…the present.

The clink of a glass bottle woke Evan, having fallen asleep wrapped in a thermal sleeping bag. Waiting for the rebels to sleep first hadn’t worked. Sure, Rowic lay swaddled in his own sleeping bag, but Vihn sat awake at the monitors. His body glistened under the blue light as he swayed back and forth in the rolling chair, right to left, the bottle in his hand clinking hollowly against the console with each pass.

Evan pushed himself up and walked over to Vihn. If overpowering him wasn’t possible, and out sleeping him had failed, maybe talking might work.

The stranger stared blankly at the photo of the blonde in his other hand.

“Do you ever sleep?” Evan asked.

Vihn sniffed. “I might sneak in two hours on a good day.”

Evan studied the monitors. The streets were empty except for neon phantoms of shadows and billboards. “It looks like all the soldiers are gone.”

“Looks that way, but that’s not the case. We only have so many cameras, and they’ve figured out where. They’re hiding in our blind spots and left the cameras operating so we’d think it was safe.”

“If they knew we were here, why wouldn’t they attack right now.”

Vihn shook his head. “They probably don’t know our exact location, or how many of us there are. Rowic’s running a scrambler that tricks their scanners. They could keep busting down every door, but Hazard Station has a tenuous relationship with authority. It’s not worth the risk of provoking a riot. They can wait us out.”

“You know a lot about their tactics,” Evan said in a deliberately inspired tone, hoping to encourage further discussion, see what useful info he could glean. He admittedly realized how forced his inflexion may have sounded. I’m not a master of conversation, he had to remind himself. Not a master of anything really. But it wasn’t the time to wallow in self-doubt.

“I do,” Vihn said. “A few of the members in our cell are ex-enforcers.”

Ex-enforcers? Hard to imagine any enforcer would live long enough in the presence of someone like Vihn.

“So,” Evan asked, “then how do you plan on escaping with me?”

Vihn didn’t speak, he just pointed at a black dot on one of the screens, a smudge that glided past the Moon.

“What’s that?”

“Ad Astra, my airship.”

“The Blood Red Army?”

“Yep.”

“Kind of a dumb name,” Evan said, detecting Vihn’s tone as an internal eyeroll.

Vihn nodded. “Pretentious name, idealistic group. That’s why we keep dying.”

“Is that why you created the Affliction? Thought life would be better with some powers?”

“Life always sucked, and still does. And we didn’t create the Affliction, kid. That’s just propaganda. But why ask me? You won’t believe anything I say.” Vihn’s head swooned. “I guess I probably owe you some answers. No, we didn’t create the Affliction… You know, Andrea loves to talk about this crap, you should really ask her.”

“Who?”

“Our fearless leader. The Ark, some call her.”

“You don’t sound like you’re convinced by her nickname.”

Vihn rolled his head back. “Maybe she’s less of our salvation, and more the queen of idealistic fools.” His vulnerability was bleeding to the surface. Evan devised how to exploit it and open an opportunity for escape.

“You don’t seem to like her much. Why do you follow her?” he asked.

The stranger stayed silent for a moment, and Evan couldn’t tell if it was because of drunkenness or contemplation; perhaps a bit of both mixed with a healthy amount of exhaustion.

Finally, Vihn said, “you ask a lot of questions, kid. What makes you so interested?”

Evan shrugged. “Just seems like you’re following a cause you don’t believe in. Why don’t you just leave them?”

“Can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because...” Vihn’s voice grew taught. “They’re all the family I have… since politicians like your father killed the others.” The photo in his hand crinkled in a tightening grasp.

If only Vihn knew what Evan’s father had done to protect him since the beginning, and how he was the farthest thing from a murderer compared to Vihn. But rather than defend his dad, which Evan doubted would get him anywhere, he tugged on Vihn’s lose emotional threads.

He asked, “was that her in the photo? Your family?”

Vihn shook his head. “That’s Farfa. Ongoing chapter of my life.” He flicked the picture onto the desk.

“Love or something?”

“Something.” Vihn propped his elbows on the desk and rested his chin on his interlaced fingers, dangling the bottle loosely.

