Super Genetics

Somewhere in East Topeka, a hundred feet underground, sat Tinker in his makeshift lair. When he had first been assigned to East Topeka over a year ago, he knew he had drawn the short stick. At his core, he was a scientist—not a fighter, a general, or even a leader. The thought of subjugating these people and vying for control of the city against the Emperor’s forces turned his stomach. But he understood that this was the price he had to pay for his continued membership in the Council and all the resources they supplied for his many experiments.

He also rationalized his involvement by telling himself that it was better for him to take on this responsibility than one of the more bloodthirsty members of the Council. With him at the helm, he might be in a position to minimize the loss of human life. All the same, his tenure in East Topeka had been rather dull. The SPC had rightfully instituted a ban on S-Rankers participating in the conflict. Since Tinker was a poor general, his role in the war had been mostly political. As a result, to fight the boredom and monotony, his makeshift lair had slowly evolved into a high-tech facility that nearly rivaled his lab in Kansas City.

The command center featured wall-to-wall screens relaying dozens of drone feeds, requisition requests, and his own personal monitors for his new little obsession. As he lounged outside of his power armor, he watched as a section of those monitors followed the team that was currently in pursuit of the Chameleon. At their head was the A-ranker known as Bloodhound.

Bloodhound had recently arrived in Topeka, personally requisitioned by Tinker himself. Initially, there had been no need for his particular set of skills in the war, and the Council had assigned him elsewhere. But earlier that morning, Tinker’s prey had slipped the net, and publicly, too. Not only had Paragon witnessed his embarrassment, but so had the enemy. The loss of face was unacceptable. He needed to capture the Chameleon, and soon. So he had brought Bloodhound to Topeka, and damn what the Council thought. If they had any dissenting opinion, they were welcome to come and say it to his face.

With Bloodhound on the hunt, it was only a matter of time until the Chameleon was cornered and captured. This was Bloodhound’s specialty, after all. The man had awakened as a Seer, which gave him certain insights—glimpses past the fabric of the physical world. But more importantly, at least in Tinker’s mind, was that the man had transitioned to Duelist after his Midmark Quest and had focused all of his body tempering on his physical senses. His sense of smell was so acute that it even surpassed the level of devices that Tinker could fabricate. Bloodhound could pick apart the layers of smells, identifying targets from potentially miles away. The man could even describe their diets, recounting what they had for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, ranging back for days.

Right now, Tinker watched as Bloodhound narrowed in on his target. The man’s voice came over the radio, carrying a New York lilt that was exotic in a place like Topeka. Tinker idly wondered what had brought the man from the East Coast to the Midwest. But a man’s secrets were his own, and though Tinker had a scientific curiosity that ran bone-deep, it didn’t extend to personal secrets—enemy combatants notwithstanding.

“Boss, the scent’s getting stronger. I think we’re close.”

“Good work, Bloodhound,” Tinker replied. “Fireteam, non-lethal ammunition. These may be foreign agents, but I want them alive.”

“Affirmative.”

Tinker turned his attention to the drone camera flying over Bloodhound’s shoulder. They were in a narrow hallway that extended fifty feet ahead before turning down a blind corner. They moved slowly, and Tinker had to tamp down the impatience trying to work a fidget into his leg. With a thought, one of his drones ranged ahead, peeking around the corner to give reconnaissance. His eyes narrowed in confusion at what he saw. His fireteam was tapped into the feed and saw the same thing.

“Dead end ahead, Bloodhound,” the fireteam leader said. “Your nose finally fail you?”

Bloodhound flashed the man the finger, the drone camera catching the movement. “Fuck off, Seth. They were here. I did my job, now go do yours.”

The fireteam leader gave his men a signal, and they ranged forward, taking the corner, their stunners at the ready. As they neared the dead end, one of the men spoke up. Their Stone Elementalist, Tinker realized, as the man’s bio automatically populated on the screen.

“This wall’s different from the rest,” the Elementalist said. “Evidence that it’s been shifted into place.”

