THIRTEEN

Two palms struck the surface of the desk. Six teens flinched. The desk shook, pencils and pens rattling dangerously. The deafening sound echoed through the room.

"How could you let him get away!" shouted Sullivan. His nostrils flared. "Do you have any idea how many are dead because of this man? Over a hundred. All you had to do was catch him and you couldn't even do that!"

One hundred and twenty-four.

What a haunting number. Zach couldn't stop himself from imagining the faces of those who had been killed. Their faint reflections twisted within his psyche like milky white ghosts.

Falcon had known the exact number of people inside that hospital, even with the evacuations. He had made it his business to know. But why put that much effort into it? What was the motive behind knowing the victims – and to such an extent? Why hadn't he killed Zach or his friends? Or any of the units?

Are the hospitals and clinics not the real target? He had researched those people, said he knew their names and their families. And I believe him. So, if the people were the target…

Then, who were they?

"You." Sullivan pointed to Jacob. The boy sucked in his breath, his eyes wide with fright, and sunk lower in his chair. Zach stiffened, fury rising in his chest. How dare he single out Jacob. "What happened? What were you doing during all this?"

Jacob opened his mouth. A strangled, whimper of a sound scraped through his throat. Hands slammed against the desk again.

"Answer me!"

The boy squeaked.

Zach stood up, his chair pushing back. He glared down at Sullivan. The man turned, ever so slowly, towards him, his eyes narrowing.

"Three had his powers stolen by Falcon, sir," said Zach. "Two had his stolen as well. It was impossible to win. Falcon seemed interested in all of our powers. It was obvious that he's done this before." He drew in a deep breath. Sullivan's expression darkened, but Zach plowed on; his tone dropped, turning frigid. "Why weren't we informed about this? Taking our powers away even for a short time is going to cripple the team. How could we stop him when the other units couldn't either?"

A frightening light entered those grey eyes.

"Two through Six, you're dismissed. Get out."

Zach gritted his teeth. Even unmasked, they were just numbers. We have names, you know. He could feel his friends' hesitancies without looking at them. Smug satisfaction rose inside his chest.

"Guys, obey Chief Sullivan."

Chairs pushed against the floor. Sullivan's nostrils flared again, his eyes flashing with repressed fury. Exactly. My team obeys me, not you, Sullivan. It was a dangerous thought, but he didn't care. Sullivan had withheld vital information about Falcon. Granted, even with it, they would've failed – but withholding information indicated something else, perhaps even something sinister.

And it pissed Zach off.

He turned slightly, looking back as his friends walked out of the office. Hikaru lagged behind. She reached out, touching him on the forearm. He smiled at her and put his hand over hers.

"Go," whispered Zach softly.

Her gaze slipped towards the man. Concern bled through those brown eyes, but she nodded and left the room. The door closed shut. Zach clenched his fists, looking at Sullivan with unwavering strength. His heart pounded. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, wishing he could exhale all the tension away.

The man was disturbingly silent.

What if Sullivan is holding back even more?

And another thing…

Why did Falcon have powers, an unknown power at that, in the first place? It didn't sync with the timeline. The rise of those with powerful abilities had only begun in the past decade – and only occurring before puberty. The man's voice had been too deep, his height too tall, his physique too strong to be under the age of twenty.

Something strange was going on.

And Zach suspected Sullivan knew everything about it.

"One, why are you here?" asked Sullivan in a low voice. There was a hint of mock incredulity. "What are you employed to do?

Zach's fists shook at his sides. "To stop criminals."

"Tell me, then," continued Sullivan, the light in his eyes growing darker. "Why does Falcon still go free?"

This is such bull.

Of course, I want to stop Falcon. It's not my fault he's more powerful than an entire unit. Why is it just our responsibility to stop him? Where were you? Why didn't you bring in other units?

There were so many things you could've done.

And you didn't.

Zach refused to break eye contact. He hated himself for his own weakness. Did Sullivan really have to point it out? Falcon's haunting words were enough. They echoed in his mind, taunting his efforts.

"Falcon was too powerful."

"No!" hissed Sullivan. "Why does Falcon still go free?"

