#hcttr1

And, to be honest, they all knew. Every parent of a prodigy child did that at some point, because it was easier to run away from the problem than taking care of it like a decent human being would do with the living creature they had willingly put in this Earth.

Yet, being conscious of that didn’t cause Hugh to feel less mad, because Simon didn’t deserve that.

He was a good person who didn’t deserve to be abandoned by his parents, nor by anyone.

Of course, they wouldn’t have been capable to persuade them to stay, but that wasn’t what all of this was about. If they had been a little more sensitive and had the tiniest bit of humanity in their selfish beings, they wouldn’t have thought about leaving in the first place.

But they did.

They felt the need to do it, they planned it and then, without saying a word, they left.

And that day the house felt overwhelmingly huge, but as time went by, it got smaller and smaller until it returned to its original size again. And their situation shaped itself into a pretty bittersweet life with an established routine, sleeping in the basement of the house just because down here was more cozy than up there, not really sure whether someday they would be kicked out of it because the entire city was nobody’s land and properties got stolen all the time.

However, one of the few positive things about Ace Anarchy’s reign was that services were kind of cheap, perhaps because economy had been slowly collapsing for a while now. Of course, all those services were lousy, but at least they could pay them.

Well.

Georgie and Tamaya could pay them, because they were the ones with jobs, arguing the rest of them were too young.

Maybe Kasumi was too young, but Hugh and Simon weren’t. They were already 14, while Kasumi was only 11.

At least they let them help a little. That is, Georgie always managed (Lord knows how, because getting a legal or even safe job was almost impossible these days) to get jobs in supermarkets or restaurants, but Tamaya’s job was travelling to different cities to sell stuff, from spare parts they had found in dumpsters and managed to turn them into something useful again (that’s what she used to do before moving in to the Westwood house. She didn’t have any help back then, of course) to pieces of chrome…which, obviously, came from Hugh.

Overall, Georgie was very lucky she was so charismatic and likeable. People kept hiring her no matter how much her previous bosses said she was not pleasant to work with. And it’s not that they were telling the truth… it was just that every single time Georgie had been fired from a job, it had been because she had gotten a little too distracted/had talked too much and her co-workers had noticed she was a prodigy.

Which was, obviously, a disgrace to the business, because being a prodigy was an automatic synonym to not being pleasant to work with.

Because of course all prodigies had an Anarchist mindset.

Bullshit.

Shaking that thought out of his head, Hugh took another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

Once again, he realized how stupid it was to tell him he wasn’t allowed to be the one to slam the TV with his fist to get it to work. Simon’s argument was that he was an absolute hothead who would be capable of breaking the TV if he lost control for a minute.

That wasn’t entirely true; Hugh knew how dangerous his powers could be, and he always tried his best to have self-control.

Right now, Tamaya was the one slamming the TV while Simon moved the rabbit ear antenna from one side to the other.

Again, this would’ve been easier if they would just allow Hugh to do it, but they refused to every time, so, at this point, Hugh just decided to stare and wait.

The dancing black and white stripes kept on blocking the screen, and Hugh chuckled.

“You’re doing great.” He said, which caused Tamaya to fix a glare on him, but Simon didn’t even acknowledge him.

It was in that moment that they heard the front door as it opened, and Georgie appeared in the living room. She certainly had looked worse, but that didn’t change the fact this time she looked defeated…to say the least.

She had her hair down, and Hugh figured that, perhaps, her hair band had finally given up in life, given that her hair, besides being beautiful, was very heavy; as for the rest of her body, she also had some scratches and small bruises that were starting to turn purple. She looked like she had gotten into a fight with a stray cat.

“Though day?” Simon smiled at her, without taking his attention off the antenna.

“Yeah. I guess that’s one way to put it.”

Georgie groaned as she threw herself into the sofa, massaging her right foot.

“Too much for a family-friendly supermarket job.” Hugh chuckled, to which Georgie smiled, before getting up again.

She walked barefoot towards the kitchen, in silence, and for a moment the only thing Hugh could hear was her voice saying hi to Kasumi, who probably was coming up with some random dessert they would later force themselves to eat because they couldn’t afford wasting ingredients this way.

Meanwhile, after a relatively strong slam, the TV showed cooperation signs.

Hugh flinched, thinking they probably were going to be able to watch some TV in peace, but once again his plans and thoughts were interrupted, as Georgie stood by the kitchen door with a tired frown and asked:

“Which one of you finished the milk?”

That’s when it hit him.

Right in the face.

And his gaze went down, straight to the bowl full of cereal he was eating. Which, of course, contained the milk Georgie had purposely hidden at the back of the fridge because she liked to have milk and cookies when she came home from work.

“Hugh!”

“I’m so sorry! I completely forgot, I…! “ He covered his mouth with his palm, because he was chewing. “I promise I didn’t…I must’ve…Ugh. I’ll bring another gallon of milk.”

Georgie had both of her hands around her hips. And it’s not like she looked mad (she rarely got bad at people), but she was…tired. Just that.

She looked like a person who had had a tough day and just wanted her microwaved cookies and her milk, but couldn’t have them because some dunce had stolen said milk from her.

“Rude much?” Georgie clicked her tongue. Not even her biggest effort to smile made the gesture look more genuine.

“Do you want my cereal?”

“Eugh.” Georgie rolled her eyes jokingly. “I’m swimming in cereal boxes every day. Please don’t. “

“You should get going, then. Genius.” Tamaya arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s getting late.”

“I’d rather not.” Georgie grimaced, to which Hugh turned towards her immediately.

“Oh, really?”

“No, I mean, you’ll have to bring something to make it up me, but now I want strawberry milk instead of plain milk.”

Hugh couldn’t help but let a nervous chuckle escape his mouth. Like, he knew what strawberry milk was, and he knew Georgie well enough to be aware of the fact she sometimes had it as her breakfast or even as a snack (“snack” in her words, because that wasn’t even a solid food but a beverage instead). But Hugh, himself, had never tasted that thing before.

“Where the heck am I supposed to get that from?”

“Oh! Oh!” Simon clapped his hands together and even jumped a little as if he were asking for permission to speak in a large crowd. “I know where! From the vending machines!”

Vending machines.

Well, that made sense.

But there was a tiny, very tiny extra detail Simon might’ve missed.

“The vending machines from…where?”

“Oh.” Simon tapped his fingers on his chin. “Well…In any vending machine that has beverages you can find, I guess. Uhm…but the vending machines from the subway station are cheaper.”

“You sure know a lot about vending machines, don’t you?” Tamaya tilted her head to the side. “Have these two been slaving you around to get food while we’re not at home?”

“No!” Simon chuckled. “But sometimes that’s where I get my Maltesers from. So…that’s a thing.”

Hugh couldn’t help but smile; sometimes, when Simon had to explain something, anything, he turned into a bundle of nervousness, even if he had been previously upbeat. It was something pretty…adorable, even amusing to watch.

“I could go with you if you want to.” Simon cleared his throat.

“Sure, that would be great!”

“Oh, really?!”

“Yeah, sure!”

