THREE

Dread mixed with relief.

Zach drew in a long steadying breath. From one devil to another. While Drake had been hoping for this, he'd much rather have gone home after school. He exhaled, strength and determination rising in his heart. He raised his hand, standing up from his chair. He slipped the phone into his pocket.

"I need to go to the principal's office, sir," said Zach. He made a discreet motion, tapping two fingers on his forearm. The teacher nodded, his lips curling in disgust as if he'd been flipped a rude gesture. Zach grabbed his bag and rushed to the door.

Ungrateful—

"Hey, Bennet," said a feminine voice, in a mocking, sing song tone.

Zach paused, his hand gripping the handle. His chest rose. He glanced back. Tiffany Mayfield grinned at him, twirling a strand of her long curly brown hair. She parted her painted lips, her lip gloss glistening. She leaned forward on her desk, her blouse revealing the cleavage of her large breasts. It was obvious she was playing it up, trying to act seductive – as if she wanted him to see what he'd never be able to get.

Zach was just nauseated by it.

"Tell my uncle I say hello," said Mayfield, letting out a snide chuckle as she looked at the other classmates. They joined her in laughing. Her current boyfriend, Travis Novak, barked his laughter. She gave Zach a wave with her fingers. "Better not be late, right? He really doesn't like that."

More laughter.

Gritting his teeth, Zach fled the room. He took long strides through the hallway, keeping his chin erect. He avoided all eye contact with any stranglers. He took the same path he'd taken countless times before. He entered an older hallway, one less used, just as Hikaru turned a different corner. She smiled at him, but the usual brilliance in her eyes didn't shine. Silence was their companion; this was routine. They reached an old, out of use janitorial closet. Zach opened the door. The other four were waiting inside.

"Hurry and shut the door," said Drake. It closed behind them and the lock clicked into place.

"Where's the sheet?" asked Zach, all business. He was supplied with a white sheet, which was hung as a divider within the small room. The girls disappeared behind one side, leaving the three boys on the other side.

"And you doubted that I'd be saved from my test, Sev," said Drake with an excited grin. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside. "Miracles do happen – I swear, there has to be a God!"

"You'll still have to make it up later," said Sevati from the other side of the sheet. Pure smugness oozed from her tone. "Your 'miracle' has a funny sense of humor. That's karma for you."

"Wait, what?" said Drake, pausing as he took off his shoes. He looked up, his eyebrows furrowing. "I have to take it later?"

"You thought otherwise?" said Sevati, sounding amused.

"Ugh! Sev, don't ruin it for me!"

"And are you sure you should be swearing on your God? Doesn't sound respectful to me."

"Oh, shut up."

"I wasn't even paying attention in class," said Zach, his mouth twitching in a small grin. "I hope I didn't miss anything important."

"You were supposed to pay attention," said Hikaru, the lilt in her voice rising upward.

Zach chuckled, shaking his head. He glanced over at Jacob, noticing the increasing discoloration around his eye. The boy would need some ice when they got home. He ruffled Jacob's hair, giving him a smile. He received one in return. Zach tugged his t-shirt off and dug inside his backpack for his black, skin tight shirt.

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The room was crowded with the six of them changing their clothes. The first time they had done this, it'd been awkward for the two genders to dress in the same room. The second time, they had gotten the sheet.

Now they were a well practiced machine.

"Well, I, for one, would've rather have stayed in class," said Hikaru, her voice taking on a lofty tone. "If we keep missing, we're going to start failing our classes."

"Only you care about failing," said Brielle, sounding bitter.

"I care about grades, too, you know," commented Sevati dryly.

"Grades are important if we want to—"

"Look, we all know there's nothing more we're gonna do with our lives," snapped Brielle. "This is it. So, just stop pretending like school will do us any favors. Good grades are useless to us. We're not normal."

The small room fell in silence. Zach didn't have an answer nor any words of comfort. As usual… How can I do more for them? I don't know what to say anymore.

Helpless.

His voice was locked.

Brielle was right. More than likely, they would be doing this for the rest of their lives – if they even managed to live past the age of twenty. They would probably always have to change in a closet – as if they were criminals, as if they were something to be ashamed of, as if they were something to hide. It wasn't like they could get a real job.

Powers were considered dangerous, after all.

Thus, being employed by the government was the only way to survive. Not like we have a choice. Though, a better description for 'employed' would've been contained and controlled. Unfortunately, it didn't pay well. Why would it? There wasn't any competition. There wasn't anyone to argue the fact. There wasn't anyone to advocate for them.

They were orphans. They had powerful gifts. They were abnormal.

They were different.

Zach slipped the black mask over his face. It completely encased the back of his head – hiding his bright auburn hair – along with half of his face, only revealing his two crystal blue eyes. All six of them had the same mask to hide their identity. Because Hikaru and Sevati had long hair, they took the time to wrap it into buns. The back of the mask kept the hair in place and hidden from sight.

Eight minutes was all it took for them to dress.

They tended to wear the black pants of their suit underneath their normal clothes, but it wasn't as simple with the long sleeved shirt. Each suit was exactly the same. The material for the suit had been designed specifically for them. It was bulletproof, but at close range it could still do damage. From an observer, it appeared seamless. The only visible skin on all of them were their mouths and noses; the rest was covered in the material.

Their uniforms were completely black, with no color, save for the blazon red number residing on each of their backs, which told their unit number and rank. Finally, there was a red badge that authenticated their unit status, which was stamped at the center of their chest.

They weren't a selection of people working together as a team for a common cause. No, they were a unit, a set, a collection, required to follow and obey orders without question. They were numbered. They had no special names. Even though they worked like a team, they couldn't be called as such, because it wasn't 'protocol.'

They were Unit Twelve.

12:1 – that was Zach's number. He was the leader. That was why he was called One.

But he hated it. He hated what it meant; he hated what it stood for; he hated everything about it.

But he had no choice but to bear that number.

For three years, they had been drilled with this concept: they were nothing more than a number. For three years, they had been trained to be a powerful force to be reckoned with – at such young ages, too. For three years, they weren't allowed to be children. For three years, they had no choice in what they wanted to do or be.

They weren't supposed to be friends. That was against the 'rules.'

When thirteen year old Zach had been put in charge of five others – youngest age nine, eldest age fourteen – this mentality hadn't been as ingrained into their minds. Perhaps, they were flawed in comparison to the other units.

In the end, they hadn't cared.

They were a family; they were more than a team. They'd had no one else. There were no adults to take care of them. There were no parents. Once their training had been completed, they had been left with a thirteen year old to lead them, to oversee them both in the field and at home.

No one mentioned that children needed more than a leader. No one mentioned that they needed more than instructions and rules. They needed a parent, someone who loved and cared for them. No one taught Zach how to be a parent, but he tried his best anyway – they all did. No one helped any of them, so they helped each other. Once their unit became functional, they were nothing more than a unit.

They were just 'heroes' hired and trained by the government. It seemed like a high position, yet it was the lowest one of all. Their powers were 'gifts' to the world; thus, this was the only way they could contribute to society.

Well, that was what they were told.

The truth was a different answer.

Branded with a number, our freedom stolen…

Zach slipped his black gloves over his hands. With a determined nod, he took a deep breath. "Time to go," he said, opening the door and leading the way.

Let's do this.