The hollow, meaty sounds of bare skin slapping against hard wood echoed through the testing chamber. Or, at least, as much as the padded interior would allow. Impacts always came in sets of three, impossibly fast triplets interspersed between short pauses. So quick in succession were they, at times it was impossible to differentiate when one strike ended, and the next began.

Ayda stood in the testing chamber, close to the open entrance. She mercilessly pounded on a peculiar dummy shod of wood. The center column was little more than a smooth sanded, solid log. It stood at the perfect height—just a few inches over her head—which couldn't be an accident. Three short and narrow dowels stuck out of the cylinder facing her. The first two were about an inch apart vertically and offset on a horizontal plain, the distance between them roughly that of a person in a fighting stance. The final dowel protruded from the dead center of the middle column about level with Ayda's hips.

Her hands were a blur. Any normal person would never have even the faintest hope of following the motions. The strikes did not lack for strength, either. Every hit rocked the dummy. Ayda utilized every part of her arms to lash out. Fists, open palms, elbows, forearms, wrists, all of them were lethal weapons. She alternated between lateral swipes at the dowels and straight punches and elbows against the center column. The attacks followed seemingly no pattern, but all conformed to the same basic formula: sets of three which never made contact with the same dowel twice in a rotation.

Ayda came dressed for a workout, sporting a solid black T-shirt and blue wind pants with a fat silver stripe up the sides. It was an outfit Jackie chose for her.

From the hall behind her Elliot approached. He paused for a second on the precipice. The sight of Ayda beating up on a poor, innocent piece of wood made his heart skip a beat. He remembered how easily she threw him around the other day. To witness such an impressive feat of martial prowess did little to set his mind at ease. A deep breath, and he entered the room.

"Showing off?" He said quickly between repetitions.

"Warming up," Ayda corrected mid-strike. She offhandedly tapped one of the dowels before turning to face Elliot. Not a single bead of sweat dripped from her brow. She barely even breathed hard. "These things are fun, so I couldn't resist. Where's Bernard?"

"Looking for his tablet. I'm sure I don't need to tell you he's always losing things." Elliot said. Ayda shook her head.

"Can't take my eyes off him for a second," she joked. Elliot walked past her and ran his fingers down the dummy's middle column.

"I never really understood what this thing is supposed to be. I mean, I know you hit it, but what's with these sticks?" As if it were an outstretched hand, he shook one of the dowels for emphasis.

"It's supposed to be a person in a fighting stance," Ayda said. She stepped beside the dummy and put her dukes up, mimicking the upper protrusions. "See? It teaches hand speed and Wing Chun limb strikes," she explained. Elliot pondered it for a moment, scratching his chin in contemplation.

"Yeah, I see it for the top two here, but what's about the bottom one," he asked. Ayda adjusted her stance slightly. Now, instead of both hands up, she pivoted her left one down ninety degrees so the fist pointed toward the ground, elbow bent for her hand to be almost level with her pelvis.

"You see this stance in Hung Gar a lot," she said. "This is Chinese martial arts, remember."

"Okay, I think I saw that in a movie once," responded Elliot, nodding his head as if he understood. Ayda rolled her eyes at him.

Due to his hiding the other day, Ayda hadn't really the chance to get a good look at him. She took the opportunity for a quick visual pat down. Easily over six feet tall, Elliot was of an average athletic build, although somewhat broad at the shoulders. He had a long face with gentle features, a constant smile in his dark eyes. Black stubble concealed his jawline, while matching hair grew barely long enough to be combed. Although not bad looking, he conducted himself in a rather clumsy and awkward manner, as if never really sure what to do with his hands. He was charming, in a dorky sort of way.

Now, Ayda could have continued on talking about martial arts all day, but Bernard entered at that moment. For the first time, he wore a white lab coat identical to Elliot's, although obviously more well worn. His right hand cradled the aforementioned silver tablet, Belmont International logo on the back. There was something poetic about Bernard using his company's own technologies for these test. At least he trusted his own products.

"Am I interrupting something?" He said while tapping on his tablet screen.

"No," retorted Elliot. "Ayda here was just teaching me all about Kung Fu fighting." Was he making fun of her? It sounded like he was making fun of her. She'd have to remember that.

"Yes, well, I distinctly remember telling you to put that back in the equipment room." Bernard shot him a sideways glance.

"What?" He recoiled under his boss's gaze. "I was going to, but it's heavy."

"Never mind, we'll move it later." Bernard sighed. "For now, we have science to do." The older man moved past the training dummy, further into the room.

