“What’s the time?”

“Flip, it’s only two minutes after you last asked,” The Constable said, slightly frustrated. “They still should be five minutes out.”

“Ocean King, I gotcha big guy,” Flip said.

“He’ll be fine. Plus, he’s not actually a kid,” Proten reminded him. “And he agreed to do it.”

“Because I asked him.”

Proten turned to his fretting team mate and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Dylan, chill. Ok? It’s a simple plan. He agreed to the simple plan. And we’re here ready to do the simple plan,” stressed Proten.

Flip nodded. “Ok, you’re right. Of course. Ignore me.”

“You’re good. It’s good that you care,” Proten said, giving his shoulder a squeeze before letting go.

The Constable checked his watch. “So, we’re all ok with the plan? We know our roles?”

One week ago.

“Yeah, we would need you to go in as a child, I mean, as you, and give us eyes inside and then the go ahead to go in. Reassure the kids and get them to safety, that kinda thing. Does that sound like something you’d be willing to help with?” Dylan asked.

“My first proper tasking with The Collective? Hell yeah I’m in,” Pan replied.

“It’ll be risky. You’ll all no doubt have your enhancements blocked so you won’t actually be able to do anything yourselves until we get the collars off you or disable them remotely.”

“Yeah, I’ll still do it. Those kids don’t deserve that shit happening to them. I can’t believe their parents would even put them forward for that. It’s sick.”

Dylan nodded in agreement. “Sure, but The Purists are clever. They embed themselves in different religious sects and communities and spread fear and scare monger amongst those vulnerable enough to buy into it. And now, well, they have a ‘cure’ to sell which appeals to all those scared people and puts them in a mindset that something needs curing in the first place and therefore it’s bad to be enhanced… These parents just want the best for their little darlin’s and so sending them off to Cuswijan, of all God-forsaken places, in the care of these terrorists, is their best shot at saving them from having what they think is a problematic life living with enhancements,” Dylan explained, taking a big breath when he finished.

“I guess I can understand that,” Pan considered. “Ok, so then why are we stopping them? If I were, you know, to play Devil’s Advocate?”

“Well, do you think they’re all told the full process their children are going to go through? Do you think the kids have consented to it themselves? What they’re doing is inhumane and something needs to be done.”

“I’m with you there. You can count me in.”

“Right, great! Thanks man. We’ll see if your aunt Belle will play the role of desperate mother and we’ll send you off. We’ll have to inject you with a tracker device so we know where you’ll be and the Tech Wizards will give you something that will actually be a way for you to give us the signal to move in.”

***

“There’s the coach,” The Constable stated, as it came into view on the dirt road below their vantage point. It trundled along towards the gates of the complex.

Cuswijan was an isolated, shady country in Western Asia. Run by a dictator who was money motivated, offering tax havens for organisation that mirrored his own interests and beliefs… i.e. The Purists.

This crack squad of international Enhanced Beings consisting of Proten, Flip, Two Tone, Tank, The Constable and the Bobber Boys, had been allowed safe passage through neighbouring Kazakhstan for this mission, but they were on their own in Cuswijan.  

The coach drove straight through into the complex as the gates were pre-opened to allow them in.

“And now… we just wait,” Proten said, lowering the binoculars from his face.

***

“Guys, it’s been three hours. He hasn’t given the signal yet,” fretted Flip.

“There’s probably a really long checking in process,” Two Tone reasoned.

“His tracker’s still active, we just have to have faith that-” The Brit was interrupted by the signal going off.

“Finally,” Flip muttered in relief.

“At least you shut up now,” mumbled Tank under her breath.

Flip ignored her as he picked himself up.

He, Proten, Two Tone, Tank, The Constable and Byron Bobber got up and jumped from their rock ledge and glided down on their flexi-tech wing back packs for the mile and a half down to the Purist complex.

Paul Bobber stayed on the ledge, monitoring Pan’s location, the comms and effectively keeping out of harm’s way to allow his twin to utilise his own enhancements.

Two Tone used his enhancements to nullify the sound they created, ensuring a silent entry into the complex, landing right inside unannounced.

The six landed and stood in a circular formation to assess their surroundings.

Whilst it initially appeared they had landed undetected, a Purist guard suddenly came from the watch tower, surprised to look down and see the group stood in the compound.

Tank watched as he began shouting into his radio, but no voice was coming out thanks to Two Tone. Confused, he didn’t have much time to do anything else as he took a bullet to the forehead from Tank’s gun.