“Fiiine, but get going, guys, let’s go!” Tamaya snapped her fingers, to which Georgie chuckled. “What did I just say? It’s getting late.”

Tamaya was so bossy it was annoying sometimes, but Hugh refused to blame her only because he knew where she was coming from; although she wasn’t living in a deplorable condition anymore, the damage was already done, so she was extremely paranoid about everything, to say the least.

So, before she could get any angrier, Hugh took another spoonful of cereal (He would have to apologize to Georgie once again when they came back, because she even massaged her temples when she saw him eating cereal that contained her milk) and reached for his hoodie and his false glasses, while Simon went downstairs to bring his scarf and his beanie.

A couple of seconds later, they were outside the house, heading towards the closest subway station, which was more or less 30 minutes away by foot (They could’ve gotten in a bus or a taxi, but Georgie and Tamaya considered that an unnecessary waste of money).

(Easy for them to say. They could fly).

On the other hand, he was with Simon, so he couldn’t complain.

Simon always managed to make everything less horrible, and he didn’t even have to try.

Not for Hugh, at least.

In fact, he had to try so little that even walking next to him made that half an hour feel less monotonous, with all that small talk and little comments about the city, like “Look, Hugh, there’s a bird there! Why is there a bird on a lamppost at night?” or “Do you think Tamaya would get mad if I buy her a hot dog? She says she’s never tried them because they’re expensive.”

It’s just that….

Simon had something.

Something that caused Hugh to get madder at his parents for abandoning him every time he thought about it.

Simon deserved better.

And Hugh expected to someday be able to make it up to him.

That was his job as his best friend.

-.-

Upon arriving to the subway station, it was very noticeable they had arrived just in time for the last peak hour, which at least for them made perfect sense because it sort of coincided with Georgie’s schedule.

Since they were surrounded by so many people, Simon grabbed Hugh by the fabric of his hoodie.

And it was odd, to say the least, because Simon was supposed to be the one to lead the way (he knew where to find the vending machines). On the other hand, he knew Simon wasn’t that big of a fan of crowded spaces, so he just followed his instructions until they got close to one of the trains.

There, against the wall, was a vending machine which, even if it looked kind of rusty, did look better than nothing at all.

Once they were in front of it, looking through the glass, Hugh found the strawberry milk, which was located at the bottom of the machine, alongside the other beverages. It was also, indeed, cheaper than he had expected, to the point they wouldn’t need to use a bill to pay for it.

“Do you have change?” He asked Simon.

In response, his friend took his hand into his pocket and then provided Hugh with some coins, which he then put inside the machine and proceeded to introduce the code for the strawberry milk.

They stared at the machine as the circular started, just like two small children would stare at their favorite cartoon in the TV; they stared as the lock started spinning, slowly, as if they had all the time in the world.

And it spun, and spun, ant it stopped.

And the milk didn’t fall.

Hugh scoffed.

“What a scam. “

“Uhm. Weird. This never happened to me before. We should go look for another vending machine.”

Simon straightened his back, with the intention to start walking, but as soon as he noticed Hugh remained in the same position, he asked:

“You coming or what?”

Hugh stared at his reflection on the glass. Then, his attention was drawn back to his own reflection and, consequently, at the stuck strawberry milk.

And Hugh smiled, because he knew what to do.

“Naw.” He said.

“Stars, Hugh.” Simon got closer to him again. Hugh could hear resignation in his voice, but at the same time nervousness.

“Just… don’t go too hard on it, will you? We’re in public.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be careful.”

He waited until the lady who was passing by was far from their sight (probably already inside the wagon) and it was then that Hugh cracked his knuckles, grabbed the machine by each side and shook it as if it didn’t weigh a pound.

When you were a prodigy, every time you used your powers you could feel something like a spark burning inside of you. It was terrifying when you were still getting used to it, but once you came into terms with the fact this was just another part of you, it felt incredible.

Hugh liked to believe that was what freedom felt like, and he loved it.

Sadly, it also stopped him from being capable to control his powers; so, just like Simon (and himself too…a little) expected, he went a little bit overboard. Suddenly, the bottom of the vending machine was full of junk food, and carton drinks.

Right in front of their eyes.

In a crowded room where, fortunately, everybody was too busy minding their own business to notice.

Simon, however, was gawking. A dark veil of utter, ruthless terror decorating his face.

“….Holy smokes, Hugh.”

And, against all odds, Hugh laughed.

Just because he didn’t know what else he should do.

“Isn’t it cool?”

“BRO! Like…It’s…It’s noooot (???)” Simon started cackling, although Hugh could feel the panic flowing out of him.

The take-out port, overflowing with stuff, appeared to be staring back at them, waiting for any of the two to come up with a quick solution before somebody could actually notice.

“Hugh.” Simon said, already shaking a little. “What do we do, Hugh?”

“Ssssh. Relax.” Hugh laughed, wrapping an arm around Simon’s neck.

In response, for some reason, Simon lowered his head, as if he were trying to hide among his scarf like a turtle. He was pale, and got even paler when a pair of men in suits passed by, chatting with each other.

“Ohmygodwhatdowedo?”

“Heeeeey.” Hugh finally let go and pinched his cheek. “We didn’t murder anyone, okay? We’re just gonna take the drugs…”

“DRUGS?!” Simon snapped, before putting his hands against is mouth, so hard it almost sounded like he had slapped himself.

His eyes moved around the place, checking if somebody had noticed.

Because, honestly, if anyone had noticed that, it would’ve been embarrassing.

To his luck, they clearly were still going unnoticed.

“Hey. Breathe.” Hugh smiled, amused, grabbing him by the wrists. “It was only a joke, alright? I’m sorry…I know you’re nervous and I shouldn’t have said that. Just…breathe.”

Simon gulped as he started nodding, slowly as he could. By maintaining his hold, Hugh felt the exact moment when Simon’s pulse steadied, and then he said, way more calm:

“Let’s get this over with. We’re gonna take what we paid for and then we’ll leave…like this never happened. Everything clean. Everything legal. We good?”

“Roger.” Hugh winked and smirked at him; to proceed, he turned around to kneel in front of the vending machine.

Mercilessly, Hugh put his arm inside of the take-out port, while Simon stared everywhere, frantic, as if Hugh were committing a felony and he was in charge to wait at the door and notify him in case he saw cops.

Hugh held the box with his free hand, narrowing his eyes to look inside the port, until he saw a little, pink carton and reached for it, his tongue sticking out his mouth, and resting on his upper lip.

Sure, he promised Simon not to take out anything else, but in the moment he had the opportunity to grab another bag, he took it with no hesitation.

It wasn’t until he was back on his feet that he noticed that what he had taken out besides the strawberry milk, was a bag of dolphin-shaped gummies.

Simon’s face lost tension almost immediately.

“Oh. Kasumi would like those.”

“Welp. You know what Ace Anarchy said.” Hugh faked a heroic pose. “It’s free real es—“

Simon snorted.

“Stop. He never said that.”

“But that’s what he did.” Hugh smiled, as he approached Simon and put the gummy bag inside of his hoodie. “Besides, I don’t’ think anyone will notice.”