Why did this man always have to mention all his shortcomings and errors? He never gave Zach and his friends a break. He expected perfection from a bunch of teenagers. He expected a level of performance from them that was far higher than from his own officers.

And that hateful look…

Well, one didn't have to be from a different race to be racist.

Children suddenly having powerful gifts – yes, they were something to be feared. But they were still human beings. Yet, the government treated them like property. Children were stolen from their parents; parents were stolen from their children. It was a cruel, deplorable system from which the country turned a blind eye.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

The world expected them to be powerful soldiers, something that took adults – ones who volunteered to be so – years to become. Just because they had powers, they expected children to be of the same cloth – and all the while, they had no adult to turn to for support.

They were just kids.

Falcon is right…

They were expected to perform like adults. They were expected to perform with perfection, with no mistakes to their names whatsoever – even during this sacred time of adolescence, a precious time reserved to learn from mistakes and to receive guidance from those wiser and older. Yet, that wasn't available to them. They weren't allowed to mess up – for if they did, everything was lost to them.

Zach bore this pressure on his shoulders, this forced pressure from these disgraceful adults. There were no other options for him and his friends. These options had been stolen from them. Since his friends were all he had left, Zach would bear the burden proudly. Even with all their problems and crazy times, it was worth it.

So, Zach gave the answer he knew this man wanted to hear.

"Because of my incompetence," whispered Zach. "That's why Falcon goes free."

There was a pause. The air around him seemed to grow thicker, becoming heavy like molasses. Zach found it hard to breathe.

"What have I told you about incompetence?" asked Sullivan, after another agonizing moment; his tone was foreboding.

"Incompetence is unacceptable."

He hated this man – even more than he hated Falcon. The way Sullivan looked at him, it turned his stomach, making him feel like a bug that had soiled the man's shoes. Why was it that Falcon – the criminal, the murderer – had acknowledged Zach's youth and the injustice there?

'Do you even eat, kid?'

'You're young, aren't you? They're always young.'

'You're all children – every last one of you.'

'Our government sure has fallen to an all new low if they have to hire a bunch of kids to do what used to be an adult's job.'

Why had Falcon showed compassion to a bunch of kids? How could someone like that see the truth? And why was Sullivan, the chief of police, incapable of such a thing?

"So, why?" began Sullivan, his voice drawling in a dark lilt. "Why is it you still give me incompetence? You take the state's money and you do nothing to deserve it."

Whoa, wait a minute.

Excuse me?!

"Just a minute," hissed Zach. "Wait just one freakingsecond here," he snarled, glaring at the man. The anger exploded inside his chest, the injustice of everything bursting into fireworks. Before he could stop himself, he shouted, "First of all, I do not 'take' the state's money! They pay me – pennies, by the way; we can't afford anything – to be their stupid hero and sec—"

Sullivan bolted to his feet, his chair slamming against the wall. A crack cut Zach's tirade off, causing his head to blast to the side; he stumbled from the blow. His knee banged into the front of the desk before he could collect his balance. Pain flared up; his eyes watered.

"You will speak to me with respect at all times!" shouted Sullivan, his voice harsh. "Remember your place, One!"

Zach slowly looked at the man; his hand trembled to lift to his face, but he resisted it. There was nothing but disgust and contempt in the man's eyes.

The feeling is mutual.

"You're just a freak of nature," said Sullivan, his piercing words filled with hate. "You're all just a bunch of worthless orphans. You're not normal. You're lucky to have this job. This is the only thing you're good for – remember that."

Well, aren't you just full of it?

You created us orphans. We would've been more than happy to stay with our parents. Instead, you ripped our lives apart and then dare to tell us we're worthless?

Go to Hell.

I'm sure you'll get free admission at the gates.

His cheek throbbed. The man had struck him hard enough to bruise. Wasn't it so convenient there was no one who would question this man about striking a minor? No one would pity the poor little orphan.

"Yes, sir," whispered Zach.

He took a deep breath. He wasn't going to let the man win. Zach wasn't the only one who had shown so called 'incompetence' tonight.

"Sir, why wasn't I told more about Falcon beforehand?" asked Zach, keeping his tone neutral.

Sullivan regarded him for a moment, the disgust still emanating through his stance. The man averted eye contact by a small fraction. "We had no information to give you," he said.

