I know the horrors that await us.

Vincent was frozen in place, staring at the message that might mean the imminent executions of himself, his sister, and his closest friend. Lucia noticed that he’d stopped in the middle of storming out of the room, and she came forward to see what he was looking at.

“I have to go,” he said, completing his exit as quickly as possible. His thoughts were still scrambled, and he couldn’t remember the last time his emotions had been this out of control; it wasn’t the time to be around a Psychic who thought it was her job to meddle with his life.

Vincent raced outside into the darkness, only belatedly considering that there might still be some restrictions on student movement. He decided to take his chances; Lucia had clearly walked here from the girl’s dormitory, so he was at least unlikely to be shot.

It was pouring rain, and the coolness of the water was some relief. He’d felt like his whole body was on fire from the endless stress of the day. Once again he glanced down at his K-Device, checking the time. It was a little after eight, and he found he needed to concentrate to remember the guard patrols.

After a few moments he started walking, with no real destination in mind, simply weaving his way through the gaps in the routes he’d memorized. Vincent’s heart was still beating faster than it should, and his mind was a warzone for memories and images battling for his attention.

He saw his mother’s face in the photo from class, then what she’d looked like crushed beneath debris in their old home. He saw Annissa as he’d known her from class, shy and a little scared, then he remembered the sound of gunshots earlier in the day, and he had to shake his head to clear it.

Finally the message on his KD played out again and again: I know what you’re doing. I know you’re planning to escape. Vincent needed to think. To plan, to react, but his thoughts were too scattered. He found himself near the North wall without realizing it, and considered Clint’s shed.

Trying not to make much noise, he walked through puddles, ducking under building overhangs where he could, and finally reached the last building before the compound gave way to grass and plant life. He found some bushes that he’d hidden from patrols in before, and ducked behind them, staring at the shed.

He’d already known he wouldn’t go in. Even if Clint had been the one to send the message, there was little that Vincent would be able to do. The man could kill him effortlessly if he entered the tech-ridden shed that was entirely Clint’s domain. But more importantly, it just didn’t fit.

Even if Clint had figured out what they were planning–which Vincent considered unlikely–the man should just blackmail him for more Gamma. There was no benefit to sending cryptic messages, or warning Vincent that he knew anything at all. Besides, Vincent still knew his secret, and could expose him at any time.

Finally he stood up and moved away from the Shed. He glanced at the time again, and updated his routes based on where the patrols would be by now. He should be able to make it back to the dorm, but what then? He couldn’t solve the mysterious message tonight, but he needed to do something.

Vincent considered the patrols once again, and realized there was a way to feel like he’d accomplished something with this self-indulgent walk in the rain. He quietly stalked his way over to the West end of the compound, where students seldom traveled.

Thankfully the guards who weren’t actively patrolling tended to stay inside when it was raining, and this particular facility had little external security anyway. Operation Daylight required that he, or one of the others managed to get inside sometime soon, and he hadn’t been able to gauge the level of challenge that represented.

The building was even more bunker-like than most, and he’d heard the top floor was barely used, with the underground levels being more secure. Seeing no one, he quietly made his way around the building, staying out of sight of the visible cameras, and hiding his face in case there were others he couldn’t see.

At last he found a second entrance, a door in the side of the building that was likely meant for deliveries. It was no less secure, but at least anyone walking down the nearby path to central campus wouldn’t be able to look right at it. Vincent saw a camera focused directly on the door, and Vincent hugged the wall until he was underneath it.

This would be a problem, as no one could enter without being seen by internal security, but there were ways around that. What he was more concerned about was getting through the door, and that meant he needed to see the kinds of locks they would have to bypass. Now that he was this close, he wasn’t really surprised.

The door had the passkey requirements common to the Farm, but like most of the high-security areas, it also had a hand scanner that would make things particularly difficult. Vincent leaned back against the small steps that led up to the door, just feeling the rain fall on him.

Abruptly the door opened, and he backed as far into the corner between the wall and the concrete stoop as he could. A guard took a single step outside, then swore loudly. “God damned rain, I just want a few minutes to smoke a cigarette and I have to deal with this shit.”

Vincent heard the sound of a lighter failing to ignite several times, and struggled to keep his ragged breathing quiet. The door had opened away from him, and the guard just needed to lean over to see him hiding there–or try to use the side of the building as a windbreak to light his cigarette. “Malary can rot in hell. ‘No sir, I have no idea what that smell is. You think someone was smoking inside? Disgusting’. Everyone hates you, man.”

There was some awkward shuffling as the guard stepped back inside, but held the door open as he successfully lit his cigarette. After a moment Vincent saw a huge cloud of smoke blow out above him, and disappear into the rain. The guard released a comically satisfied groan, then continued smoking.

Vincent didn’t stop to think things through, just gave in to the desperate need to retreat. He made a quick glance back and could see the man’s foot propped against the door. He also noted with some interest that there was only a single door handle on the inside. Apparently getting out was more forgiving than getting in; that was surprising given the building’s purpose.