“Yeah…” Simon took a deep breath as he scratched the back of his neck. “No one will notice.”

And, for a second, it seemed to Hugh that they weren’t talking about the same thing, making him feel a little confused.

“What’s wrong?” Hugh asked in a slow, soothing voice, trying to get into Simon’s nerves as little as he could.

But Simon flinched anyway.

“O-oh…no…nothing, it’s just…”

His voice went inexistent and, suddenly, Hugh noticed his eyes had gone dark and were fixated on a very specific focal point.

Hugh then followed his gaze, which led to the closest wagon, straight to the men in the gabardines. Hugh arched his eyebrow, perfectly conscious about where Simon’s suspicion was coming from.

“Do you still have change?” He asked him.

Simon nodded and, after paying for their tickets, Hugh’s tickets, they climbed on the train.

-.-

For a while, everything seemed calm. That is, if they didn’t want to count the suffocating cigarette smell emanating from the men’s clothes.

But, well, that wasn’t that suspicious on its own whatsoever. Perhaps a little annoying, but not suspicious, and when they were met with nothing but the regular monotony of a subway trip, Hugh started to think that they might’ve gotten the wrong idea.

Until then the power went off at plain sight, and the train stopped.

Just like that.

The indistinct chatter started in a blink; confused and annoyed passengers started asking each other what on Earth was happening; why was the power gone; why had they stopped.

That’s when Hugh felt the person next to him moving.

One of the men in gabardines.

He said something. His voice hoarse and low, almost as if he were speaking like that to hide his real tone and pitch.

“Everybody calm down. I’m gonna go check what’s wrong.”

Sure you will.

Once his eyes got used to the darkness, Hugh managed to see the other man, sitting right in front of Simon (although he didn’t know that. In fact, nobody knew Simon was here, not even the cashier) as he got up to follow his peer, all the way through the cabin, in silence.

If they were out of power, it meant that the doors would stay shut closed until the unit was provided with electricity again, but they had no time to loose, so in the moment he managed to see Simon appear out of nowhere and nod at him, Hugh rushed towards one of the doors to open them by force.

In Hugh’s experience, that wasn’t very difficult. On the contrary, the difficult part of the process was being able to do it quietly. Because, in addition, in the very moment the passengers noticed there was something wrong, their chatter stopped; it vanished into thin air, so there was nothing to suffocate the sounds of the gates being forced open.

“Do I evacuate them?” A voice without a body filled his ears, and Hugh’s tired lungs felt relaxed for a bit.

A little bit, before he had to speak, saying:

“Please be careful.”

“You too.”

That being said, Hugh started walking through the path the two men had previously followed, a little nervous but determined, until he reached the door.

Trying to ignore the background noise, cause by some people refusing to follow Simon’s orders (Hugh sometimes wondered why people felt the need to be so annoyingly stubborn, as if obeying someone who was trying to help them would crush their egos) he pushed the cabin’s door a little.

No movement.

Hugh pushed a little harder.

Still nothing.

He came to the conclusion, then, that it probably had been blocked from the inside, using some type of barricade.

And, well, two could play that game.

Hugh stepped back, maybe a little further than he should’ve had. And, before he could get any remorseful or insecure thoughts, he ran towards the metallic door, hitting it with the side of his body.

Once again, the spark grew bigger and bigger inside of him, and it burned. Hotter and hotter. Faster and faster. Bolder and bolder.

By the time Hugh realized he had gone overboard again, it was too late.

The door was already on the floor, along with the fragment of the train it had been attached to.

When he was in synch with his surroundings again, he noticed that all the eyes in the cabin were on him. On his fortunately hooded face.

At least six different pair of eyes, whose owners had gagged the driver of the cabin and put him aside, in one of the corners of the small control center; cold sweat running down his temples and forehead.

One of the men, who wasn’t wearing a gabardine but was wearing a black balaclava, was the first one to shoot.

The bullet bumped against Hugh’s chest (Sweet rot, what an excellent aim). It caused him, perhaps, barely a little itchiness that could easily be confused with tickles, before falling to the ground; a delicate string of steam coming out of it.

“What the fuck?” The man spoke.

And it seemed like, instead of providing them with a clear clue that wasn’t going to work, it only made them try harder.

First it was a lot of guns pointing at him; then, a lot of small bullets flying towards his body.

Hugh was hit by each one of them, yes, but he still remained unharmed. And the spasm he felt in his lips notified him he was smiling.

Smiling to himself.

Smiling to them.

In retrospect, it shouldn’t have surprised him they went berserk.

Hugh would’ve also been mad if he were a 40 year old man and a 14 year old teenage boy were out powering him.

Now, that could hurt a person’s ego.

Under the enraging realization it was a prodigy who they were against, one of them ran towards Hugh, stamping him against the wall (Well…one of the walls the door hadn’t taken with it). He felt a calloused hand grabbing him by the hair, and…well, it’s not that Hugh knew much about combat (not yet) but he didn’t need to be that smart to recognize this tactic; so, before he could have his head repeatedly slammed against the wall, Hugh pushed his body back with his palms, with such strength the man fell to the ground.

The next one came to him like a furious bull a breath after that.

Their hands interlocked for a second before he joined his partner on the floor, after Hugh purposely pushed him back with all he had. Which, to be honest, was way more than what a regular human being had.

And they remained there, immobile.

Hugh started to wonder whether they were still alive or not, but before he could dive deep into that question he felt the pressure caused by the sudden movement of the train; the lights were still off, but they were moving again…and at full speed.

He tried to think of himself as the heaviest human being that had ever stepped on this Earth; heavy enough that not even something like that could cause him to loose balance.

But even if he put his mind into it, it didn’t work.

Hugh fell to the ground anyway. So fast he didn’t even get the chance to willingly use his powers.

Once he was lying there, the world spun around his head like the dancing cups from Cosmopolis Park.

One station. Another one.

The speed began to decrease, only a little.

And a voice.

The voice.

“CHROMIUM?!”

Simon.

Oh, thank the odds he was okay.

“Warden!”

“Who the fuck is he talking to?!”

“Someone….Someone’s changing the direction of the rails! We’re gonna crash against a dead end, you must get out of there!”

Hugh tried to get back on his feet, stumbling. It was hard to breathe, as he was still recovering from the sudden exposition to that much speed.

“DID YOU GET THEM ALL OUT?!”

“Err…n-not quite.”

Hugh waited for him to say something, anything, but after that one last line, all he got was silence. Hugh knew why. He really did.

“THEY WOULDN’T LISTEN! I TRIED TO….I-I TRIED TO…! “

“Doesn’t matter. It’s not your fault.” Hugh finally found the balance he, for some reason, thought had lost forever.

There was no time.

“Hold on to me now!”

Another shower of bullets followed them, trying to hit the invisible voice Hugh talked to with so much familiarity. When he felt a human body with more or less half his corporal mass trying to climb on his back, Hugh breathed again.

He was okay.

He was alive.

He was okay.

He was still here.

“Here we go.” Hugh said under his breath.

A kick on the main door, which at the same time hit the person who was in charge of guarding it.

