Clestin, California. Five months later.

Brad and Lucas found a free booth and waited for their order number to be hollered at them.

“I just had you down as a vegetarian,” mused Brad, shifting the drawstrings on his grey hoodie.

“Vegetarian? How have you not noticed the extra pepperoni I always order on my pizzas at The Facility?” Lucas responded.

Brad shrugged a shoulder and a minute of awkward silence followed while they each fiddled with their drinks. Truth was, Brad didn’t pay much attention to him.

“ORDER NUMBER 86 AND 87!” came the shout that broke their silence.

Thank God! Brad moaned internally. “I’ll get them,” is what he actually said, escaping the awkward confines of the booth.

The silence that continued to follow as they ate their burgers and fries was mutual and respected, no one particularly keen to break it.

Ever since their little fall out five months ago, they had both started to make an effort with each other- Madam Secretary swearing blind she hadn’t intervened. On reflection, Brad thought he could just shut up with the unnecessariness and Lucas hadn’t followed him into the bathroom since. But it was still difficult. Brad hadn’t really started to like Lucas any more than before, but he was tolerating him more. They weren’t ever going to be best friends again.

“Heyyy, best bros!” Brad and Lucas both looked up. “You're eating without me!” Dylan Petersly joked, scootching into the booth next to Lucas.

“Dyl, you’re half an hour late and you live here. We came from Kansas and we were still early,” Brad pointed out with a mouthful of burger.

“Don’t act like your trip was a long one- it takes you an hour to get here in the jets,” laughed Dylan.

It’s true. The Facility where The Collective operated out of was in Lebanon, Kansas- located due to its relative seclusion and being the most central point of America. It also made it easier for the nationally located members of The Collective who were all spread out in key major cities to all get in for meetings and the such. To get around, each member was located within six miles of an airfield which allowed them access to jets that were capable of high speed travel, so it did only take Brad and Lucas an hour to get to California.

Lucas offered the chips to Dylan. “I’m good thanks Lulu, I grabbed a somethin' on my way.”

“This place was your idea though.”

“And I bet you’re glad I had it!”

Dylan was the youngest member of the Enhanced Beings Collective registered with the US Government. He was seventeen years old, unusually accelerated to college a year earlier on a gymnastics scholarship; a role especially for him that came with teaching responsibilities alongside his studies.

He was in the bottle green tracksuit of the college’s athletic programme, zipped all the way up. It had the letters D-P stitched in big letters on the right breast underneath the fiery comet that is the college logo.

“So I did all of the digging on your guy. Impressive stats, good records. His socials are what you would expect,” explained Lucas. “Not your smartest tool in the box but what he lacks in brain he makes up in brawl.”

“I’m bustin’ for you to see him and tell me I am on to something with him. The damage I swear he caused looked like it could only have been done by him.”

Dylan was talking about Oliver Hogon, a fellow Clestin College peer who was above average in height and muscle. For a nineteen year old, he was stacked. A man mountain. The damage in question was caused to the car of a love rival he thought was trying to steal his girlfriend. Who ever tried to go against Oliver would have to be an idiot though because he could break every bone in your body without breaking into a sweat.

“Any idea where we’ll meet him?” Brad asked.

“Duh, the gym, obviously. He’s a total gym obsessive. A proper man mountain. That’s why I call him Mount Hogon,” Dylan laughed, but Brad and Lucas had the same thoughts.

“Lame!” they said, in unison. Dylan rolled his eyes and stole a couple of fries from Lucas.

“Well come on, let’s go see for ourselves.”

***

“Just play it cool, Lucas. Make sure you’re wearing your glasses. It’ll make you look more journalisty.”

The three had made it to the campus and were walking through the square to the gymnasium. Dylan opened the door for the other two and led them to the actual gym.

The site was massive. Closest to them was all the gymnastic equipment- horses, rings, bars, a large floor space and a foam pit. At the other end were rows and rows of gym equipment like weights, treadmills, bikes and the such, all completed with a boxing ring and wrestling mat. The ceiling was immensely high and was blasting cold air and loud music. Beyond the room was apparently the pool with diving boards. The college clearly invested a lot in their sports programmes.

Dylan’s plan was for Lucas to pose as a journalist and Brad to pose as someone wanting to make a Netflix documentary about the gym department that Dylan was teaching on. On their tour of the facilities, they would accidentally on purpose bump into Mount Hogon and ask him questions to establish whether the documentary will feature him. Brad had to play it cooler as he was fairly recognisable as ‘Proten’ so he was to hang back making directorial notes.

“There’s Mount Hogon, can you see him?” Dylan asked out of the corner of his mouth.

“You can’t miss him Dylan. He’s a house,” Brad stated. “And why are you talking like that? He can’t hear you over this racket!”

