it tear the building down, leaving Ty to look over his shoulder at the decimation. He starts to look to me, and I feel my back hit a lamp post.

It does absolutely nothing. I plow straight through it, snapping it like a dry stick the size of a lizard’s vein. It topples over, sticking deep in the cement. I rip through everything I hit, be it building or objects or-- no, I refuse to even let that thought enter my mind. I slow down, finally stopping when a pole slides through my torso. I feel it puncture my spine and impale me fifteen feet from the ground.

This one. This one hurts. This one hurts like a b***h.

I try to drop the restraints. There’s a tugging at the hole in my chest, and I can’t. I don’t have enough energy to spare. I have to get myself out of here the hard way. I have to brace myself before I look down. My chest is heaving, my heart is racing. I can barely breathe, and I think I know why. I pull my chin down and eye my injury. My ribs are still exposed, and I can see the bottom left corner of my lung snagged on the metal.

A yelp escapes my throat, and my heart picks up in pace. I reach for the metal pole, squeezing it tightly. I’m at least five feet away from the edge. I need to break it, or I’m not getting out.

The metal melts and it easily snapped, leaving a jagged end. Oh, my gosh. This is going to hurt. This is going to be awful. I inhale, trying to get in oxygen, which doesn’t really work. I suck in, hold it, and start to pull myself off.

It’s probably best to do it quickly, but I don’t think I can. I grit my teeth together, grinding my molars to keep my grunts inside. I shut my eyes to try and deal with the agony that is my organs splitting and being ripped and torn, and it does nothing. I open them, squint them, widen them, anything to distract myself. I stop and pant as if I’ve just accomplished some great physical feat. My stomach is flopping around, I would be surprised if I began gagging. I feel sick. I feel like I’m going to die.

I continue anyways, because dying is nothing new to me. I reach the end of the smooth part, meeting the twisted, mangled end. I don’t want to do this. I don’t have a choice. My chest rises so high when I breathe in. It drops deep into me when I exhale. Scared that I’ll force myself backwards, I inhale and hurl myself off.

The edges claw at my lungs, my heart and stomach. My feet hit the ground and legs so limp. I fall face-first, my cheek hitting the ground roughly. It’s nothing, absolutely nothing, to the agony in my torso. I put my face into the concrete and let out a muffled scream, curling my fingers tight into fists. I know I have to keep fighting. Come on. For Ty. For Maverick and K.B. and Dawson and Ardo.

As if the pain in my chest wasn’t horrible enough, my chest collapses at the thought of them. My mind pulls up images of their dead bodies-- like I needed a reminder. I see their crimson blood and I want to scream. I don’t want to hide it. I want everyone to hear it.

Not a scream. A battle cry.

I push myself onto my feet and pluck my head up. I stare ahead. I’ve got a lot of distance to cover and three jets to take down. I’m just getting started. I start limping, which is all I can really do. It’s not enough.

I see them driving away, the last time I saw them alive. I feel Maverick put his lips on my forehead. I hear him laughing, hands on his stomach, over K.B.’s description of a hot dog. They’re too alive in my mind to be dead. They can’t be dead. They shouldn’t be dead.

Yet they are.

I will never get to reunite with them in Tijuana. I will never get to see them finally arrive in their destination and be happy for once. I will never again experience what they have to offer. They are gone, and I’ll never feel the way they made me feel.

I start walking.

Maverick is dead. They killed Maverick. They ended his life. They ruined him. He is a bloated corpse in full rigor mortis because of this war. Because I couldn’t save him. Because I held him back and kept him from arriving days in advance.

I start running.

There were only four humans I had to save. And they were the first I personally and absolutely let down. They thought they were safe. I was supposed to protect them. I was meant to be their hero.

I burst through buildings as thunder booms, gunshots fire and the earth starts to tremble. I jump over anything I can, picking up speed. I can see Ty, winds circling around him. My hair is thrown in my face and across my chest and through the golden waves I can see the epicenter. "Ty!" I shout, trying to be louder than the chaos. "Ty!"

A bolt of lightning strikes in front of me and to the right, blazing a chopper. I don’t have time to watch it fall to the ground and crash. I don’t know how far the adrenalin will carry me. I jump into the sky and shoot flames from my feet and hands. I make sure to fly in Ty’s field of vision. He parts the clouds for me ever so slightly, and I slip through. The sudden transition from darkness to bright light blinds me for a moment. Racing through the sky without a visual, I am just as harmful as a missile. My eyes adjust, and I see an enemy jet heading directly for me.

Maverick.

I chant his name in my head, and I start shaking. I see his face in my head, and my lip starts quivering.

"Stay safe, you mutant freak."

Instead of sobbing, I’m shouting. I’m roaring, propelling into the jet head-on. I am not afraid. I speed up. I straighten my body and pick up my pace even further. This is for Maverick. It has to be powerful. It has to make a difference, it has to mean something.

