He shivered and tried pull the covers back over himself, hand scratching over his skin as he looked for the cover, finally waking up enough to realize he was on it. Again. That was going to be very troublesome if he didn't figure that out soon. Perhaps he could buy a power dampener, but those were expensive and wouldn't solve the problem, only delay it.

He clapped, running a small subroutine on his phone. It communicated with the lights, turning them on, while also turning off the alarm and Do Not Disturb. It was one of those many things he discovered while exploring the intricacies of his phone, something he wish other's would try before coming to him with their problems.

He looked at the time. It was ten after six. On a Sunday. Way too early. But it was Sunday. His parents would be home tomorrow, so he only had one day to figure out everything, which wasn't exactly a massive list. Priority went like this: figure out his powers, who gave them to him, and of course, school work he had to get caught up on.

He took a quick shower and scarfed down breakfast while a pot of coffee was brewing. He would need to chug that entire thing if he wanted to make it through today. He shook his head. Six was way too early.

He grabbed the biggest mug, and filled it up, then thought better of it and grabbed the entire pot and sat down at his desk. Remembering the info packet, he opened that up and sifted through it all, looking for anything that might aid in his training. Helpfully, there was a folder called Training, under Services, which linked an entire web of pages, most of them blogs of people who had similar powers, which listed how they got it all under control.

He read through a few of the recounts, then stood up in frustration. It all sounded like some guru bull which he knew would not work for him. He doubted it even worked for those that were 'recounting' their experiences, and they were instead trying to make it sound a bit more glamorous. "Centre yourself", or "feel light, like a butterfly." Yeah, no. He would pass on that.

So, thinking of the only time he'd shifted while awake, he grabbed two thirty-five pound dumbbells and a couch cushion and stood in his room, blinds closed. And, taking a deep breath, eyes shut tight, he let the weights fall from his hands, onto the brittle bones of his feet.

And felt no pain.

He opened his eyes and looked in wonder and morbid fascination at the metal chunks super-imposed on his feet, like Frankenstein's nails but... in his feet. He stepped back, and it felt like a breeze moving through his foot as the weights moved out, raising goose bumps across his entire body. It was the most peculiar feeling, like an itch that you couldn't itch because it was inside your bones.

He lean down to grab the weights and his hand passed through them with another shiver, although this time it had more resistance. He waited a few seconds before trying again, this time being solid enough to grasp it.

Happy it worked, he grabbed the weights and did it again, this time focusing on the change in his body, searching for that twitch or change, whatever it might feel like. It took a few tries before he found where it was happening, then another few before he could grasp it, like a toddler learning how to control a muscle consciously. Even then, it was awkward, like trying to raise one eyebrow but raising them both on accident. In this case, it was like a muscle in the back of his head, and he somehow kept wiggling his ears in trying to tense it.

It would've been funny if it weren't so frustrating.

Gaining some small modicum of control, he tabled more training for later and grabbed another cup of coffee, sitting down once again at his desk, this time to complete the second task; who gave his powers to him.

It really wasn't that difficult, due to lack of diligence on someone's part. He knew he had the accident Wednesday, and it was a lab explosion, like Alexis mentioned. So he searched up "Vancouver News Wednesday Lab Accident", which brought up five articles from that day. Four of them didn't have anything related, but the fifth's heading was "One seriously injured in a lab mishap Wednesday night..." He clicked on that, revealing the full article. "...and currently in healer's hands. But this brings up the question: should there be greater safety measures in place to stop 'accidents' like this from happening? We had one injured, but just imagine it was the middle of the day! There could be many more, and potentially some not returning to their families. Is the lack of backlash simply because the same lab that caused the accident also saved his life with their rejuvenators? We will be launching a further investigation to find out. For now, here's a statement from the company. 'We are deeply sorry for this mistake, and we will be taking greater measures in the future to proactively stop these mistakes.' But is this enough? Will it ever be enough? How long until the people's eyes are opened?"

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

His eyes snapped back to one line in particular, which caught his attention. "..saved his life with their rejuvenators?" He searched up the VMS website, which had a cheesy line at the top of the website. "Vancouver Meta Services. Services for Metas, and Metas for service, we've got you covered." He grunted in amusement at how bad it was.