He wasted no more time, crawling along the wall as quietly as he could, then disappearing around the back. He stopped as soon as he got there, then peaked back around the corner to ensure he hadn’t been seen. There was just another cloud of smoke rising, the guard apparently remaining ignorant.

Vincent breathed a sigh of relief, but his body seemed unwilling to let go of the stress. Instead he felt even worse than he had before: his anxiety was like a physical presence in his chest, and his lungs refused to allow a deep breath. It was time to get back to his dorms.

He glanced down at his mud-covered clothes. He needed to change these as quickly as possible at the very least. Again he checked the time and was irritated to see that he’d need to take a complex route back, nearly retracing his steps to the shed just to get back without running into the guards.

Frustrated as he was, there weren’t any other options, so he just started moving. The memories were still right behind his eyes, and it seemed like the harder he tried to banish them, the more powerfully they held on. It didn’t help that his relationships with both members of his small crew were strained right now, and he knew he needed their help.

Soon the path to the shed was almost upon him, and he cut back the way he’d come the day before, trusting that punctual Malary would be long past this section of his patrol by now. Vincent was considering how to get Danny and Lucia focused back on the mission, when he thought he heard distant splashing.

He flattened himself against the nearest building, willing himself to be as small as possible as his eyes darted from side to side, examining every corner and shadow. He didn’t see anything, and after a moment he moved away from his laughable hiding spot with trepidation, listening for the sounds of anything outside the ordinary amidst the constant rain.

It was another few minutes before he heard anything else out of the ordinary, and this time he didn’t recognize the odd sound. He ducked into an alleyway, looking back around the corner in search of anyone who may be following him. He saw nothing.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

It just didn’t make sense. Was his own paranoia getting to him? He slicked his wet black hair back and out of his eyes, still searching for the cause of the strange sound. Again, nothing, and again he felt frustration as he couldn’t understand what was going on.

If it was the guards, why wouldn’t they reveal themselves? If he wasn’t hearing things, then what was the second, strange sound he couldn’t place? A moment later he heard it again, and his stomach dropped. The sound had come from above him, and could only be a person walking on top of the building he was currently leaning against.

Vincent was considering whether it was best to run or hide when the decision was taken away from him. The sounds of footsteps came once more, then before he could react someone dropped off the roof to land in front of him, facing away. Vincent glanced around for any kind of escape plan, then crouched down when nothing better than a foot race presented itself.

The dark figure slowly turned around, presenting the unfortunately familiar face of Gary Sawatzki. Vincent’s exhausted and overworked mind scrambled, but he couldn’t make sense of what was going on. The older student should be in the medical building for days, maybe weeks after what Ironfist had done to him.

Instead, he stood above Vincent, glaring down at him, without an injury in sight. Gary smiled wickedly, which revealed a few missing teeth, the only sign that he’d been in a fight at all. His blonde hair was wet with rain, and his school uniform was unbuttoned halfway, but otherwise he actually looked far more presentable than Vincent himself.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” Gary said in a menacing voice. “I kept asking myself, what the hell was that rat doing out here anyway? There’s nothing for you here, there’s nothing for anyone! That’s why it’s such a nice place to have my fun.”

“It…it was coincidence,” Vincent said weakly, hating himself for being caught so off guard. “I was just out for a walk and heard some scared kids…”

“Oh yeah? Out for another walk, are you? Lucky me. I hoped I might see you again tonight, I didn’t think it was likely, but whether it was you or Malary, I knew I’d have a good time.”

Vincent struggled to understand what was happening. Why would Gary want to run into the Guard Captain again? Was he starting to enjoy punishment after having taken so much in front of an audience today? But then why would he want to see Vincent, and why were his injuries gone…

The answer hit only a moment before Gary did, the blow cracking into the side of Vincent’s face. The force of it was incredible, and he was shocked that his cheekbone hadn’t shattered. His already foggy mind almost shut off completely, but the cold of the rain kept him lucid.

Gary lifted him with one hand, until his feet were dangling in the open air. “Don’t pass out yet, Villari, it’s not easy to hold back when you’re as strong as I am now, and I want you awake for this.”

Vincent spit out some blood, his eyes barely focusing. “You…you Manifested, didn’t you?” Gary laughed loudly at that, clearly not caring if anyone heard.

“Figured it out all by yourself, did you? To think that metal idiot actually did me a favor. I didn’t think he’d ever stop hitting me, but after a while the pain was just gone. I thought I was dead, but look at me now!” He threw Vincent into the opposite building, producing a sickening thud.

“I got to relax and let those morons pump me with more and more Gamma, trying to save me, do you believe that? I guess all the blood hid the fact that I’ve never felt better in my life!” He leaned forward, and pulled Vincent up his hair. Taking his only shot, Vincent crushed the mud he’d been holding into Gary’s eyes, and the bully roared with rage.

Vincent hit the ground, and found he could barely move as he started scrambling away. He’d only gone a half-dozen paces before he felt a hand grip his ankle, and he was swung by the leg to slam back against the wall, collapsing into a heap once more.