Tinker sent a command to the drone, switching it to x-ray vision. At first, it seemed like the wall was solid, but as he amplified the intensity, he realized that there was a hollow space past ten feet of solid stone.

“Confirmed,” Tinker said after a moment. “Break it down.”

The fireteam leader gave the affirmative, and the Stone Elementalist began to work on the wall. He was a D-ranker, so it took a minute for him to dissipate the ten feet of solid stone. When it finally fell, a broad hallway opened up past it. Tinker sent a swarm of five drones through, prepared to scan the interior with their lidar. When the report came back a minute later, he slammed his fist down on his desk.

“No signs of life,” he muttered. Into the radio, he said, “It’s clear. Bloodhound, go.”

After thirty minutes of meticulous searching, the Elementalist finally found signs of a tunnel extending deeper into the earth.

“Seems they burrowed out, sir,” Bloodhound said.

“Should we set an ambush for their return?” the fireteam leader asked.

“No,” Tinker replied, already on his feet and heading towards his power armor. With a thought, the suit began walking towards him. He never missed a step as it wrapped around him seamlessly. “I’m on my way.”

The fireteam leader cleared his throat. “Sir, is that wise?”

“I’m on my way. We’re not losing them. Be ready to follow their trail once I arrive.”

The Elementalist spoke up on the radio. “I’m not sure I’m strong enough to follow their passage, sir.”

Tinker switched off the connection and sighed in annoyance. There was one more option—an option he had been desperately avoiding. But the Chameleon was so close he could practically sense the man. Switching the connection back on, he said, “Stand by. I’m going to fetch Lady. With her abilities, you’ll be strong enough.”

They didn’t realize it, but he could see their physical reactions through the drone feeds. The team cast silent looks at each other, the fireteam leader raising his eyebrows at Bloodhound, who simply shrugged in response.

“Any of you who had dinner plans tonight, call the missus and cancel them,” Bloodhound said. “We’re going on the hunt.”

“Under attack?” Terry gasped, “What are you talking about?”

At his side, it was impossible to miss Sol’s flinch. The man’s head whipped around, as if searching for hidden enemies in the office. Terraform glanced at Sol, his eyes narrowing briefly before answering Terry’s question.

“Do you remember our good friend, Skipper?”

Terry felt his stomach flip as the memories rushed back. The feeling of the Hypnotist co-opting his brain, the sound of her skull squelching out of the side of the stone helmet, the blood pooling across the floor, almost as if it were reaching for his shoes. He pushed the horror of that memory away, focusing back on the man’s words.

“Skipper’s attacking the market? How? I know he’s an S-ranker, but Travelers aren’t exactly known for their combat abilities.”

Terraform sighed, and Terry could hear the weight of the man’s responsibilities in that sigh. He turned, sinking into his stone chair, his knuckles kneading the side of his temple.

“You’d be surprised just how much mischief a Traveler could cause, and he has been keeping busy. But no, Skipper’s not my only enemy. There are a few powerful individuals who have had their eye on me and the Market for some years now.”

Terry’s mind was racing at a hundred miles a minute as he digested the subtext in that statement, but at his side, he realized Sol’s breathing had elevated, turning into heaving gasps.

“Sol.” Terry reached a hand out for the man’s shoulder.

Sol flinched away, his eyes going wild. “We should go, Terry. We should flee while we have the chance.”

The S-ranker backed away frantically, angling towards the wall-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the pit, the very windows that Terraform had withdrawn just a minute prior.

“Sol,” Terry gasped, reaching out a hand. But before the panicked man could fall head over heels out the window, glass reached up from the floor, cupping his back lightly to keep him from tumbling off the edge.

Sol whirled in a panic, his skin flashing. That was Terry’s only warning before a light, brighter even than the sun, shot out from Sol’s body. Terry cried out in pain as the light and heat hit his face. On instinct, he activated his Master of Light ability in a desperate attempt to funnel the blinding light and the burning heat away from him. But it was too much, his aura feeling drowned by the sheer power of Sol’s panicked reaction. He stumbled away, one arm thrown over his face before the heat and light suddenly dissipated.