A leap, in a strangely correct moment.

Simon’s weigh off his back.

The dead end right before his eyes.

His legs giving all they had to run after the train.

His palms on the boiling hot machine. The vibrations of the engine against the sensitive skin of his hands.

His feet against the irregular ground with the rails, clinging on them like a child would cling on their old blanket.

The sweat rolling down his face, just like it rolled down that man’s face.

A spark.

Here we go.

The hoodie on his head.

What freedom felt like.

What being able to be a prodigy without being killed felt like.

A spark, and then a flame.

Then electric power that ran through his veins along with his blood.

Blinding. Powerful. Fearless.

His hands penetrating the train. Metal against metal.

His feet making holes in the ground.

The sound of the engine that refused to go off.

The wave of dread falling onto his shoulders like a rock the size of a planet.

A cry of war.

Exhaustion.

And…

Arms.

Trembling, insecure arms around him.

Around his body.

Around everything he was.

The familiar smell of mint and…home.

Him.

Him who deserved better.

Him that, for all Hugh cared, would not die tonight.

Another cry of war. His insides bursting into flames.

His legs, strong as ever, moving.

His arms, strong as ever, pushing.

A shrill, violent and turbulent riddle.

The smoke coming out from the engine.

The engine that, once and for all, had gone quiet.

Hugh felt his clothes against his damp body, breathing heavily, as he felt the still shaky, invisible hand over his shoulder.

“Y-you know…You know what Ace Anarchy said…” Simon’s weak and broken voice filled his ears. “If it’s going against you, break it.”

A tired, yet genuine chuckle escaped Hugh as he watched the monstrous, immobile vehicle in front of him.

“Sure as fuck he didn’t say that.”

“But that’s what he did.”

The smoke started to drift apart from his vision, and he felt…peaceful, almost numb.

He was already thinking about another stupid joke that would’ve easily gotten both of them killed, when he heard someone clearing their throat.

His head followed the direction of the sound and, even if he couldn’t see Simon, he figured he had done that too.

Right there, on a bench inside the station, there was a girl. Dark skin, coily hair, huge dark eyes, dressed in shorts, tennis shoes and a blue skin-tight shirt one could’ve used to practice gymnastics.

She was young.

Very young.

From what Hugh could calculate, she was even younger than Kasumi.

“Hi.” Hugh greeted, still short of breath.

“Hello.” The kid tilted her head to the side, shifting her legs into a butterfly position.

Needless to say, Hugh was already creeped out by her.

He wasn’t one to believe in ghosts or specters, but just by this brief interaction, he was starting to think she was a wandering soul of the subway tunnels.

“Is there…uhm…” Hugh coughed. “Do you need help? Are you injured?”

“No. Not injured.” She said. For a voice so childish, she sounded strangely mature. “I do, however, have a question.”

Hugh blinked. Confused.

“Go ahead, then.” He answered anyway.

Why the fuck was she so calm?

“Thank you.” She cracked her knuckles against her chin, and then went ahead.

“Have you ever listened to the sound of a cork?”

A cork.

Those things fancy and expensive beverages came with instead of a metal or plastic cap. He knew what a cork looked what because he wasn’t stupid, nor did he live beneath a rock.

But he was sure as fuck he had never owned any bottle that came with a cork.

“Uhm…no?”

“It’s this one. “

Staring directly into his eyes, the kid clicked her tongue.

It caused a loud sound.

Almost obnoxiously loud, he dared to say, due to the echoes.

However, Hugh was just starting to think about how to phrase the question “What the fuck has gotten into your head?” in a family-friendly way, when he heard Simon gasp.

He felt his nails in his skin, through the fabric of his hoodie, and it didn’t take Hugh much more to understand Simon was telling him it was time to run.

So they ran as fast as they could, towards the next tunnel, where they both fell to the ground, Hugh covering Simon’s body with his’.

Just in the moment the smell of smoke filled the air.

Just in the moment the deafening “Boom!” echoed in their surroundings, resonating above the deathly and panicking screams of those who were still inside the wagon.

Just in the moment the train exploded right in front of their eyes.

-.-

A very distraught Georgie was waiting for them at the door when they got home. By bus, because walking ended up not being appetizing at all after all that madness.

Simon tried to hand the strawberry milk to her (which surprisingly was still in a pretty good condition) and she accepted it, but she proceeded to hug them as tight as she could, telling them how glad she was they were okay, actions that were repeated by Kasumi and Tamaya (Yes. Tamaya too).

And, again, that was another thing that shouldn’t have surprised Hugh, because the news were everywhere already.

An attack to a train. Dangerous prodigies. Heroic Anarchists.

And no.

By “heroic Anarchists”, they didn’t mean them. Simon and Hugh.

They meant the kid.

A trap.

Of course, that’s all it was.

Hugh covered his eyes in frustration, as Georgie rubbed his back in a soft, motherly way.

“You’re doing your best, darling.” She told him, grabbing his hand with the one she had free. “We all are.”

Hugh stared at the TV. At the horrid images of the subway tunnels and the body count.

Yes, they were doing their best.

All those rumors about a kid that helped control floods; about The Thunderbird that apparently wasn’t as bad as everyone thought and helped poor communities with all she could; about a flying lady that had stopped many robberies and murders from happening; about the prodigy without a body; about the prodigy with super strength.

That’s what everyone thought.

Poor kids, they thought. They’re doing their best.

“…It’s not enough.” Hugh groaned, sniffing. “Sometimes the best is not enough.”

Simon, who was sitting on the carpet next to Kasumi, directed a reassuring smile towards him.

Tired, yet hopeful.

“Perhaps someday it will be.”

Perhaps.

But not today.

-.-

She was standing, firmly, in the middle of the room, her hands laced behind her back, as she heard the shoes walking from one way to another.

Then Ace Anarchy stopped, with a proud grim lighting up his face.

“I must admit I am impressed by your skills.” He said. “The way the situation was handled was outstanding. Flawless. In these type of circumstances, a person must come up with an immediate alternative. One must develop ability to think fast…something you evidently have.”

He chuckled.

“Of course. You are strong, yet you are so young, like your parents. We will be thrilled to have you joining us, Ingrid Thompson.”

Ingrid already knew that. She knew she had succeeded.

But still, when she heard those words being said out loud, she couldn’t help but feel proud.

“Detonator.” She corrected, sure of herself, confident and, once again, validated by Ace Anarchy, who responded with a smile and a solemn bow.

If it’s going against you, break it.

PROLOGUE.

We were one in the beginning. One part of a bigger something. Small human beings in a huge universe.

Then, came light. An enormous, overwhelming beam of light sent by the cosmic forces, which divided us all apart into two different entities: Those who were normal…and those who weren’t.

Abnormal humans born with extra extremities or unexplained capacities; Freaks who were born normal, but then turned different all of a sudden.

Abnormal humans who were detached from society. Revoked from their rights. Neglected. Unwanted. Rejected.

Still, for some unknown reason, they called us prodigies. And we were a part of our own, sad little world, until Ace Anarchy appeared.