“Ready to go?” Two Tone asked, dropping the sound cancelling field around them and allowing him to be heard. Unfortunately, somehow, upon lifting the silence, it was clear that an alarm still had been activated.

“Shit, let’s just go!” Proten yelled as he led Flip and Tank away, tearing off towards the complex.

The remaining three (The Constable, Two Tone and Byron Bobber) dealt with the flood of guards pouring out of the doors.

Two Tone emitted a blinding and disorientating flash of light which stunned the guards as they approached. The Constable and Byron Bobber wore protective goggles for this eventuality and it bought everyone valuable seconds.

***

Tank led the three into the complex, barging through the solid doors. They didn’t necessarily know their way around but thanks to her impenetrable skin, if they were shot at by Purist guards, Flip and Proten could shelter behind her wide frame.

They just had to find the kids.

Door by door they searched, and found nothing. There looked to be classrooms and labs and hospital suites, but no indication of where the children were being kept.

“Shit, where are they?” Flip cursed.

“I have no idea. This place is a maze,” Tank huffed.

They must’ve been deep in the complex because the noise of explosions and gunfire outside was getting quieter, and they were not coming across anyone as they continued.

“Let’s keep going this way,” Proten suggested, pointing over Tank’s shoulder with an extended arm towards the double doors.

“How are you doing out there?” Flip called out over the communicator, loud enough to be heard over the din of the alarm.

“Yeah, we’re managing to hold them off. Any sign of the kids?” The Constable responded. It was obvious that he was swinging punches at the same time.

“We’re doing our best. It’s a labyrinth in here.”

“Well, we are only three people out here.”

“I go help?” Tank asked Proten and Flip.

“Sure, ok. Flip and I will-” A door opened down the corridor, spooking the trio. Tank aimed her trusty Heckler & Koch MG68 in readiness.

“Holy frick! Pan!” Flip cried out.

“I was wondering what was taking you all so long,” he said.

“Tank’s coming out to you in the yard,” Flip said again through the communicator. “We’ve found Pan, so Proten and I will go with him.”

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“Roger… that!” called back the Brit, as Tank ran off.

“Quick, we’re all down here,” Pan said hurriedly, leading them through the way he came.

“And what do you mean, ‘what took us so long’? We were waiting hours for you!” Flip scolded.

“We had to get checked in and changed into these white jumpsuits. And I had to check something out.”

“Are the kids ok?” Proten asked.

“They’re scared, Pro. Not one of them wants to be here. Their parents forced them.”

“Of course they don’t. What is it you had to check out?” America’s Stretchiest asked.

“Come with me a sec. The kids are safe, but you need to see this first.” Pan led them further down the corridor in a slight jog.

“Here,” he said eventually at a double set of swing doors.

“I saw a gurney being wheeled in here soon after we arrived,” he explained, leading them through.

“Holy sh-” whispered Proten under his breath.

Flip could feel his heart beat quicker. “Are they… are they all dead?”

“Yeah… I counted fifteen,” Pan said.

“Motherfuckers. Do we know why they’re dead?” Proten asked, slowly walking around where three gurneys were lined up, lifting the sheets away from their faces.

“It could be the shit they’re giving them in this ‘cure’?” suggested Flip, who had opted to not investigate the corpses under the sheets. “C’mon, let’s just document this and get the kids we can save.”

The three of them left and Pan led them to where the kids were sheltering. It looked like a large dorm room with bunks lined up against the walls, much like a barracks. The kids were all sat down, tucked in closely with others against the walls and behind their bunks, their chins resting on their knees. There was a mumble of excitement and relief when they noticed Proten and Flip had come through the doors.

“It’s ok everyone, we’re here to get you out of here!” Proten announced. “Try and stay calm!”

Flip looked around. There were around forty of them- girls and boys of various ages ranging from as young as seven to as old as sixteen, all dressed in white jump suits like Pan, and all wearing a gray metallic collar around their necks.

“They look like the same collars as Steph had on in Czechia a few years ago,” Proten whispered to Flip.

“We’ve found the kids, how are you looking out there?” Flip asked to the team outside.

“Just laying the flares for e-vac,” Two Tone’s voice came through Flip’s ear.

“Okay, listen up,” Proten called out to the kids. “We’re leaving now. If you’re older, I want you to pair up with a younger child. Hold onto their hand and don’t let go. Once we’re out, and getting transported out, we’ll take care of your necklaces. We’re not going to stop until we’re outside, ok?” They nodded their heads. “Right, pair up now! We go in five seconds,” Proten barked.

By the time he had got to zero, they were all lined up in pairs at the door, ready to leave. Proten led the line back through the corridors with Flip and Pan following from the back.

