Chapter Six: RealityGo to chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 On most Sunday afternoons, I'd be relaxing on the couch, letting the sunshine stream down on me as I curled up with a good book, or I'd be playing outside in the sun. Today, I was trying to get everyone around me to shut up as I waited for what might be my only chance to break out of mutant prison. Not the ordinary, evening-news kind of mutant prison that looks like any other maximum-security place except with neuroscramblers and HSA-trained guards, but something that had obviously once been a research facility, and was probably in violation of half a dozen laws besides the kidnappings they'd perpetrated to get us all here. To deal with the situation, I'd been keeping myself permanently in fearless leader mode. It took a lot of effort, but paid off, as nobody else in the cells was doing it. There were three cells, ten people each, nearly full with the arrival of our group. I was fortunate enough to be in the middle cell with most of the team; Power and Soul were to our right, closer to the monitoring room and front door, while I'd never heard of anyone in the cell to our left, but through conversation had made contact with their spokesman, a guy named Ross with a deep bass voice and a plan for escape better than our previous "wait for Soul to do something." Everybody was unnaturally quiet in my cell, because I was trying to concentrate, so the other two tried to cover for us with loud jokes and conversations. Rick even wedged himself halfway through the door before one of the guards kicked him back inside. I was in the far corner, lying down, already obscured by Space and Time sitting in front of me, waiting for the moment that might come and might not. One of the neuroscramblers had broken down, and it was being checked for repairs. Fortunately, someone in Ross's cell was versed in neuroscrambler design (I didn't ask where he got his information), and soon everyone knew that this particular model was likely to put a surge through the system when it came back online. For once, Soul's luck had nothing to do with it, and the surge came, flickering the neuroscrambler system off for only an instant. Half a dozen mutants went crazy, in all three cells, as they felt their abilities come back to them and then gone before they knew they were there. The guards leveled their weapons, and everybody shut up. Fortunately, they never thought of taking a headcount. I was gone. You see, I've never been particularly attached to the body of Alex Brene. I've given myself so many small tweaks over the years to get to a body I'm happy to be in that I'm not sure what my original state was. When the power flickered, I did the only thing that would circumvent the neuroscramblers and the guards at the same time: transformed myself into air. Without a brain or eyes, I was running on autopilot, based on what the expert in the next cell had told me about the neuroscramblers' machinery and my knowledge of their locations. I'd warned everyone that I was a shapeshifter, so nobody was alarmed when writing on the wall of our cell appeared saying "Going well, don't say anything". Where I had been laying was a bundle of darts, which Timothy threw at each of the neuroscramblers in turn; each sank soundlessly into the device as it reached its target, turning back into air. Now that I knew the position of all the scramblers (since of course I knew where my own body was), I could get to work. I spread my mass out along the ceiling as an extra layer of tiles, then once I had had a chance to drift through into the scramblers as convenient air molecules, I added mass inside them until they broke off the wall they were mounted on, breaking their power lines and undoubtedly tripping alarms in the control room. Without the support of forward-thinking mutants among the prisoners, the guards would have recaptured us then and there. But because we'd spread the word, everyone was trained not to make any sign that their powers had been restored. The only exceptions were the handful that suddenly regained critical senses (like Time, who gave an involuntary yelp as his sight was restored to him), and Ross and Rick, who set to work immediately. By the time the guards arrived a few seconds later, there was a wall of energy in front of the cell doors and the wall between Ross's cell and mine had crumbled into dust. I attempted to return to human form, but as the guards opened fire on me I thought better of it and became a horde of bouncing metal balls. While the guards were shielding themselves, Rick turned off his field while I bounced inside, then flicked it back on; I was quickly back to normal in my old position, my center of mass close enough to allow me to become something as compact as a human, albeit with a good deal of pain. When I mention the pain involved in shifting form, people assume that it's painful to have your body be dissolved before your eyes and reformed into something entirely different. It's not, of course, because by the time your body is dissolved, you no longer have the human-specific pain circuitry to feel it. What hurts is increasing my total mass. It's a kind of pain that the English language doesn't have words to describe because normal people never experience tapping into the energy inherent in space, absorbing it into themselves as mass, and then displacing existing objects with it. I'm probably not justified in calling it painful in the first place, since I can't feel pain while I'm transforming, but rest assured that it's an extremely unpleasant sensation. Decreasing my mass, now that's the ordinary kind of painful - like chopping a finger off and having it instantly cauterized. So