BANG! BANG!

Heavy impacts, pounding on the door. Matt shook his head, trying to clear the sensation of the mental realm. He strode over to the bathroom, and then without going in swiped his fingers three times over the keypad lock.

Schloom! A solid steel door slid shut, and from outside Matt could hear whirring and clicks.

“Break it! Break it! Something’s going on!”

Without hesitation Matt ran back to the bed tucked up against the room’s right corner, grabbed the bedposts with both hands and pulled with all his might. The bed slid forward a few inches, staying flush with the wall. Matt pulled forward until there was maybe a half-foot gap between the wall and the tall wooden bedhead – a gap visually undetectable from the view of anyone coming inside.

He slid down behind the bed and the wall, crouching low, breathing hard.

BANG! A more solid sound this time, a rending metal crunch, and suddenly the air was full of unmuted noise again. There were footsteps on the carpet. People entering, people turning around.

“Another one?! God damn it, how many-”

“Just get it open!”

Two men’s voices. Could they really be down to two? Matt smelled the scent of sick charcoal and heard a crunch which made him think one of them might be the rock man, the one who had previously been electrocuted… the other....

“We’re out of C4.”

“Reach in, see if you can loosen the hinges.”

BAM. BAM. BAM. Jarring impacts, like a battering ram. Behind the bed Matt’s jaw clenched, his teeth rattling with every thud.

“Are you moving the-?”

“I’m trying!”

Reach in, they’d said, reach in. What did that mean? Intangible phaser? No, every room in this place had Disruptances on separate backups. Telekinetic. He was trying to reach into the locking mechanism.

“There.”

“There?”

“Hit it!”

BAM. BAM!

“I got it, I got the corner!”

“Go again, keep going!”

“We’re coming human! We’re coming!”

Matt’s heart was deafening in his throat. He closed his eyes, clutching his hands to stop them trembling, while men intent on his destruction broke down solid steel mere feet away. Think I’m cleverer than I am, he pleaded. Think I’ve pulled something crazy out of my sleeve.

BAM!

“Wait. Wait, it’s empty!”

“How is it empty?!”

“What?!”

“Check the ceiling!”

“There’s- it doesn’t open!”

“Check the- check the sink!”

“How the hell would he go down the sink?!”

“I don’t know!”

Keep going, Matt pleaded. Look for secret passageways. Hidden escape pods. Rip it apart, tear everything to pieces, just please keep trying to find me there.

“Where’d he go?”

“He couldn’t have come out.”

“He’s not in here!”

“Did you see him come in?”

“No but Jake I- he pointed this way, then he screamed-”

“This is bullcrap, this is bullcrap-!”

“Do we check the other rooms?”

Yes, Matt pleaded, check the other rooms.

Silence.

“No.” A hard voice, southwestern, with a growl. “Something’s wrong. Why were the doors closed if there weren’t nothing in here worth protecting?”

“Maybe they lock automatically.” Younger, higher, more unsure.

Crunch, crunch. Heavy footsteps on the carpet. “Then he’d get locked in. What’s the point? No. Search.”

Matt silently swore. Okay. Okay. The sound of two sets of footsteps now, drawing close. Seconds. He had seconds. Got to… got to… more time.

Final hurdle.

Matt sprang out from behind the bed, facing the men, hands held high.

“Stop!” he cried, “Please. I’m here, you’ve found me. Just stop.”

The two attackers he faced both flinched, and for a second there was no sound save for the laboured breathing coming from Matt’s chest. In the apartment beyond the wailing noise fell silent, the mix ended, the speakers all fried or shot. Matt stared at the two men in front of him, both covered in dust and blood, both who had torn their masks off sometime during the assault. The foremost one was taller, his face grizzled and pock-marked, with brown hair only a shade darker than his skin and sandpapery stubble. His forearms were bare and made of thick, jagged, tan-coloured stones, which as Matt watched faded back into his flesh as the man swung a semi-automatic pistol out of his leg holster. The other man was shorter, paler, less muscular, with thin fluffy hair a soft coffee colour and trembling in his eyes, lips and body. He too slung a gun from his back – a single shot, bolt-action rifle – but only raised it halfway, staring at Matt with disbelieving eyes.

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“We got him,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” snarled the tall man, “Now let’s finish it.” He straightened the gun.