"Ooh, I love doing science," quipped Elliot, who fell in behind him. Ayda picked up the rear.

The three of them went over to the only other objects in the room, although these demanded much more attention. Wrapped up in practicing her forms, Ayda had almost forgotten about this little workstation, but now she couldn't help but wonder what it was for. Bernard had told her what the day's test would set out to accomplish, but Ayda hadn't really understood much of it.

The setup consisted of three parts, the easiest of which was a tan painted, folding metal chair. Next to it was a square table, and that's where things got complicated. It was a mess of wires and computer parts, all connected to the components atop it. One was a small brass-colored tube with a button atop. The other defied understanding. It vaguely resembled the skeleton of a skateboarding helmet, interspersed with some sciencey mumbo jumbo. Sensors, wires, and computer chips tangled together like something out of a comic book.

Without asking permission, Ayda picked up the little metal cylinder. She turned it over in her fingers, trying to figure out what it could be. There was an opening in one side, but she knew enough not to peer into it.

"Point it at the wall and press the button," Elliot instructed. Ayda did as he said. A small dot of red light projected on the fabric.

"Some kind of... flashlight?" She wondered aloud.

"A laser pointer," corrected Elliot. "You use it to, well, point at stuff."

Ayda could have asked a few questions about such a device, like why an apparatus simply designed for pointing was even necessary, but she stayed her tongue. There were more important things to talk about, like what that helmet could be for.

"Okay, and what is this supposed to be?" She pointed at the helmet.

"It's..." Bernard paused. "It's hard to describe. This device is a piece of proprietary tech which will allow us to see scans of your brain activity in real time."

Ayda scrutinized the thing. "It doesn't look very safe."

"The technology is admittedly a little rough, but we've worked out all the major kinks. I guarantee it's perfectly safe," explained Bernard. Ayda was curious about his word choice, how he failed to specify what these major kinks actually were. In her experience, that kind of talk was scientist code for we don't know what's wrong with it.

"I'm not sure I want experimental technology anywhere near my head," Ayda said. "Been there, done that." Although meant as a joke, this statement was absolutely true.

"I assure you, there's nothing to be afraid of. Here, I'll show you." Bernard handed his tablet to Elliot and sat down in the chair. The latter swiftly punched a few icons on the device. He took a loose cord from the table and plugged it into the tablet. Bernard donned the helmet. Underneath it was a third object, a black plastic shaft with a red button on top, attached to the helmet by a thick wire.

"Alright, Elliot. Turn it on," instructed the aging man, who looked absolutely ridiculous.

Elliot tapped on his screen again, and then gestured for Ayda to join him. She did, eying the silver rectangle with suspicion. On it was a grayscale picture of a strange looking object, all oblong and squiggly. It fluctuated randomly, as if it were a camera trying to focus on a distant object. Her gaze flicked from it to Bernard a few times before she began to catch on.

"Wait... is that his brain?" Disbelief saturated her tone.

"Astounding, isn't it?" Bernard said. "Instant full brain scans in a miniscule package. A revolution in medical technology."

Ayda was sure whatever Bernard had to say was quite intelligent, but she didn't really hear him. She was much more concerned with what happened on the tablet. When Bernard spoke, a few different sections of his brain lit up with splashes of yellow. Her jaw dropped. She leaned in closer, trying to make sense of it, curious like a child.

"That yellow is Bernard's brain activity," began Elliot. "The more intense the color, the more active that part of the brain is. Speech doesn't require much concentration, so it's just yellow."

"And you're gonna test my reflexes with this?" Ayda said.

"Yes," Bernard confirmed. He took the helmet off and stood. "Specifically, I'm curious about your brain activity while using your powers. We're gonna do the same with your blasts, too, but it's your reflexes which interest me more."

"Why," inquired Ayda. In her opinion, the blasts were way more exciting. Why would someone be so fascinated by something so benign?

"The data we recovered about your blasts is pretty conclusive. They move just slightly over Mach One and your most powerful recorded blast was a little more than twelve tons of force. But, a lot of data was lost in your attack on the facility. We weren't able to recover very much about your reflexes," said Bernard. "Before we move forward, we need to fill that gap."

"Yeah," Ayda agreed. "There might not have been very much to recover, either. Vahlen was always more concerned with making us hit things," she joked. Bernard adjusted his collar and Elliot inspected the floor. "What's the brain scan for?" Ayda continued asking her questions, completely oblivious to the current atmosphere.

"Yes, um, they're so we can understand what's going on in your head," responded Bernard.

"Whatever Doctor Strangelove put in your noggin, it altered the way your brain works," added Elliot.

