The human ability to adapt to misery was a power on its own. That’s what I’ve learned working under scalding heat at bootcamp. As the day went by, everybody under twenty five continued to either secretly or overtly ignore us. The amount of eye rolling put even slot machines to shame. Believe it or not, even Richard gave up. No optimism in the world could defeat teenage crankiness.
However, that was a silver lining to all this. Our isolation somehow made us closer, I could see it in the small gestures. Carl brought freshly baked apple pie, Richard showed me pictures of his kids. It is strange how shared misery could bring people together. There’s a bright side to everything, even to suffering. It could be worse, at least Sergeant Tilman was nowhere to be found which made everyone more relaxed. Ain’t that nice?
Perhaps the Gods could see that things were going a little bit too smoothly for me lately. As I lay in the middle of the camp panting, I could see in the corner of my eye a crimson envelope gently gliding towards my direction, the only thing I could think was please not me.
My prayers went unanswered. I could feel the powered unwavering intent. To reach, to deliver. It was one thing to hear about it, but somehow seeing with your own eyes made it real somehow. The envelope fell into my hands. The paper vibrated ominously, begging to be opened. I tore the envelope and braced myself. The golden ink meant business, everybody knew that. It was my first official mission. We were a trio, the red haired girl who ignored Richard and a handsome teen that was in the second group.
As I stoody idly mulling over the orders I received, Richard sat beside me. He looked far more tired than I was, his white hair soaked in sweat. The man was a powered geneticist working in mapping DNA, or so he told me. His alias was Dr. Friedman, but violating procol we insisted on calling each other by our real names.
“Gizmo got you?” Richard asked.
“I’m afraid so.”
He sighed. “Don’t know why we have to do these missions. I’m a lab guy not a fighter. I always heard that the Legionaries were negligent about safety, but the way they teamed us.” He looked into my eyes, his own filled with fear. “It feels like we are just being sent to the slaughter,” he whispered.
Not wanting him to find out through somebody else, I put my cards on the table. “To be honest, I’m registered as combat personnel.”
His eyes widened. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” I unzipped my sports jacket and taped my gun twice, zipping up right after.
“Why you objected to our pairing then? At least you give a damn about us, the rest…” He looked over his shoulder. “They resent us for slowing them down,” he said in a rushed tone.
“I objected because I don’t have the skill to protect you guys. I’m just a man with a gun, and I barely know how to use it. But don’t worry, when you or Carl receive your letter, you talk to me. I will find a way to protect you. I promise.”
Richard’s shoulders relaxed a bit, even though he was still running his hands through his hair, blue eyes darting from one side to the other. I could almost hear his machinations.
“Alright, Ern. Thanks, I appreciate it.” He stood up abruptly, cleaning the leaves out of his clothes. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if he believed me or if he just didn’t have any other options. Even I had doubts if I wasn’t going over my head, making promises I couldn’t keep, but it felt wrong hanging him out to dry. I’d find a way.
“You take care, Richard,” I murmured.
For the remainder of the day, all I could see was grumpiness and exhaustion. Tilman’s scary tactics were effective, but they wouldn’t work forever. As the pointless drills piled on, some people were becoming restless, growing more vocal about our training. If the soldiers feared us, they sure weren’t showing it. Their only assurance was that the mandatory training would be over in two weeks. For some it was enough, but others kept pressing for information. Arguing about each and every thing. If we were just civilians, there would be no compromise, but we were powered and Tilman’s minions were not, so the tense atmosphere perdured.
----------------------------------------
It was late afternoon when I came back home. Without thinking too much, I decided that I deserved a treat, so I stopped by at one of the most exclusive french restaurants in town. This was the spot where celebrities and high officials meet, the venue just oozed pompousness. Fancy front? Check. Menu exclusively in french? Check. Condescending maitre? Check, check, check.
It was a nice evening. The dishes were exquisite. I gobbled many things I couldn’t pronounce, some of them were just part of the decor. During the whole time, the maitre had a permanent frown on his face. Every demand was answered with a snappy answer, every attempt to catch his interest, a frivolous endeavor. You could taste the contempt. I wouldn’t have any other way, a true french experience.
It would have been just a nice and unremarkable evening, if I wasn’t the duffus that I was. A little tipsy from some of the wine I had, I was careless when I pulled out my credit card. The maitre immediately spotted my crimson ID. The change in his demeanor was incredible. He didn’t see me like the peasant that I’ve been for the last seventy two years anymore. Instead, all of the sudden I was like his long lost lover. His eyes glittering with affection. All I could think was: Come on! I paid good money to be chastised.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of it. My recently converted french-friend told the rest of his peers about my status, I could tell by the way that they glanced at me. Even the guests were catching up to it. Some raised their glasses, toasting even without having a clue as to who I was. Slowly everyone noticed it, but not everyone smiled. There was fear mixed in there, jealousy too.
Suddenly, I felt my paranoia burning the midnight oil. Thinking about the worst outcomes. Remembering every tidbit of information I had at my disposal. Shivering, I thought how helpless I would be if anyone thought that maybe I was a Vanp, and maybe they could stab me in the back of an alley and grab the darn crimson thing. Killed for a little piece of plastic. It wouldn’t be the first time, the news always covered this type of stuff. It felt bad to be that stupid.
