Name: Lance Lawthorn
Energy Framework
Core Power
└─[Appropriation (Alpha II)]
* Modes
└─[Redistribution]
* Essence Powers
└─[Adaptive Limbs: Saltatorial (8%)]
Energy Mastery
└─[Pain Nullification (Emergent)]
└─[Energy Classification (Emergent)]
└─[Energy Cycling (Emergent)]
Enhancements
└─Power: Tier 2
└─Energy: Tier 2
└─Speed: Tier 2
└─Defense: Tier 2
└─Mind: Tier 2
└─Control: Tier 2
Lance stared at his energy framework—that nifty trick Dr. Patel had shown him, courtesy of the NARS gene therapy's second dose—and sighed. Shit. The loss of Saltatorial and Impervious had left him feeling naked, vulnerable.
The universe had nerfed him, but he remained a player in the game. With brute force no longer viable, it was time to explore his remaining abilities and adjust his methods.
Appropriation doesn’t do anything on its own. Without stolen abilities, it was just potential. Redistribution seemed worse: A joke without appropriated powers to shuffle around. Mack screwed him over. Royally.
All that was left was that eight percent of Saltatorial. Was it even doing anything? He couldn't tell if his jumps were better or if he was imagining it. The other ninety-two percent felt like a phantom limb.
Pain Nullification, however, came with a lot of mixed feelings. It had emerged spontaneously, saving his ass when he'd dug that bullet out. But was it really useful? For a pain-averse, lily-livered wimp like him? Probably.
At least I won't suffer when I die.
He rubbed his face, feeling the stubble on his chin and thinking: Energy Classification... what good is that in a fight? Oh great, I can see people's arma colors. Really helpful when someone's trying to murder me.
Lance's eyes froze on one particular line of his status screen. Energy Cycling? He did a double-take, confused. When did he get that?
He racked his brain, trying to recall any moment where this ability might have manifested. Nothing. It was like finding a stranger's underwear in your drawer—unexpected and slightly concerning.
"System," he muttered, feeling a bit foolish talking to thin air, "what's Energy Cycling?"
No response. Of course not. It wasn't some video game with convenient tooltips. He'd have to figure this out the hard way.
BioNova hadn't mentioned anything about delving deeper into specific descriptions. Or had she? Hell, he couldn’t remember ever acquiring Energy Cycling for crying out loud. These gaps were chipping away at his sanity.
Come to think of it, he couldn't remember learning about Redistribution either—
Mack, he thought. It must've been Mack.
Okay, nevermind. Please let it be good
Lance focused, willing the framework to reveal more. To his surprise, a description flickered into view:
Energy Cycling: Ability to circulate and refine energy within the body, enhancing physical attributes
He read it twice, a spark of hope kindling in his chest. This... this he could work with. It wasn't flashy like his lost abilities, but it sounded useful. Practical.
Enhance physical attributes, huh? Lance flexed his hand, wondering if he could feel the energy moving. Nothing yet, but the potential was there. A tool to make him stronger, faster, maybe even tougher.
Satisfied, Lance's attention flicked back to the designators next to each ability. Alpha II, Emergent, Tier 2—what did those mean? If this followed video game logic, they could be power levels or some progression system. But right now, that info was about as useful as a chocolate teapot. He added "interrogate Dr. Patel" to tomorrow's to-do list. No point wasting brain power on it now when he had more pressing concerns. Like preparing for danger. Or figuring out some useful combination of these powers before someone tried to turn him into a Lance-shaped skid mark on the pavement.
But as he soared through the city, wind biting his face, icy droplets stinging his skin, neon lights blurring past, at his normal peak-human-performance pace, his exhaustive contemplation of life's not-so-mundane superpowers was interrupted.
"Hey, protein bar guy! Nice of you to finally show up."
He turned to see Vicky, who had been jogging beside him, her beautiful blonde hair fading to pink bouncing with each step.