Evan sat on the edge of the desk. “Look, man, I don’t know anything about this stuff. But I have someone I care about too, a couple of people, and I need to help them before it’s too late.”

“I have a goal too, kid.”

Evan scoffed. “To ransom me? Try and rally the people against my father? No one will believe you, and he won’t pay.”

Vihn smiled thinly. “I get the feeling that you understand your father less than you realize. No, ransom isn’t the point, not anymore anyway. For years the Feds have been rounding us up, killing us, putting us in jails, enslaving us – all for the greater good of society. When people find out about you, and the lies the Governor has been telling, that might just be the push we need to overturn people like your dad; maybe the whole system will topple with him.”

Evan had always imagined that his powers could threaten his father’s career, but not the Federation all together. Again, being used was the last thing he wanted to be. “I’m not going to be your pawn.”

“Sorry, but in life, you don’t get to choose. Not even kings or queens do. You were born with your role, and I was born with mine. We’re all just guided by an invisible hand, while we cry out for freedom, for a choice, but in the end not mattering enough to even be heard.”

Anger boiled up in Evan. Destiny. No, he wasn’t going to sit by and let people he cared about keep dying because it was meant to be that way. He determined his life now. His emotions must have bled to the surface, because Vihn’s face tightened.

“Alright, kid. This bottle’s set my head straight. Let’s test fate, then.” He let the bottle slip from his fingers. It clinked against the floor and drifted against the chair’s leg, somehow not waking Rowic. “If I wake up and you’re not still here, then I’m wrong and you can call me on my BS.”

Evan opened his mouth to rebuttal but caught his words when he realized that his plan might have worked.

“This might be fun.” Vihn folded his arms and leaned back in the chair. “Hey! If you can challenge destiny, maybe I can too, huh?” He chuckled.

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Evan yanked on his hair victoriously when Vihn finally closed his eyes and began snoring shortly after. Now was Evan’s chance to get away from these psychopaths.

The vault door had no handle or crank. Evan searched for something to open it but found nothing. Instead, he put his hands against the wall next to it, sucked in a deep breath, and fell forward as the whole thing disintegrated at his fingertips. His mind spun, but this time he was ready for it. He allowed himself to breathe a moment, keeping his incapacitated captors within eyesight. Once he’d recovered, he swiped his backpack from the shelves and left through a back exit. His heart leapt as something beeped when he passed through the door, but when he turned back, the rebels still slept. He shook it off and bounded into the night.

The Moon hung lazily above the town. The road was glossed over with the wetness of expired rain. Tiny clouds formed in front of Evan’s lips with each exhale. He hugged the shadows on his way to the tram station, careful not to walk into the Moon’s shining blanket. He wasn’t sure what the Feds would do if they caught him, but he decided to play it safe rather than risk any more drama.

When he saw the tram’s light, he expected to feel a burden lift from him, finally able to wake up from this fever dream and get back to trying to find Ken.

Then a humming came from behind. Evan turned. Bright beams of light sped toward him. He dove out of the way. An armored car swerved in front of him – ‘F.D.P.D.” sprayed across its thick side.

A side door popped open. Two enforcers jumped out.

He stumbled backward and ran down an alley. Something bit his leg. Electricity jolted throughout his entire body. He fell to the ground, twitching from the shock of a stun dart in his thigh.

The two Feds carted Evan inside of the cramped vehicle. He couldn’t get a hold of his thoughts, other than flashes of his friend going through the same situation. The Feds brought him back through the front door of the pub.

At the far side of the room stood the purifier, Joseph Krow, his metal halo floating above his head like an angel’s.

Opposite Krow sat Zachary the bartender, handcuffed to a chair. Bruises clotted his features. A chord stretched from his arm to a heart monitor. The Feds placed Evan in a chair next to him.

Krow held his gauntlet out to Evan’s face, big enough to crush his skull, and read the text that emitted from it. “Evangelos Hendricks Junior, B3-1984, son to Governor Evangelos Hendricks. Missing person’s report filed yesterday at 1800 hours.”