“Wait!” Matt pleaded. He clasped his hands above his head, not daring to take a step. “Wait, please. Just… I forgive you.”

The man in front recoiled, his features pulling back like he’d swallowed something sour. “You forgive us?”

“Yes,” babbled Matt, “I understand what you’re trying to do, and I…” And at that moment he allowed all the terror and the fear to wash over him, and he doubled over in wretched, defeated sobs. “Just promise me,” Matt begged, “Promise me you’ll destroy it. Promise me you’ll take it back.”

“Wait,” said the smaller man, taking a step forward, “Destroy what, what are you talking about?”

“Lionel, shut up!” snarled the terramorph. Gritting his teeth, he aimed the gun at Matt’s head. “It’s a trick!”

“No, hold on,” the man named Lionel protested. He reached forward, pushing aside his companion’s gun, “What if he’s- what are you saying, what do we have to destroy?”

Matt shook his head, tears streaming from his eyes, the words stumbling between his teeth through wet hiccups. “I didn’t want this,” he pleaded with them, “I didn’t want any of this. They forced me, I had no choice, they, they took it…”

“We don’t care what you want!” the terramorph roared. He tried to shoulder Lionel out of the way, but the telekinetic refused to budge.

“Took, took what?” he demanded, breathless. Out of the corner of his eyes Matt saw him crouch slightly, trying to look up into Matt’s hunched over face, “What did they take?”

“My blood,” Matt confessed, recoiling from the word as if stung. He heard sharp, twin intakes of breath. “They’ve had it for months, there’s nothing I could do, they were trying to keep you distracted while they worked on…” He hiccupped. “I’ve been trapped here, Jane, she wouldn’t let me leave, she, they made me say and I- I never wanted- you have to- you have to-” Matt’s shoulders heaved with a gigantic sob and he hunched down on himself, almost into a ball, openly weeping. In his periphery there came only stunned silence.

“I knew it,” Lionel whispered.

“Where?” the terramorph demanded, and suddenly he grabbed Matt by the front of his shirt, pulling the limp boy upright, glaring at him, a wild intensity raging in his slate-grey eyes. “Where have they taken it?”

Matt panted, drawing several fast, hysterical breaths, then forced himself to breathe deeper, to stare up at both of them through tear-stained eyes. “There’s a place,” he blabbered, “Somewhere in the US. Area… Area 60. I don’t… they had me blindfolded every time I went there, but I still… it’s cold. And I heard the sound of waves and seagulls and someone talking, something about Kodiak bears, or a lion-”

“Kodiak Island,” the tall man whispered, “Port Lions.” He rounded on his younger companion. “I know that place! Alaska! I had a friend used to go there, hunting-”

Matt forced himself to nod.

“Please,” he begged, “You have to destroy it. Kill me, burn my body, burn this entire place to the ground, but then find it, you have to find it, it’s our only hope. The next round of flu vaccines, they’re not going to be… you have to stop it. Please. Please! You’re the only ones who can!”

For a moment, nobody breathed. The two assassins stood perfectly still, before finally they exchanged glances drenched in understanding and horror.

“It’s worse than we thought,” the terramorph murmured.

“We’ve got to tell people,” Lionel whispered.

“We will kid,” his companion promised, “We will.” He turned back to Matt, the gun now hanging loosely in his grasp. “Thank you. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… thank you.” Almost reluctantly, he once more raised the semi-automatic pistol. “I know you didn’t choose this. And I’m sorry. But it’s-”

Matt shook his head, resolute and defiant. “It’s the only way. I know. I’ve made peace with it. I just… get them for me, okay?”

The two nodded. The terramorph placed a hand upon Matt’s shoulder.

“Turn around,” he told him, “It’ll be quick. I promise. You won’t feel anything.”

Matt nodded, giving another sob. He turned around halfway, then stopped, laughing out a weak, hiccupping cough.

“I don’t suppose either of you fellas have a smoke?” he asked. He looked back over his shoulder, making a wretched, miserable face. His would-be killers exchanged glances. The sides of the terramorph’s lips twitched.

“Sure kid,” he said sadly. He re-holstered his gun, reached into his left breast pocket and drew out a box of cigarettes and lighter. He motioned the tip of the box to Matt. Matt took it.

