Let me tell you about a catalyst, about evolution wearing human skin, about someone who runs from both sides because neither understands what they really are.

I'm watching two Parallaxers shake hands at a coffee shop when their powers accidentally merge. The barista who can make plants grow and the businessman who controls temperature – their casual contact creating someone who can manipulate biological growth rates through heat regulation. Neither of them notices. They just feel a slight tingle, maybe a momentary dizziness.

But I see it happen. I always see it.

That's my curse – I don't just observe power combinations, I can recreate them. Take Parallaxer abilities and merge them into new forms. BACR calls it "power synthesis." The Displacement Underground calls it "the next evolution." I call it a fucking nightmare, because everyone wants to either study me or use me.

You try sleeping when both the government and the resistance are hunting you. When every powered person you touch could give you a new ability you didn't ask for. When you can feel the combinations building up inside you like a pressure cooker about to explode.

Last week I accidentally merged a guy who could talk to machines with a woman who manipulated emotions. Now I can feel the depression of every broken-down car I pass. Yesterday I brushed against someone who could manipulate gravity and someone who could create forcefields. The resulting power almost tore apart a city block.

I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is...

Actually, no names. Names are dangerous when you're being hunted. The government has Parallaxers who can track people through written words. The resistance has someone who can taste lies. Better to stay anonymous.

Right now I'm in Seattle, or what's left of it after the Event. The coffee shop is my third today – I keep moving, never staying anywhere too long. There's a BACR containment team four blocks away; I can feel their powers like a storm front approaching. The agent who can detect other Parallaxers, the one who can nullify abilities, the tacticals with their enhanced strength and speed.

I check my phone – another message from the Displacement Underground: "We can protect you. Meet us." Yeah, right. Like I'm going to trust the people who tried to kidnap me in Portland. Raylyn Weaver might be fighting the good fight, but some of her people are getting desperate. They see me as a weapon, a way to create an army of multi-powered soldiers.

The barista and businessman leave. Their new combined power fades like an echo, but I've already cataloged it, filed it away with all the others. I can feel them in there, hundreds of possible combinations waiting to be expressed. Some beautiful, some terrible. All dangerous.

That's the thing they don't understand – these powers weren't meant to combine. Each one is tied to the person who manifested it, shaped by their psyche, their needs, their trauma. When I force them together, it's like trying to merge souls. The result is always unstable.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The containment team is getting closer. Three blocks now. I down my coffee and head for the back door, but freeze when I see two people from the Displacement Underground watching the alley. I recognize the woman who can phase through walls and the guy who can create duplicates of himself. Their combined power would let me exist in multiple quantum states simultaneously. Part of me wants to try it.

That's the other problem – the powers are addictive. Each new combination is a rush, a high better than any drug. Sometimes I wake up feeling like a junkie, craving just one more merge, one more synthesis. The power builds and builds until...

A year ago, I almost died when I tried combining too many at once. Seven different abilities, all fighting for control. The resulting explosion put me in a coma for two weeks. When I woke up, BACR was there waiting. They'd built a special containment cell, brought in experts to study me. I escaped, but sometimes I wonder if I should have stayed. At least there I couldn't hurt anyone.

The containment team turns onto my street. Two blocks. In the alley, the Underground operatives are moving closer. I'm running out of options.

That's when I see him – a kid, maybe sixteen, sitting alone at a corner table. He's glowing faintly, new to his powers, probably doesn't even realize he's manifesting. But what I see around him stops me cold.

He's a catalyst, like me. Another power synthesist.

He looks up, meets my eyes. He sees what I am too. For a moment, we just stare at each other, recognizing ourselves like mirrors. Then I feel it – our powers reaching for each other, trying to combine. The resulting synthesis would be... astronomical. Reality-shaking.

The containment team is a block away. The Underground agents are at the back door. I have to choose.

But the kid is shaking his head. He knows what I know – if two catalysts merge powers, there's no telling what would happen. It could make us gods. It could tear reality apart. Better not to find out.

I nod slightly and turn away. Head for the side exit instead. Behind me, I feel the kid's power signature fade as he slips out another door. Smart. Stay hidden. Stay alive.

The containment team bursts into the coffee shop just as I merge the abilities of a speed manipulator I passed this morning with a spatial warper from yesterday. The combination lets me fold space around my movement, covering blocks in microseconds. I'm six streets away before they realize I'm gone.

The Underground agents will track me, of course. BACR will analyze every security camera. But I've gotten good at disappearing. At staying just ahead of everyone who wants to use me.

Sometimes I wonder how many others like me are out there. Other catalysts, hiding their abilities, running from both sides. Maybe we should find each other, build something together. But that would just make us a bigger target. Better to stay scattered, stay hidden.

Still... that kid. The look in his eyes. He understood something I've been fighting for months: our power isn't just synthesis. It's evolution. The ability to merge powers isn't random – it's the next step. Reality trying to create something new.

But evolution is painful. Messy. Not everyone survives the change.

My phone buzzes – another message from the Underground. An alert about BACR movement patterns. A new offer of sanctuary. I delete them all and drop the phone in a trash can. They'll have to do better than that.

I feel the combined powers fade as I walk, but new possibilities are already building. A woman who can manipulate electricity passes me, brushing against a man who can reshape metal. The potential synthesis blazes in my mind – the power to create living machines, to infuse technology with organic properties.

I keep walking. Some combinations are better left unmade.

For now.