Feet from collision, I thrust my shoulders back. I curve upwards in the littlest of ways, yet it’s enough. The jet starts to go right under me, and I slap my hands on the cockpit. I dig my fingers into the molding glass and squeeze. I flip around so I straddle the jet, looking down at the pilot. I put all my heat into my hands. I know how I’m going to kill him. I drop the temperature restraints. I unleash one thousand degrees onto the pilot and press on the cockpit to keep him from ejecting. I can hear the sizzling. I can see the heat waves. I can hear his heart picking up. He will die soon. The human body begins to shut down at less than one eighth of this temperature.

My hands are vibrating so violently I almost feel as if I’ll fall off the jet. The muscles on my face twitch and contract, my legs randomly jerk. The man begins screaming, and my remorse is blocked by the news reporter stating their names. Deceased. It won’t be long before this man’s organs are deprived of blood, and I bet the pressure on his skull is worse than a gunshot to the head. His cells will begin to burn, and he will be dead. Dead like my nomads.

His heart stops, and I relinquish control of the jet. I let it fall, sink through the clouds. Ty can catch it, I’m sure. Thunder and jets are the only sound I hear. One jet in particular. Nearing me, I make a quick plan to dispose of it. I fly perpendicular to it, planning to directly intersect its path. It can’t maneuver like I can. It’s not flexible and durable and bendable as I am. I need to use that against it and destroy it.

I fly just over the jet, and I quickly shoot out my arms to stall my flight. I grab onto the edge of the left wing, clinging onto it desperately. Ripping through the sky, the jet begins to descend. It goes down quickly, heading straight for the thickest clouds.

They tricked me. They knew I’d somehow be attached to the jet, and they know they can kill me with the clouds.

Well, you know what? That’s not happening! I have come too far to lose to some coward in a jet attacking innocent people! Because of people like this, millions upon millions are going to die! K.B. is dead because of people just like this one!

I move from the corner of the wing more towards the body of the jet and change my plans. I know how I’m taking this one out. I put my stomach on the wing and sling my arms over the top. I lean forward, then yank back suddenly. I open my body and try to make it as wide as I can. The metal tears, and the wing gets about halfway off.

I need more strength. I angle my toes towards me and put all the firepower I have into propelling myself away from the ground. It’s still not enough. The cloud are coming soon, I either finish the job or let this jet dive into Ty at full velocity.

"I don’t want to have to say goodbye. We just got to know you well, hon!"

The last bit of the metal wing breaks, and I start going flying backwards. The jet curves left, going completely off course before plunging below the dark clouds. I severely lessen power to my feet so I merely hover and toss the wing after it.

I’m panting. I just realized that. I press my hands into my hips, digging my right hand in to stop the growing cramps. I wasn’t planning to use this much power already. I blame the injuries. Healing takes more energy than I ever realized.

I hear the third jet behind me. I turn around, and I notice the pilot shooting into the air, still strapped to his chair. At eye level with me is his abandoned jet, barrelling right into me. The left wing hits my pelvis, knocking the oxygen from my body. It cuts into my organs and bends me forward, upper half slung on the top and legs dangling underneath.

I have to get off, I have to get off now. If I get dragged through the clouds, I’m going to die. All I need to do is get behind the plane and let it break the clouds for me. That’s all I need to do. Nothing more. I yank my hands towards me and press against the wing, trying to wiggle my torso off.

The metal dug into me, but it’s melting. I can use that. I start sliding off it, and my heart picks up at the detected humidity. I’m close, I’m too close. The metal starts becoming firmer, and I panic. My arms shake, I struggle to slip away. I need to get off. I need to now before I hit the clouds. Squeaks of fear break through my mouth, and my back touches the clouds.

The agony that erupts gives me a shot of adrenalin and blind terror, and I push off the wing. I throw my hands behind me, shoving them into the clouds. I scream as the water droplets hit my skin and dissolve it. I hear it melting away, disappearing into smoke. The water hits my bones and reaches into my veins and arteries. My muscles are extinguished, and I shoot flames from my palms before I no longer have them.

The flames hit the clouds and are put out immediately, and my heart races. My eyes shoot open and I gasp. I’m going to fall through the clouds and die.

No! I shout in my head, reaching for the sky as if there’s an invisible rope I’ve missed. No, no, no! I can’t die, I don’t want to die!

A scream tears apart my throat, and the water hits the back of my legs, chest and head. I try to arch my chest away from the water my heart beating so fast, but the agony paralyzes me. Every cell in my body is being destroyed, every pain receptor is firing faster than the automatic weapons on the ground. If my soul could die, then it did. I would do anything to make the pain end. There are jagged-tipped spears being shoved deep into my pores and yanked out, shredding me from the inside. I would prefer dying from exhaustion or oxygen deprivation. The water is a needle, slowly penetrating the epidermis, then dermis, then muscles, then fatty layer, then bones, then shaking around violently and cutting apart all it touches. Mincing. Killing. Breaking. Disabling. Amputating.

It hits the back of my head, and I start to black out. I can feel it trickling into my brain, hitting my occipital lobe. My vision is cut, and the pain continues. It slices me. It grates me. It kills me.

The next part of my brain to be destroyed will be the parietal lobe, which will end the pain. I find some relief in that.

Something hard hits my kidneys and jerks upward, pulling them into my liver. I’m pulled from the water, and I can’t see a thing. My body bends backwards towards the water, my extremities brush the mist. Compared to the pain from moments ago, it’s nothing at all. I can’t muster the will to speak, my eyes are still inept.