He took the lead and raised the voice of his fellow mistreated prodigies. Like those cosmic forces did, Ace Anarchy destroyed the city that had made sure he knew he didn’t belong in, and then rebuilt it as his own.

Ace Anarchy and his Anarchists, who walked with their heads high through the wreckage. Their voices loud and clear. Visionaries. Heroes. Hope.

Hope called themselves the Anarchists.

And so they were hope, until they weren’t.

Until the last plan turned to dust. Until the last resource disappeared into thin air.

Then we were back to the beginning, where there was nothing but a whole universe out there, and we were only an angry little part of it. Prodigies and non-prodigies were living together in misery, and we, prodigies, were pointed at as the ones to blame.

People with extraordinary powers they didn’t ask for, condemned to lives in the streets; abandoned prodigy babies and children who had no other way to survive but look out for themselves because their parents couldn’t take their presence or existence whatsoever.

A city surrounded by poverty, street fights and death. Chaos. Madness. Anarchy.

We called it The Age of Anarchy.

Then came a time in which those extraordinary powers got worse and worse every time a prodigy was born, and their gifts were so unique and noticeable they couldn’t even find protection in the shadows.

A child, who was the first to publicly appear after her parents left her to die at a young age.

An urban legend.

A shadow in the sky. Half-human, half-bird, who was able to touch thunder and lightning, but thunder and lightning weren’t able to touch her.

Nobody knew her face; we only knew her wings that blocked a small fraction of the moonlight. Nobody knew who she was, nor who those parents who had abandoned her were. Most importantly, nobody knew her name.

For that reason, people called her The Thunderbird.

-.-

1: Bound

3 years into the Age of Anarchy…

Georgia Rawles was worried.

In fact, she was more than worried; she was absolutely distraught.

She’d never been this worried her whole life.

The thermometer inside of Simon Westwood’s mouth started making an irritating “beep” sound, which did nothing but worsen the headache that had been building up in her over the course of the last hours. In a careful, almost tender manner, Georgia took the thermometer out of Simon’s mouth, afraid to read the numbers…a fact she wasn’t ashamed to admit.

Simon had coughed so much he said all he could taste in his mouth was metal. That is, his throat was probably bleeding. And maybe she could’ve brighten the mood by saying this whole situation could’ve been so much worse…But Simon was flickering right before their eyes and would even disappear for seconds…or minutes, in the worst scenario. And Simon didn’t flicker unintentionally unless his body was too weak to control his own gift.  

Having this notion, the numbers that the thermometer showed didn’t help.

“He’s really sick.” She announced.

Hugh Everhart flinched a little on his chair, by the other side of the bed. He seemed not to be too surprised about it, but he did seem affected.

Hugh was a prodigy too. Georgia couldn’t quite understand how his powers worked exactly or what the limitations for them were, but as far as she knew, he was the closest thing to an invincible human this world had. He was also super strong and would sometimes joke about having a layer of chrome beneath his skin, which allowed him to fabricate chrome tools or weapons out of nowhere.

Though, Georgia was starting to believe that wasn’t a joke.

And what wasn’t a joke either was the fact Simon and him had been living together longer than she had been living with both of them, so they cared deeply about each other, and Hugh looked extremely tired despite being invincible since Simon had fallen ill like two days ago.

“Has he gotten any better?” Hugh asked, his voice being almost overshadowed by Simon’s sniff.

Georgia wasn’t a nurse, let alone being a doctor (Stars, she was only 12) but even she knew the answer for that was negative, so she shook her head.

“Not really.”

“And if we don’t do something about it he might get worse.” She continued, a sharp pain hitting her in the chest out of pure concern.

“It’s okay, Georgie.” Simon coughed under the sheets. “You don’t have to worry.”

How could a parent be so heartless?

How could they just stay so calm, living their best lives upstairs while their child’s fever got so bad it seemed like his body was trying to self-destruct by boiling itself?

“You can’t ask me that, darling.” She told him, as she took the wet cloth by the nightstand and then placed it on Simon’s forehead.

She then asked Hugh what they should do…something that felt embarrassing for her as a person and for her ego, since she was the oldest in this room. However, she didn’t use words to ask him that, and fortunately Hugh was distressed enough to understand without a verbal explanation.

His answer was as reckless and gut-guided as Georgia expected. What she asked as a question, he took it as a responsibility. Then, he turned into a closed question with only one answer, and when he started putting on his hoodie, she saw nothing but utter determination in his eyes.

“Ask Mr. and Mrs. Westwood to keep the porch light on, in case I return late…I mean, not that they care anyway, but still.” Hugh shrugged.

“If you think you’ll return late…maybe you shouldn’t use the front door at all.” Georgia advised. “I’ll keep the backdoor open for you.”

“Good then.”

“Where’s Hugh going?”

Georgia opened her mouth to explain, but Hugh managed to do it first.

First he got close to the bed; then, he took Simon’s hand as if he were afraid to break it.

“I’m going to bring some medicine for you, so you feel better. Alright?”

Georgia felt hesitation emanating from Simon’s whole being. However, she could also feel he knew he needed that medicine.

And Georgia could fly in case of emergency, but pharmacies weren’t up in the sky, and she didn’t have super strength to defend herself from people twice her size on the ground…and their lives were so sad, that Simon also knew that.

So he just held Hugh’s hand back and, with a sad smile, he said:

“Don’t get killed.”

Hugh returned his smile, frowning in concern.

“I’d like to see them try.”

Afterwards, he left.

A 9 year old following his survival instinct into the messy, shattered, prodigy-hating hole that called itself Gatlon City.

-.-

It was past midnight when Kasumi Hasegawa saw the shadow in the sky. She considered herself lucky she hadn’t missed it, because she had been waiting for it all night. If she happened to just let it pass…that would’ve been a waste of time.

Because, honestly, she had also been tracing it for days now; the time when it appeared; the time when it vanished.

Of course, she had also taken care of some other details, like the fact she wasn’t allowed to leave the dorm past 10:00 PM. For this reason, Kasumi had come up a plan.

She had seen the cool older girls sneak out before pretty easily, as the corridor monitors were usually sleepy and didn’t pay any special attention to anything. She had also tried to calculate which pieces of the floor creaked and which ones didn’t and had practiced her tiptoe walking…just in case.

So when Kasumi saw the shadow, she put her plan into action.

She tiptoed sideways through the halls of the orphanage, making as little sound as possible, terrified enough to stop breathing when she saw anyone dressed in something similar to a nun habit.

As Kasumi expected, she didn’t get caught, but when she felt the night breeze hitting against her skin and through her nostrils, her whole being was shaking, from her head to the toes she had used to sneak out.

And given the fact it had felt like an eternity but actually her escape had only lasted a couple of minutes (like she had planned) she could still see the winged shadow in the distance; further than she would’ve liked, but close enough for her to know where it would land.

These days she flew lower than usual, and her feathers were everywhere. Kasumi was worried she was injured and that was the reason she was losing feathers and flying closer to the ground; the neighbors, on the other side, were enraged.

Kasumi wasn’t.