When they exited the complex, The Constable, Byron Bobber, Two Tone and Tank were stood there waiting with the rear door of one of the three RAF Chinooks open ready to receive and transport the children to safety.

***

An undisclosed location in England.

“Thank you guys for all your help out there,” Proten said to the international team.

They had arrived in England where they were all met by the British Red Cross who were assessing the children and teens.

They came from all over the world, so they had been divided back into their originating country groups to be taken home.

“It was a good result. We get to take our kids back,” Paul Bobber said.

“Yeah, but not to their parents,” Flip scoffed.

“Amen,” Two Tone agreed.

“Right well, we ought to be off and get our lot back,” said Proten, gesturing to the USAF plane on the runway. “I think they’re ready to go wheels up.”

“Sure, thanks again everyone. See you all soon,” The Constable said, shaking Proten’s hand.

***

Proten, Flip and Pan sat on the plane chatting with some of the kids they had rescued from the Purification camp. There were ten American children out of the forty in the cohort. The younger ones were asleep under blankets but some of the older ones were still up chatting.

“I get not going straight back to our parents, but is that going to be forever?” a fourteen year old Mykisha Davenport from New York City asked.

“Would you even want to though?” responded a fourteen year old boy named Ramón Muñoz, originally from Arizona. “You’re in this mess because they sent you here.”

Mykisha shook her head. “Yeah, I know,” she admitted.

“Are we going to go into care?” a twelve year old girl called Bethany Murphy who was sat nearby whimpered, over hearing what Ramón and Mykisha were saying.

“Care?” a boy who was her brother, repeated. He was called Bracken and thirteen years old.

“Nah man, I ain’t going into care. And I won’t be going home either,” Ramón defiantly stated.

“What will you do then?” Bracken asked. “Can we come?”

“I don’t know what I’ll do. Get back at The Purists. My parents, even. You saw the dead ones didn’t you Pan? I know you did.” Pan looked at the kids and at Ramón, nodding in agreement. How could he forget? “It coulda been me.” He pointed at Bethany. “Even you... Any of us.”

“Look, we won’t be letting The Purists get away with this, believe me,” Flip assured. “There will be more camps out there in the place of this one. There’s more work to be done and it will be done.”

“And I’m going to fight with you,” Ramón said.

“You’re just a kid,” Flip responded sympathetically.

“So? So’s he!” Mykisha said coming to Ramón’s defence and pointing at Pan. “And you sent him in in the first place.”

Flip looked at Pan and then back at Mykisha. “He’s not actually a child. He’s older than me,” Flip said walking away.

“I’m just stuck in this body,” Pan added.

Ramón and Mykisha fell silent for a moment. “We can still fight though,” Ramón mumbled. “We’re all enhanceds.”

“What can you do then?” Bethany asked him.

“I’m a footballer. Was the quarterback for my school before I got pulled from the team. I got complaints that I was ‘too good’. So the other schools in the district banned enhanced kids from playing. Wasn’t fair. But I can fight. I can kick someone and send them flying. What about you?” he asked the young girl.

“My brother and I… we’ve got a strong outdoor sense. We can track, explore, navigate anywhere from anywhere.”

“We’re good at geography and are ace with knives too,” Bracken boasted with a proud smile on his face.

“You could come in handy in a fight then,” Ramón mused.

Bethany looked at Mykisha. “What about you?”

“I can move things with my mind,” she responded simply.

“That sounds well cool,” Bracken marvelled.

Ramón lowered his voice, “Sounds like we have a team…” he suggested.

“Errr, I heard that,” Pan interjected. “Leave the fighting to us. You’re not old enough to fight.”

Flip let out a laugh. “Don’t tell Boy Beaver that. He’s been doing it for years with the Warriors.”

“Dylan?!” Pan hissed. “They’re just kids. They don’t need to hear that right now. I’m saying to them that they shouldn’t be fighting anyone.”

“I know, but c’mon, the more I think of it, the more hypocritical it feels to say they can’t ‘because they’re kids’, when the US Government actually has Boy Beaver out there doing exactly that.”

“So you’d go on a mission with a twelve year old?” challenged Pan.

Flip locked eyes with Pan. “Well, maybe not,” he delicately backtracked. “But… there’s a world out there where they could work together. Proten? You’re with me?”

Proten looked up and at Flip. “You’re putting me on the spot a little bit, Dyl. But sure… maybe something could work. I know they had something like that in South Africa a few decades ago. But now isn’t the time to be discussing this. We’ll get them home and then we can argue the ethics.”