"Your dead eyes are freaking me out." Ty says. I would grin if I could. Tell him that his boring gray eyes are dead. "You know," He lowers to the ground, and I don’t hear the thunder. "You don’t even let me open doors for you, yet you’re letting me save you. What’s up with that?" We land, and he sets me down on concrete a little harshly. I’m not dead, dumbass. You can’t treat me like I am.

"Is she okay?" Andrew asks. When did he get here?

Ty sighs. "I don’t know. She’s not moving, she has all those cuts…"

You guys are so melodramatic. I’m fine. I need to get up. I need to continue the fight. I try to move, and I feel my wrist twitch. "She moved." Andrew says. "She’s alive. Keep fighting, I’ll make sure she’s safe."

I hear Ty leaving, and a moan escapes my lips. I can feel my back healing, my hands and feet regenerating. Bullets? Those don’t really hurt. Getting my head nearly cut off? Walk away from it like I just stubbed my toe. Touch water? Hell. No.

"Hey, Amber." Andrew says softly. He’s kneeling above me. I can feel his breath against my nose. I hear myself beginning to inhale and exhale rhythmically. "Don’t worry. You’re safe."

Yeah, I’m safe. In a battlefield. Where everyone wants to kill me.

"Like hell I am." I murmur.

He chuckles, and the world starts returning to me through blurs and multiple copies of Andrew. He has a cut on his cheek, and he’s dripping in sweat. He’s been fighting hard. I have to carry my weight. I prop myself up on my elbows, and my head spins. "Whoa, easy there."

"Don’t have that option." I stammer to my wobbly legs and somehow, manage to stand. I look ahead of me at what I have to work with. There are crumbling buildings working as barricades as soldiers move forward and gunshots are fired. The clouds are gone. "I have a plan."

"So do I." He tells me and jumps over the barricade of broken metal. Gunshots fire, and I duck behind the barricade. I peer over the edge, and I can see a car flying through the air. I’ve never seen Andrew really fight before. I don’t know what to expect.

Curiosity pulls me out from hiding. I have to see what he can do.

I see him throw his right fist in the air and slam it onto the pavement, rippling the streets. The ground shakes, the ground echoes the thunder from earlier. Buildings sway and the street cracks. I catch the enemy soldiers being knocked off their feet before I’m thrown to my right hip. An earthquake rattles the ground, and I force my way onto my feet. Andrew, his fist still firmly planted in the ground, stands still and serene. He rises to his feet, and the soldiers start getting up. Tanks roll down the street, and he’s completely unfazed.

He holds both of his arms straight out, the palms facing outward. He stands there, allowing the enemy to get closer. The guns c**k, and he’d better act now. He’d better do whatever he’s going to do before they shoot him!

A shot is fired, and he ducks to dodge it. He thrusts his arms out to his side, and the ground in front of him cracks down the middle. It trembles, and begins to split. A ditch grows from a slight sliver to wider than a block, swallowing the enemy in. The tank goes down, and Andrew drops his hands to his sides. He’s not going to kill them off.

Of course not. This is Andrew Jason. He is no killer. I hope to God he never becomes one.

A helicopter flies overhead, firing shots at him. He throws his hands over his head and crouches, a bullet snagging his left forearm. He shrieks out, his blood spills and mine boils. I have to help him. I’m going to protect him. He pulls himself up, a death grip on his bloody arm. I stop looking in the general direction of the injury.

I fully stand, and Andrew reaches for the ground with his right arm, leaving his left exposed. He rips a shard of the cement out and hurls it at the chopper with a grunt. It glides as if it weighed nothing. His aim is impressive, and he nails it right where the tail boom meets the engin

e. The thing explodes and goes down behind a building.

I hear guns loading behind me. There are snipers practically overhead, their guns trained on Andrew. He’s too busy putting pressure on his wound, I need to help him! His back is right to them, they have a clear shot!

I sprint towards him and shove my forearm into his back. He stumbles forward, and four shots pierce my collarbone, throat, chest and shoulder. They force me back, and the metals remain implanted in my body. Every body part in contact with them aches. I don’t have energy or time to remove them. They’ll just have to stay until I get the chance to yank them out myself.

I hear footsteps. I whip around and catch a soldier approaching from the left. Andrew’s bent over himself, squeezing his forearm to his chest. I can handle the soldier. I press my hand against his back. I swing sideways over him, bringing my legs up to turn my body horizontal. I plant a kick to the soldier’s face, breaking his mandible. He shatters to the street. I move quickly, standing between Andrew and the snipers.

"Let’s move." I tell him. "We’re not safe here."

"There are people still in the round building." He says. I look to my right, then my left.

"The tall red one?"

"Yeah."

"I can clear us a path. You get the people out, I’ll cover you. Just let me take out the snipers." I decide to mimic Andrew, and use the debris from the destruction as a projectile. I aim for the rooftop and break not the snipers, but what they stand on. Now they have to scatter. "Let’s move." Andrew turns right, I turn left. He goes in front and I go behind, running with my torso sideways. I constantly look over my shoulder for signs of danger.

