CHAPTER 4: FIRST BLOOD

Late That Night – Elliot’s Office

Elliot sat in the dark, the only light coming from the cityscape glowing beyond his window. The successful gathering played in his mind. They’re powerful. Raw, but powerful. And so, so young. Their emotions are volatile—anger, fear, curiosity, pride. It’s a potent, unstable mix. I have to find a way to guide them, to manipulate that energy. They’re childish in their conflicts, yet fierce in their potential. I just have to stay two steps ahead.

The door slid open, and Amy entered, her silhouette framed in the light from the hall. “Sir? The initial biometric and energy readings are off the charts. Their potentials are even higher than the models predicted.”

Elliot didn’t turn. “Good.”

“Sir… how are we going to tell them? About the Totem? About the full scope of why we’re really gathering this kind of power?”

Elliot finally swiveled his chair to face her. His expression was unreadable in the gloom. “We won’t. Not yet. Right now, they need a simple narrative: they are special, they are needed, they have a home and a purpose here. The rest… comes with time and trust.”

The Next Day – Training Grounds

The training sector was a vast, hangar-like space with modular environments. Classy was in a clear area, methodically knocking out push-ups. “24, 25, 26, 27…”

Bryan lounged against a weight rack nearby, munching on a protein bar. “Hey, Classy… want some? They’re not bad.”

Classy didn’t break rhythm. “28, 29, 30… I’m good. Thanks.” He stood up, not even winded.

“So,” Bryan said, through a mouthful, “what are your powers anyway? That earthquake thing was wild.”

Classy looked at his own hands, flexing his fingers. “I think… it’s manipulation of matter at a fundamental level. Rearranging atomic structures. Breaking things down, rebuilding them. You could call it ‘overhaul.’”

Bryan whistled. “That’s not just cool, man. That’s terrifyingly cool.”

Suddenly, a piercing scream tore through the training hall.

“HELP! AHHHHHHH!”

Bryan and Classy exchanged a glance and took off running toward the sound. They rounded a corner to find Emma Akingz backed against a wall, pointing a trembling finger at a combat dummy that had apparently toppled over near him.

Elliot was already there, pinching the bridge of his nose. “For Christ’s sake, Emma, would you calm down? It’s an inanimate object!”

Classy let out an exasperated sigh. “Keep it down, man. You’re going to shatter the windows.”

Bryan approached him carefully. “Chill out, bro. Besides, what’s making you scream this time? I thought you agreed to all this. You wanted in.”

Elliot shot Bryan a look. “Hey, you friends with this jumpy jerk?”

Emma pouted, lowering his finger. “No! I was just… hiding. For tactical reasons! And then this… this freak over here,” he pointed at the dummy again, “fell and startled me!”

Classy rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful. “You know what? I don’t give a damn about you, you feeble biscuit.”

Elliot raised an eyebrow. “‘Feeble biscuit’? Who is this ‘feeble biscuit’?”

Classy’s smirk was icy. “Um. You. And him.” He nodded at Emma.

Elliot’s face darkened. “I think you need to learn some manners, recruit.”

Classy’s stance shifted, ever so slightly. “I think that’s enough ‘manner’ talk for one day.”

Bryan chuckled. “Wow. Tell him how you really feel.”

Emma, forgetting his fear, burst into a short, surprised laugh. “Ha-ha!”

Elliot studied Classy, the anger fading into something more calculating. He took a step closer, his voice dropping. “I know your file, son. I know you haven’t had what anyone would call a family for the past three years. I know it’s been… hard. Isolated.”

The smirk melted from Classy’s face, replaced by a guarded neutrality. He gave a single, tight nod. “Yeah.”

“But you’re here now,” Elliot continued, his tone shifting to something almost paternal. “And here, you’re part of something. That means you’ve got to learn how to be part of a team. And that starts with a baseline of respect. Because if you don’t learn that, no one is going to trust you. And in the field, trust isn’t a feeling—it’s a necessity.”

Classy was silent for a long moment. He looked at the floor, then back at Elliot. He shrugged, the defensive wall lowering a fraction. “I guess so. Sorry… Mr. Boomer.”

Bryan and Emma couldn’t contain it this time. They both burst out laughing. “Ha-ha! Mr. Boomer!”

Elliot groaned, but a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “Well, it’s a start. But my name is Elliot.”

Classy nodded again, more genuinely this time. “Okay. Elliot.”

Bryan grinned, clapping his hands together. “Now that the touchy-feely moment is done, let’s go raid the mess hall. I’m starving again.”

Classy raised an eyebrow at him. “Dude, are you always eating?”

Bryan’s smirk returned, full force. “Not always. Just, you know, six times a day. Gotta fuel the furnace.”

The tension broken, even Elliot let out a short laugh as they all headed for the door, the strange beginnings of a dynamic starting to form.

Bryan’s POV – Later, in the Rec Room

Bryan was scanning the snack selections when a large shadow fell over him. He looked up to see Arnold, one of the head security personnel, a man built like a brick wall with a permanent scowl.

“Hey, nerd,” Arnold grunted.

Bryan leaned back against the vending machine, unfazed. “Hey, beef. What’s the jerky? You look constipated.”

Arnold’s scowl deepened. “Cut the crap. Amy. She’s the issue. And she’s mine. You hear me? You stay away from her.”

Bryan chuckled, a low, mocking sound. “Nah, all I was hearing was ‘bleep, beep, error, error 16, file not found, boom.’ But hey, I gotta be honest—I’m not sure Amy even knows your name, big guy.”

Arnold’s face flushed. “Yeah, she does! And… and it’s more than that.”

Bryan’s eyes glinted with amusement. “And what? You ‘like’ her? Shocking revelation. You puff your chest out every time she walks by.”

Arnold stammered, caught off guard. “I like her because, um, she’s… um…”

Bryan interrupted smoothly, leaning in. “You just want to claim her, like a trophy. Even though everyone’s seen you making eyes at that technician from the motor pool. What’s her name… Stacey?”

Arnold deflated slightly, then bristled with renewed anger. “Okay, smartass. You got me. Why do you like her, huh? You’re always talking to her.”

Bryan’s mocking expression softened, just for a second. He looked away, then back at Arnold, his voice quieter. “You see, I like her because of her smile. It’s real, not like the plastic ones everyone else here gives. I like her stupid jokes that aren’t really funny, but she laughs at them anyway. And when she laughs… she’s just pretty. Not ‘hot.’ Pretty. There’s a difference.”

The raw, unexpected honesty was like a physical blow to Arnold. His jealousy curdled into pure rage. “Ahh, damn you, Bryan!” He lunged, swinging a massive, clumsy fist.

Bryan sidestepped with ease, hooking a foot around Arnold’s ankle. The larger man crashed to the floor with a grunt.

Bryan looked down at him, all traces of softness gone. “You serious about that?” His voice was cold.

Arnold scrambled up, face purple with fury. “Dodging is for losers! Let’s dance, you jerk!”

Bryan’s eyes began to glow, a faint orange light emanating from within, like coals stoked to life. The air around his hands wavered with heat. “You serious?”

Arnold’s eyes went wide, his bravado evaporating as he saw the genuine power coiling in the smaller teenager. “Wait, man! Hold on!”

Bryan’s fiery gaze locked onto him. “Then, since you’re so serious about this dance…”

He raised a hand, a compact, searing fireball beginning to form above his palm. Then, it sputtered and died with a faint puff. The glow faded from his eyes. He stepped forward and tapped Arnold’s forehead with two fingers.

“Let’s talk about how we can not do that, and maybe work on your approach with women instead. It’s seriously lacking.”

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