She was right; she did look badass. The left side of her head was freshly shaved where her hair had been singed two days ago. Light stubble was growing back, barely visible against her skin. It gave her a tough look, like a character from a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Which, given their current world and the Vicky he'd come to know, wasn't far from the truth.
"About that meeting yesterday..." Lance started.
"The one you promised to bring snacks to? Yeah, I remember. We all do."
Lance winced. "Had some unforeseen complications."
"Uh-huh. Sure you did." Vicky's face scrunched into an exaggerated pout as she ran. "So, did you at least bring them today?"
Lance reached for the small backpack he'd been hauling, almost forgetting he had it until Vicky called him out. Without a word, he unzipped a pocket and tossed a small pouch her way.
Vicky snatched it out of the air, peeking inside. Her eyes widened. "Holy sh—"
"It's not just protein bars. Threw in some other stuff too."
She quickly composed herself, clearing her throat. "You're forgiven. This time. But don't you dare break another promise, boludo."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"Good," Vicky said with a smug "hmph."
"How far is this place anyway?" she then asked.
"2876 Industrial Parkway? That's what our... what was it called again? Quest? Directive?"
“Yep, got the same one.”
“It's on the outskirts of town. Not too far now."
"Great. More running." She glanced at Lance. "Though I gotta say, it's way easier keeping up with you today. What happened?"
Lance's face stiffened for a split second. "Maybe you're just getting faster."
"Or maybe you're getting slower. Late nights catching up to you, old man?"
"I'm no more than two years older than you."
Vicky grinned. "Ancient. Practically decrepit."
"Keep it up and I'm taking those protein bars back."
"You wouldn't dare."
Lance raised an eyebrow. "Try me."
Vicky clutched the pouch to her chest. "Mine now. No takebacks."
"Real mature."
"Says the guy threatening to steal snacks."
They rounded a corner, the sprawling industrial complex coming into view.
Lance and Vicky jogged on, surrounded by tall buildings and empty lots. The quiet here felt odd compared to the noisy streets they'd left behind. Lance's legs burned, but not in the good way he was used to. Losing his abilities was indeed starting to show.
‘Whoosh’
Something zipped past. So fast, Lance's enhanced senses barely registered it.
What the—
Before he could finish the thought, the blur circled back, transforming into a well-known face.
Diego.
But not the Diego they knew. This was Diego 2.0, grinning from ear to ear, practically vibrating with fresh energy.
"Surprise, bitches!" Diego's booming laugh filled the air. "Bet you didn't see that coming."
The sight hit Lance like a glitch in reality, leaving him dazed. Diego, who'd been wheelchair-bound just days ago, was now standing—no, bouncing—on legs that pulsed with power that was his—also—just days ago… and he was…
Crazy fast.
They both stopped in their tracks, but Vicky recovered first. "Holy shit, Diego! When did you—I mean, how—"
"Got my mojo back, baby!" Diego flexed, his muscles rippling beneath his shirt. "And then some. Turns out, having your superpowers on vacation for a bit really juices 'em up when they come back."
Pride inflated his chest. Yes, returning them was the right choice.
"I’ve never managed that speed myself. How fast were you going just now, Beast?"
Diego's eyes gleamed. "Fast enough to make you two look like you're running through molasses. See that wall? Mira esto."
He moved his fingers to his smartwatch. ‘Click.’ ‘Click.’
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Blur.
Diego vanished, sprinting to a nearby warehouse and back, touching its wall.
"What’s that?” Lance asked Vicky. “About a hundred meters, there and back?”
“Aaaand now he’s turning around,” she said.
“Damn, just damn. He’ll do about... 15 seconds?"
Blur.
‘Click’
“13.7 seconds,” Diego said, slightly winded but grinning.
Vicky whistled, impressed. "Damn, Diego. You're practically leaving skid marks."
"That’s the Beast on rocket fuel," Diego corrected.
“And, no pain still?” Lance asked.