"Hit the deck!" He shouts. Both of us drop dead, our stomach slam down, our hands over our heads. A missile flies over head, hitting a square office building. The thing explodes, and the force should be enough to give the snipers even more trouble. We bounce back onto our feet, on our guard, ready to face the gates of hell. I don’t think either of us could stare down what actually rests inside hell.

"U.S. soldiers coming in right." I say. We pass the edge corner of the pit, and I see a hand reaching out. I slam my heel into their knuckles, and they slip back into the darkness. "They have jets to destroy the missiles." Thank God. If I had to deal with a nuclear warhead, I don’t think I’d make it out.

"Shoot out up ahead." He warns. He puts his head down like a linebacker in football, holding his right forearm in front of his face. He barrels through, bullets firing from our left and right sides. He ducks and jumps, dive rolling and army crawling. He’s become an expert at dodging bullets. I learned to plow through them, they learned to avoid them. It’s ended up in his favor. Bullets lodge in my hips, and I kick a toppled trashcan into the enemy barricades.

We make it through, and I’m so full of metal it’s unbelievable. "Watch your right!" I yell to Andrew. He picks his head up and swipes his right arm, straightening it in the process. Tremors pulse through the ground, throwing the soldier to the side. We’re almost to the building. "How’d you learn to do this stuff?"

"I worked it out with Ms. B." He says. Mrs. B. was one of our trainers and tacticians. I never worked with her personally. She has bad with heat and had low tolerance for sass. She was assigned to work with Cody and Andrew, the more neutered of the bunch. "You’re not the only one with cool tricks."

Andrew kicks the doors open and rushes in. I stay behind, vigilantly watching the exterior. Our troops are finally arriving, we’ll finally have backup. Our contingency plan has arrived. Although, many of them are inferiors to Kayd. I don’t think I can trust their judgement. They’ll probably shoot anything they can get away with. In a time like this, they could shoot literally anyone and face no consequences.

Gunfire blares inside, followed by many screams. I can’t go in. I can’t abandon my post. Andrew will be fine. He knows what to do. I can’t barge in on a hostage situation. They’d kill everyone at the sight of me.

There are enemy soldiers approaching with rifles. Adorable. I have to save my energy, so I’ll draw them in close. I pretend I don’t notice them.

Two guns are pressed against my temples. How disloyal of me. "Don’t move!" The soldier to my right barks. She’s surprisingly young. She’s got to be younger than me! You don’t belong here, I wish I could tell her.

"Okay, okay." I force fear into my voice and slowly raise my hands. My elbows are almost centered with my shoulders when I see them loosen up. I swing my elbows out and into the faces of the soldiers. They try to fire their guns, which have been moved and barely graze my skin. The woman tries to hit me with the butt of her gun, and I duck down. I sweep her feet, and she drops the gun. I whip my head around to--

Bam!

A boot rocks my jawline, snapping my head back. I fall onto the woman, knocking her back to the ground. She kicks and hits to get away, hissing at me and cursing the heat. I kick at the other soldier, who thrusts the butt of the gun into my nose.

The woman is able to get away, and she grabs her gun. On my stomach, I steal a glance over my shoulder. The two are regaining position. I throw my left leg into the air and across my body, flipping me onto my back. I kick the wrist of the other soldier, followed by a snap and rude obscenities and expressions, few of which are directed to me personally.

The woman fires a shot into my forehead, and I black out. The moment I’m back in reality, I kick the woman between the legs. She groans, dropping her guard. I jump to my feet and put my hands around the face of the man. I shove his head down and yank my knee up, and the two meet in a way that knocks him out cold.

The woman stomps on my knee, making me lose my balance. She advances, letting out a shrill battle cry as she charges. She quickly swings, and I duck. I put up my fists, careful to keep my footwork correct. She jabs at my gut, and I smack it away with my right. Every time she attacks, she grunts. She’s frustrated. I’m getting to her. She’ll get aggravated and become sporadic and irrational. She’ll be much easier to take down in that state of mind.

She swings at my torso and I jump back. She kicks at my knees, I jump, sustaining only a mere hit to the shins. She’s looking down. I slam my right palm into her forehead, and her neck flicks back. Her face is exposed and unprotected. I bring my right elbow down, bashing into her nose. Her head drops forward and she wobbles backwards. I hear the man moaning and spin around for half a second to stomp my foot onto his temples. He’s unconscious again. My ears catch the woman’s familiar battle cry. I whirl back towards the woman as she holds her gun over her right shoulders. She pulls it up and over her head, lurching it at me. I have a split second to throw my forearms up and block, absorbing the attack into one of the more bony parts of my body-- pure genius. I force her back, and she loses her balance. She has to be pissed off and exhausted by now. Her gun slips from her grip, and it’s time to finish her.

I put my foot on her chest and push her down. Before she can react, I’m staring down at her. She reaches for her gun, and I kick the side of her head. Her arm hits the ground, her muscles relax.

I hear an influx of people behind me. People rush past me, sprinting out of the building at full speed. They have cuts, bruises and dust-stained faces. They careen around the right corner, some slipping and faltering back onto their feet. I look into the building, and still people flood the exit. How many people were in there? Where’s Andrew? Where are the terrorists?