“Careful,” Lionel joked, “Those things ‘ll kill you.” He recoiled back down into himself as his companion shot him a glare. Matt lit the cigarette, sighed, tried desperately not to cough, and trudged a few steps over to the window.

“I never wanted this,” he murmured. He reached over, undoing the latch and sliding open the pane of glass.

“What are you doing?” the terramorph warned, his voice suddenly wary. He looked between Matt and the window, his eyes narrowed, and his hand went back to his holster.

“What?” Matt shrugged, looking perfectly innocent. He exhaled smoke out through the open window, then looked back as if only now realising what he was doing. “Oh. Sorry. Habit.”

The terramorph scowled. Slowly, he raised the pistol. “Well hurry up. No offence kid but the longer we wait here, the longer we risk Lady Dawn showing up.”

“She’s not coming,” Lionel told him. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. A gold and orange website – DawnWatch. “See? She’s in North Korea, going after Kim Jong‑Il. Right now.”

“The Legion then. The cops.”

“Can I finish the smoke?” asked Matt. The tall thug glared.

“Quickly,” he snapped, “Quickly.” Matt drew in another breath then exhaled out the open window, not being obviously slow. A second passed.

“Oh screw this,” the terramorph snarled. Matt let out a yelp of surprise as the man grabbed his wrist and yanked him away from the window. The cigarette fell smouldering and forgotten on the carpet.

Don’t revive me, he begged Jane silently; don’t fall into the Time Child’s trap.

“Sorry kid,” the tall man muttered. He raised the pistol, aiming it directly at Matt’s forehead. Behind him, Lionel closed his eyes. “This is just the way.”

He took a step back. Matt braced himself, staring down the gun barrel. The world seemed to slow. His breathing filled every facet of his consciousness, smothering all other sensations. The slight breeze on his left cheek; the tightness in his chest. The gross, acrid taste of cigarette, the blurred tears in his eyes. The smell of smoke and dust and blood. Inside his chest, Matt’s heartbeats spread in an endless distance, the blood in his ears hushing like distant waves. The vain straining of life. He saw the sweat beading on Lionel’s forehead; saw the tendons clench in the terramorph’s jaw. Saw his trigger finger squeeze.

Matt tried not to close his eyes.

*

Giselle Pixus ran.

Faster than thought. Faster than sound. Through outskirts and city streets, between cars and people caught almost frozen in hyper‑perception. Closer, closer. Three suburbs away, two, then she could see it, the building, twenty‑three stories, but as she raced forward she saw the seal still down over the balcony, smoke and dust and debris-

Around the base she flew, panting, desperate, looking for an opening. There, a glimmer, a glimmer and a void – an open window. Too small for her to stop on, too narrow for her to climb-

No time to think. Giselle ran, legs burning, racing up the side of a nearby building, flying across a rooftops, five stories, ten, hurtling across, hurtling up-

Until she was on the small roof directly opposite.

Ten stories below the chest-sized opening, Giselle Pixus roared and poured on every ounce of speed.

Then leapt, arcing like a javelin towards the window, her arms outstretched.

*

BANG!

A sudden rush of air. A deafening noise. Matt flinched, recoiled, cowering from his death – then he blinked.

There was no darkness.

There was no pain.

There was only the gun barrel, staring three feet away from him, the tip wisping grey with smoke-

-and to his right Giselle Pixus, a bullet clenched between her fingers.

The assassins’ faces blanched.

“Oh no,” whispered Lionel.

“Oh yes,” hissed Giselle. Having run halfway across the Earth, leapt a hundred and fifty feet off a neighbouring building and hurtled headfirst through Matt’s open window, the leader of the Legion of Heroes now stood between Matt and his attackers, outnumbered, red‑faced, covered in sweat. But none of that mattered. Because as Giselle slowly straightened, her shoulders slid back, and she rose to her full commanding glory. Her eyes shone with something close to madness. A smile twitched at the corners of her lips.

“Run,” the terramorph whispered.

“I will,” the speedster promised.

“Non-lethal,” Matt requested, standing back and stretching. He leaned casually against the windowsill, any trace of terror forgotten.

“Less lethal,” Giselle compromised.

Then she bared a vicious grin and disappeared in a blur.