Zach narrowed his eyes. Liar. "Really? The other units fought him, didn't they? Then, they would've reported the same thing. So… Why wasn't I told that Falcon had powers?"

It was subtle. Something inside Sullivan's expression gave it away. Was it smugness? There was the briefest lift of lips.

He's satisfied with something…

An undeniably creepy sensation crawled up Zach's spine. The last of his trust in the man, poor as it was, vanished.

He knew.

The man had known beforehand. Sullivan had purposely left information out. Did he want them to fail? Why was Sullivan purposely sabotaging them? Did he hate them that much?

"Do you have anything else to report?"

He's not even going to acknowledge it.

His body tensed; Zach inhaled. "No, sir."

"Fine. You're dismissed."

"Yes, sir," whispered Zach. He turned, his chest twisting painfully. His steps felt heavy and ominous. The injustice was too strong. As he reached the door, the man called out to him once more.

"Oh, and One?"

Eyes closed in pain. Zach forced himself to turn back. Sullivan had taken his seat; his elbows leaned on the surface of the desk with his hands interlaced together.

"Have your powers returned yet?"

Ice froze his heart. His breath disappeared.

He'd known all along, hadn't he? As Zach met the man's gaze, the truth became clear. Sullivan didn't care about them. He wanted results. He wanted them to do their 'job' and catch criminals. They weren't humans. What they wanted didn't matter.

Sullivan wanted Unit Twelve to fail. He wanted to replace them. If One lost his powers, then a new leader would be required. One was replaceable. Two through Six were replaceable.

Something broke inside Zach's heart.

"No, sir."

"It hasn't escaped my notice," said Sullivan, his eyes narrowing. "You've kept this information to yourself and that's unacceptable. You have a month, One. Regain your powers or else Unit Twelve will be dissolved and assigned new members. Now get out of my sight."

'You have a month.'

Zach fled the room. He leaned against the closed wooden door; he shut his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His cheek throbbed with dull pain.

Time was running out.

A month.

That meant they had until a week into December. They wouldn't even have another Christmas together. Zach dragged his hand over his head, gripping his hair. His fingers tightened into a fist, pulling out a few strands.

Despair flooded his entire being. He squeezed his eyes shut. They burned. He had one month to figure out what to do. He wasn't optimistic; his powers hadn't resurfaced for months. He couldn't depend on them returning.

But they had to come back.

He couldn't lose his family again. Zach couldn't bear to experience yet another family torn from his life. While in some ways, he didn't want these powers, he needed them to come back. This couldn't be the end of his friends.

What would happen to them?

Zach drew on a deep breath. He forced a smile on his face. He wouldn't tell the others. It would ruin what precious time they had left. When the day came, then he would tell them, a smile on his face, and give them strength to keep moving on.

Even if they never saw each other again.

This was his duty, his burden, as their friend, their brother, and their leader.

It was heavy, but he would carry it.

Perhaps, there was a hint of hope, though. New determination flooded his soul. Zach wasn't going to let Falcon escape. He was going to end this, one way or another. He would defeat Falcon. Zach would be there when next the man struck and he would take him down with devastating force. He would come up with the perfect plan to combat the man's special abilities.

Next time, Unit Twelve would not fail.

And perhaps, a little mercy would be shown their way.

Zach strode through the hallway. His thoughts flew in a whirlwind, but his determination was absolute. Once he turned the corner, his friends came into view. Exhaustion was apparent in each face.

Hikaru leapt to her feet, rushing to his side. She stopped; her dark eyes glimmered with a gentle, pained light.

"What is it?" asked Zach.

Her hand lifted to his face. Hikaru touched his cheek; he winced as her gentle fingers touched the tender skin there. A glow illuminated her hand. The pain faded.

"I'm fine," said Zach. "Thank you."

"He hit you," whispered Hikaru. There was a nod. "How could he?" she asked; the betrayal bled through her tone.

He didn't answer her.

"We did our best," said Zach, a cheerful grin brightening his features. He looked at each of them. "Luckily, it's Saturday. We deserve some sleep, so let's go home."

Hope brightened in their countenances.

And that was how Zach would lead them – with a strong, yet forced smile.