He clicked on the tab labelled "Services", which brought up a grid of boxes, alphabetically ordered. He brought up the search function and typed in Rejuv, which instantly brought up that box. "The Rejuvenator. A pod used for rapid healing of the body when healers are unavailable or healers simply won't work, this piece of tech reverses the body back to how it was pre-accident, using an insane amount of energy. Designed and crafted by Sevens Corp."

He glanced at the clock. Twenty three minutes and he'd done it, and fifteen of that was reading useless news articles. It really just showed how free information was on the internet, if you just decided to put down some thought into how you went about it.

Now he just wanted to know why he was there, on a weekday, at night. It made absolutely no sense. Maybe it was a bet, or he was going for a run. Who knew? There was probably a camera there recording when he came by, but getting clearance to see that would be hard.

He stood and stretched. Now it was time for some practice with his power then later he'd pay a visit to Sevens' Tower. He walked to the living room and sighed at the mess of pottery and wilted flowers on the ground. He'd cleaned that up, and added a reminder on his phone to pick up a new one. He thought he knew where to get a duplicate, but it might be hopeless. He might just have to say it was an accident.

As he picked up the weights again, he paused for a second, wondering how on Earth this scientifically worked. If it was magic based, he could just wave his hand. But it being science based... it just didn't make sense. His body wasn't becoming the same density as air; he wouldn't be able to move through walls and cars then. And he wasn't losing mass- he still weighed-. He paused that line of thought. Did he still weigh the same amount? It felt like he did.

He went to the bathroom and pulled out the scale and stepped on, then flexed that muscle, and checked if he could pass his hand through the wall. He could, and the weight hadn't changed on the scale.

Maybe the molecules in his body were vibrating or shifting somehow so that they could mesh with other materials, but that seemed like it would have more resistance than what it was, and besides, that didn't explain how he could be part way between.

His final, somewhat unrealistic, sci-fi feeling thought was that his body was linked somewhere else, like to an alternate dimension, and it was shifting the matter between. But that seemed like it would take some sort of energy, something his body probably didn't have.

So he practised, phasing in and out, then walking through things and getting his mind desensitized to the absurdness of it all. He felt like every time he walked through a wall, he should start... he didn't know, have something happen, but he could breathe perfectly fine, and sight was only impaired a bit, like the walls became translucent.

He spent an hour on that, and then tested a few other things, like water, and phasing downwards. Downwards was... interesting. It was like a mental block, that same mental block that told him things weren't supposed to enter his body, that told him stuff he stood on was solid. Or, that his clothes stayed on his body.

They were all mental perceptions of the world, something so subconscious it was hard to detect, and then change with mental will. So, yeah, he fell through the table, and then down through twenty floors into the ground below, where he panicked and the ground slowed him like water, and then shoved him up to the top, where he appeared in a janitorial closet. Panicked, he tried shove at the door, then remembered he could simply phase through it, shocking the poor janitor who was about to open the door. Too phased to think about it deeply, he walked through the guy into the lobby, and went back upstairs.

Hopefully no one saw that. Well, at least one did. Heh. Oops.

He decided to stop practising there, for no reason at all, and instead grabbed his phone and booked an Uber ride to Sevens Tower, ten minutes of being stuck in traffic, and then ten of actual driving.

It was getting close to lunch by the time he got there, so he stopped and grabbed a bite to eat before walking the rest of the way to Sevens Tower, a towering building of almost impossible dimensions. It had a cool spiralling shape, each floor twisted a few degrees, making odd lips and ledges, some which had railings and were obviously meant as a patio. But it kept going upwards. It was one of the tallest buildings in Vancouver, only being superseded by one recently put up, which was one floor taller, at seventy five. But if the rumours were true, what was inside was far more impressive than almost any building in the world. It was close to bomb proof, especially the lab (close, because for the first time ever it leaked and hit someone, himself). Further, the state of the art fabrication machines, designed in house, were constantly being contracted to build impossible designs and the most delicate of machines. But the most impressive, from what he'd heard, were the people.

It was said that some of the best scientists and metas worked in that building, designing and engineering the impossible. They had made breakthroughs in meta science, most notably the prediction of metaphysical storms, which allowed them to predict when large numbers of metas might appear.

And then there was Jason Sevens, the founder of it all. He was a legend among many, somehow making every single of his employees feel valued and wanted. And he had many employees. He was a father, motivational speaker, and advocate for, well, second chances.

And he sold his science for cheap, because he knew it would make the world a better place. He actually succeeded by being generous.