The projection dissipated as he lowered his arm and faced Evan. “The perimeter alarm we placed here was triggered upon your exiting of the pub.” The purifier’s eyes traced Evan. Then locked on his backpack. “I saw this in the back of the pub earlier this evening, held in the back storage room. You were not seen or heard, however.” The purifier studied the back wall. “Separate chamber. Lead walls. Tonal filtration...” His voice trailed.

This is it; he’s going to figure out I’m Afflicted or mistake me for a rebel.

Zachary coughed. “He was just staying at the pub for the night, he came back from the market right after you left.”

Evan looked at the bartender, who didn’t look back.

“Probable.” Krow reached behind the bar. He ripped the shotgun out from behind it. It squished between his fingers, the parts plopping to floor. Then he turned to Zachary. “Possession of firearms is restricted from ‘D’ class personal. Execution is marked as sufficient punishment for your breach of law.”

“What? Leave him alone!” Evan stood in protest. He must have looked like the biggest idiot. Evan, a pool noodle, standing up to King Kong. “The Governor, sent you to find me, right? I’m here, take me home already.”

But Krow kept his eyes locked on Zachary. “If you have any revelations regarding local Afflicted, your sentence may be postponed or modified.”

Zachary held silent.

Evan’s heart raced. How could the bartender be so willing to die without giving up Evan or the others? He could tell Krow everything; Evan's Affliction, the vault, Vihn and Rowic. Was he really going to sacrifice himself to protect them? If that was the case, Evan wasn’t about to let another person die for him. Power radiated from him, cracking the floorboards beneath his feet.

That got Krow’s attention, but nothing changed in those artificial eyes of his.

I’m an idiot.

“Evangelos. Your Affliction is noted.” Krow barely swatted Evan’s shoulder, yet his body crashed back into the chair.

Evan’s spine cracked. He rolled, clawing at the searing pain.

Krow’s gauntlet wrapped around the bartender’s head.

Zachary closed his eyes. “End it.”

Joseph Krow’s grip tightened around Zachary’s skull.

Grunts of anguish ran from Zachary’s mouth.

The feeling of power itched within Evan’s chest. He’s dying because of you, you freaking twig. He cried as the pain in his back held him to the ground.

Zachary’s face turned dark red, and his eyes ran bloodshot. Agony expelled from his lips. The hydraulics of the purifier hissed with increasing pressure.

The floorboards beneath Evan crackled into tiny splinters. Move! He forced himself up. Two stun darts found their way into Evan’s body, and double the pain sent him curling to the ground again. All he could manage was to shout, “What are you doing?”

“Protecting the Federation,” Krow said. His gauntlet cracked through the bartender’s skull; blood spurted over his fingers. Zachary’s shrieking stopped. The lifeless body slumped as the purifier pulled away.

Evan screamed. Tears flooded his eyes. “You killed him! You killed him!” His pain turned to deep hatred. “He didn’t do anything!” He imagined Joseph Krow’s head crushed, too. The atmosphere blazed with heat from Evan’s powers. The stun darts melted.

Krow wiped his gauntlet with a white cloth. “Governor Hendricks’ secondary directive is complete. The primary directive to extract Evangelos Jr. is… compromised.”

Secondary directive? What was the first? To kill…?

The past flooded Evan’s mind. His mother lay on the floor, squirming in her own blood, cursing her son for what he had done. For what he would do now.

“If you want a monster – then here I am,” Evan said. Dust and blood floated into the air, taking him up with it as he envisioned this murderer’s death.

Flecks of the purifier’s skin tore from his cheek. The man’s eyes widened. The halo above his head materialized into a full helmet that hid away face.

Evan floated a foot from the ground. He could feel the deepest threads of reality around him, all of creation in its smallest form; and he was nothing compared to it. His powers torrented out of his control. A gust of force pushed everything and everyone away from Evan.

Krow skidded backward across the floorboards. Panels opened on the sides of his feet, shooting short braces out from them, cracking through the floor, and stabilizing his body while the other Feds tumbled over each other.

