He’s healthy and strong willed, with a clear willingness to learn and to listen. He’s also had martial training to the standards of the toughest police department in Seraph. And yet, in a city-state full of Blessed capable of the supernatural, he narrows his mind. Why?

  -Roger Hill’s Notes

  Minutes before a series of explosions knocked Thomas unconscious, he spent the Early Assessment deep in thought.

  Cool, calm, and collected. Those three words trailed down Thomas’ mind like a syrupy flow of serenity. Those three words described the perfect leader. It was also the three things he had the most trouble being. The very same mantra was repeated (and just like Thomas, rarely embodied) by his father. That’s fine, Thomas figured. If you won't practice what you preach, I will.

  He killed the thoughts of his father and his mantra then and there. Instead, he thought about what good he would do, once he graduated.

  Yes, he’d graduate from Myriad High as a First Class Power, quickly promote to Virtue, and then begin his life’s work of returning the Seraph Police Departments to their rightful glory and dignity. After all, in a world of rule-breaking powers, it takes only a handful of sickos with a deadly Blessing to ruin everything. T.H.R.O.N.E. may just be worshiped for their celebrity heroes, but the ones keeping the streets safe wear matching uniforms.

  At least, they were supposed to.

  No problem, Thomas thought. He just had to make it in, then he can make a change. He’d be the real hero, not his crooked cop father, and especially not his Unblessed Instru—

  “Oh snap, the radio works?”

  Robin reached over from the passenger seat to twist the frequency and volume knobs.

  “Are you serious?” Thomas glowered.

  “Uh, no? Yeah?” Robin laughed nervously. “I’m just amazed by this!”

  She referred to their simulated reality, starting from the large truck they were riding in, to the wide streets of Western Seraph City. The afternoon sun breathed life into the colorfully warm buildings, nearly all of them adorned with carved wooden beam patios underneath low-pitched tile roofs. Holographic businessmen, schoolkids, and other well-to-do citizens peacefully made their way down spotless white sidewalks.

  For goodness sake, Thomas thought. Is that a gas station with a terrace? Thomas had only seen the more affluent West Seraph once during a ride-along. It made sense, the rarity of the visit. Crime rarely touched this side of Seraph.

  Which made the nature of their mission that much more concerning.

  With that being said, deep down, Thomas was just as amazed. Due to his strange classmates and that fraudulent Instructor, the splendor of Myriad High had corroded over the past month.

  Would things be different if I made it into the Amplification Hall? Thomas wondered. Would my Blessing even count as Amplification?

  He accepted this as a form of consequence for not being born with a greater Blessing. The Miscellaneous Hall may as well be the next thing above a participation trophy. Thankfully, the raw technological prowess they were in had restored Thomas’ morale once more.

  Thomas’ ears felt the sharp sound of static radio spikes as Robin tuned through multiple channels, finally settling on one.

  “Oooh this one’s good!” Robin started bobbing her head to the pop singer’s crooning voice. She looked at Thomas’ frown, and her smile faded a little. She sheepishly lowered the volume.

  “So you aren’t taking this seriously.” Thomas said.

  “Sorry, but this augmented reality is insane! The Your Blessing single from that one boy band League came out just last week, but it’s playing right now! Ain’t this a little too futuristic?”

  “First of all, that League is called Encore. Second of all—”

  “Wait,” Robin raised an eyebrow. “You know their names? The name of a boy ban—”

  “—Second of all!” Thomas' face ran hot. He thanked The Myriad for his dark skin. “The realism of this simulation is a double-edged sword. If this is as dangerously realistic as we’ve been told, you might just start hating this matrix.”

  Robin winced at Thomas’ pessimism.

  “Don’t say that around him.” Robin whispered.

  With her eyes, she pointed to the back seat of the bulky transport vehicle that one could call a ‘military eighteen-wheeler.’ In the back seat, sat the other two members of Bravo team, each in their own respective state of distraction. Gloria-Grace, as elegantly as possible (which is to say, not at all), pressed her face to the bulletproof windows. Her golden eyes darted around, soaking in the artificial world they were driving through.

