“Where the hell am I!” Wanda screamed.
She’d woken in darkness, eyes blindfolded and each limb tightly bound to a chair with chains that bit into her soft skin. Something pressed against her ears leaving her deaf except for the constance ringing driving mad.
“What do you want from me?” Wanda cried to an empty room. It had been around an hour since she woke, long enough for the cold of her restraints to crawl into her flesh causing her to shiver.
“Wha, what's happening,” she asked as the room's temperature dropped suddenly.
The cold seeped into her, first causing staggering pain, then a numbness that foretold of her impending death.
She pleaded for what felt like hours as heat left her body. “Pleeease, I can't die here. My son needs me.”
Her words were cut off as the room suddenly filled with heat. For just a moment, Wanda felt the pleasure of being warmed after a hellishly cold day, then, she felt as if she'd been put into an oven. Each breath hurt more than cold ever had, the heat filling her lungs with fire. No words came this time only screams as sweat evaporates from her skin.
The mercy of unconsciousness came upon her after the 7th minute of heated torture.
Wanda awoke again but this time she was not blindfolded or tied with chains. This time, her restraints were soft black leather attached to the bed she lay in. Instead of being naked, she wore a hospital gown.
“We apologize for the harsh treatment,” said a masculine voice from speakers located around the white empty room.
“Get your ass in here so I can fucking kill you bitch,” Wanda shouted.
Her dark skin was being torn from her frantic attempt to get free. She yanked and jerked with everything she had, determined to free herself. Though a more rational part of her mind knew there was no hope of that happening.
“Calm down Mrs.Wiet. This is about your son, Wade,” said the voice.
“Where's my son,” Wanda bellowed, an image of Wade going through the same hell she had running across her mind. “Where's my fucking son you sick fuck?”
“Jesus Christ, you got a foul mouth,” the voice said in surprise.
Moments after, the entirety of the wall in front of Wanda showed a video of her son using a computer next to a woman in a business suit she'd never met.
Wanda's breathing became so heavy it was nearly a growl, “What is going on?”
“Earlier today your son was found to be a metahuman. As is procedure, we, um, tested his only known parents to see if you were hiding any abilities of your own. We are now sure that you have no such abilities making Wade a first-generation meta if his late father wasn't one too.”
Wanda's defiance dimmed with the understanding of whom she dealt with. It all made sense now. She'd been captured by the MUR men.
“He's a mad scientist isn't he,” Wanda said in a whisper.
“That seems to be the case," the voice said. “On behalf of Metahuman Urban Response, we'd like to offer you our...assistance. Rejecting said assistance would not be within your best interest, ma'am.”
****
The night lay eerily silent. Not one bird or insect could be found in the dense wilderness of the Caribbean Island Mystia found herself on. She’d been tracking a demon, then three, and then fifteen to this clearing. A single house stood amongst the trees, protected from the violent hurricane washing over the land.
Mystia opened the front door slowly with a dozen protection spells ready for whatever caliber of monster waited for her. Once inside, the smell of copper swam up her nose. The lights being off was not a surprise due to the storm, but Mystia could feel the otherworldly presence messing with this world's natural laws.
Adjusting her eyes to the darkness with magic, the hero made her way into the only bedroom in the small house. The room had three former occupants. One was a man with half his head blown off, negating any hopes a demon had of possessing him. The other was a young woman with a giant hole in her stomach. Her face still held the fear and pain she felt as she died at the hands of whatever killed her. The last was a baby, ripped from its mother, dead before its first breath.
The last death sent a pang of shock and gilt through Mystia just before the babe leaped at her.
Its eyes were red and black lines ran across its small body. Before the newborn could strike, Mystia let loose the banishing spell she held ready for this moment. A flash of purple light left her hand striking the child and ripping the demons out harmlessly.
The baby was in her arms before it touched the ground. Mystai then wove a demonic protection spell over what she now saw to be a boy.
“You poor thing,” she whispered to the boy. “I hope you never know what that thing made you do to your parents.”