I spot him jumping down from an upper floor, landing near the staircase. He steers people to the exit, giving them directions and telling them to stay calm. The crowd thins until the last few stragglers are trickling down. Andrew gets behind them, scooping one up in each of his arms, running out of the building. He cringes, and I see a man’s legs pressed onto his bullet wound. I grimace at the sight of it. I open my mouth to ask what’s going on.

"We gotta go!" He yells to me. "Building’s going down!"

I look up. He’s not overreacting. The around the middle of the building, the thing has cracked. The top half, hanging on by a few metal bars of the framing. It looms closer to me, and I support everyone’s decision to go right. I get behind Andrew to make sure he gets out safe as the metal starts cracking. I hear it tear, and I watch as it falls. It hits the ground and crumples, glass breaking and walls crunching.

Andrew sets the two people down. "I’m going to get these people to a safe zone." He tells me. He can kill a human with one punch, and he’s not using that ability to murder. He uses it to help and save. I respect him for that. I think that’s how I’d describe a hero..

"I can’t really help you with that." I admit.

"Kelli’s on the other side of this building. You can help her." He says, letting an older man sling his arm around his shoulder. I don’t know if Kelli and I can work together. We never really practiced anything together, because we ruined each other’s attacks. Are we compatible? We’re both beyond destructive. Maybe there’s something there.

I sprint around the building, ducking when I hear nearby gunfire. I get tagged in my foot and power through it. That’s nothing big. I can shake the bullet out the other side. Gunshots hitting the building behind me splatter by back with insulation and drywall. Plaster hits my back and turns to ash in my hair.

I travel a few blocks up, jumping over debris and taking out enemy soldiers. There’s a tank up ahead, locked on me. It fires, and I dive roll forward. The ground behind me blows, and I dash back onto my feet. Another shot is released, this time heading for my lower pelvis. I throw myself high into the air. The missile passes underneath my stomach, and my head nears the ground. I stick my arms out, catching my fall. My back faces the tank, my elbows bend. There’s another one coming. I push myself back into the air, straightening my arms. I curve up, my feet closest to the tank. The shot barely misses my shoulder blades, and I hit the ground running. I grab the edge of the tank’s main gun and thrust down, breaking it off.

Its machine guns start firing at me, and I duck down after one nails my left cheek. I cough the thing out, having to force it out from the back of my throat. I have to take care of the machine guns and the coaxial gun. That shouldn’t be too difficult. Neither are very large, and they have no flexibility. I stand and grab the coaxial gun. I wrap my fingers out it and rip, tearing the thin pipe from the tank. I dart back down, below the machine gun. I walk directly beneath it and stab the pipe into it like an uppercut. It pierces the metal, lodging in the middle of the barrel. I keep running, and I know exactly where Kelli is.

There’s a large circle of barricades, cars, helicopters and soldiers. I thought only I was capable of such a crowd.

Then I see what she’s, doing, and I understand why she gets so much focus.

Had I not grown up with her, I wouldn’t be able to see her. She runs in the shadows cast on the ground, leaving one but having nothing attached to it. She can affect anything by affecting its shadow. She can kill you without ever even detected. However, Kelli has always been one to overkill.

Kelli emerges from the shadows in the sidewalk and sprint to the nearest soldier, who begins rapid fire along with everything in her vicinity. She gracefully dodges the bullets like she’s dancing. All of her movements are so elegant and fluid. She spins, pivots, points her toes when she jumps, kicks her legs over her head to flip and swings her legs and back around as if she has no bones. She’s beyond limber, you’d suspect she was made of rubber. She has no difficulty getting within a close range. She throws her legs at his face and locks her knees around his neck. She swings to the side, pulling on her legs. She drags the shooter to the ground and lands elegantly on one knee.

Only Kelli can do that move. Andrew, Ty and Cody were deemed too tall. Kelli could practice on everyone except me, I could only practice on Ty. We went in knowing that I wouldn't walk out in completion of the move. He stood about ten feet away so I could get a running start. I didn't make a single step before we both burst into laughter. It took over an hour for me to even reach him, and when I jumped he started laughing and took a step back. I fell on the back of my head and neck and started cracking up. I'm glad we were allowed to give up and walk away, because actually practicing that would have been the most awkward thing. I can't imagine my legs around Ty's neck and I don't think he'd enjoy my crotch near his face. He'd probably make a dirty joke and we'd both end up laughing on the floor after I elbowed him in the stomach with all my might.

There’s a soldier approaching behind her. I start to warn her, but she’s already acting. She kicks her left foot high in the air, bending her head down to reach the head of the man. Instead of merely kicking him in the face, she buckles her knee around the neck of the soldier. She continues the movement of the kick, pulling her leg to the ground. She slams the man into the concrete, landing soundly on both feet.

