They emerged on an empty street on the outskirts of the bayou in the blue‑black dead of night. To the right ran a row of rundown, darkened houses, single story, their yards carved out with warping chain‑link fences and marred by uncut grass and rusted children’s toys. On the left stretched an expanse of swampland, the thicket of low twisting trees standing waist‑deep in water, straddling the flat slope down from grass to mud. The street, a single lane road and a sidewalk, ran parallel to the wetlands, an unimportant border marking the edge of mankind’s development. Most of the far‑spaced streetlights stationed at set junctures along were blown, flickering only occasionally from darkness, or just not working at all. Only one truly functioned, throwing out a cone of seedy orange light onto the bitumen. That was the one the police car was parked under.

“Matt!” The instant they arrived Jane spun, looking for him – only to find the two officers standing outside their squad car, one hand on either of Matt’s shoulders. Instantly, the power of Dawn flared to life all around her and she stalked towards them, lips trembling with golden fury, hands balled into fists. “Get away from him you‑”

“Whoa!” the nearest policeman said, recoiling, arms flying up into surrender, “Be cool, be cool, we called it in!” He was a fresh‑faced Caucasian man and he and his partner, likewise fit but African‑American, both looked young to be police. They held up their hands under Jane’s advancing glare, her eyes blazing, and took a step away to either side, leaving Matt free. With a sob Jane lunged forward, burying her face in his jacket.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry-”

She pulled away as Giselle, Wally and Will’s footsteps caught up behind her, her hands holding both of Matt’s shoulders. “Let’s go home. We can talk about everything, I promise, I just- I was so worried you were safe and-”

Suddenly, Jane’s voice skidded to a halt. She stared forward, her face frozen, her hands still clutching Matt either side of his jacket.

“Matt?” she whispered to him, “Matt?”

Her lover’s body moved. His jaw worked. Soft mumbling trickled from his mouth, and his face shot through with occasional twitches. But his eyes; his eyes were glazed. They didn’t see her. They didn’t see anything. They stared off into the horizon, trembling and delirious, taking in nothing in view.

“I am Matt Callaghan,” she heard him mumble, “I am human.” Pause. “I am Matt Callaghan. I am human.”

With a slow, creeping sense of horror, Jane released Matt’s arms and withdrew a step back. Matt did not follow her, but instead just stood, standing there, swaying on the spot, his face twitching, his expression blank. He did not move.

Behind her, Jane heard Will curse.

“What did you do to him?” she demanded, winds of fury suddenly erupting as she rounded on the policemen, who had backed off slightly to stand against their squad car. Again the rage in Jane’s voice and the light pouring from her eyes sent the two men stumbling backwards, tripping over desperate platitudes, holding out placating hands.

“Nothing, I swear!” said the foremost one, “We found him like this, I promise, Darnel you’ll- back me up!”

“Absolutely,” swore the other officer, “He was like this when we found him, we got a callout, someone says there’s some drunk guy stumbling round in their neighbourhood- we don’t think anything, I mean it’s Norlens what the hell you expect, but we show up thinking we just gonna give some sumbitch a night in the drunk tank, then…” His nervous words trailed to nothingness. “I couldn’t believe it man, when I saws who it was. I called that Legion hotline, spoke to the lady right away.”

“Took us a while to get through,” the first officer chimed in. Jane swept her volcanic glare onto him and he quailed – though a moment later her gaze shift inevitably back to Matt, and she could do nothing but look on in curdling panic as he stood there, delirious.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“They’re telling the truth,” Wally confirmed, moving to her right. The psychic narrowed his eyes. “This is wrong. I can hear his thoughts.”

Jane spun to face him. “What?!”

“I can hear his thoughts,” Wally confirmed, “Like profoundly, they’re everywhere, they’re… broken.” His freckled face paled, a sickly orange in the streetlight. “He’s mentally shattered.”

The dread in Jane’s chest billowed, and the entire ink‑night world spun around her head.