As Mystia searched for clothing for her new charge, she felt a rumble come from the child she held. Looking down, Mystia's right eye saw its last sight as a tiny hand ripped it from its socket.
In a mixture of pain and panic, she threw the baby and retreated while placing a hand against the wound. She threw four more of the banishings she had ready. One ripped a demon from the baby but the other three detected no such creatures within and faded into nothingness.
“What the hell was that!” Mystai screamed in pain as she crawled over to the baby that cooed next to the dead woman he'd been thrown against. Taking a closer look around her, Mystia saw that more and more demons were arriving, heading straight who she could now see was a girl.
The crimson smoke making up the unbound demons somehow went through the protections Mystia placed on the baby entering her a dozen at a time. Immediately, the infant got on all four limbs like a cat. She charged at Mystia, this time with fire coming from her tiny mouth and horns starting to form on her head and shoulders.
Nine hours later, all the demons were banished and no more seemed to be on the way. Blood now drenched Mystia's uniform, all of it her own. It had taken every ounce of restraint not to just kill the possessed girl instead of defeating every demon as they came. Her right thigh and stomach were badly burned from the several times the possessed babe gained access to hellfire. Several cuts adorned her arms from having to physically block sharp tentacles that sprouted from her back. They’d been too powerful for a normal barrier to stop and too fast to even attempt taking the time to make a stronger one. Mystia's tongue licked a spot where teeth had once been right before the baby got in a solid punch across her face. At the very least, she was happy the strike left her jaw unbroken unlike a pear of ribs on her left side.
Mystai finally picked up the child once more looking at her deeply. She’d made a decision, one that her husband may not agree with. This girl was not normal and she was one of the few people equipped to handle her, unique issues. So she would handle the girl and whatever hell she brought with her.
****
Dreamer was dead. His body lay curled up like an infant, its skin chard black with the smell of cooked meat mixed in with the smoke. His bed, sheets, and clothes had long turned to ash but the faintest flicker of flame still burned in the remains of his skull shining a toothy smile across the burning building.
Dreamer looked away from his corpse to the roof and stepped to the side as most of it collapsed. Red and blue lights flicked through the opening along with the unmistakable roar of a firetruck.
“Fucking hell,” Dreamer sighed shaking his head. “I always thought moms was kidding about the stove.” He looked at his corpse again and smiled, teeth growing larger as his mouth expanded across the inky silhouette of his true body, the one he truly thought of as home. “But at least I don’t need that thing anymore.”
Dreamer never liked the body he was born with. It was short, ugly, and just uncomfortable. The only time he could truly live was when he was asleep, when he was in his true form, the one left behind after being freed from that annoying sack of flesh.
Every day, his power, his kingship was stripped away in place of becoming an 11-year-old child. As soon as his eyes would open, he’d long for The Dreaming, the realm that was his to craft and explore, but his prison of a body needed food and a bath and school and a hundred other things that kept him from The Dreaming.
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Dreamer released a low growl of a laugh as if he were the dragon he’d ridden on minutes before the fire started.
He was finally free of waking, of ever not being his real self. He assumed death would end his dreams, but it had only freed him. Days, months, years, could go by and he’d never have to leave his realm or deal with his-”
“Oh shit! Mom and Dad!” Dreamer blurted out.
They were away on a date, but he couldn’t let them think he was dead, well, truly dead. And running away after a fire was out of the question, but this was a problem Dreamer’s true and now only body could handle.
He reached a hand into his oversized hood, the limb growing more substantial, more real as it moved with purpose. Dreamer’s body solidified, becoming a tall pitch-black figure rimmed with a flickering red outline. His eyes became clear, revealing violet runes in their place that changed as he blinked. He was perfectly real now and so was the foot-long handgun he pulled from nowhere and aimed at his old burning corpse.
“Good fucking riddance,” Dreamer said and pulled the trigger.