Actually, she had thought about collecting all those feathers to give them back to her, but she realized it was useless unless this pal was able to stick them back with glue.

But right now she was so…eager, that the remnants of last night’s rain would move to the sides to allow her through.

Kasumi jogged after the shadow, surrounded by the humid and contaminated smell of poor, destroyed Gatlon.

The city looked like something taken straight from one of those scary movies the older kids would force them to watch when they were bored. To Kasumi’s eyes, it looked like it had been built out of grey and black, as if a prodigy that somehow was able to touch colors had decided to build a city with those ones.

The nuns of the orphanage used to tell her she was lucky she had home; somewhere she could just stay instead of being exposed to the ruthless outside world; however, it did seem strange to her that the rest of the kids were able to go outside once in a while, in small field trips or Christmas events or even to go shopping, and overall they looked happy, but when Kasumi asked why they were so committed to make her stay inside, they always answered she was far too young to understand.

Although, from what she could see, sometimes she acted smarter than the older kids despite being only 6 years old. 

But if she had to take something positive out of this, then this positive thing would be that them wanting her to stay inside only made her more excited about Gatlon as…

As a concept, perhaps.

Because, and she wasn’t willing to lie about this: Gatlon was ugly, besides being hostile and cold. And for all Kasumi cared, she could swear it was hurting.

If Gatlon could speak, it would be screaming in pain.

And maybe this time she was actually too young to understand why, but it looked so…mistreated. And sad.

That didn’t make her less excited upon the idea of going outside, but the city could’ve used to be more presentable for the people who lived there.

With that thought in mind, Kasumi kept going as if the shadow in the sky were her own, until it stopped in an area that was close to a local dumpster, on top of a small hill.

There was a barely decent house that looked more like a hovel to Kasumi; the wooden door wasn’t even attached to the structure anymore and, instead, it was now leaned against the outside wall, so the only thing that covered the entrance was a decolored, tasteless curtain.

Trying to decide whether if she regretted this or not, Kasumi walked towards the hovel and crossed the threshold, as silent as she could.

Inside, the view wasn’t much better. It was as cluttered as a hoarder’s house, and very dark, since the only things lighting up the only room in sight (it was a small hovel) were a pair of candles and an old lightbulb from which a warm light emanated.

However, the Thunderbird’s figure was still pretty noticeable, right in front of Kasumi’s eyes, although the only thing she had a clear view of was her back.

The poor girl was leaning forward, hissing; when Kasumi’s eyes got used to the darkness of their surroundings, the reason for this was clear; the spot from which her wings grew was stained with blood, and Kasumi could see a lot of small feather tips peeking among her flesh.

Kasumi grimaced, feeling a sudden itch in her own skin.

The Thunderbird’s wings were probably growing, and it looked as painful as it sounded.

Groaning, the girl placed her hand on her back and scratched it in a pretty aggressive manner, first around her wings; then, when she dared to move towards them, her fingers found one feather that was halfway out and seemed to be annoying her more than it should’ve had.

When Kasumi guessed her intentions, she feared for the worst…and that worst happened anyways, because the Thunderbird took the feather and, mercilessly, pulled it out with a suffocated scream; the black feather didn’t came out clean, as the part she had ripped from her wing was soaked in a dark-red, dense liquid.

Kasumi knew what it was, but at the same time she was disgusted enough to even think about it.

Trying not to gag, she made one step back, even if she didn’t want to leave yet.

Things didn’t go as planned because, soon, her foot found what it seemed to be a very loud candy wrapper and stepped on it. Next thing she knew, was that there were a pair of electric-yellow, alert and dilated eyes staring into the depths of her soul.

Every inch of courage Kasumi had been saving for this moment melted inside of her body, abandoning her as if it had never been there in the first place.

“I…I’m sorry…I-I…I…”

“What are you doing here?” The already terrifying eyes turned bolder as she got up, showing a body that was a good amount of inches taller than Kasumi, and a face staring at her from above. “How did you find me?”

The Thunderbird’s tone made her feel as small as ever. Terrified. Alone; however, her hands managed to find the pockets of her pajamas, and the locket necklace with the broken clasp wrapped itself around her fingers immediately.

When she showed it to girl in front of her, those breathtaking eyes morphed once again, turning into an odd hybrid between confusion and shock, which, at least to Kasumi, were essentially the same thing but at the same time they weren’t.

“You…dropped this the other night.” Kasumi said in a high-pitched voice. “You… you hit one of the Nannies with it. And she put it in her office, so I…recovered it for you.”

The Thunderbird blinked, as she accepted her necklace back, examining it, as if she were trying to discern whether that was her necklace or not.

“You stole it from your Nanny.” She said, more as a confirmation than as a question, which made Kasumi feel guilty, although maybe she shouldn’t have, because she had just taken back an object that didn’t belong to the Nanny in the first place.

But, technically, she was right; she had sneaked in into the office with a key she didn’t have permission to use, looked around the drawers until she found the necklace and took it, again, without permission. That’s why she evaded the topic at all costs and limited herself to say:

“I’m Kasumi.”

The Thunderbird arched her eyebrow sharply, but after a couple of seconds, she tightened her fist around the necklace.

“Tamaya.” She said in a dry tone.

-.-

By this hour, aka already past midnight, the cathedral always smelled like incense. However, in those rare occasions when a very stubborn and specific idea got into Alec’s head, the whole building would be smelling like tea.

This time it was linden tea.

Could’ve been worse. Leroy knew that.

Sometimes it was raspberry tea, and that had such a strong smell it made him dizzy…and that was a lot to say because Leroy was used to strong and even toxic smells.

Maybe it was just the fact he really didn’t like raspberries.

But either way, back to Alec, he wanted him to stop, because sometimes having to deal with him was exhausting.

Right now there was a small cup floating next to him, as Alec refused to face Leroy, staring out the window, his hands laced behind his back; he looked calm, with an almost solemn air at the city he had conquered, standing fiercely in the distance, still illuminated despite a great percentage of its population was supposed to be asleep by now.

Alec took a deep breath and, once again, he didn’t touch his tea, so Leroy straightened his back, in case the image of him just standing there without doing anything would bother him (Alec was really unpredictable sometimes).

“Is there anything I can do for you to make you feel more comfortable…Ace?”

His body went up and down to the rhythm of his breath, but Alec remained unresponsive for a while. At least, until he finally decided to take the cup directly off the air and took a sip from it, slow, barely annoyed by the steam that announced the liquid inside was still very hot to the touch.

“She has already been located, hasn’t she?”

Maybe a regular person…

No.

Maybe another Anarchist would’ve taken the liberty to flinch or even show the minimal anxiety signs, but not Leroy, for the mere reason he knew that showing fear in front of Alec, most of the time, was a double-edged sword.

A risk Leroy was never willing to take because he wasn’t that big of an idiot.

So, for his own sake, he kept a neutral face and posture.

“She has been located.” He confirmed.

“If it is so: Would you be so kind to explain why our offer hasn’t been taken to her yet?”

Alec’s olive eyes found Leroy’s gaze, and he held it instead of lowering his’.

“We were waiting for your orders.”