“Officers,” she heard Giselle saying, coming to stand the other side of her. As if in a dream, Jane felt herself stumbling back. “I’m Giselle Pixus, speedster, Legion of Heroes.”

“We know,” said the foremost officer, sounding slightly stunned, “I got you on a t-shirt. Chris Simmons, hyper‑dexterous. This here’s Darnel Drexler, he can make oil outta things. It’s a pleasure to meet you ma’am.”

“Likewise. When you picked up Mr Callaghan did you happen to see a girl with him? Or an animal? Any sort of animal, big or small. Even made up?”

“Made up?”

“Like a dragon.”

“Wait like a dragon-dragon?”

“Exactly.”

Silence.

“Ms Pixus I don’t mean no disrespect but I’m fair certain I would’ve noticed a dragon flapping round when we touched down in this here stretch of nowhere.”

Jane could barely hear them. She could barely hear or see anything other than Matt and his blank, distant stare, his green eyes empty of recognition of her or anyone else.

“Matt. Matt, can you hear me?”

“My name is Matt Callaghan. I am human.”

“He’s been saying that since we got here.”

“Got his wallet on him, his phone. Confirmed his ID.”

“I don’t know what to tell you ma’am, maybe he got into some bad Indian Hay.”

“You think he’s drugged?” Giselle.

“I don’t know, I mean he likes to smoke, but-” Wally.

“Yo.” Will’s voice, laced through with concern, suddenly cutting across everyone. Jane tore her gaze away from Matt’s face and swung her eyes over to the teleporter, who was standing behind her staring at Matt with concern.

“Yo,” the teleporter repeated, “He’s got something in his hand.”

Five pairs of eyes swung downwards. Under the dirty glow of the streetlight, Jane could see–

“He’s right.”

“Looks like a bit of paper?”

“Matt, sweetie.” Giselle bent over him, forcing a smile both gentle and kind. “Can you let go of the paper? Can you let go please?”

“My name is Matt Callaghan,” he muttered, “I am human.”

“Okay,” the speedster said with false sweetness, “Just gonna… reach in and… get this out and… there we go.” She pulled back and straightened, the scrap of paper coming with her. Whatever it was, Matt released it without any resistance. Giselle uncrumpled the scrap – no bigger than the bottom of a torn‑off notebook – and as she read it her face paled. She turned to Jane, and without speaking handed her the paper. Jane took it with clumsy fingers, her head swimming, cupping the scrap of paper in her hands so that it lay words up, facing her, like some kind of sick communion wafer. It was slightly yellow, cream – the bottom of some torn document.

But Jane didn’t care about the colour. She only cared about the name.

In what would have been the bottom right-hand corner, below a box’s edge. A tiny footer, size 8 font.

Area 60 – Port Lions – Alaska

Property of the United States Government

Classified restricted. Not for public release.

“Holy-”

Jane could barely see. She was barely hear what was being said. All around her the cold night suddenly burned like wildfire, and she was clenching her hands, stumbling out from beneath the orange streetlight into the darkness, away from Matt, the Legion, the police. Her teeth clenched, her head pounded, and a thunder roared in her chest as every fibre of her being surged with building, blinding rage. Golden light dripped from her eyes like mercury. Vapours of energy wafted between her teeth. Every power inside her howled, howled to be unleashed upon the world in cataclysm, and her fury trembled, screaming to be set free.

“Jane?”

She could go back in time. She could prevent- but no. It had been hours now, stretched out gleaming black and unbroken, and on top of it all now sunk the power of life and death, the black and white clouded orb, light as air yet smothering… her mind was too drained, she had to… she had to…

“Jane?”

Suddenly Jane screamed. Screamed, roared, a raging wave of fury and light exploding out of her, blasting into the car, knocking down everyone but Matt, slamming a crater into solid Earth, breaking every window in the street. Energy whipped around her like a hurricane and in an instant Jane bent, gathering every ounce of wrath, and with a shattering BOOM she shot upwards, a burning golden comet, up into the clouds, faster than a jet, faster than a rocket-

Heading northwest.