A beam flashed from the weapon, striking the pile of bones and ash in an instant. What was left of the body turned the color of gold as well and the crumbling floor beneath it. Within seconds, all that was left was a bubbling mass with a delicious aroma of cheddar filling the air before turning black and smoky as the flames did their work.
Dreamer put his weapons away and headed for the door leading outside. His true form shrank, changing to mirror his old one with short black hair and a frilly dress. It was just as uncomfortable as before, but at least now Dreamer could change back to his true self whenever he wanted.
*******
Quantum hated teleporters, but not the metahuman ones. They were annoying, at least the ones not with Meta Force on the wrong side of the law, but a weak gravitational field was enough to send their powers off course. What Quantum really hated were teleporting machines.
The damned things were easy enough to build. There were dozens all over the world but few thankfully had the hundreds of tons worth of computing power needed to calculate a single jump. Unfortunately, Tartarus had one of these warehouse-sized computers, and teleportation was the only way into the prison meta prison Tartarus.
With a flash of light on a circular platform shimmering with energized circuitry, Quantum appeared bent over with a hand on his mouth as he desperately tried not to retch. His resolve held, and soon his greenish complexion relaxed back to a flawless marble white.
“That’s a hell of a weakness,” said the man sitting backward in a rolling chair.
He wore a lab coat with nothing but a cheap undershirt beneath with torn jeans, all stained with coffee and whatever the mad scientist ate the day before if his newest project didn't make him forget for days at a time.
No one but the inner circle of Meta Force would have recognized Silver Sentinel under his head of greasy hair, sunken eyes, and small stature, not when the meta suit he wore made him a towering giant of a man.
"Can't you fix that?" Quantum said, staggering off the teleporter before righting himself once stepping on the solid black plates of dark metal making up the floor.
Silver looked at his fellow Meta Force leader like an idiot, the same look he gave just about everyone. “You want me to fix physics?”
"I don't know," Quantum said. "Can you?"
Silver's eyes went vacant for the briefest moment before focusing again. "I probably could. If I mirrored the gravitational pull of wherever you're jumping from, your power might not leave you sick.”
"So will you?"
"No," Silver said, deadpan. "Sounds boring."
Quantum strode past his colleague pushing down his irritation. There was no point in arguing with a mad scientist. If they didn't want to do something that wasn't inspiring, nothing would convince them, and forcing the point made even the most harmless ones into villains more often than not. Better to leave the man be and not risk losing his contributions to the MF as most called Meta force.
"So where is she?" Quantum asked with Silver rolling along behind him. Apparently, his chair was motorized.
"Level five," Silver said.
"What!" Quantum shouted, his hair standing up and a few of Silver’s pocket pens flying to the roof as his surprise partially reversed the world's pull. "She's not a villain!"
"You mean meta criminal," Silver said with some snark.
"I don't care what you call them, she's not one of them. Those inmates are monsters, worst of the worst. Why the fuck would place anyone near them?"
Silver shrugged. "Didn't have a choice. Any other cell wouldn’t hold her, not that a level five cell can if she wanted out." He rolled past Quantum into an elevator gestures for him to follow. "She's the one we've been looking for."
"What?"
The ‘you're an idiot’ look appeared back on Silver's face. "She's the one that took down Monstrow, Apex, Fleshmonger, and Void. You've seen her picture. Pink hoodie with a golden star design and gray sweatpants. It's her."
Quantum inhaled a deep breath. The scar running across his back ached at the mention of Apex. His right arm, the one regrown after Monstrow tore it off, tangled and flexed on its own. Void's sinister laugh echoed through his mind. Fleshmonger, Quantum never faced her and after seeing those that did and lived, he felt lucky.
Those metas were more than criminals. They’d torn the world apart without care and some without even a reason. Criminal wasn't enough. Terrorist wasn't either. These metas were without doubt villains and they were all taken down in the midst of battle by a pink blur two years ago.
"Wha, what's her power?" Quantum said stuttering.
He'd come expecting to find a hopefully recruit but now something that could be fear or excitement bubbled in his chest.