  Meanwhile, the intense face of Lloyd scanned his surroundings in trepidation. Beads of sweat trailed into that constant, intimidating shadow cast beneath Lloyd’s brow, only to return to view as it reached his pronounced chin.

  Thomas rubbed his eyes, hoping to hide the twitching in his face. And to think, he was so quick to chastise Robin when she was the least of his worries. In fact, wasn’t she being cooperative? She even took Lloyd’s cowardice into account, something Thomas had brushed off.

  Gloria-Grace and Lloyd had been quiet for so long that Thomas managed to forget how much of a potential liability the two had been. He had repeated the mission briefing to them so many times even he realized it was overdone. And yet, he spoke again.

  “You two seem distracted. Don’t forget about what we’re doing. Listen. . .”

  It was a Rescue and Neutralize Mission, the rescuing part was already in progress, and they weren’t exactly rescuing an innocent civilian. They had awoken in transit, as the truck’s self-driving program ran with frightening efficiency. A holographic projection placed just above the radio detailed a simplistic map, lined with their current route to a destination approximately 25 minutes away.

  Had it only been 5 minutes?

  As for their so-called rescue. . .

  Thomas paused in the middle of his practiced sitrep speech. Robin watched as Thomas quickly moved from the driver's seat—leaving the wheel to turn at its leisure—and towards the tiny blast door built in between the seats of Gloria-Grace and Lloyd. He exerted himself to pull up the stubborn latch, and threw the door open, revealing the back of the military truck.

  It was a spacious, dull gray storage. The harshly sterile surroundings had little to do with the large cage it harbored. Despite their prisoner’s theoretically evil deeds, Thomas couldn’t help but shudder at the manner in which he was kept. Thomas could only assume it was a man by the size and figure of the prisoner as anything close to a defining characteristic was hidden underneath some sort of restraint.

  His face was covered in a strange blue-glowing helmet that likely served as a gag, blindfold, mask, and set of earplugs all at once. The pure white straitjacket was weighed down by multiple steel balls. He’s not even allowed to touch the ground, Thomas thought as he noted chains fixed to the roof of the cage, keeping him an inch above the ground.

  The only sounds Thomas could hear were the slow, practiced breaths traveling through respirator tubes protruding from the straitjacket and disappearing into the helmet. That, and his own breathing that lost its steadiness the longer Thomas took in the image of the imprisoned evildoer. He wondered if this was protocol for all the Adversaries T.H.R.O.N.E. managed to capture alive.

  “Hey, Thomas?” Robin asked.

  “Yes?”

  “Whatcha doing?”

  “Give me a second.”

  This wasn’t a ride-along in his dad’s police car. Thomas couldn’t just sit back and be passive. It’s time to play the cards he’s been dealt, whether or not he was satisfied with them. Thomas poked his head through the opening to the back seat.

  “Lloyd.”

  If it wasn't for the seatbelt he had on, Lloyd would have jumped out of his skin, hit the armored truck’s ceiling, and knocked himself unconscious. For half a second, Lloyd’s blessing activated in tandem with his microscopic freakout. Thomas saw the seatbelt quickly turning to stone along with Lloyds torso. Thankfully, he got ahold of himself long before he could entomb himself and the rest of the truck’s interior.

  “Yes?” Lloyd’s eyes gazed down between his feet.

  “Let’s be proactive. I want you to petrify the prisoner. This way, he’ll be given an extra layer of protection and restraint.”

  Thomas figured their mission details were the most vague compared to the other teams. Nothing was mentioned about enemies, but that was more than expected. If they want to get to their boss or whoever this is, Thomas thought, they’ll have to get through the armored truck, the students, and whatever encasing Lloyd puts him in.

  Relief found itself in Lloyd’s face, and yet his nervousness stayed, resulting in a strange mixture. Thomas could only guess he was relieved to be away from potential harm but also loathing the thought of sharing a cage with their prisoner. Thomas followed him to the cage. One thumbprint scan from either of them would shift the steel bars to opposite sides, bundling on the left and right side of the entrance like drawn curtains.