"Exactly," the former confirmed. "Since we don't have an example of the actual device, we need to look at your brain to figure out what it actually did."

"Alright, that actually makes a lot of sense," Ayda nodded. This entire project was much better thought out than she thought it would be. "What do you need me to do?"

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"First, sit down and put on the helmet," instructed Bernard.

Ayda walked around both of them and sat down on the chair. Bernard handed her the helmet. She stared at the device, cradling it gently in her hands. It seemed a rather fragile thing. The exposed wires and servos didn't exactly reassure her. Sure, Bernard had worn it without any visible negative side effects, but he also took it off rather quickly.

With a burst of determination, Ayda placed the thing on her head. All the things she'd done in her life, and a little bit of metal and electricity scared her? It was ludicrous. She could deal with a little bit of strange technology. Again, been there and done that. Sitting there with a metal hat on, Ayda suddenly became a bit self-conscious. She remembered how Bernard looked just moments ago.

"I feel stupid," she remarked.

"But you look awesome," Elliot jabbed, "and that's what really matters." Sarcasm dripped from his voice. Ayda contemplated whether it would be better to test her reflexes on his face. A smile spread across his lips. "Ha! She's mad, look!"

He turned the tabled first to Bernard and then to Ayda. A little portion of her brain was lit up yellow. She was torn between amazement at seeing her own cortex, and humiliation from having her emotions exposed. She felt almost violated, as if someone had seen her naked. In a philosophical sense, that wasn't too far off.

"Well, I guess that works for a baseline," Bernard said. "If you would pick up the little clicker over there, Ayda," he said. Ayda pointed at the plastic stick with the button. Bernard nodded and she nabbed it. "We have the laser pointer hooked up to a timer app on my tablet. It will shine the red light on the wall at random intervals. When you see the light, press the button as fast as you can."

"Simple enough," Ayda shrugged. "This sounds kinda fun." She leaned forward, giving the button a trial push. It audibly clicked. She fidgeted in her chair, uncomfortable.

"Wait, can I stand? Are these wires long enough?" Without waiting for confirmation, she rose from the chair. The wires were of adequate length, but only just. She wouldn't be able to stand on her tiptoes without possibly ripping them out of place. Both Bernard and Elliot silently stepped of to their left so as to see past her.

"There, that's so much better," she said.

"Are you ready to begin?" Bernard inquired.

"Whenever you are," confirmed Ayda.

"Alright. Elliot, begin the test."

The younger scientist hit the start button on the tablet screen. The electronics attached to the table came to life, only audible due to the silence in the room. Even the din of a fan blowing would drown them out.

Ayda channeled her powers. Energy coursed through her veins. The world slid into focus. She blinked rapidly a few times. It had been a while since she'd done that. The effect was jarring. It wore off almost straightaway, however, as the sensation was immediately familiar. It felt good. She felt alive. Why didn't she live every moment of her life in this state? Ayda took a deep breath and centered her stance. She was ready.

A few uncomfortable seconds eked by as the machinery came on. Ayda leaned forward just slightly in anticipation. The wait was killing her. The moment reminded her, oddly, of a fight. The laser pointer was an opponent; the light, it's move. She waited for it to act, prepared to capitalize on its momentum.

A red dot appeared on the white padding which lined the wall, there and gone in a fraction of a second. Ayda clicked the button, and the scientists were momentarily stunned. To them, it looked as though the laser and the click happened at the exact same time. There was no comprehensible gap between the two. A fluke. That was the only explanation.

The laser shined, and again Ayda didn't miss a beat, any separation between the two acts entirely indistinguishable. This quickly became the norm. The intervals between red dots truly was random, quick bursts separated by dead air or slow pulses. Every light met instantly with a click. Ayda never slowed down, never missed, never lost control. Her clicks were always in perfect synchronization with the lights. If there were three dots in rapid succession, then Ayda would counter them with a trio of clicks, and so forth.

Elliot's jaw hit the ground. Bernard stared blankly at the wall, blinking with every loud press of the button. This was beyond anything either of them ever expected. It defied explanation.

"Try not to anticipate the laser, Ayda," Bernard said, just to make sure she'd understood the point of the test.

"I'm not," the girl insisted. For emphasis, the dot shined right after she said this, and she clicked in time with it.

Twice more the laser projected, and Ayda met it without a flaw. Clearly, Bernard had underestimated her. This test was too simple. The computer, too easy to follow along with. He had to intervene.

"Here, give me manual control." He snatched the tablet from his assistant and pressed a button.