A helicopter zooms overhead and fires, tagging Kelli in the right shoulder. She grunts and falls down, slipping back into the shadows. Anger burns in me, and I burst through the barricades. I shove soldiers and cars over, chasing after the low-flying chopper. I run for a truck and jump onto the hood, then the roof. I run to the edge of the car and jump, grabbing onto the landing gear. The pilots know I’m here, because they head straight for the top of a building. I pull myself up in time, tucking my knees close to my chest. They sharply turn right, and I’m forced to drop my knees. They smash me into the corner of a building, and I rip through. My legs and hips are caught, and blocks of the structure penetrate my skin. I grimace, but hold on. They whip me into a pole, and I hit with a loud bonk. My forehead, nose and chin connect with the metal, and although I linger on it for a moment, the chopper pulls me to the left. I slide off it, still clinging on, although my grip has weakened.. I have to become more stable, they’ll do whatever they can to fling me off.

I swing back and forth, fingers tightly clutched. I lock my legs around the landing gear to be more secure. I move closer to the middle of the chopper, until I can reach into it. I keep my left hand on the landing gear, reaching my hand onto the inside. Something hard jams into my knuckles, and I withdraw it. I wince and try to shake away the uncomfortable sensation. I have an idea to deal with the soldier in there. I swing to the left and put all my momentum into the swing right. I pick my foot up and slam it into the chopper. I feel it strike someone and put my right hand on the ledge. I pull myself into it and grab onto the soldier who shot Kelli. I grab the collar of her shirt and throw her out. She falls about ten feet to the roof of a nearby building. I run towards the pilot and thrust my knee into the back of the seat. The pilot jolts forward, and I wrap my hands around their neck. I shake them from side to side, until their neck gives way. They slump in their seat, and I abandon the chopper.

I easily land the twenty-three foot fall. I hit the ground running and race back to Kelli. I hope she’s okay. I hope she’s still fighting, I hope she’s still kicking a*s and taking names. I don’t know if she can just walk off a shoulder wound like that.

I can hear her screeching like a wild animal, and I see her swinging and kicking, getting shot multiple times in her arms and legs. I have to stop them before they hit something vital! "Stop!" I scream, tilting my head down and tensing my shoulders. I barrel through the crowd and stand in front of her, arms outstretched. She crouches to the ground, arms over the side of her head. "I’m the one you want to kill! I’m the one who ruined your plans in Sacramento, San Francisco, San Jose and Santa Cruz!"

"What are you doing, Ashler?" Kelli hisses. She coughs up blood, and I continue. I have no idea if my plan will work.

"If I surrender right now, will you leave her alone?" I ask.

"Ashler, you’re being an idiot." She snaps.

"Quiet." I whisper to her in an octave too low for humans to pick up on. I barely move my lips. "Put them in darkness. Make it so they can’t see. Do it slowly." I clear my throat and announce to the crowd, "Please. Spare her. I’m the one who has sinned. I am the one who needs to be punished." Shadows slip towards the soldiers, spreading in all directions. I have to keep their attention on me. "I’m sorry I killed your comrades. I just wanted to protect my country."

"You aren’t protecting your country!" One of the soldiers shouts in their native language.

I drop my arms. "What?" I ask.

Suddenly, shadows burst out of the ground and cover the area like a thick fog. Everywhere you look, there is darkness. Pitch black darkness in which no light escapes. There’s a small circle around me, the shadows hitting my light and dying, like a flame exposed to water. A foot above me, the darkness continues. Kelli has become the darkness. I can’t see her. "Now what?" She asks. It sounds like she is the fog. Her voice is coming from multiple places, echoing and reflecting.

"Let their eyes adjust to the darkness. Shock them into blindness." I say.

"They’ll still be alive, Ashler. They’ll still be able to use their guns." She snarls.

"Yeah, they will. Let them shoot each other. We have bigger problems." I tell her. "There are two compounds they’re operating from. We need to find those and destroy them."

"That’s why you’re keeping them alive. So you can torture them into giving you information." She says.

"No." I respond simply. I don’t argue, I don’t shoot it out. I just admit it. "Sure, I need answers, that’s part of it. I’m not going to torture them. Just threaten them."

"You’re going soft. How are you going to win the war and be a hero when you don’t want to kill people?" She asks.

"I have to kill people to be a hero?" I ask her. "I don’t see the logic in that." I’m sure she’s rolling her eyes. "Okay, that should be enough time. Get ready. On the count of three, pull your shadows away." I charge energy in my skin. To drive it home, I need more than the sun. "One, two, three!"

The shadows are sucked into Kelli like she’s a vacuum. Like she’s a black hole. They funnel into her, and the second the last disappear into her, I am bursting with light. Light doesn’t merely spill out of my pores. It blasts out of me, spreading in every direction. I arch my back and extend my arms, holding my head back and let the light surge through my body and into the world. Light pours into the street, and the juxtaposition is enough to blind the eyes of humans. The light flow stops, and I drop my arms to my sides. The beam hesitates before diminishing, and I turn to Kelli.

"Can you run?" I ask.

She rolls her eyes. "I don’t need the amazing heroine to save me. I can do this myself, Ashler." She runs towards South Main Street and grabs a soldier by their collar. The eyes are wide, and I can’t detect a pupil. I chase after her, too late to stop her from slapping the soldier. "Where’s the compound?"

"Stop!" I order Kelli.

She whips her head towards me. "I’m the captain. I make the calls." She turns back to the soldier. "Where is it?"