anyway, there I was, back into Alex Brene's body, ready to break out of prison, knowing I had to get twenty-six mutants out of the complex before they could set the scramblers on us again, or just shoot us down. A little more weight on my shoulders than usual, but nothing I couldn't handle. It was like I'd done this before - and maybe I had, many times, rehearsing it in my mind until I had everything perfect. "Nobody move! Ross, get that wall!" I barked, and Ross pushed through the mutants in my cell to get to the wall dividing us from Power, Soul, and the six who shared a chamber with them. Ross, hearing that there was a bonafide leader with the inmates, had immediately offered his services because he knew they would be useful. He had some kind of connection with the entropy of things about him, could slow it down or speed it up at will. The concrete dividing wall was at least a foot thick, but within five seconds it had started to crack and chip, and crumbled down within twice that. One girl, who had been leaning against that wall, leaped back in surprise. I had no time for marvelling at others' powers, so I shifted my gaze to the next cell over. "Power, we need your hel--" He cut me off rudely. "I'll keep them busy," he said as he turned away and towards the guards, who were attempting to bring in some weaponry more effective than the darts which were simply disintegrated by his field. The field disappeared, Power picked up a middle-aged man still paralyzed with fear by his collar and threw him towards what used to be the wall between our cells, and turned his hands into flamethrowers. I hope he doesn't kill them, I thought, but that wasn't a decision I could influence anyway. "Everyone, quiet please! We don't have much time," I yelled over what was rapidly becoming a cacophony of confused people, some holding others back from stopping Rick's savage assault on his captors. Timothy, catching my cue, quieted everyone down and riveted their attention on me. It was time for my speech. "Hello, fellow mutants. I'm Reality, leader of Team Infinity. My team and I" -- I gestured at the rest of the team, who had gotten into formation behind me, including Soul -- "could be the reason you're here in the first place, but even if we aren't, we're going to get you out. All you have to do is move quickly and follow directions. "Now, has anyone here used their mutant powers to attack someone?" Plenty of people raised their hands. Too many. So I improvised. "Anyone here a mentalist, or ever fought a mentalist?" Just my team, Mercury from the Olympians, and a girl from Rick's cell who shyly identified herself as Tina. "Right. We know they've got a mentalist on their side. Tina, your job is to keep track of him. If he goes after us, goes to inform his superior, anything." She nodded, biting her lip. "Ross, take down the wall opposite the guards. It's the outside wall of the building." He was already working. "All right, everyone. Our destination is the garage and the main gate, all the way across the complex. We'll stop by the testing chambers to pick up whoever's in there, and leave. No missions of revenge will be tolerated. "Those of you who aren't confident about using your powers in a safe, predictable, nonlethal manner, don't try to help. My team has the situation well in hand." I paused, then added, "Relax. We do this sort of thing all the time." A little white lie to help morale couldn't hurt, I figured. As the wall crumbled, the building shook and pieces of charred ceiling tile flew at us. Power didn't wait to get close to me, but just yelled over the head of the crowd: "I'm out of tricks. We have to move fast!" I just nodded my head, letting the challenge to my authority slide. The wall was gone, its ruins exploded in a brilliant flash of light at a gesture from Power, and we started running. "If you can't keep up, have someone carry you!" I called over my shoulder. Guards were already pouring out of the buildings, spurring my refugees with andrenaline and fear. Power drew energy into himself for a moment, then unleashed a laser from his fingertips, burning the guns out of the hands of the nearest set of guards as he ran with us. A tug at my shirt, and Jill had caught up to me. "Electrical power is coming from that way," she said, pointing to a squat, separately fenced building off to our right. "Anyone good at destroying power generators?" I asked to the mob behind me. An affirmative shout was a stroke of luck on our part. I didn't care what this guy's power was, I cared about the confusion that removing electricity from the complex that I'd heard belonged to a Colonel Laskin would get me. "Space, you protect him. Get moving!" She took off in the direction I pointed, one hand dragging her companion along and the other fixing her hair. Ahh, how I love having someone around who followed orders and did them well. I dispatched Time, Ross, and Brandy to rescue whoever was having tests conducted on them at the moment. Brandy, a telemarketer with a sunny disposition, was completely unused to this kind of work, but I figured her flexible exoskeleton and superhuman strength might come in handy. Power was, as usual, busy delivering near-fatal energy and sound blasts to any guards he could find, and was consequently dragging a little behind the group. That left me, Mind, Soul, and Tina as mutants who could conceivably be useful in a fight. We'd barely passed the next building in the complex before Tina yelled out a warning, then gasped for breath and fell to her knees under a mental assault from Laskin's resident mentalist. "Faster!" I yelled to everyone, and prepared to hand over the reins to Soul and somehow find and incapacitate our new adversary without the