With Bernard calling the shots, randomness turned to complete disarray. Any semblance of order evaporated. He tapped the screen, and the laser pointer shone in accordance with him. He did is absolute best to throw Ayda off. Quick, long bursts of activity were segregated with lenghty pauses and everything in between.

The sudden change threw Ayda out of harmony for only a second. She recovered with hardly a problem. Only one light went by without a click before she focused right back in. Even at this pace, with human input dictating the chaos, Ayda could not be fooled. No matter what Bernard did, she met him perfectly. She was in the zone.

After a few seconds more the laser attacks dried up completely. At first, Ayda thought it was just another pause in the activity. As the lull dragged on, however, it became apparent there would be no more lights.

"What happened? Did I break it?" Ayda turned the button over in her hand, searching for any signs of obvious damage.

"Um... no," Bernard breathed. He handed the tablet back to Elliot, who took it while still staring at the wall. "I think that was good enough for a first round."

"First round?" Ayda repeated. "We're doing this again?"

"Several more times, actually," Elliot said. "We need a lot of data so we can see if the results are replicable and establish a baseline across all the tests."

"It shouldn't take too long," added Bernard. "We'll be out of here in time for lunch. Just tell us when you're ready and we can begin the next round."

"I'm good to go, just start it whenever," Ayda said. She wasn't exactly happy about spending more time in the testing chamber. She expected a quick and simple experiment. Her hopes were dashed, but if anything that just inspired her even further. They wanted consistent data? Well, Ayda would show them just how consistent she could be.

They ended up running the same test nine more times, a number which Bernard was seemingly dissatisfied with. The intellectual in him wanted to keep going, to acquire as much data as they possibly could. Elliot managed to convince him to take a break, though, under the guise of consumability. Further tests would just create bloat. If they wanted to accurately crunch all the numbers, the examples needed to be presented in digestible chunks.

Bernard simply couldn't argue with the logic of that. So, the three went up to the observation room to do exactly what Elliot had suggested, put all the results together and make something understandable out of them. There, Elliot plugged the tablet into the central computer and began with his calculations.

The observation room was much less exciting than Ayda previously imagined. It was mostly barren, devoid of any decoration. The most prominent features were the window in the west wall from the door and the long console underneath it. Both ran the length of the space. The console was chock full of dials, gauges, and gizmos, none of which Ayda could discern the function of. Something made a constant rhythmic beeping noise, although she couldn't figure out what device was actually responsible. She would've punched it, otherwise.

Oddly, the only other thing of note was actually a person. Colonel Hammond leaned up against the wall across from the window. He glanced up at the arrival of Bernard and company, but didn't move from his spot. Ayda gave him a puzzled look.

"Were you... up here the whole time, Colonel?"

"I'm supposed to watch you guys work, but I decided to stay up here," he explained. "All this science crap gives me the heebie-jeebies." He popped off the wall. "Which is why I'll be waiting outside. Just pound on the door if shit gets weird."

And with that, he departed. Ayda stared at the door in utter bewilderment, but shrugged it off after a moment. Colonel Hammond was absolutely impossible to read. Elliot and Bernard seemed to have already come to terms with this fact, however, as they got straight to work.

Elliot sat down in one of two rolling chairs and typed away furiously on a calculator, writing on the tablet with a stylus while all the raw data ran across the computer monitor built into the mainframe. It was a lot of math to do, but he completed it in record time. Strangely, Ayda found herself jealous of him. Numbers just made her head hurt, yet Elliot manipulated them as if he himself were a computer. What a showoff.

While he worked, Ayda and Bernard looked on in silence, which was awkward to say the least. Ayda felt as though she should be more involved. She'd been instrumental in the creation of the data. Its analysis should at least have some input from her. Although, she wasn't sure what that would be, what she could possible add. If Bernard would just say something, her nerves would be much more at ease.

When he was done with the calculations, Elliot dropped the stylus on top of the console in front of him. He let out a long breath and stared at the computer screen, checking it a few times against his tablet.

"How's it look, Elliot?" Bernard asked.

"Well, I'm not really sure," Elliot began. "These results don't make a lot of sense."

"How so?" Bernard leaned over his shoulder to get a better look. Elliot indicated a few specific bits to him.

"See? I've run the numbers a few times, but they all come up the same. I even took into account any latency in the program."

"I don't believe it," Bernard whispered.

"Hey," interjected Ayda, "don't talk about my brain like it's not here."

"Sorry, Ayda, it's just I've never seen anything like this," said Bernard.