“This way, grandpa.”

Per their plan, they gradually made their way to the free weights. “Oh Oliver, heyy!” Dylan called out cheerily. “How’s the work out going?”

“It’s shoulder day, so just doing my usual jam,” he answered without stopping.

“Oh that’s great. I’m just showing these two around the gym. One is from Netflix thinking of doing a docu-series like the ones they always do on cheerleaders, and this man is from the paper or something. Isn’t that dope?” Brad was hanging back with a baseball cap lowered over his face, but couldn’t help but shake his head in dismay over the use of the word ‘dope’.

“I just have to marvel at your stature Oliver,” said Lucas in role. “I can see how you have become so successful. Surely there aren’t many people keen to wrestle you anymore?” Oliver just grunted. That sounded like a statement to him more than a question. “What’s your secret? Your muscular development must be more than accelerated than your peers,” pressed Lucas. “What do you take?”

“Are you suggesting I’m a ‘roid head?” Oliver dropped the weights onto the reinforced flooring and Dylan and Lucas tensed.

“No, no. I’m just making conversation. We’ll leave you to it, thanks for your time,” assured Lucas hurriedly.

“Yes, let me take you both to the pool next!” And the three hurried out.

Once clear in the corridor, they stopped to evaluate the little that happened so far.

“Seeeee!” Dylan started. “Definitely has to be enhanced right?”

“Not necessarily. You hear how defensive he got thinking I was accusing him of taking steroids? He could actually just be taking them,” Lucas countered. “What do you think Brad?”

“He could be genetically enhanced, but….” he added seeing Dylan get excited, “he could just be knocking back those protein shakes and blessed with good genetics. And the car stuff, sure he could manage it, but wasn’t there an alibi according to the reports?”

“Noo, guys, he just wasn’t seen there. There just wasn’t any CCTV. Doesn’t mean he didn’t do it.”

“Take it from me Dyl, every home has CCTV now and that guy will not be known for his stealth. Nothing picked him up. He couldn’t have done it.”

“But if he is an enhanced like us, then we should get him signed up!” Dylan eagerly suggested.

“That’s if he would want to, that is. Some people just want a quiet life and go about their business and not use their strengths and skills,” reasoned Brad. “The Collective has had an up and down history over the years. You can understand why Enhanceds aren’t jumping to sign up. And we should respect that. If he acts against the law then that’s when we intervene, but let’s just leave the guy alone.”

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“Ugh, this was a waste of time. I really thought you’d see it how I see it,” moaned the over eager young one.

“Not a complete waste of time, kiddo. We got to see you. Let’s go and get some ice cream in Little Italy before we have to head off,” recommended Brad.

***

The sun shone as the three strolled down the sidewalk, dodging other pedestrians and stepping over dogs on leads. Dylan was taking them to his favourite ice cream parlour, known for not having a seated area inside and just serving from a hatch in the store front. Brad was the last to order and took his over to the other two when it was ready. Man, we look like a weird trio.

“I don’t get why anyone would order pistachio ice cream in this day and age over anything else,” Lucas was saying to Dylan, who had ordered the pistachio.

“Hey, don’t hate,” Dylan responded with feigned offence, giving Lucas a playful push with his free hand.

“Did you order it ironically or genuinely?” Brad joined in.

“Says him with the mint choc chip. The seventies called. They want their ice cream back.” The three of them shared a laugh.

“We’re going to have to head off soon Dyl,” started Brad. “Terri and I are heading out to Miami later to catch up with Kimona.”

“Ahhh man, don’t tease me like that. I’ll come. I can skip classes!”

“No chance. And you actually have no chance. So get your head out of the clouds.” Dylan’s shoulders dropped and he stuck out his bottom lip comically, as Brad shook his head in dismay.

“How are the ETs getting on?” Dylan asked, referring to The Power of Three and the Sheriff.

Lucas piped up to answer that, having been spending a lot of time behind the scenes working with them. “Good actually. They had a knock back, as you know, but Do’Lânqwa especially is starting to come back from it.”

Brad added, “They’re itching to go out but their strengths are really something else. We just haven’t seen anything like it. Imagine them dealing with your run of the mill, cliché bank robbery and Blane turns up. A meteor shower isn’t necessarily a measured response. They’re just so over powered.”

“They have a way to go still then,” Dylan mused.

Brad walked off to toss the rubbish away, but as he did so, his attention was grabbed by some activity up ahead. He watched for a few seconds before Lucas appeared by his side, initially for the trash but then to watch the same thing.

“What’s going on, do you think?” Brad asked, not looking away. Lucas took a breath and then was able to visualise nearby social media activity from the members of the public in the vicinity.