benefit of a human brain, but Timothy laid a hand on my shoulder, stopping us in the middle of our ragtag band, still surging forward. "I can handle this," he said. With a smile, he added, "Yes, I'm sure. I'm a lot better than I was last time, I promise." I nodded and let him go. He stood over Tina, feet planted firmly in the ground, eyes closed, one hand on her shoulder. "Power! Mind's going after their mentalist. Protect him!" He nodded and switched his focus to a sniper peeking out from the edge of a building, whom he promptly flattened with a lightning bolt. I derived a certain pleasure from being able to order him around again, I'll admit, but for this kind of brute force work, he really was the best man for the job. I would have been a fool not to use him, and he a fool not to cooperate; it was the best chance he had of saving his own skin. An explosion, inside the building that had housed the testing chambers. The team I had dispatched came back, Brandy carrying one unconscious mutant over each shoulder and Ross covering himself with a sheet of metal that he strengthened against enemy fire with his power. Time gave me the thumbs-up sign, glasses on, before turning and catching a dart aimed for him out of the air, then throwing it back. Ross knew where he was going, and scurried directly to the garage. An electrical fire rose from my other direction, the power generator behind me. Space and her companion were successful, but had their hands up to a squad of guards. I nodded at her, allowing her to use her last-resort option. Maybe she caught my eye, maybe not, but I was pleased that she chose the fastest way of getting out of trouble. To one side of the guards a locomotive appeared from her gateway, ran them down, and raced right back into the gateway to be reused. They hurried to rejoin us. We reached the garage, whose door locks Ross made short work of. Only a few government-issue vehicles hotwired later (one man was obviously a car thief before he was picked up, but knew we weren't about to turn him over to the "authorities" here), we were on our way out the main door. Soul had the brilliant idea of finding a map inside the glove compartment of our staff car, then sending everyone in different directions before dropping their passengers off. I thanked Ross and the rest of my non-team helpers, told them how to contact us over email, and sent them packing. My car contained only my team, so it was of course the last to leave. With a flash from Soul, one of Power's sound wave blasts toppled some nearby trees, crushing the gate just as we rolled through. Guards fired at us as we made our escape, of course, and although they were considerably better shots than that type are in the movies and comic books, it didn't really matter, as Space collected all their darts handily into her gateway. Mission accomplished. My first big command, a rousing success - what with the abundance of people to carry others who'd been wounded, we had not a single casualty and caused a good deal of property damage to Laskin's base. If Laskin was his real name, of course. Frankly, it was thrilling, and it had every right to be. We returned to our homes surprised to find that our parents hadn't been wondering where we were. In fact, the mentalist Mind had fought was apparently a master of illusion: we all had different excuses, all very reputable. My parents weren't home, as usual, but a message had been left on our answering machine informing them that I was in fact playing Laertes in a school production of Hamlet and would be spending my entire day at school with the rest of the cast. Behind every cloud there is a silver lining, I suppose, and that bit of humor served to lighten my mood a bit after the trials of the last week. * * * * I wished I could talk to someone about this sort of thing. My parents were both career people, and as such were almost never home when I was, or if they were, they weren't interested in going through someone else's problems after their day at work. We slept in the same house and they paid my allowance, but that was about it, these days. Of course I loved them, but I couldn't exactly start telling them everything, especially since I didn't want my mom to be worrying that I was getting myself into trouble as a mutant vigilante. Having to keep quiet about her son being a mutant was already hard enough on her. That left my friends. I had plenty that were good for normal stuff, but not this. So I called up Lia, and she came over to my house and watched Smoke Signals (she said I had to see that movie, and I would rather have engaging conversation about movies than nothing at all), and we talked about life being a mutant, particularly a powerful mutant. There's a special weight that she felt on her shoulders, just as I did, the kind that officials in the State Department get - there's nothing quite like knowing that you have more power invested in you than any man should have, and you don't have the superhuman judgment to go along with it. We're both rather sober people, unless I'm forcing myself to be funny, and I think that has something to do with it. We kept in touch over Instant Messager for the next couple weeks, since we didn't have any classes together at school. I always greeted her when we passed in the halls with a smile and a greeting of "Feeling lucky?" which served as a good indicator of her mood: she would respond with anything from a glare to a smile to a cheery reply of "No!" At night we'd discuss things that only the late hour and the impersonal nature of IM would make possible. Not just being a mutant, but being a high-schooler as well. I learned (sworn to secrecy, of course) that she really wasn't sure about her relationship