  “Stone is easy, but. . . If you want me to petrify him in something bulletproof, it will take longer. . .” Lloyd approached the heavily breathing prisoner, placing a tentative hand to the helmet. Thomas could barely hear the soft-spoken boy, but urging him to speak up was an impossibility he learned over the past month. Thankfully, the near silence of the storage helped Thomas’ hearing.

  “How long would steel take then? No, what about titanium?” Thomas asked.

  Lloyd’s ability was incredible to Thomas. The ability to petrify something along with himself in any material of his choosing had immense possibility. All it took was a single touch. M.G. Myriad’s standards were simply too high.

  “Maybe. . . five minutes for titanium?”

  “Wait. Petrifying him won’t cut off his air, right? ”

  Lloyd frantically shook his head. “No! Not if I start from his head, at least.”

  He placed his hand underneath the helmet, and Thomas watched as the gray steel slowly spread both to and from Lloyd’s fingers. It looked like an ever-growing splotch, spreading out in all directions across the prisoner’s helmet and Lloyd’s fingers. Thomas grimaced at the gradual petrification. No wonder Lloyd always turned himself to stone. It was near instant, but this?

  “Are you sure you aren’t deliberately slowing down just to get out of combat?”

  Lloyd’s face paled.

  “No! It really takes this long, I swear!”

  “Sadly, I believe you. Besides, if an assault is made on this truck, they’ll be coming straight for the captive.”

  Doom flooded Lloyd’s eyes as his lips folded inward, compressing that harsh scar across his mouth. Thomas rested a hand on his shoulder, taking care to avoid the petrifying spread.

  “Be sure to defend the prisoner with everything you have.”

  “A-ah. . .”

  Thomas returned to the front seat before Lloyd could even attempt to voice his obvious concerns. He sat down, hoping that if he forced a look of deep thought, Robin would stop staring at him disappointedly in his peripherals. Of course, this didn’t work.

  “We’re s’posed to be a team.”

  “We are.” Thomas sighed.

  “Really? You didn’t weigh in on anyone else’s thoughts before sending Lloyd on Statue Duty.”

  “Fine, if that’s how you want to do this.” Thomas turned in his seat to face the debutante in the back seat. “Gloria? What do you think about Lloyd being on ‘Statue Duty?’”

  Gloria-Grace didn’t respond. She marveled at holographic children racing towards an old-fashioned ice cream truck. Thomas smiled cruelly at Robin and shrugged. Inside, he cursed his immature behavior. This tomboy is a danger to my military bearing, he decided.

  “You didn’t say her full name, though?”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “What?”

  Robin shook her head and leaned over the middle compartment.

  “Gloria-Grace?”

  “Hm?” Gloria-Grace jolted, escaping her trance instantly. “Apologies, I have never seen so many people at once! Are we there yet?”

  Never seen this many people at once? The Goldenchild Family has produced some true oddballs, but Gloria-Grace beats all of the public figures belonging to that family by a longshot. Thomas nearly groveled out of pure instinct when they first met, but the disillusionment came quickly once she started speaking. A month had passed, and Gloria-Grace had become nothing but an air-headed weirdo in Thomas’ eyes.

  An air-headed weirdo with a sliver of the strongest Legacy Blessing in history, The Light of Gideon Goldenchild.

  “Nope, just strategizing. Lloyd’s keeping the prisoner still, so any idea on what we can do to prepare for something popping off?” Robin asked.

  “Ah, yes. Strategizing.” Gloria-Grace’s eyes narrowed. “Well, if we don’t know where the enemy could be, why not find them?”

  “If it were that simple—”

  “—Can you find them, Gloria-Grace?” Robin pressed.

  “Probably? My Blessing is quite a trial to use. Far from straightforward.” Gloria-Grace casually slid down the window on her side, letting in a gust of wind.

  “You can bring these windows down?” Thomas shouted. “Why?”