“Dirt in my eyes? That’s the master plan of the great Vincent Villari? You’ve been walking around this campus like you’re better than us for years, like you’re the smartest person alive, and that’s all you have?” He drove a kick into Vincent’s side, and he felt the rib–so recently injured by berserker Bob–snap.

“Pathetic!” Gary screamed at him, then picked him up in both hands, pushing him up against the wall. “Or are you waiting for someone to rescue you again, coward? Are you hoping the big bad guards will appear out of nowhere to save your miserable life?”

Sadly he wasn’t. Vincent had chosen this route because he knew there wouldn’t be any guards at this time of night. He really didn’t have a plan. A huge fist hammered into his stomach, and Gary tossed him aside, leaving him to vomit onto the wet ground.

“I was hoping to enjoy this, Vallari! You’re letting me down!” He unleashed another kick. “As much as I’d love to kill that miserable asshole from this morning, he’s long gone. That leaves you, Villari. You were my first thought when my powers came, you know that?”

He leaned down, gripping Vincent by the hair once more. “First thought. Messing up your smug face. You should be honored,” Gary unleashed a brutal slap to the opposite side he’d been hit before, and Vincent felt a tooth loosen. “But now, just look at you. You know I actually bothered with a plan for this?”

He tossed Vincent against a wall again, and his legs collapsed under him. Think, think, think, he begged his cloudy mind. “What an absolute waste! Stalking you on the rooftops for god’s sake? I figured you’d have a hidden weapon, guards on your payroll, anything!” he was pacing now, looking genuinely disgusted.

“But look at you, you’re just another dead kid on the Farm. I’m embarrassed for you. I’m embarrassed for me! What kind of first kill are you supposed to be? Just some runt-prick.” He picked Vincent up by the throat, holding him off the ground. “Just pathetic,” the large man said again, then he began to squeeze.

Vincent’s vision immediately started to cloud. He’d already been winded and weak, and his broken rib felt like it was stabbing him from the inside. His hands impotently reached up to grip Gary’s, but he may as well have been fighting solid steel.

As he felt his own life slowly slipping away, the memories he’d been fighting came back stronger than ever. He was five years old again, pinned beneath wreckage and staring at his mother as she faded. It felt like the full weight of the collapsed building was pressing down on his chest, and the pressure was mounting.

His mind flashed back and forth between the past and the present. He was a child, waiting to die, surrounded by fire. He was a young man, knowing he was going to die, drenched in rain. He was watching a Beta addict coming toward him and his mother, ragged clothes hanging from his filthy body. He was staring into the pitiless eyes of a bully named Gary.

He had no air left, and the world was going dark. His chest was ready to burst. With pain, with anxiety, with desperation, with…something else? All at once that pressure seemed to explode through him, and a single stray thought managed to push its way through the haze and terror that consumed his mind.

I’m unbalanced.

Without knowing why, he let go of Gary’s wrist and gripped the larger student’s face, slick with rain. Gary seemed irritated, then surprised, when Vincent actually managed to force his head backward, if only a little. Vincent kept pushing, still not understanding what he was doing.

The feeling inside him, like a nuclear reactor, pulsed and throbbed, and without understanding how, Vincent pushed that force forward, and felt his arms vibrate as he gripped Gary’s face even harder. He still couldn’t draw breath, but the reactor inside him seemed not to need it, and Vincent raged against his opponent with a power he’d never experienced.

In the dark, with the rain pouring down, he almost didn’t notice the soft green glow emanating from his right hand; he just kept pushing. Gary’s head bent back a little farther, but he was vastly stronger, and made uncomfortable at best by the effort.

“What…what are you…doing…to me?” the bully groaned, and Vincent had no answer. He just kept pushing, and at last it was like the resistance faded away. His hands were still pressed against Gary’s face, and had moved no farther, but the grip on Vincent’s neck relaxed slightly.

Gary was spasming now beneath his grip, and blood was dripping from his nose, barely visible in the rain. Vincent didn’t stop pushing, the deafening need to continue was all-consuming; the power wanted out. The green glow was intensifying on his right arm, and finally both combatants collapsed to the ground, Gary supported only by Vincent, who balanced on one knee.

From his new angle above his attacker, it finally made sense, as Vincent could see a perfect copy of his own right hand emerging from the back of Gary’s head. It was translucent, like that of a specter, and the same shade of green as the glow on his arm…as the radiation from the Watcher…as Legacy’s power.

Strangely there was no blood on the hand, and Vincent realized he hadn’t done any visible damage at all as the strange ghostly appendage passed through the bully’s head. It had just done something to him on the inside, judging by the blood that Vincent could see slowly dripping from Gary’s nose, ears, and even his vacant eyes.

At last Vincent managed to relax slightly, and the green arm simply faded away. He leaned back against the nearby wall, exhaustion threatening to overtake him. He looked upward at the dark sky, letting the rain wash away the feeling of the hand that had gripped his throat.

He’d done it; he’d Manifested. He was a super, now. Everything had just gotten a lot more complicated.