with Rick. The way she explained it, she didn't exactly think he was the be-all and end-all of guys, but he practically worshiped her. I knew that much - it was obvious on his face, when he forgot to be dark and stoic - and so I was able to explain his behavior to her when she gave me the proper context. Rick felt the need to protect those he loved, an impulse much older than the fantasy novels he'd learned it from, and would rather take the small consolation of being around Lia than risk rejection. Lia expressed surprise that Rick and I should be so compatible in thinking and yet bitter enemies. It took me the better part of an hour, from midnight to 1 AM, to explain that the two of us weren't really enemies at all. It was Reality that Rick couldn't stand, because he hated all authorities put directly over him and because I had more skill than he, but Alex was just fine. I did not mention that I feared Reality, and not Alex, to be the real me. Lia had taught me in bits and pieces what it meant to be a follower, and I thought I was ready to try it. Unfortunately, there was no one available to step up to leadership of the team, and so I settled for learning what I could of how the other side lived. Over the days, it became increasingly apparent that Lia's parents were suspicious of her activities. They weren't thrilled at the idea of her having a boyfriend at all, and because she tended to be secretive and shy, they started covertly monitoring her activities. From the bits they managed to overhear or read, they thought they divulged that Lia had been in a relationship with both Rick and I at one point or possibly both at once. And so they panicked. She was sent to her room when she got home after the team meeting that Tuesday, and called me. Somehow they had discovered that I was a mutant, although they weren't sure what, exactly, I did, except have their daughter over to my house with other strange boys once a week. I thought it over. Timothy was the obvious asset: with his sterling reputation and silver tongue, no mental powers might be necessary. But I had to come, since I was the mutant freak Lia'd been hanging out with, and all three of us would be too much. Also, I admit a certain fondness for being right and displaying that fact dramatically, and the truth is almost always right. So I drove over alone, and because it was Lia, I arrived just as Lia was beginning to confront her parents. Mr. Chin was in favor of slamming the door in my face, but Mrs. Chin's hospitality and Lia's evident surprise to see me won out. "I wonder if I could have a word with you?" I asked. "Lia has told me some of what you told her, and as it is with anything you try to piece together without knowing the pattern from the start, in some things you are right and in some you are wrong." Mr. Chin opened his mouth to speak, irritated at my wordiness, but I plowed ahead. "I have indeed had several extensive conversations with Lia here, but no more than she would have with, say, her friend Becky. If we seem a little too familiar, well, we spend a lot of time talking to each other, and plenty of time beyond that practicing together as part of the team." Nothing about Rick, Lia would have to speak for herself, except where it concerned me. It wasn't working. A little more bluntness. "Mr. and Mrs. Chin, I'm telling you this because I think you can be trusted with my secret." I paused a little to let that sink in; they would pay attention to the next few sentences, and those would get them hooked for the real thing. "You were right that I am a mutant. By how we reckon such things, I'm quite a powerful one. In fact, I lead a team of six mutants from John Hancock High. When there are criminals that need to be stopped, especially mutant ones, we try to get there before anyone gets hurt, take care of business, and leave before the police get there. We train our powers and our teamwork skills at my house every Tuesday night." Mrs. Chin was the obstinate one this time. "What does that have to do with you and Lia?" I swallowed and shot a glance at Lia, who was looking away. She'd opened up in the time she'd been at Hancock, but around her parents she was still the same shrinking violet I remembered from September. Perhaps a good thing, in retrospect. "Lia is part of my team, part of Team Infinity, one of our greatest assets. In fact, her test results came back from the HSA last night. She's the tenth most powerful mutant in the United States, Mrs. Chin." I kept my voice as serious as possible, and I think she believed me, because she'd always wanted to believe that her little girl was better than all the others on her block. If she had to be a mutant to have incontrovertible proof of that, for her that was not too high a price to pay. Mr. Chin was a different matter, demanding proof. He had a quite different suspicion when I spun my story, that it was simply an elaborate lie designed to convince him that Lia should be allowed to get in trouble without his knowledge and approval, a story too convenient for the two of us to be true. I said quietly, "You might want to sit down," and when he had (albeit grudgingly), I turned myself into Lia as best I could. I surprised even myself with my skill - of course I could do Lia, I'd spent enough time around her to know how she carried herself, and besides that, I'd taken the time to memorize the smaller body, face, and voice features of every team member in that part of my memory that was reserved for the shapes of things I could turn into. But the clothes I had expected to be a problem, as the looser the clothing, the more difficult it was to associate with the rest of my body; apparently my practice had paid off. Both parents were