  To the panic of both Robin and Thomas, Gloria-Grace held onto the outside of the truck and sent her legs up and out of the truck.

  “What the hell are you doing?!”

  “Hey, get back inside!”

  Gloria-Grace disappeared for a moment, only for her head to appear in Thomas’ driver seat window. Her cornucopia curls danced around like a shifting veil over her face.

  “But I’m helping? I need to be on top of the truck to see on all sides.”

  “That’s way too dangerous!” Robin exclaimed.

  “And what are you even planning?” Thomas said. “If anything, I should be the one doing this!”

  “Nonsense! And my plan is manipulating how light reaches my eyes. Like a magnifying glass.”

  Thomas couldn’t refute her words, only because his basis of understanding Gloria-Grace’s Blessing was flawed due to the user’s explanation of her own Blessing being just as flawed. Each Goldenchild descendant had a single ability belonging to Gideon Goldenchild’s Light, and not even Gloria-Grace fully understood it. Thomas could only have imagined the look on his face as the debutante shrugged when they first asked what her Blessing was.

  Light manipulation, mayhaps? Gloria-Grace had said. That’s what Grandfather told me.

  And apparently that means she can manipulate her eyes into convexing and concaving as accurately as she likes, among other things. Thomas glanced at the side-mirror next to Gloria-Grace’s dangling head.

  Objects in mirror may be closer than they appear.

  Thomas sighed. “And you were going to tell us this when, exactly?”

  “I forgot.”

  “A Blessing with so many uses, you forgot one of ‘em!” Robin laughed.

  “Now that the pleasantries are finished, I will be off!”

  Her head shot up and out of sight. The truck stopped at a red light on the sleepy roads, not a single car in front or behind. The fake crowd didn’t seem bothered by the regal girl currently surfing on the armored eighteen-wheeler warmachine.

  What is that girl? Thomas wondered.

  The Goldenchilds rarely entered Principalities. After all, demanding the descendants of Gideon to have to prove themselves would be like asking Gideon to prove himself. No, his series of exploits over a century ago have already granted his descendants the right to be heroes. And yet, Thomas shares a class with the strangest one. In the Miscellaneous Hall, of all places. Was this just fun for her?

  Not that Thomas would ever say these things aloud. He had to have faith in the authorities. Even when they exalt people like her, people like Instructor Hill. . .

  “What is up with this gal?” Robin wondered aloud.

  “That gal is royalty, you know?”

  “That’s cool and all, but she’s a real handful. I thought those pretty princess types were raised to be all composed and cool, like that other rich gal we got.”

  “And that gal is the heir to—you know what, never mind.”

  “But hey,” Robin raised her hands in a ‘don’t blame me’ gesture. “What’d I say? If we just left her alone, she wouldn’t be able to help right now.”

  Thomas grit his teeth. “Now she’s doing something reckless and endangering all of our enrollments.”

  “What are you being such a dictator for?” Robin’s voice started to raise a bit.

  You’re doing it again, Thomas chastised himself. Why can’t you just stop?

  “We can’t be a team if you won’t let us! Coach—I mean uh, Instructor Hill said—”

  “Bringing him up? Ha! Even that coward and the gal on the roof are more qualified than him! Don’t take advice from someone who can never be in our shoes.”

  Robin shook her head, exasperated.

  “You put yourself above him, but you can’t even trust your Blessed classmates who are doing a helluva lot more than you and I are doing right now? Whose standards are you even going for, bro?”

  For a girl that only knows how to play nice, she knew how to cut deep. Thomas hated how much she thought she understood him. He also hated how much he understood her. Why was it that he was picking a fight with the least unreliable person in this assessment, the person he got along with the most?

  Because she was like him, trying her best to lead her peers who never asked for it in the only way she could. Thomas exhaled, letting his frustration slowly simmer into a dying light.

  “You brought up that you were going to the Olympics one time, before you got tied up in all of this.” Thomas said.

  Robin clearly didn’t expect this response, as the red heat of anger boiling in her face fizzled out in confusion.