"Like what?" Ayda bent over Elliot's opposite shoulder to see what they were making such a fuss over, and immediately wondered why she'd even bothered. It may as well have all been Chinese to her. Thankfully, it was Elliot to the rescue. He explained the figures to her, pointing them out as he went.

"Over here is the normal human reaction time, 0.5 seconds. That's how long it takes someone to perceive a threat and decide what to do about it, but not to start moving. Over here is your reaction time, 0.02 seconds."

"Is that fast?" Wondered Ayda aloud.

"It's exactly twenty-five times faster than a normal human," Bernard began. "In theory, you could perceive a threat and nullify it before your opponent ever saw you move. To you, the world must look like it moves in slow motion."

"I don't know." Ayda straightened and shrugged. "It's only when I'm channeling my powers, and even then everything just looks normal. I think of it more like I just move faster."

"That isn't really what's going on," Bernard contested. "Your hand speed isn't any faster. It's your brain which processes things at such an alarming speed."

"It's even more amazing when you compare the brain scans," Elliot added. He pressed a button on the observation room computer keyboard, and then jabbed his tablet. "On the monitor, here, is a normal human reacting to stimulus. On my tablet is you."

Both Ayda and Bernard inspected the two images. The first, the boring average brain, was only lit up yellow in a single section, which Ayda guessed was the portion which dealt with reflexes. Her brain, however, told an entirely different tale. Splotches of bold red popped up all over the place in brilliant contrast to the first image.

"What exactly do they mean?" Ayda asked.

"It means you're dedicating much more of your brain matter to each reaction, and using up a lot more energy to do it," said Elliot, a note of amazement in his speech. "It's almost as if your brain operates in a completely different way from ours.

"That's..." Bernard sighed. "That's actually something I wanted to talk to you about, Ayda." Oh God, he was using his dad voice. Nothing good ever happened when he used his dad voice.

"Is it bad news?" She asked tentatively.

"I'm afraid so. I've had a hypothesis ever since you came here about what the implant did to you, but now—seeing your brain scans—I think I may be right. Somehow, the implant completely altered the physical structure of your brain, which complicates things. We could cut out all of the changed bits, but that would run the risk of seriously damaging you cranial functions. Even if we reverse engineer the implant and slowly shrink the affected areas, it would still leave irreversible damage."

"What are you saying, Bernard?" Even as she spoke, Ayda could feel her heart sink further and further. "Is all of this permanent?"

"I honestly don't know, and I know that's not what you want to hear." He spoke in grave tones. Ayda looked down.

She sighed, "I get it. I've... been thinking about my powers a lot, lately—not just yesterday, but for a while. Can we talk about them for a second?"

"Of course, Ayda," Bernard said. "That's why we're here, after all, to talk about your powers."

Ayda balled her hands up into fists. This was proving more difficult to say than she anticipated, but there was no going back. She took a deep breath.

"I know you think these powers are a bad thing, and maybe I used to as well, but I don't think I do anymore. I mean, you just saw how fast I am, and you've never even seen me fight. Just ask Colonel Hammond. I'm amazing. These powers are what got me to where I am today. I don't think I can just give all of that up." Ayda let her shoulders relax.

"But, I thought you wanted to get rid of your powers," Bernard asked.

"I never said that. You did," accused Ayda. " I know you want me to be normal but this," she held up her palm and made a tiny blast, "this is normal to me. I still hate Dr. Vahlen, and I hate what he did to me, but these powers are who I am now. They're a part of me. Take them away, and who am I?"

"So, you're saying you don't want to get rid of your powers?" Elliot asked, an eyebrow raised.

"No. If at all possible, I want to keep my powers, and if not, then there won't be any more tests." She exchanged hard glances with Elliot and Bernard. This was the one place she would not budge.

"Most of our current contingencies are designed around the idea that we might not ever be able to cure you. We can forget removing your powers and go in a different direction, if that's what you want."

"Thank you, Bernard." Ayda smiled at him. "Yeah, that's what I want."

"Ok," Bernard nodded. "I'll report that your powers are incurable, and we'll go from there. They probably are anyway, so it won't be a problem."

"Maybe we can think of a positive application for your abilities in the meantime," Elliot offered.

"Yeah, that sound's good." Ayda agreed.

Relief—and a strange sense of pride—washed over her. These abilities had been her entire reality for six long, painful years. They identified her, made her into the person she was right then and there. It would've been nice to go about getting them in a slightly different way, but the past was set in stone. The future, though, she had some control over. She would always be Ayda, the Explosive Girl, and that was exactly what she wanted.