Silver raised a hand counting off his finger as they left the elevator and entered Tartarus's fifth floor. "Let’s see, super strength, speed, invulnerability, flight. You know, the whole package but leagues above most, you included, and me in my best armor."
"Its source?" Quantum asked.
His own power came from the manipulation of dark matter but others with his power had existed and each one's source was different. Finding said source was a far better indicator of potential than how many pounds one could lift.
Sliver stopped in his tracks and wore a new excretion Quantum had never seen, one that could have been shame. "I have no fucking clue! I might not be able to draw blood, but I've scanned the girl with everything. In every way I can tell, she's a physically fit 16 to 20 something-year-old. I can't explain how she can fly or why steel gives when she throws a punch or why she glows."
"She glows?" Quantum asked. Silver just shrugged. "Ok, but how did you find her? We've been looking for years."
Silver chuckled. "I didn't find her. She was given to us."
Before Quantum could ask a question, a holographic screen appeared in front of him, moving as he did. It showed one of the Meta Force's embassies each staffed with its own superhero team. Without a flicker or shimmer of light, a man and girl popped into existence.
"Please, I don't want to go!" The girl in pink said. With the enhanced resolution of the Meta Force's cameras, her tears were plain as day to see.
"We're not talking about this again," the man next to her said with a voice trying to be hard but falling into sadness at the end.
His features were a blend of several different peoples. Tanned skinned with a bearded face, Quantum had to admit the man was handsome, but upon closer inspection, the man was young, possibly the same age as the girl.
"Listen," the man continued. "I'm no good for you." He pointed at the Meta Force embassy. "Those corny ass heroes are good for you."
"But," the girl hesitated, holding back a name. "But you're my dad."
The gilt Quantum saw in the man's eye made him want to arrest him right there.
"I can't be," he said. "Not after what I did."
The girl reached out in a blur, tickling the man so hard with a hug, the force cracked nearby windows. And then, a moment later, he was gone, the girl walking into the embassy seconds later.
The hologram vanished as Silver spoke. "Before you ask, I have no idea who that man is."
The two metas finally made it to the cell holding who was probably the most powerful of their kind.
"I'm guessing you've already tried mindreader," Quantum said in a whisper as he saw the girl up close.
On the computer display as large as a double door, the girl sat on a faintly glowing translucent couch drinking something out of a cup with the same features. Her hoodie was pressed down on her skin while her sweatpants were gone, replaced by the ridiculously durable Meta Force leggings for their female members.
The elaborate force field generated furnishings were expensive, easily taking just as much computing power as a teleporter but was necessary for a weighted cell. Even a pin needle weighed several hundred pounds once inside but the girl sipped her beverage with ease.
"She's young, very young," Quantum said. "I know some of us don't age but is she really the one that basically saved the world?"
Quantum's words were filled with disbelief while Silver's were far more curious. "What I want to know is who her father is. She might be stronger than him but that would still place an unknown meta at the very least on our level."
"He was a bad man," the girl said, her voice coming from the monitor's speaker as she looked away from the television in her room.
"What the fuck!" Silver exclaimed. "That cell is air-gapped from the universe!"
"What?" Quantum asked, not taking his eyes off the girl staring into his eyes.
"Not one molecule or radio wave can make it in or out of there. How can she hear us?"
Quantum ignored him. "Do you mean your father?" he asked the girl.
She nodded. "He said he was a bad man and said that I was too good to be around him."
"Was he right?" Quantum asked tentatively.
"Yes," the girl said before changing her mind. "No, I don't know." She hugged herself and began floating. "He wasn't good but never hurt anyone."
Juvenile, that was sense Quantum now had of the girl but that wasn't a bad thing. Whoever had left her was right, Meta Force could show her the way, they had to.
"What's your name?" Quantum asked.
"Starlight," the girl now known as Starlight said. She floated to the edge of the room pressing her fingertips into the wall made of compression metamaterials and magically warded a hundred different ways carving a groove into it with a clench of her fist. "And I want to be a superhero, now please."