The soldier shrieks, "I don’t know!"

"Liar!" Kelli hisses, slamming the person on the ground. "Tell me, or I’ll kill your brother."

"You don’t know my brother!" She yelps back.

"I have access to your biggest fears. I know who your brother is, what he fears and what he finds most painful. Tell me where the compound is, and I won’t touch him. I won’t drown him."

The soldier gasps. "Fine!" She surrenders. "It’s underneath the corner of South Spring Street and East Third Street!" Kelli starts jogging for the nearby intersection, and I notice her limping. I don’t say anything, though.

"The corner she’s talking about is less than half a mile away." I tell her. I easily match her rather slow speed. We’ll be there in around a minute, sure, but that’s kind of long.

"I know, Ashler." She growls through grit teeth.

I stare at her, keeping the road ahead in my peripherals. We both duck underneath a building that leans on another, jump over a hole in the pavement. "Why do you hate me?" I ask.

"I don’t." She snaps, glaring at me for less than a second. "I hate how you act like you’re better and think the world of yourself." A soldier turns the corner, and Kelli socks her in the mouth, taking her down with one punch.

"Am I still that arrogant?" I ask.

"You got a little better."

We reach the corner, and there are trucks zooming by, soldiers hanging of the sides, shooting at the enemy. There are snipers on nearby roofs, fighter jets chase each other in the sky. This is a playground to me. There’s a game of tag going on between the big kids, the littlest children hide along the play structure, poking their heads out to sneak a peak on you. There are the first graders, parading about on their little scooters, and then we arrive. The big, intimidating fifth graders who’ve gone through sex ed, who know all the swear words, who hang out on the field and tell you to beat it, and you do. Because next year they’ll be middle schoolers and can go to middle school dances, and that makes them cool, at least in the eyes of the elementary school kids.

This is my playground. Guns fire, explosions go off, buildings are crumbling, people are dying. This is where my friends and I go when we’re not training. The only freedom we get from our education is spent here.

"Don’t bother with your contingency plans." Kelli interrupts my thoughts. "Clear the area. I’ll smoke the b******s out."

I don’t question her. She runs for the corner of the sidewalk, and I sprint to the intersection. I’ve always known Kelli to be vicious. That was blatant to everyone. Perhaps Cody knew that there’s another side to her. A ruthless, brutal barbarian. She’s the one people should fear.

Trucks come towards me, and I wave for them to turn left. They honk, and I knit my eyebrows. "Go left! We know what we’re doing!" I yell at them. They finally turn, nearly ramming their back wheels into me. I’d bet Ty ten bucks that Kayd’s driving the truck. I target the snipers on the surrounding roofs and grab onto the nearby rubble. I hurl it into the snipers, knocking the guns to the ground. I hear Kelli grunt as she slams the meat of her hand into the pavement. It cracks and breaks apart, and she begins to dig the pieces out. My hits are successful, until I reach the last one. The sniper nails me in the brain, and I black out.

I wake up on the ground, and the sniper’s aiming at Kelli. I reach into my aching body and pull out something I shouldn’t. I launch a fireball at the sniper, knocking them off the roof and sending their gun to the ground. My heart pounds, and I can feel the throbbing from my left arm. It immediately tenses up and feels swollen. It’s sore. It’s sore as hell. Oh, my gosh. That hurts. That hurts.

Kelli reaches both hands into the hole she’s made into the ground and pours darkness like a funnel. Like there’s an endless stream of darkness in her soul, spilling through her skin. You’d almost forget that she has blood instead of pure shadows.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Manipulating them to destroy everything and kill themselves." She snarls at me. "I got this covered, Ashler. Go help your boyfriend or something."

"My boyfriend’s dead." I snap at her. The words race out my mouth. Was Mav even my boyfriend? I don’t know. He sure felt like it.

She’s silent for a moment. "I know."

I could punch her. I curl my hands into fists. I’m in pain because of her? I can feel my skin heating up. My fingernails cut into my palms, I have to breathe heavily to get barely enough air. Insensitive, heartless little… "You’re going to hell."

"See you there." She retorts.

I decide to take her advice and look for Ty, turning and running away from Kelli. As I do, I hear screaming behind me. I look over my shoulder, and Kelli’s smiling. I yank my head away from the sight. I won’t become that. If I already have, then never again.

I climb onto the roof of a two-story building. Ty’s in the air, he shouldn’t be that difficult to locate. The volume he tends to operate at should help.

An enemy jet ducks down closer to the earth. I start storing power in my feet. The engines start smoking. It’s not flying, it’s falling! This thing’s crashing towards the city! I bend my knees, preparing to fly after it.

But, no. It stops dead in its tracks, chilling in the middle of the air. It wavers, the nose pointed almost straight down. Well, there’s Ty. He has to be exhausted. There’s been so many helicopters and jets. He has to be hurting. I jump along the buildings, careful to remain on them despite gunfire and crashes and explosions. I have to get to the other side of downtown L.A.

I cross a wide street, and I am certain I have fallen short before I’m even halfway. I cuss like I’m dying and slam into the wall. The wind leaves me in a sharp grunt, and for a moment, I’m stuck in the air like the jet.