open-mouthed, and Lia gasped a little to see their reaction. I quickly transformed back into my normal form, except with a purple shirt (Lia's favorite color) instead of the red one I had been wearing when we entered. "The official name for someone like me is a metamorph," I explained. "A shapeshifter. I can change my physical form to anything, or anyone, I wish. While it comes in handy for just about any circumstance, I can't hope to match the area of effect, speed, or breadth of scope of Lia's power." Here I looked at her. She'd been practicing her part, just in case. "I get lucky." She took a coin out of her pocket and said, "Call it, Mom." Her mother shrugged and said, "Heads." She flipped the coin and, sure enough, it was heads. The second time, she called tails, and it was tails. Mr. Chin called "Edge" and it landed on its edge, which set him back on his haunches for a moment, so she turned to me. "Alex? Care to call it?" "All three," I responded with a vicious grin. Smiling back, she flipped the coin. It landed on the edge of a coffee cup and with the tiniest bit of a flash from Lia's seat, the center of the coin popped out from its edge in three pieces. One piece landed heads up, one tails up, the circular edge section landed on its side, and the extra piece splashed into Mr. Chin's coffee. The two of us allowed the two of them to digest that for a moment; it was an easy task, given that the result had surprised the two of us as well. Back to seriousness, Lia concluded, "The more random something is, the easier it is to change. I don't do it consciously, I just turn on my power and good things happen. For example, let's try that coin trick again." I called all three, but she slipped a little when flipping the coin, and it landed square in my left eye. I winced, we both laughed, and she said with an unusual twinkle in her eye, "That's what you get for asking the impossible." I declined to comment that the coin had struck my face with the tails side pointing outward and eventually landed on the floor heads up. Two-thirds there, with a completely different method. That's what made Soul so powerful: she was never the same twice. All things considered, the Chin family took the news very well. It's one thing to shun those dangerous troublemaking mutants, quite another when your daughter is foremost among them. They'd heard enough scientific studies to know that Lia couldn't help being who she was, only try to hold her power in check, which she assured her parents she was already doing. However, I think Mrs. Chin will be keeping a sharp eye on her for the next few weeks to watch for any strange flashes of light. We didn't tell them that the flashes were merely a psychological byproduct of tweaking probabilities and energy levels, a little of her power "leaking out" from its intended source. Already they weren't as bright as we remembered them, and with enough training, only the mightiest exertions of Lia's abilities would trigger a flash. She was dangerous enough when she didn't know what she was doing, but now that she can control at least when she does things and we can't tell, she really deserves her #10 spot. It's good to have a friend who you can tell practically everything. When that friend just happens to be your claim to fame among the mutant community, it gives your ego a bit too much of a boost, I think. In fact, as we spent time together, tossing out theories about how our powers worked and the real potential of our fellow team members, I thought of a couple very scary ideas indeed. But that is not my story to tell, it is hers. * * * * LiveJournal user -=34GL3_3Y3=- [Ben] wrote on 2003-01-23: Feeling depressed lately. Today was not a good day, and tomorrow isn't going to be a good day either. I guess it's my curse to know that unless something really unforeseen occurs, tomorrow is going to suck exactly as much as I expect it will. I'm going to wake up late, rush to school, find I've forgotten to write my English paper, and spend the rest of the day sulking until I get a chance to trip Dave up as he rushes by me in the hall after sixth period. Actually, depending on circumstances, Dave may not get tripped and he'll just get mad at me, and my day will go downhill from there. You'd think that this would create an interesting time-related paradox. For instance, how can I forget to do the English paper when I know I'll have forgotten to do the English paper tomorrow morning? Haven't I just been reminded of it? Well, my vision doesn't let me see every eventuality, of course. The likelihood of me simply hanging around on LJ for another hour, then cheerfully going to bed and waking up with all thought of the paper driven from my mind, is quite high at the moment. So bleh. In other news, should I ask Kristin to the Valentine's dance? She'll probably say no. She doesn't even know I exist outside of the chemistry lab, for Pete's sake. But she is one of the most beautiful girls I've ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on, and I'm sure I could get Sarah or Timothy to give me a quick heads-up on basic facts about her friends so I don't feel like a total fool. There's really no reason not to, except that if I do, she'll say no and never speak to me again. I don't like playing for this kind of stakes. She's important to me, and because my whole outlook will be shifted depending on whether I ask her or not and how she answers, my precognitive abilities can't give me a helping hand. It's impolite to stare, although I probably do that too much, just trying to get a sense for the kind of person she is by looking into her past. I'm a harmless geek, anyway. Maybe I will ask her after all, just to get the whole thing over with. Wish me luck! |