I asked for the check immediately, heading out in a very abrupt manner. Several of the patrons took notice. Looking over my shoulder, I turned right into the first corner I saw. I walked for some time. My full view activated as soon as I left the restaurant. Nobody followed me. Perhaps I was overreacting.
However, as I turned around, I saw somebody looking over the window. A japanese teen eating a donut. Her finger pointed at a big dumpster behind me. Moving slowly, I opened its lid. Four people were inside there. All male. They were still breathing, some more haphazardly than others. It could’ve been me just as easily. Who told on me, I would never know.
----------------------------------------
After arriving home, I went straight to bed. I didn’t want to be late for my second meeting with Oberyn. Could I be late for it? Before I could have my well deserved sleep time, I saw an overstretched tongue laying on my couch. I pulled up the phone remembering to address the pending issue. I was in the middle of my call, asking if they had somebody to walk the big ball of fur when Sweeney appeared out of nowhere. Like she was Kramer himself. How could she already be here?
“No one walk ferocious dog. This...” She raised pringles, gluing her cheek next to my wild buddy. “...is Mighty Pringles. Warrior and friend. Biggest friend. No one walk with him but me.” I raised my eyebrow. “And you… you too,” she mumbled.
Glad that I sorted this out, I put on my favorite pajamas. It never ceased to amaze me how smooth the transition between sleep and…
Once again I am seated in a chair looking at the emperor himself. My short friend is lounging on a scarlet chaise longue, dressed in a flowery silk robe. I’m wearing my usual suit. Pistol comfortably placed in my shoulder holster.
“Look at who’s back. Welcome dear Ern.”
“Feels good to be here,” I acknowledged.
“Don’t I know it. You had many hard days, but this time you did considerably better,” he said, his turquoise eyes held amusement, perhaps a hint of curiosity. There wasn’t much to infer from his relaxed posture.
“I did. Apparently, I am the type of gunslinger that can excel as long as I’m not slinging my gun.”
He chuckled, raising his hand in a slow and gracious gesture, it reminded me of a ballerina. With a fluid motion, coffee tables with bowls of fruit came to life, popping in different places.
However, instead of getting closer to the banquet, I was pushed away from it. The twine in my chair disentangling before my eyes while the same box from last time appeared. The rounded leaf trees helding a slightly different pattern.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Oberyn lifted his finger, a single grape glided through the air until it was placed right before me.
“Put your finger 235 millimeters from the grape and make it move,” he said, paying close attention, his fingers intertwined like he was waiting for a play to start.
Placing my finger beside the grape, I tried to make it obey my will, but as expected it was a failure.
“You’re putting too much effort. It is your mind that has to be focused, not your body that has to be tense.”
I tried again, the grape wobbled slightly, not even enough to roll across the square shaped wooden mat.
“See? Better.”
There were many questions in mind that had to be answered. Continuing to do my drill, I took the opportunity to change the subject.
“When should I be able to fight on a hero novel?”
“You mean as a fourth tiered instead of a Vanp?”
“Well, yes. Kinda surprised you know the lingo though.
“Had to deal with some undesirables a couple of times. Learning about powered classification is mandatory on those kinds of missions.
“What was their tier?”
“First tier. I guess you called them Prime tiereds.”
“It wasn't from the Legionnaires, or I would know about it.”
“Middle east. It was a well hidden cell, conscripting boys in an attempt to subvert the region. Two of his leaders were prime powereds.
“And you dealt with them alone?”
“Them and their minions. Your classification is made taking into account the best from Earth. And they were good, I suppose. But The Company predates The Leagues for more than a millenia. Our standards are higher, considerably higher.”
“So what am I missing to you know… step up?
“There are some key manipulation upgrades that you have to gain in order to start packing a little bit more of a … punch. If you will.”
My finger accidentally touched the grape, making it roll across the box as I lost my focus. With a flick of a wrist, another one popped out from thin air.
“Which upgrades and how do I get them?”
“Let me see.” He put his chin over his hand. “At least Elemental Manipulation to its second level, otherwise everything you shoot will just be a bloob coming out of your Colt.”
I deal with it when I have too. On a happier note, another forty minutes into it, and the grape already wobbled at my will. Felt good to be that powerful.
“And the other ones are?” I asked.
“Some upgrade to improve your hand-eye coordination. You’ll probably need to reach its second level in order to truly have an edge over ordinary folk, though. Your practice with Milch should grant you this one soon enough. Another one that will surely appear are the sensory skills. They will expand all your senses right in the very first tier. As long as you put some work into it, of course.”
“That’s it?”
“Manipulation will provide many tricks for you to deploy against your opponents. Creativity will matter just as much as skills. With an improved aim you will be at the very least a fourth tiered. With a lot of training you can reach two, if you are truly gifted.”
The progress was addicting. My mind completely focused on pushing the graper further and further. I would get tense or lose control and Oberyin would provide pointers. After another half an hour we got into a rhythm again so I used the time to ask more questions.