The familiar strain of seizure rocked Evan. His body continued in its cataclysm.

The power peeled away parts of the purifier’s helmet around his face, revealing a sliver of Krow's amber eye. A blue glow radiated throughout the lining of his suit. He reared back his gauntlet and thrust it at Evan. Propulsions of circular waves shot from his fist and slammed Evan over the bar and against shelves of liquor. Wood and glass exploded in a shower of alcohol.

Evan sputtered for breath. Heavy pressure wrapped around his chest and back as the liquor rushed down his face.

The Federation soldiers pulled themselves out from under toppled tables and chairs. One soldier shrieked like a child, dangling upside down, blood gushing from his legs which were fused to the wall.

Joseph Krow’s feet unlocked, and he walked toward Evan. “Evangelos, your Affliction is a danger to this nation. Your assault on Federation personal is treason. Execution is marked as sufficient punishment for your breach of law.”

Evan gurgled through blood, unable to speak. His body was numb, and he could barely think. Each beat of his heart matched with the solid steps of the purifier; whose gauntlet ignited again.

Then vines cracked through the back wall and meshed around Evan. The gauntlet fired. The plants ruptured against the blast. Another wave of tendrils ripped through and pulled Evan into the storage room. Gunfire crackled after him. More vines burst from the ground, catching the bullets.

Vihn dashed behind the cover of his plants and flung Evan over his shoulder.

Great lashes of flame spewed from Joseph Krow’s gauntlet, grasping across the vines, and igniting them in plumes of orange, yellow, and black.

Vihn rushed Evan out of the back exit toward a green Jeep, where Rowic sat as the driver. Evan's vision faded, his body twitching.

“Hang in there, kid.” Vihn laid Evan in the backseat of the Jeep. Vihn wiped away the glow in his eyes and jumped into the passenger’s seat.

The vehicle burst forward.

“They killed him, man, they cracked open his head, did you see? Oh god, man!” Rowic cried out.

“They’ll kill us too if you don’t focus on driving!” Vihn cocked the submachine gun he had taken from the dead Feds earlier. He pressed a finger against his ear. “Phoenix, rabbit is running, requesting capture.”

Engines grunted behind the Jeep. Two Federation armored trucks barreled after them. The Jeep swiveled across the pavement out of the town.

A hatch popped open on top of the lead truck, followed by an armed soldier.

Vihn spewed a wild sigh as he leaned out the left window with the submachine gun and fired several bursts. A sharp turn threw Vihn against the window frame. The weapon tumbled from his hands out onto the road.

“Rowic!”

“Hang on-”

The back window cracked as something zipped above Evan’s face, and into Rowic’s shoulder. Crimson splattered across the dashboard. The Jeep swerved again.

“Oh, god!” Rowic slumped against the steering wheel.

Vihn lunged across Rowic’s body and guided the vehicle from the passenger’s seat.

The sky sputtered with the thumping of propellers. The helicopter was back.

Dozens of emotions filtered through Evan’s mind: fear, dread, desperation, and most prominently: anger. He steadied his breath, faced the Federation chopper, and pulled for focus from each corner of his thoughts. Cycles of fury directed his motions. He thrust his right hand at the air, his left-hand gripping onto the seat. A burning sensation shot through his chest.

The flying machine remained unaffected.

He pushed harder to focus. Evan’s vision tunneled, blackness pouring in from the edges of his sight. He could feel the whirl of propellers. Air thrummed against his palm. There was a smell, a deep, musky smell of burning oil. Evan clenched his hand. He could imagine each of the rotating blades in against his fingers. He clenched his fingers into a fist. One of the blades snapped in half, raining shrapnel across the road.

The helicopter spun to the earth like a top and pounded into the lead truck in a blaze of fire. The second truck ramped off the debris and flipped through the air. The gunman flew into the ground as the truck crushed him from above.

“Holy-” Rowic’s voice faded as Evan fell back into the seat.

Muffled sounds rung against his ears.

A shimmering hull of metal descended from the sky. A white light flashed before Evan’s eyes, an angel, welcoming him to the end.