“There’s someone on the top of the building, sitting on the edge,” Lucas explained, being able to tell from status updates and video sharing.

“And they’re posting it?” Dylan asked, coming between the two. "I don't get that about people."

“Let’s go, I’ll tell Terri we’ll be late,” Brad said, leading the way, running down the street. Dylan and Lucas followed, weaving through the crowd the two blocks to the scene.

The crowd was about six deep and the authorities hadn’t yet arrived. People are too quick to film someone in need before calling for help, Brad thought. He pushed through the crowd with Dylan while Lucas hung back and made sure someone had called 9-1-1.

“Right, everyone move back!” Brad called out.

“Who put you in charge?”, “We’re just concerned!” and a few curses were thrown back from the people in the crowd. Brad turned back to them and extended his arms the whole width of the group, ushering them back into the street behind him.

“I said MOVE!” Brad’s arms returned to regular length and he turned to face the building.

He caught Lucas’ gaze and they both nodded, sharing the same thought. Brad grew in length, his legs, his torso, growing and growing, extending himself up the ten storey building to the roof and coming to a stop just in front of the woman. She was very clearly in distress and then was a bit more distressed to see Brad appear from the street below.

She was in her thirties, no younger, and appeared as if she had come from work. She had a spotty blouse and grey A-line skirt. Her heels were placed next to her. It was windy at this height and her black hair billowed about.

“Hey there, Miss,” Brad started gently. “What are you doing up here?” Start with the obvious, he reckoned. Just gotta get her talking. She turned her head away, tears streaming down her face, but Brad waited, giving her time.

“Please,” she finally said. “Please just leave me alone.”

“I can’t do that I’m afraid. I want to make sure you are safe.”

“You don’t need to worry yourself, I just want to die,” she turned back to him and looked at him square in the eyes.

“Why? What has happened?” She looked down into her lap and sobbed. Once she stopped, she looked down at the ground. “Just think about talking to me right now. What’s happened?” he repeated.

“My father. He died this morning. From cancer. My wife of seven years wants a divorce and custody of our daughter and move to France. My mum is already dead, my brother lives in Australia and we haven’t spoken in ten years. If I can’t have my daughter, there just isn’t a point anymore,” and she started sobbing again. Brad allowed her words to breathe between the two of them before speaking again.

“But if you’re not here, if you die now, then how will you be able to fight for your daughter? Do you think she’ll ever understand you not trying for her, not fighting for her?” Brad paused and caught Lucas appear behind the woman from the roof access with a police officer and a paramedic. They waited back, not wanting to cause any more distress.

“My name’s Brad, what’s yours?”

“I know who you are,” she laughed a little, perhaps in embarrassment of the situation. “There aren’t many guys who can stretch as much as you can. My name’s Madeline.”

“Nice to meet you, Madeline. I’m sorry it’s in these circumstances though. Your situation sounds really difficult, and I can’t imagine how you must be feeling. But there is help out there,” he gave Lucas a quick nod. “How about we get you safely away from this edge and see if we can get you that help?”

Madeline nodded softly, and swung her legs over the ledge. Brad held on to the ledge and allowed his legs to spring up back to normal length, joining his body hanging over the roof. The paramedic and police officer walked Madeline towards the roof door, leaving Lucas and Brad on there.

Brad peered over the edge at the crowd below who were now moved further back by the police.

“All those vultures filming and sharing. Not doing anything to help.”

“I know. It makes you think doesn’t it? But I did manage to interfere with the devices in this area, wiping, deleting and stopping any posts about it. I think she would hate it if she was the subject of all of that at her time of distress.”

“Solid idea, good work,” Brad said, walking with Lucas down the stairs. “I hope to God I don’t find myself in that position. I couldn’t imagine it,” he added. Lucas blushed and Brad noticed. “What about you?”

“Well, I was just thinking that I can imagine it, yeah. It can happen so easily and just surprise you from nowhere.”

“Have you?” Brad asked vaguely, but the suggestion crystal clear.

“Yeah, well perhaps. Once,” Lucas said honestly.

“When?”

Lucas coughed awkwardly. He wasn’t entirely comfortable getting this vulnerable with someone like Brad, but he went with it. “Six months or so after.. after, well you know,” Lucas replied, keeping his gaze down following the staircase round as they descended.

Yes, Brad did know. And it was in that moment, watching Lucas embarrassingly stumble over his words to explain his reasons for being close to taking his own life, that he was reminded why he loathed him so much. Being civil with this guy any longer was just too much for him.

----------------------------------------

Next week...

Kimona has been settling in to her new life in Miami. There’s so much for her to learn and take in, but a surprise present is just the cherry on the top!

All that in Agwé #3, ‘All She Wants To Be, Is A Modern Girl’.