“It’s a little worse than yesterday, but nothing compared to before.”
Lance's head spun. He knew Diego's power firsthand, but this? This was a whole new level. A drop of envy wormed its way through his veins, quickly followed by a wave of guilt.
I should be happy for him. This is what he needed.
But a small, selfish part of him couldn't help but mourn the loss of that incredible speed. The memory of effortlessly jumping up flights of stairs, of the world blurring around him as he raced through the city, felt like a cruel taunt now.
Diego grabbed his right foot and pulled it behind him. His face telegraphed the stretch in his quad. He held the position for a few seconds, then switched to his left leg. "So, I assume you got this weird-ass message too?"
“Yeah, the one about coming to this industrial wasteland,” Lance said.
“Thought I was going crazy. But I saw you two heading this way and figured, hey, maybe it's not just the excessive amounts of pre-workout talking."
"Welcome to the club, big guy,” said Vicky. “We're all losing our minds together."
Diego scratched his beard. "So, these are the crazy messages you mentioned before, Lance? The ones you said were like... what was it? 'The AI apocalypse meets brain worms'?"
Lance nodded. "The very same. Trippy, right?"
"Trippy doesn't even begin to cover it, hermano. It's like... can someone explain what's this about the 'path of sidekick' or investigating arma energy or some shit?"
Vicky burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. "Path of Sidekick? Oh my god, that's priceless!"
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing, nothing." Vicky wiped tears from her eyes, her smirk widening. "It's just... imagine getting stuck with that lame title."
Lance shot Vicky a pointed, questioning look.
"Wasn't that your first—"
"So, Diego," Vicky interrupted, her voice suddenly louder. “Pumped to sidekick this observational directive?”
“I don’t get it. "What's wrong with being a sidekick? Every hero needs backup, right?"
Diego flexed unconsciously.
"Sure, Diego. You can be our muscle," Lance said.
"Damn straight." Diego's chest puffed out slightly. "So, what's the plan? We storming some evil scientist's lair or what?"
"Not quite," Lance said. “I think we’re supposed to investigate. Quietly.”
Vicky’s eyes moved to Diego’s form. "Yeah, good luck with that.”
Diego held up his hands. "Hey, I can be stealthy! I'll be like... a ninja. A really buff, awesome ninja."
“Okay.” Lance pointed to a dilapidated building in the distance. "That's the place. 2876 Industrial Parkway."
Lance's gaze darted from broken window to cracked brick, his brain firing off a rapid-fire list:
1. Unstable floors?
2. Squatters inside?
3. Rusty nails everywhere?
4. Asbestos?
The old building hunched in front of them like a grumpy old man, daring them to step closer. Lance couldn't shake the feeling it was sizing them up, deciding whether to spill its secrets or keep them locked away forever.
"Alright, guys," he said, his voice low and steady. "We need to be smart about this. No rushing in blind."
Vicky's silent 'yes' came with restless eyes that mapped out the limits of their space. "How about we split up? Cover more ground, but stay within earshot."
"Good thinking," Lance agreed. "Diego, you take the left side. Vicky, right. I'll go straight up the middle. Any sign of trouble, shout."
Diego flexed his fingers, joints popping. His lips quirked up. "Remember: need any muscle work? I'm your guy. Walls, doors, whatever—I'll make it budge."
"Noted, sidekick," Vicky chuckled. “I'll whistle if I need my powerhouse."
As they approached the building, Lance concentrated, reaching for his raw Energy Cycling skill. He pictured energy surging through his body, willing it to sharpen his hearing, boost his night vision, amp up his reflexes, heighten his awareness, his strength, anything.
Nothing.
A wave of "why me?" swept through Lance from head to toe. Come on, work, damn it.
They reached the entrance, a rusted door hanging off its hinges. Lance held up a hand, signaling for caution. He peered inside, straining his eyes in the dim light.
Empty.
"Looks clear," he whispered. "Let's move in."