“Who else is monitoring me besides you?”
He stopped shuffling through his magazine, his posture became stiff. It shouldn’t be a surprise for him. Pretty sure it wasn’t the first time somebody asked him that question.
“Paranoid much?” He covered his mouth with his hand. The tiny wrinkles around his eyes, letting his amusement shine through. “I suppose that is a fair question. Let me see... Cedric, Francis, Mister Milch, and me. I think that’s about it.”
My shoulders slumped, and I let my back hit the box. “Not Milch,” I pleaded from the floor.
Oberyn giggled. “I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.”
“Is there any way that you guys can give me some private time?”
“Privacy is usually something you must conquer. You can either become an agent or you can find an occlumency skill.”
“But I am an agent, though.” I was completely aware of how I sounded, and it wasn’t flattering.
“A rookie agent, to be protected and nurtured.”
“And there is no other way?”
It took four point five seconds for Oberyn to respond, he closed his magazine, sitting up straight.
“There is another way around it...”
I stood up, looking directly at him.
“Please, tell me.”
“First, you must know that we receive reports about you not because we want to peep into your private life, it is an important tool for us to map your... shortcomings.”
“But…”
“You can ask your operator to put you off-record. You can do it only every once in a while but you just need to justify it later as a private matter. Even if it is a blatant lie, your operator wouldn’t have the power to overrule you.” He stood up from the lounging chair. “But this is for things that you might need to keep for yourself. If you are breaking the law or having an intimate moment, you can request it. However, if you are breaking our law, you wouldn’t be able to hide it from us.”
“The Company’s rules you mean?”
“Yes, all you gotta do is focus on it and you should realize that this is one of the exceptions of the privacy rule.”
I did and he was right. It was still interesting to realize the disregard they had for morals. Most things that were criminalized in the United States held no penalty whatsoever from The Company. I could kill anybody at point blank range, and there will be no consequences as far as they were involved. Even if that said person was someone that had no means to defend himself.
It was too tempting not to ask.
“What would stop me from committing a crime then?
Oberyn didn’t seem disturbed by the question, but his turquoise eyes analyzed me carefully.
“Nothing. If you get caught by your government, they will deal with you the way they think it’s best, but you will not receive any punishment from us. A lot of agents deal in unsavoury business without any repercussions. But I must warn you, Francis might have an issue with it and you might lose his support, depending on what you do.”
“I was just curious.”
“Everybody is at first, but it is only as time goes by that we discover our truth. Keep that in mind, Mister Montgomery.”
“I will.”
My training continued. The grape has dislocated almost twelve centimeters since today’s practice began. Even in this blank world, I would get completely soaked due to the sheer effort. Some things never changed.
Painting heavily, I saw from the corner of my eye Oberyn taking his horologium out. Hope welled inside me.
“I think that’s good enough, you are ready to use your storage, Ern. Congratulations are in order.”
“Not gonna lie, I‘ve been waiting for it ever since I met Cedric and Frank.”
Obery nodded. “Since you don’t have much power, you should compensate for this crucial flaw with preparation.”
“And what do you suggest I use this new storage space with? And how much space do I have?”
“The second question you can answer yourself, my friend. Just channel your essence into your finger. There should be two marks as options now.”
After concentrating, the same sensation I got from marking the dead body surged inside of me again. However, just like Oberyn told me, there were two branches that I could make this energy flow to. The first was used to transfer the bodies, the second was the one I could use for storage.
My eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and Oberyn reminded me to gently twist the angle, so the essence could reach its new path. When I did, the flow stopped struggling against my will, and the energy ran towards this strange pathway inside my body. The avenues of my consciousness held an indigo blue that shone with excitement. It took one hundred and twelve milliseconds for it to reach its destination.
Being able to feel where my energy was running to was something new to me, like an organ I didn’t know I had. I wondered if my manipulation also had possible developments like Language Acquisitions did.
Looking at my hand, I can see that the tip of my finger now held a tiny image, like a new print. The hollow of a trunk stamped on it. My short friend told me to press it on my horologium. For a second I panicked, before realizing that it was tucked on the inside of my jacket. I removed the device and pressed my finger upon it. As I did so, a transparent cube formed with the strands of my essence. It held twenty seven cubic inches worth of matter. Not much, really.
I informed Oberyn.
“As your kneading improves so does the number of individual cubes that are available to you, as well as their sizes. Some people are storage specialists, our branch has two hoarders on our fold. You might have a chance to train with them some day.”
“Sounds great, but do you have any ideas about my first question?”
“What to put in it? Sweetie, you don’t have a choice. You must buy our bullets to advance your training with Mister Milch. I already sent the message in order for him to prepare accordingly.”
Nothing I could do about that. Our lesson quickly came to an end, Oberyn teaching two more kneading exercises with brief explanations. Happy with my progress, I used the rest of the time to read the books Julia gave me. The last couple of hours I used as shooting practice. I was still using fixed targets and my shots weren’t quick or accurate. My goal was to increase the distance as my accuracy and precision improved. The optimistic in me hoped that Milch would have some advice to give.