The moment ends. I start sliding down the slick glass building. I reach around, searching for any nub or nook to grab onto and find nothing. I keep my body pressed to the glass to increase friction and slow my fall, which will be over one hundred feet. I slap my hands desperately on the glass, looking everywhere. Is there no ledge on this building? Nothing?

The wind rushes past me, blocking out the sirens and the screaming and the bombing and the gunfire and the traffic of the evacuating cars. I am falling, and there’s nothing else. My mind is blank, I can’t think, I try to, I really do, and I can’t. I’m going to plummet straight into the sewers and die. I’m going to knock myself into a coma and let my team get shot until they’re killed and Los Angeles is lost.

Adrenalin kicks in, and I’m frantic. I throw plans about in my head, ridiculous schemes, praying that a good one emerges.

I have an idea! It’s not good, not at all, but it’s my only chance. I pull back my right foot and slam my toes through the glass. It cracks and shatters, and it comes at a cost. My foot throbs, and I know that it’s going to be nothing compared to the pain I’m about to feel.

I brace myself. I grind my teeth with my lower lip in between, curling my toes as tightly as I can manage. The jagged hole in the glass is approaching, and I reach my right hand through it. I continue to fall, not breathing at all. I know what’s coming next.

My hand hits the sharp glass, and the more weight gets put on my hand, the more pressure on the skin. My arm straightens, and all my weight is suspended. The initial snap, the whiplash, pulls my hand through the shards and nearly breaks the glass. A scream pierces my lips, and I start hyperventilating. Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh, it hurts. My whole body shakes, and I can’t stop shrieking. I can only think of how badly my hand hurts and how death has to be better. My hand has been impaled with glass, and it hurts more than you could ever imagine. There’s no way to describe it. It’s like being stabbed through the hand-- because I was-- except the knife has uneven edges that tear everything they touch.

I feel myself lowering to the ground, and I hear sizzling. I look at my hand. The glass is melting! I didn’t think I was still that hot! That means there’s enough fire in me to get out of here!

I throw my strength into my feet and blast just as the glass gives way. I launch myself through the glass, my forearms blocking my head. I cut the power and crash through the glass, slamming onto the floor. I continue to tumble, eventually stopping when I hit a desk.

There is so much pain. I cough instead of breathing, actually expecting to see blood. Of course, I am no human. There will never be blood. As badly as I hurt, it will never show. No one will ever see me in need of help. That has endless advantages in a war. Emotionally, though, it’s crippling.

However.

Now is a time of war. I have to fight. I prop myself up on my elbows, and I wonder if they seriously expected the shirt to last. It’s already a sleeveless crop top with numerous tears. The pants are practically gone. Shoes would have been completely obliterated within the first minute of battle. If my nudity really bothers them, they’re screwed. I don’t think there’s anything we can do about it.

I pull my knees in, kneel, then slowly stand. I’m going to need more energy. I need to get become extremely emotional. Either sadness or anger works.

Oh, my gosh.

Kelli knew that. She was manipulating me to give me more power. She was purposely pissing me off. She wasn’t being rude or cruel towards me because she dislikes me. Yet I treated her as if she was. Even then, she kept the act up. Professional beyond words. You know, I don’t think Kelli gets enough credit. Her mind scares me sometimes.

She knew where to hit, and she didn’t just tap on the glass. She pulled back a hammer and slammed it. I have to do that.

Maverick.

I pull up every memory I have of him. I think of everything I like about him and every time we smiled. I drag up my final memory of him and replay it. The second his lips touch my forward, the news reporter announces his death. He goes into gory details. Doctors explain all the pain he felt. They say that four-letter word over and over and over again.

Dead.

He’s dead.

K.B.’s dead.

Dawson’s dead.

Ardo’s dead.

It’s not enough. It’s not enough, I have to get more than that.

I could have saved them, I convince myself. It’s my fault they died. I try to drill it into my head that I have to avenge them. I have to spill blood in return for theirs. An eye for an eye. Except it doesn’t help. Not one bit.

I don’t want revenge. No, I want something much hard to attain. I want justice. I want solace for the crimes committed. I’m going to get it for them. They were wronged, and I have to make it right for them.

I walk to the window. Ty’s still struggling with the weight of the jet. We need each other. I’m coming.

Ty’s in the fashion district. I’m in the arts district. We’re nearly a mile apart. I should be able to clear that in seconds. I use the chairs around the desk to break the hole in the glass open much wider. No more cuts. I back up and take a deep breath in. For my nomads. For the promise I will never get to honor. This is how I make it up to them.

I sprint forward. I reach the edge and I don’t stop. I press my left foot against the tip of the building and thrust my right leg forward. I open my arms wide and soar away from the building. My stomach rushes to the ground, and the soldiers down below don’t even notice how quickly they grow.

Since my memories began, I’ve wanted to die in one way. If I could pick how I die, this would be it. Pity it’s a way I can’t. If I could, though, I would die falling. I’d be thrown from the tallest skyscraper or experience an error in my parachute while skydiving. Either way, I would fall for thousands of feet. I’d reach terminal velocity and die immediately. No pain.

So the rushing earth doesn’t scare me.

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