  “Uh, what?”

  “You also mentioned you were a triathlete: swimming, cycling, and running.”

  “Where are you goin’ with this?”

  “Those aren’t team sports. You go solo. You’re not used to this either.”

  Me too. He had wanted to say. But how could he?

  She paused for a moment.

  “Saw right through me, huh?” Robin's shoulders relaxed in resignation. Thomas realized he had done the same.

  “Well, you’re doing it better than me, that’s for sure.” Thomas frowned.

  “Nah, not really.” Robin’s shoulders dropped even lower. She wrung her hands to her chest with an embarrassed smile.

  “I got a ton of siblings, and I’m the oldest so…” Robin chuckled nervously. “I had to take care of ‘em growing up, so I guess it’s a habit for me to be this way. Thing is, I’m kind of a total pushover. I just spoiled them until they behaved. I got no backbone.”

  “But it works.”

  “I guess.”

  “And it worked this time, too.”

  “For now.”

  Thomas let his head slump to the dashboard.

  “It feels like everyone’s forgotten that we’re being assessed to join a global military.”

  “But it’s also a highschool.”

  “A Principality. Highschools don't train you to fight supervillains.”

  “True!” Robin laughed. “But check it!”

  She sat up from her typical unladylike way of sitting.

  “Maybe that’s how we do it.”

  “How we do it?”

  “This whole leadin’ thing!” Robin held her arms wide. “We do both! When we go too much in the wrong direction, we make sure to keep eachother on the right path. Ya get me?”

  Thomas snorted. “What, like taking each other off the bench?”

  Robin chuckled. “Turning over the chain of command, maybe?”

  “Passing the baton?”

  “Good cop, bad cop?”

  After a moment of wry eye-contact, Robin was the first to break out in laughter. So did Thomas. It was that desperate, relieved laughter of a crisis averted. Thomas found out firsthand that Robin was the physical type of person who liked to shake and manhandle her current source of laughter.

  “Okay, okay, stop shaking me!” Thomas barked.

  “My bad, bro, my bad!” Robin’s laughter died out into a smile.

  “Sorry for being all combative and stuff.”

  “You’re the one apologizing for being combative?” Thomas asked.

  “Well, yeah. That’s supposed to be your whole thing—”

  “Ignoring that.”

  “—And I know it might just be how I usually am but. . . I dunno.”

  She raised a fist bump.

  “You seem like the kind of guy who—”

  A knock on the glass. Robin turned around to see Gloria-Grace appearing on the passenger-side window this time. For once, there was a slightly inconvenienced expression on her face.

  Robin brought the window down.

  “Wassup, Gloria-Grace?”

  “I sincerely apologize for interrupting your courting of each other, but I’ve noticed quite the ghastly fellows approaching us on these strange one-seaters.”

  Thomas instantly reached to tap through the dashboard screen’s fancy built-in touchscreen. He pressed his finger to the MANUAL CONTROL option and rapidly tapped the screen to confirm he was sure.

  “Gloria-Grace, get back inside.”

  “Indubitably.” She gracefully swung back inside through Robin’s window as if she was the wind itself.

  “One-seaters?” Robin asked while pulling the window back up.

  “She means motorcycles.” Thomas grunted.

  A lot of things were making sense at once. The holographic cars and pedestrians, the fact that they were going through an affluent and dense part of the city, and especially why this armored truck bothered to stop at a red light in a ridiculously desolate intersection.

  In this scenario, the armored truck was practically an undercover vehicle meant to hide the captive in plain sight. No wonder Thomas had never heard of these things. Either way, the disguise was blown, and Thomas doubted their enemies were holographic.

  “You drive?” Robin said.

  “Permit. Signing up for a Principality recognizes you as an adult, so I took advantage during the wait.”

  “Very impressive!” Gloria-Grace beamed. “How about you drop out and become one of my personal chauffeurs?”

  Thomas glanced expectantly at Robin, who threw a thumbs-up before turning to the backseat.

  “Hey, Gloria-Grace! These dudes, how many of them are there, and do they have any weapons on them?”