As they entered, the musty smell of decay violated their nostrils and their sanity. Lance wrinkled his nose, still trying to activate his Energy Cycling. He imagined the energy purifying the air around him, cleansing his lungs.
Useless, he thought. Guess I need to find a mountaintop guru with a magic energy beard.
"See anything interesting?" Vicky's voice echoed slightly in the cavernous space.
"Nothing yet. Keep your eyes peeled,” Lance shouted back.
They ventured further in, their shoes scuffing against the gritty floor. Lance’s muscles jumped.
The old factory was a mess. To their right, half the building had caved in, leaving a mountain of broken concrete, twisted metal, and who-knows-what else. Impossible to get through. The other half wasn't much better, but at least they could walk around. Rusty machinery loomed in the darkness, looking more like sleeping monsters than old equipment. Trash and debris littered the floor, crunching under their feet with every step. Shafts of dirty light poked through holes in the roof, painting everything in a grimy, washed-out gray. The air smelled musty, like wet cardboard and old metal.
Lance's frustration grew with each passing moment. Sure, Energy Cycling sounded cool, but right now, it felt like trying to catch smoke with his bare hands. He should be able to do something with this new ability, shouldn't he?
As he pondered his limitations, a moving shadow caught his eye—probably just a rat, but in this place, who knew?
"Hey, guys?” The Beast’s voice called. “I think I found something."
Lance and Vicky converged on Diego's position. He stood before a heavy metal door, its surface marred by rust and age.
"It's locked," Diego said, pointing to a keypad beside the door. "Want me to, you know..." He mimed punching the door.
With a hand up, Lance said, "hold on. Let's not announce our presence - just in case." He examined the keypad closely.
Vicky leaned in next to him, her face heart-racingly close and her eyes narrowing. "Look at the wear patterns on the keys. Some are more worn than others."
Lance jerked back, creating some breathing room between them. "Good catch. That narrows down the possibilities."
As Vicky worked on deciphering the code, Lance closed his eyes, concentrating harder than ever on his Energy Cycling. He imagined the energy flowing to his brain, enhancing his cognitive abilities, helping him crack the code.
All of the sudden, "Got it!" Vicky's triumphant whisper snapped Lance back to reality. The keypad beeped, and the door gave way with a groan.
Beyond stretched a hallway, lit by sputtering bulbs that coughed out sickly yellow light. The air hit them like a cold slap, carrying a sharp tang that made Lance's eyes water. There was something else in the mix too—a smell that nagged at him, like a word stuck on the tip of his tongue. He covered his nose and for a millisecond, his thoughts crawled towards his Pain Nullification skill. But no—he needed to stay sharp. Dulling his senses now could be a deadly mistake. Instead, he took shallow breaths through his mouth, trying to ignore the stench.
Lance glanced at his watch. [7:45 PM] Time was ticking. “According to the directive, we have two and a half hours before authorities arrive.”
"Ladies first," Diego said with a grin.
"Such a gentleman," Vicky quipped with a roll of her eyes. But she took point anyway, moving cautiously down the corridor.
Lance fell in behind Vicky while keeping tabs on the shadowy corners until they reached the end of the corridor, where another door stood an inch open.
They stepped into a vast space that might generously be called a warehouse, if warehouses typically came with rust-streaked walls and floors littered with debris, and Vicky muttered something about tetanus shots while Lance noticed the air was no better than in the corridor—if anything, the dust seemed thicker, mixed with who-knows-what-else. Multiple entrances dotted the perimeter, though half of them were sealed shut by what looked like the aftermath of a localized extinction event—chunks of rebar and shattered cinderblock forming impenetrable barricades that spoke of either a controlled demolition gone wrong or maybe an earthquake with a vendetta against doors specifically.
This was most likely once the main floor of some manufacturing plant, with old machines scattered around like forgotten dinosaurs, their functions now a mystery; the whole place had an eerie feel, as if everyone had bolted mid-shift during an earthquake a decade ago, leaving everything to rust and decay ever since.