Alec scoffed in response, before focusing his attention back in the window.

Leroy scratched his own chin, almost hurting a fresh scar with his nails by accident.

“Shall we go look for her?”

“Oh! Look for whom?”

This time, Leroy did flinch as the sound of that disgustingly refined and fake sweet voice filled, invaded, their surroundings.

Honey Harper entered the room as if the floor were a runway, leaving a trace of the cloying odor of her perfume right behind her, penetrating it into Leroy’s clothes (that would take hours to come off).

Her blonde curls bounced in an almost evenly and, for instance, inhuman way around her head, and Leroy had no other choice but to step aside to let her through, because he was not in the mood to have one of her high heel shoes shoved into his foot.

“We’re still looking for the flying chicken, aren’t we?”

Leroy rolled his eyes up to the heavens, but Alec moved his gaze towards her in an almost automatic manner (because he always knew what he was doing. Always). An amused, almost genuine grim glowing in his face as he analyzed her without even having to stare at her from head to toe.

“Queen Bee.” Alec pronounced. “You sure are looking stunning tonight.”

Honey shook her hand in fake modesty, allowing a delicate chuckle to escape her mouth.

“Shall we go look for her, Acey?”

Ugh.

Leroy hated it when she called him like that, and this time it was no exception.

“And who offered you an invitation to the mission? Because I can’t recall that person being me.” Leroy said, under his breath.

“It’s not like I need one. And if I needed one…which, again, I don’t, certainly I wouldn’t accept it from you, my dear Cyanide.”

“That is no way to treat a lady, Cyanide. We better calm down a little, is that alright?” Alec smiled for the first time in the last couple of hours, as he finally took the cup and kept it in his hands, before placing it in the closest nightstand. A sign he was finally cooling down a little.

If they were lucky enough, nobody would have to die tonight.

“You two go ahead.”

But, of course, he had to send him there with Honey Harper. Because Honey Harper was an essential element with all that wiggling around and the irritating “tic, tic, tic” sound her heels made every damn time she took a step.

Absolutely essential.

Necessary.

Where on Earth would they be without her?

“I think it’s about time you stop eating like a rich old man all day, Cyanide. You’re getting fat.” She sang as they walked through the hallway, which caused Leroy to stop, while she kept going with a triumphant smile drawn in her honey-covered lips, inside her own plus-sized body.

She really thought she had won, but in reality Leroy wanted her to walk away so they wouldn’t be standing side by side.

“Good thing it’s a flying chicken what we’re going after.” He said, slowly.

“I can’t hear you, Leroy!”

“You certainly know how to chase after chickens.”

-.-

Hugh could already feel Georgie freaking out and he hadn’t even told her how much money he had spent in Simon’s medicines.

It had been…a lot, to say the least.

If they weren’t willing to notify Simon’s parents, they would have to skip at least two meals before they recovered.

Yet, Hugh didn’t regret it.

He’d rather skip a couple of meals before keeping on neglecting Simon’s health like that.

The moment he closed the drugstore’s door behind him, Hugh put the white bag inside his hoodie, before confirming a couple of times nobody was following or stalking him. As sad and ridiculous as it sounded, carrying medicine in Gatlon’s streets was more dangerous than carrying jewelry.

Ace Anarchy and his Anarchists liked to pretend they were in a more favorable situation now but, at least to Hugh’s eyes, they were still drowning in misery.

And the worst part was that nobody was doing anything to fix it.

Let the prodigies to keep on dying, they said.

Maybe that way Ace Anarchy will have nobody else to keep fighting for and he’ll finally surrender.

Hugh sighed; a sighed that almost turned into a groan, and the he put the hood over his head as he started walking towards the Westwood house direction.

However, not longer than a minute had passed, when he heard the roar of an engine, and a strong breeze hit him right in the face, followed by the feeling of…something hitting his right cheek.

He hissed, annoyed, and when all the smoke and the flying dust dispersed, Hugh finally opened his eyes, only to find a dead bee right by his feet.

The poor little buddy had probably died while trying to sting him.

But…

A bee.

At midnight.

Why would a bee…?

Hugh frowned when realization hit him; he looked back at the car that still speeded in the distance and, somehow, he knew.

Narrowing his yes, he put the hood back on and started running after it, while praying to the odds Georgie still had the situation under control back at home.

-.-

Kasumi had always had the impression that the Thunder—

Tamaya could use a friend.

Meeting her personally did nothing but confirm that.

She really was lonely, because it didn’t take much time for them to get along; in fact, Kasumi had been here less than an hour and she was already braiding Tamaya’s hair, although her body was rigid, as if she were still scared of Kasumi somehow.

Her new acquired friend was just starting to relax when they heard the noise.

It wasn’t a very scary or unknown one, but it was rather loud, so both their faces turned immediately towards the entrance.

A slamming door from a car, Kasumi guessed, and that sent a chill down her spine.

Tamaya, however, got distraught in an almost immediate way.  

She took Kasumi’s hands off her (but not as violently as Kasumi expected) and, for some reason, unbraided her hair and even tousled it a little to made it seem like it hadn’t ever been brushed; then, she grabbed Kasumi by the arm. Her hold was firm and even tight.

“What’s wrong?” Kasumi whined.

“Hide.” Tamaya whispered, already helping her get under the rusty hospital bed she slept in. “Don’t come out until I tell you. They can’t see you near me. They’ll kill you.”

Kasumi stopped breathing, trying to figure out what she meant.

Then, when she saw her feet as she walked away, Kasumi remembered, and a wave of panic invaded her.

She had forgotten to tell Tamaya she was a prodigy too.

But right now it was too late, so Kasumi stayed there, trying to obey, and trying to ignore the fact she was seeing every type of bugs walking next to her, and even rats.

“My, my.” Kasumi heard a feminine voice. Sweet and melodious, almost as if the person who owned it were trying to sing her words instead of uttering them. “What a shithole.”

Stars. What a vocabulary.

“And you live under these conditions?”

Kasumi tried to find Tamaya, but the only thing she could see were her feet.

“Is there… Anything I can help you with, Queen Bee? Cy…Cyanide?”

She covered her mouth with her hands. She had met Queen Bee before, but not Cyanide. However, Kasumi barely remembered her, as that had happened like two years ago, when she had come into the orphanage, leading a brigade of Anarchists to provide them with some supplies. Nevertheless, one vivid memory Kasumi had of her, was that she wasn’t the kindest person somebody would have the pleasure to meet.

“Well, as for helping me… I don’t think so, sweetie. I don’t suppose you have any non-toxic tea or any type of non-toxic beverage, right? …of course you don’t.”

“Classy.” This time there was a masculine, boring voice.

“Cyanide, if you’re gonna insult me in front of the kid you might as well be more useful if you wait in the car.”

“Naw. I’m good.”

“Y-yeah but…Uhm…Unfortunately, I don’t have anything to offer you at the moment but…”

“Not even a chair, as far as I’m concerned.”

Tamaya went silent, and Kasumi couldn’t help but feel some sort of sympathy or second-hand embarrassment.

