I was given an ultimatum. I didn't like it and it wasn't pretty, but it beat being imprisoned for the rest of my life based on my powers alone. Stumblebum had been right that the moment I stepped foot on the Rig, I had signed away my freedoms, so this was on me. After the results of my test had gone back to the decision-makers, they presented me with a choice.

'Stay on the rig until you can be deemed safe for society', which, as I learned, was likely never.

'Or get chipped and sacrifice the very last vestiges of your privacy.' It was fitting in a way, as I so often ignored the privacy of others.

Still, I seethed over this treatment at first, but I didn't know who to blame. Sure, the government was enthusiastic in enacting these measures, but the Superhuman Rights Accord had been ratified in mass referendum by Americans, not judicial fiat. The public had taken it to a vote and decided that, really, supers didn't have very many rights at all, come to think of it. Not when they could be walking thermonuclear weapons.

It might have been nice if we were extended the same treatment as everyone else, but as far as exceptions in the law go, the emergence of supers was probably the most spectacularly unprecedented event in human history. That kind of newness did not go over well with people.

So, I took my seat deep in the Rig's medical bay as the nurse plunged her needle into my arm. And I kept my mouth shut.

It was late the night before our send-off and this last-minute special allowance was the only reason I would be on my way out tomorrow. The nurse could see the grim expression on my face, and she offered some small condolences. "It really is a tough job. We all know that."

The degree that supers were idolized in popular media made the veteran worship of yore look like a disdainful apathy, so she was right about that, at least. I wasn't about to bitch my way through the literal hero's welcome I had waiting for me back in New Marion, but I was bone tired right now and I was allowing myself to pout just a little. "That's not a pill," I commented, looking at the grey liquid she was pumping into my body.

"No, this is smart blood. Instead of a single pill that can be easily removed, this is more of a swarm of that works together to monitor your vitals and so on. Track your location too, but they can also help create complex blood clots if there's serious bodily trauma. They may save your life one day."

"Impressive," I said. They were truly pulling out all the stops. "That's Guardian tech. What's it got to cost?"

"Oh, you don't want to know."

I bet that the information would have been easily readable if not for the helmet she wore. Those things were bulky and strange to look at, and I had no doubt the staff were just as ready to get rid of me so they could stop wearing them. Would have been nice to know, but oh well. I was sure it was some ungodly sum.

Even as I inwardly bellyached, I noted the lengths they were going to. This injection told me that there was no less than one person up in the hierarchy of the DoD taking major steps to keep me off the chopping block. I wouldn't allow myself to be so put out by my treatment that I couldn't see that. Despite the obnoxious bureaucracy I was facing, I had real friends on the inside. That's how I chose to look at it, trying to cultivate gratefulness over bitterness anyway.

When it was all done she removed the IV from my arm and gave me my band aid. She signaled an approving nod for my decision before finally leading me back to my room.

There, I sat in darkness and waited for the sun to rise, now tired to the point of being wired awake. I didn't sleep a wink. The subtle dark blue of the moonlit ocean sky was something to behold, but after a while I closed my eyes and took in a different set of sights.

My earlier prediction had turned out wrong. As I sat in silence, exploring the inner world of thought, I checked up on my fellow classmates. Their dreams would flash by in the vaguest of glimpses for me to see. Since bad news was going around with the failed tests, most of them were sleeping miserably, plagued by images of stressors that were unique to each. One exception lingered in the midst, though, beating out the poor odds I'd set for her. She was in fact happy as could be, as she had managed to graduate, but only by sheer tenacity.

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None other than Flashpoint was wide awake at this hour too. Unlike me, she was going through her belongings. She had all kinds of knick-knacks she'd brought from home that had to be carefully packed back into her suitcase. They radiated with a keen psychic energy, allowing me to tell just how much they meant to her.

During this process, she took breaks, no doubt to contemplate what this would mean for her. She had hung up her hero costume by the closet, and it glowed a bright mixture of yellow and green. There was pride there, but also trauma and reluctance.