He took in the desolate scene, a sinking feeling in his gut. This had to be a wild goose chase. Or worse, they were lab rats in some sick experiment, scurrying through a maze for someone's twisted amusement. He could almost picture a group of scientists watching them on monitors, placing bets on how far they'd make it before giving up. Fuck Energy Cycling! Lance thought bitterly. Fat lot of good it was doing him now.
But the fire had been real…
What the hell am I doing? The thought hit him like a pneumatic nail gun. Playing hero when I can barely keep up—
"You okay there, protein bar guy?” Vicky asked. “You're looking a little green around the gills."
Lance forced himself to breathe. To push down the conflicting emotions scrambling his dinner. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... processing."
She nodded, understanding in her eyes. "It's a lot, huh? One minute we're normal, the next we're... whatever the hell we are now."
"Freaks," Lance muttered.
"Speak for yourself," Vicky retorted, but there was no real heat in it. "I prefer 'extraordinarily gifted individuals.'"
"Is that what we're calling it now?" he half-asked, half-chuckled.
"Damn straight. Now come on, Diego’s got something. And don't think I didn't notice you slowing down earlier. What's up with that?"
Deflect.
Lance shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. "Just pacing myself. You know, conserving energy for whatever clusterfuck we're about to walk into."
Vicky squinted, but she didn't press. "Uh-huh. Well, I've got my eye on you"
"Oye, I just remembered. This place was on the news, bro. Thursday, I think."
"Thursday? What happened?" Lance's eyebrow quirked up.
"A fire. Pretty big one from what I recall. Middle of the night."
Vicky snorted. "And you just happened to be watching the news at that hour?"
"Couldn't sleep." Diego shrugged. “Was in a wheelchair, so not much to do either.”
“What did they say?” Lance asked.
"Eh, not much. Local cops showed up, but… they didn't seem too worked up about it. Just some old building burning, you know?"
Lance tapped the side of his leg with his finger. "Interesting. Our directive mentioned a fire too. I thought that’s what we would find, but there’s nothing here."
“Right, ‘cause the fire already happened.”
"Two fires? What is this—the arson capital of the world?"
Lance and Diego looked at each other. A beat passed. Neither spoke.
“I don’t think so, but I never paid much attention,” Lance finally said, then paused, his gaze distant.
"What are you thinking, hermano?"
"I'm not sure what I'm thinking yet,” Lance said.
"Well, that's helpful."
"Sometimes the brain needs time to warm up, like before a heavy lift. Dale un break al hombre.”
"Che boludo, dejá de joder con tus analogías de gimnasio."
"No mames, güey. Nomás quería alivianar el pedo…"
As the Beast and Vicky bickered in Spanish, Lance paced the large space, summarizing everything they'd learned, which amounted to a whole lot of nothing, making him wonder if there was something to find here, and then he saw it.
He saw movement under the cracked rubber of an old conveyor belt that stretched next to a huge industrial press. The press's arm was stuck halfway through its job, like it just gave up. Weak moonlight came through holes in the ceiling, showing dust floating around. Lance's 25/20 vision came in handy—better than average, especially at night, though certainly not cat-level. Still, he had to squint to make out what was moving in the shadows under all that rusty junk.
There. A flash of something dark and slick. Not quite oil, not quite slime. It oozed and pulsed, defying easy description. It called out to him. Or at least, that’s what Lance thought—
‘Behind you.’ his internal voice screamed.
Sight. Sound. Smell. Touch. Taste.
Lance's senses exploded all at once, yet it wasn't any of them. A sixth sense, maybe—or all five cranked up to high. Arma. Nearby. How did he know? He just... knew. Like recognizing your own reflection, but with every fiber of your being. It was there, pulsing, calling out to him. Real? Imagined? Both? Neither?
Did it matter?
Something was there, jumping at him from the shadows, demanding his attention.
And it wasn't alone.