Blearily, he blinked his eyes, keeping them narrowed in case another burst of light shot out towards him. Through his eyelashes, he saw light in his peripherals, still pulsing out, though it was bearable. In front of him, a wall of pure stone seemed to have grown from the earth, eclipsing the bulk of Sol’s light. At his side, he realized Terraform was flexing his aura, fighting the light and heat. The two of them locked eyes, and Terry could see the unasked question in Terraform’s gaze.

Terry shrugged, afraid to say anything, knowing that Sol’s superhuman hearing would pick it up. Instead, he typed out a System message:

[Terry]: He’s fragile right now. He spent over a year in my grandfather’s dungeons in the dark, powerless.

As he typed out the message, the light dimmed, then faded entirely. Terraform nodded in answer as Sol’s timid voice called out softly.

“T-Terry,” he stuttered. “Terry, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

The stone wall slowly sank back into the earth, revealing a frazzled, nearly weeping Sol behind it. When his eyes locked on Terry, he let out a heavy sigh. Despite Terry’s own message to Terraform, he warred within himself. A part of him understood that Sol had some form of PTSD, perhaps the trauma of his isolation and imprisonment turning him more into a creature of instinct. The other part of him, the emotional part, was fuming mad. Sol had nearly blinded him, or worse. He had to bite his tongue to keep from yelling at the fragile S-ranker.

Sol took a step forward, his hand rising timidly, then faltering. “Are…are you okay?”

Terry sucked in a deep breath, holding it for a second, trying to calm his racing heart. As he exhaled, he closed his eyes, unable to look at the pathetic expression on Sol’s face. “I’m okay, Sol,” he said wearily. “But that was close. You could have blinded me.”

He heard the hitch in Sol’s voice, the sound of the tears he was fighting back. “I’m so sorry. I’m no good for anything anymore. The mere mention of a fight and I lose all control.”

Terry opened his eyes to see Sol’s back, the man standing at the edge of the window looking out over the Pit. A dozen thoughts raced through his mind. Was Sol thinking of jumping? Could the lava even kill the man? Could I stop him if he did jump? Could Terraform? He glanced toward Terraform and saw the concern and empathy in the man’s eyes.

“Sol.” Terraform’s voice was low, as if he were speaking to a spooked animal. “Come away from the edge, please.”

Sol was muttering under his breath. “I’m no good for anything. I’m a danger to myself and others. I can’t fight, I can’t lead.” He glanced back towards Terry, tears sliding down his cheeks. “I can’t even be trusted around friends.”

His body rocked at the edge of the window, as if some wind were shifting him back and forth. Terry sent another System message:

[Terry]: If he jumps, can you stop him?

[Terraform]: I can. The question is, should I?

Terry whipped his head towards the man, narrowing his eyes in reproach. Terraform held up his hand in a placating gesture.

[Terraform]: How would he react if I prevented his suicide? Would he fight back? Would he tear apart the market? Perhaps I save him only to have to put him down to save others.

[Terry]: So you’re just gonna watch him die?

[Terraform]: I hope it doesn’t come to that. If he’ll allow it, there are specialists in the market that can help him. Try and steer him towards that help.

Terry felt the burden of that responsibility weighing heavily on his shoulders. Though he had seen and done much in the past two years, he was still just a boy, and his experience was a drop in the ocean compared to Terraform or Sol. Yet, Sol had become his friend, so he approached the man with a determined set to his lips. Slowly, he extended his hand, resting it on Sol’s shoulder.

“Sol, let us get you help.”

His gaze flitted toward Terry, then back toward the Pit. His voice was a gravelly whisper, laden with defeat. “What’s the point, Terry? I’ll never be what I once was.”

Terry’s grip tightened. “And what about Topeka, Sol? Your city? Will you let the vultures pick it clean without you? Let it serve as a trophy in the war between my grandfather and the Council.”

The briefest flash of fire lit in Sol’s eyes. Quietly, he asked, “What can I do?”

Terraform stepped forward, his deep voice resonating in the office so that Terry felt it in his chest. “Try. That’s all we ask.”

Sol gave a slight, barely noticeable nod. “All right,” he whispered, as if surrendering to that idea, to the hope they were offering.

“I’ll send for my best therapist,” Terraform offered.

They stood there in solemn silence, and in less than a minute, a man appeared above the Pit, floating along a thick strand of crystalline glass. As he neared, Terraform approached Sol’s side and Terry stepped back to give them space.

Softly, almost so softly that Terry couldn’t hear the words, Terraform spoke in Sol’s ear. “All moments are transitory. You are not this moment. Let Hunter help you, and I promise there will be a light at the end of the tunnel.”

Sol’s eyes met Terraform’s with a searching glance. “How can you make that promise?” he questioned, his voice barely above a whisper.

Terraform shrugged, his smile bittersweet. “Because I’ve been there, and I came out the other end…eventually.”

That fire flashed once more in Sol’s eyes, just as the man named Hunter arrived. He stepped from the glass bridge, bowing low to Terraform.

“Terraform, sir?”

Terraform turned to Sol. “This is Sol. Please take care of him like he was one of our own.”

“Yes, sir,” Hunter replied with a grave nod. To Sol, he said, “Please follow me, sir. My name is Hunter, and I’m an A-ranked Hypnotist and trained psychologist, specializing in treating Awakened for 22 years.”

Terraform gently guided Sol toward the back of the office as he spoke. “You’re in good hands, Sol.”

A tunnel materialized in the wall, the stone seeming to melt away. Terraform handed Sol off to Hunter, who led him toward the tunnel. As they entered it, Sol cast a longing look back toward Terry, who forced a reassuring smile on his face and nodded. A moment later, the two figures vanished into the tunnel and it closed behind them, leaving Terry alone with the S-ranked Stone Elementalist.

Silence filled the air for a moment, thick with unspoken words.

Then, Terry broke that silence.

“I appreciate what you’re doing for him, but as his friend, I don’t want him used in whatever conflict faces the Market.”

Terraform shook his head. “No, I would never manipulate someone like that. I had hoped to enlist him in the Market’s defense, but that ship has sailed,” he admitted, the weight of regret in his voice.

Terry sensed there was more unsaid, and he prodded, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach.

“And…?”

Terraform took a deep breath.

“It wasn’t just Sol I was looking to enlist.”

Terry settled back on his heels, finally connecting the dots.

“I’ve tried contacting Silver,” Terraform continued, “but he hasn’t responded. Do you know if I’ve offended him in some way?”

“No,” Terry said slowly, shaking his head. He paced toward the open window, gazing out over the bustling Market. Hundreds of people streamed to and fro across the glass bridges that crossed over the Pit. From this vantage point, he would have never guessed that the Market was on the brink of war. “Silver’s been out of contact for months. I don’t know if he’s alive or dead.”

Terraform cursed under his breath. “With him on the Market’s side, Qui Shen would’ve been forced to back down.”

Terry whirled around in shock. “Qui Shen?”

Terraform nodded sadly, confirming Terry’s worst fears. “Yes, it seems Skipper and Qui Shen have cut a deal.”

“To what end? The market isn’t anywhere near Asia. I know that much just from the travel time and direction.” Terry’s mind raced with possibilities.

“You’re right. It’s not the location he wants. He doesn’t even care about the Market as far as I can tell.” Terraform reached a hand into his shirt, clearly gripping some hidden item.

No, Terry realized, not into his shirt, but into his chest.

“It’s this he’s after.”

Terry gasped as the room filled with an intoxicating power that roiled off the item now clutched in his hands.

He didn’t know how he knew, but somehow he did…

Terraform had a Singularity.