  “I counted twelve coming from different roads and alleyways. I would wager that they are converging upon each other like a pack of wolves right about now. As for their weapons, there are a lot of factors that can hamper my vision, so I cannot exactly specify what they had. . .”

  “Describe it, maybe?” Thomas said. He swerved onto the highway, keeping to the path the GPS had already decided for them. Escaping motorcycles was an impossibility, and side roads or alleyways were too small for the vehicle. The most inconveniencing cherry on top of their situation would be the civilians. Fake or not, Thomas wouldn’t risk failure due to collateral damage just because he drove through simulated neighborhoods and school zones.

  “Some were small and rested on their hips, while others had bigger ones on their backs.”

  “Okay, so guns.” Robin said.

  “A few of them carried large backpacks as well!”

  “That don’t sound too good.” Robin said. “Anything else?”

  Thomas stepped on the gas to a disappointing acceleration. Still, they were making progress, and the colorful West Seraph began to shrink in the rearview windows.

  And yet, no sign of the motorcyclists.

  Gloria-Grace was eccentric, but Thomas didn’t believe for a minute that she would tell such a dangerous lie or mistakenly describe something like a biker gang. That was the frightening thing: knowing something was coming but not where it was coming from.

  It was frightening enough for him to ask for advice.

  “Robin, should we let Lloyd know?”

  “Lloyd? I dunno, bro. He’s probably better off not knowing.”

  “Fair. At least check on him to make sure he’s fully. . .”

  On the horizon, down the road, he saw two dark shapes.

  They were coming his way.

  “. . .Petrified,” Thomas finished. “Gloria-Grace, that’s them?”

  Gloria-Grace leaned over to stare. Thomas saw her eyes glow and undulate as she activated her Blessing. The few seconds it took for her to confirm her observation felt like an eternity.

  “Yes, the hooligans I saw earlier! In much clearer detail too. They don’t appear to be carrying backpacks though.”

  “Then I’ll run straight through them. Bullets aren’t getting through this truck. Leaving or stopping the truck to engage would be giving them what they want.”

  Thomas prepared to do just that. Running someone over wasn’t the most personal way to kill someone, but it stabbed at Thomas’ sensibilities like bloody murder. None of this was real, but it felt real. The brutal jolt of the car, like driving over a fleshy speed bump, will feel real.

  There wasn’t any honor in dispatching of enemies that way, but at the end of the day, as long as you succeed and the evildoers fail, what’s the problem?

  Ouch, Thomas thought. Why think such a Dad-like thought in a moment like this?

  “Hey wait a sec.” Robin said.

  They were closer now, he could almost make out characteristics.

  “You said they didn’t have anything on their backs?”

  Now he could see them, freaky looking androids with as much animated life as an undead shambler.

  “Nope, just these long black-and-brown rods with green tips sticking out of the front.”

  The two androids unslung the green-tipped rods and held it over their shoulders, leaving the handlebars without a hand.

  “Green-tipped rods. . .?” Robin’s face sagged in horror.

  “You mean fucking rocket launchers?!”

  “Oh? Is that what they are called?”

  A plume of smoke concealed where the bikers were, and the green dots zoomed towards the windshield.

  “DAMN IIIIIIIIIIIT!” Thomas swerved the bulky truck to the side in an attempt to dodge the rockets. It was a shame, how instinct tended to take over at the worst moment. Why did I think such an oversized vehicle could dodge rocket munition? Thomas wondered. Whose standards are you even going for, Thomas?

  The first detonation on the side of the truck shook him from his thoughts. Why was he so dazed? The impact from the rocket on his side, most likely. An explosive impact behind cover would easily concuss, especially when it was inches away from Thomas. Even through inches of alloyed armor, Thomas’ ears rang loud enough that he couldn’t hear Robin’s screams as they tipped over.

  You have to keep its balance, He thought. But how? There was no answer, save for a second detonation that finished the job of tipping the truck over.

  It also finished the job of knocking Thomas unconscious.