Part of me knew that I was crazy to be as excited as I was to throw myself back to the wolves. I itched to get out there on the street and face the excitement of hero work, but I probably should have been just as terrified as she was. New Marion was not going to be the same place we remembered it. The city will have gotten a lot darker on top of a lingering rot already there from the gangs that operated out of the port.

"God," she started to pray. “Today was it.” This was a habit of hers, and one that I didn't like to spy on. Despite how it might have seemed, I refused to use my powers to creep on people. With my eyes opened, I drowned out the distant whisperings of her thoughts partway, but it still wasn't enough.

To give people their full privacy, I had taken to using music. The Rig had granted me my own government-issue work-phone and, although it didn't have access to the full internet, it did have access to an on-base digital library. That was where I got my songs from, allowing me to indulge my one bad habit these days. To fall asleep to the sounds of smooth classical guitarists.

My sleep was not that great, but at least I wasn't distracted by my power or subjected to the weirder moments of my classmates' subjective experiences so much. The more I expanded my powers' sensitivity, the more this had become a problem. Living with constant inaudible whispering took some getting used to, now more than ever before.

At some point I finally managed to drift off and catch just an hour or so of sleep before my alarm sounded.

Wakey, wakey.

I was able to pack my suitcase in just a matter of minutes, as the only possessions I had to my name were the clothes and cellphone given to me. I said my goodbye to the room I had come to appreciate, then took to the long dark halls in a sprint. The helipad was waiting. My footsteps sounded one after the other over chill tiles. There was moisture in the air and a tension in my stride.

I got what I wanted, I thought to myself. Life made some demands in exchange, but I was willing to pay them.

Only two other classmates had come out to tell Flashpoint and I goodbye on the helipad. The others were too bitter to celebrate, I sadly knew. We exchanged awkward hugs then and traded encouragements back and forth.

"Stay safe!" They told Flashpoint and me.

She returned, "Of course. Keep up the hard work. I'm sure you'll both be out of here in no time, too." I nodded along. Polite optimism.

The sun was coming up now over the water, giving me those strange alien feelings. The kind you could only find during the early morning hours, inside an airport or a motel. It was a sense of dreaminess that struck me as we boarded the helicopter and gave our final wave farewell.

With headsets donned Flashpoint was able to communicate with me over the sounds of the rotors spinning up. She felt obliged not to sit in total silence for the whole ride, so we made excited chit chat. "Back to New Marion, huh? Guess we'll be going the whole way together, and not just to the island base." She was talking about our relay point.

I smiled warmly. "Yeah. You know the ice-cream shop on Chandler Avenue? I've been dying to get back there. Anything you've been looking forward to like that?"

"Oh, I know that place. It's great. But, honestly, I've really just been looking forward to seeing my parents, friends, and my big fat dog," she laughed.

This was the most talkative she had been with me in the last three months, and I couldn't have been happier. Now that she knew she was putting the Rig behind herself, it seemed there was a massive weight off her shoulders. I could still see that she was associating me with one of the worst days in her life, the rampager's attack, but that memory was beginning to turn from a sense of dread at my visage to one of solidarity.

I'm going to need help breaking the ice with the hero teams back home, I thought. Hopefully, she can smooth that transition over.

I settled down into my seat and commented. "I see you're wearing your costume today. Flashpoint is ready to make her big appearance, right?"

"Oh, yeah." She looked proudly to the red and black getup. It had flame-patterns weaving over it, with strong gauntlets at the wrist and a breastplate covered over in a series of vents for directing her flames. The helmet was simplistic, but with a startlingly angular design. "I didn't know if we'd get a chance to change before going out in public, and I wanted people to know I’m back. Plus..." she bashfully added, "I really just needed to wear it. It’s been too long."

"Can't wait until I have mine. Yours looks super cool."

And on it went…

Our conversations kept up throughout the entire flight, surprisingly. Now that Flashpoint had decided to open up to me, I practically couldn't get her to stop talking. For my part, I mostly just listened along and asked her questions about her prior work as a hero. I wanted to absorb as much direct knowledge about the ins and outs of working in New Marion as I could. Though I had been formally trained so far, nothing beat real world experience.

As my new life drew closer on the horizon, I had a million thoughts running through the back of my mind. Yet only one major idea persisted.

I'm going home.