“…I happen not no live under the best conditions, as you….already pointed out. But, if….if I may be helpful for something I…”

“Well.” Queen Bee chuckled. “It’s not that I think you will be helpful for something, but for some reason our leader does. So, congratulations, Thunderbird. You’ve been chosen by Ace Anarchy.”

Her whole being went cold. Kasumi was conscious the city was ruled by Ace Anarchy and a group of …semi-evil (to Kasumi’s perception) prodigies. Now, that was something that perhaps she was actually too young to understand, but she thought they weren’t doing a very good job. Hence, she didn’t understand why there were still running the city.

She had to do something.

She finally had a friend of her own, that would maybe allow her to stay here instead of forcing her back into the orphanage where she would be forced to remain locked up again all the time. Kasumi couldn’t allow her become evil like the rest of them.

But then Tamaya spoke, and Kasumi realized she had never, ever felt so relieved.

“…Oh.” She hesitated. “I…It’s a flattering offer. But I think I’m….good.”

Queen Bee let out a shrill, mocking laugh.

“Sweetheart. I could give you a lot of adjectives for this place you dare to call your home and, trust me, ‘good’ doesn’t make it into that list. Just pack your things and let’s get going.”

“If I may add…”

“No, you may not, Cyanide. I do the talking and you do…whatever thing you’re doing right there. Let’s go, Demon Bird. Ace is waiting for us.”

“I…I really don’t want to.” Tamaya dared to say.

And, thanks to the odds, her voice became bolder, just like her eyes when she first stared at Kasumi and doubted she could trust her.

“You can’t make me.”

“Oh, but we can. Who do you think we are?”

“Queen Bee and Cyanide, and you work for Ace Anarchy.” Tamaya’s voice was unsteady and a little shaky, but she was strong, still. “And Ace Anarchy said… t-that…you can’t force prodigies to do anything they don’t want to do. And I don’t want to do this.”

“Clever. You’re educated for a person who lives in a pigsty like this one. But you still have a long way to go; don’t get me wrong, you’re clever, like I said…but at the same time you’re so obnoxiously dumb it makes me wanna punch you. Cyanide, is it wrong to punch a child?”

“Illegal, maybe.”

“Well, I don’t fucking care. I’m part of the law.”

With that being said, the uncomfortable sounds of the night and the voices that were way more full of rage as seconds went by, were replaced by static.

Buzzing.

Bees, Kasumi realized.

“I hope you’re not allergic to bees because, if you are, it’s over for you.”

And, somehow, Kasumi knew that this time she definitely had to do something. Anything.

And that “anything” was clear when she remembered she was her own weapon. So, before she could regret it, Kasumi peeked half her body out.

Cyanide saw her, but for some reason he didn’t say anything. He just stepped back when he saw the decent-sized wave that appeared out of nowhere and slapped Queen Bee right by the side of her body, so hard she even lost control of the army of bees she was aiming at Tamaya and would’ve fallen straight to the ground if Cyanide hadn’t caught her.

For a moment, she seemed shocked, and she even looked kind of funny all soaked and confused, while Kasumi stayed there, watching as her vision became a blur due to the effort.

She had never used her powers this way. She barely used them on purpose and now, somehow, she was exhausted.

Tamaya ran towards her and helped her up, protecting her with her own body; she then went into attack mode, her wings fully displayed in order to cover any sign of Kasumi’s presence… and a physical, flickering….piece? of lightning appeared in her right hand, fierce and terrifying.

And as Queen Bee’s battle cry filled the room, the only thing Kasumi paid attention to was a calm, reassuring:

“You are not to touch her.”

Kasumi saw the bees rushing towards them in slow motion, followed by the electric-yellow light ending with each one of them. Time moved slow, waiting for any of them to lose, while Kasumi held tight to the fabric of Tamaya’s shirt.

Then, steps.

Then, a voice.

A voice that delivered the most unexpected, almost comical message.

“There’s a car rolling down the hill. Is anyone here the owner?”

Queen Bee, with her whole makeup completely melted thanks to the wave Kasumi had thrown at her, fixed the most deathly glare towards Cyanide, who was staring at the person by the door, with his eyes wide open.

Which, Kasumi supposed, was the closest thing to a horror expression he would ever show.

“DO YOU HAVE SHIT INSIDE YOUR SKULL, YOU FUCKING RADIOACTIVE DUNCE?!”

“Must’ve been the hand brake.”

“YOU DRIVE A MANUAL! DO YOU THINK I’M DUMB LIKE YOU OR WHAT?!”

“If you think a car having a hand brake depends on whether it is a manual or an automatic, then yes. I think you’re insufferably, utterly, du—“

“GO CATCH THE FUCKING CAR! I FUCKING HATE CHILDREN, GODDAMN!”

And then, just like that, she left.

No.

She stormed towards the outside, hitting the person standing by the door on purpose…although for some reason, Kasumi could see her massaging her own arm afterwards, as if bumping against him had been really painful.

Cyanide took a deep breath, before putting his hands inside his pockets.

“We will inform Ace about your decision. You don’t need to worry about that. It was an offer, not a decree.” He simply said, before joining Queen Bee outside.

Before, somehow, disappearing into the night. A fact they were certain about when the echoes of their verbal fight became so distant they couldn’t even be heard anymore.

Once they reassured they were alone, Tamaya took a really deep breath and, for a millisecond, Kasumi saw her tilting to the side, to which the boy in the door caught her, just like Cyanide had caught Queen Bee a few moments ago.

“You’re…very strong.” Kasumi said, as she imagined that, due to her wings, Tamaya had to weigh at least the same as a person twice her size.

“You were the one who pushed their car.” Tamaya sniffed. She looked really pale, almost sick. “You’re dumb. They’re gonna kill us.”

“Kay’, first of all: You’re welcome.” He groaned. “Second of all: I’m Hugh. And my friend Georgia says you fly like you’re trying to break your spine, which means you’re the dumber one out of us two.”

Hugh (Kasumi wanted to believe he hadn’t lied about his name) helped Tamaya to walk towards the bed and, then, he helped her sit on it.

Kasumi rushed by her side immediately and, out of pure instinct, hugged her as tight as he could. So tight she could feel her breath, her throbbing heartbeat, and her trembling arms as she hugged her back.

“This place is awful.” Hugh said…but not in a hurtful tone like Queen Bee had done, but rather in an almost sympathetic one, as if he were actually concerned for what he was seeing. “Don’t you have anywhere else to go? Somewhere cleaner? You could get sick… and medicine is expensive.”

Kasumi stared at Tamaya, who stared back at her and dedicated her a half-smile, with the intention of assuring her, maybe, that they had each other now. Everything was going to be alright.

“We’re good.” Tamaya said. “We just need to clean it up a bit. We’re…we’re fine.”

Hugh looked around once again, gulping. And this time he did look almost disgusted.

Still not shallow, but disgusted.

“I don’t think so.” He stated. “Simon’s parents don’t care that much about who’s in the house, and Georgie still has space in her bed.”

Nor Tamaya or Kasumi seemed to understand what he was saying, but then Hugh cleared his throat and, without stuttering or hesitating, he said: