I don’t get out of my bed until around two the next morning. It’s not that I got home all that late, but despite being dead tired, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned for hours, my mind racing as it finally began processing the various events of last night. At some point, I fell asleep, when finally my body had enough, and after that I ended up sleeping like a log. Last night just hit me really hard.

  After I get up, I start wandering around the house, trying to figure out what to do. I have plenty of space to do so: I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, the government treats Mom exceptionally well. I know she’s pretty high-ranked, but not that much. It probably has something to do with Dad’s legacy, or at least that’s my theory.

  Anyhow, I eventually stumble into the kitchen - an oversized room connected to the dining room and lined with massive windows that let in tons of light - and notice a meal set out on the counter for me. It’s just a plate covered in tinfoil and an empty cup, besides which there’s a note. I pick it up and read.

  “I needed to get to work, but I left you breakfast.

  Don’t worry - I already called in sick for you.

  Get some rest if you can.

  Love, Mom.”

  Satisfied, I peek under the tinfoil to find some eggs and toast - both cold, seems she left a while ago. I grab the glass and make my way to the fridge to get something to drink when I squeeze it just a little too hard and it suddenly shatters in my hand.

  “Shit!” I curse, thanking my lucky stars I hadn’t put anything in it yet. My palm was spared the glass shards but I made a mess all over the floor. It’s quite embarrassing, really. I thought I had better control of my strength than that. Unless I somehow managed to grow a significant amount stronger overnight, then I’m probably just still half asleep.

  I clean up the glass and heat up the food in our microwave, taking the time to enjoy my meal and think. Mom called to get me out of work, so I have the day off, but I don’t want to be idle. I feel relatively refreshed, considering yesterday's events, and I definitely think it would be a bad idea to sit around just thinking about it all day. Best to get busy.

  At some point I check my phone and notice that both Allacia and Elias have been texting me nonstop, worried about where I am. Seems both of them got concerned when I didn’t show up at the Bowl this morning. I shoot them a reply saying that I just woke up and that I’m fine, then put the phone away. At this point, I’ve decided what to do next: I should head into the Bowl. I can catch up with my friends and even use the training facilities there. That should be the perfect way to keep myself busy.

  Having decided, I quickly finish up my meal, bolt through my morning routine, and get out the door in under half an hour. I figure it’s a good idea to jog to the Bowl, just to take it easy and wake myself up, but as I move I quickly find the miles blurring past me. I’m not even trying, but my body just feels so light that I can’t help but stretch my legs. It feels off, but I don’t question it. I slept for a while, I’m probably just feeling refreshed.

  Arriving at the Bowl, I find the training room largely empty. It’s still around the time of day where most heroes are off on missions or patrolling, but a few people still make the time to go when it’s quiet. The massive, hangar sized room is partitioned into four sections: a pool, some sparring rings, a zone for weightlifting, and an area designed for ability development that’s mostly just some benches. A man and a woman are sparring in one of the rings, while someone sits in ability development with several small paper airplanes floating around them.

  I make my way to the weights and scan the rack, grabbing one of the massive 200 lb dumbbells that I usually start with. To my vast surprise, I find it much lighter than normal. That little is usually pretty easy with my ability, but it feels absurdly light. Curious, I pick up a slightly higher weight and test it, achieving a similar result.

  At this point it’s irrefutable. Somehow I’ve gotten significantly stronger than when I was last here. I have no idea why, but I’m immediately curious as to the degree of my improvement, so I start lifting weight after weight to see how far I can go. I pass 250, 300, 350 with ease, but I can keep going. Luckily, the training room is designed for superhumans, and thus has weights available up to 2 tons. I pass 400 and note that it feels like what I’m used to, but I can still keep going. It isn’t until I reach nearly 600 lbs of weight that I feel like I can no longer carry it with just one hand. Nearly twice my previous record.

  I set the weights down and go back to 400, beginning my workout as usual from there. My mind is roiling. I’m used to fast growth, and not just because of my power. The principle of superhuman adaptability is one poorly understood even by many SAUs, but it’s rather simple in practice. All SAUs have the natural ability to develop their bodies to superhuman levels via intense training, a capability that extends beyond just strength training and into all kinds of applications such as heat resistance or immunity to poisons. But this level of growth, seemingly overnight, is one I’ve only experienced once.

  Superhuman has always interacted uniquely with my adaptability. Most of what it does can be achieved with basic adaptability training given sufficient time, but when I first developed my ability it gave me those benefits instantly, instead of after the normal requisite effort.

  My theory for now is that something like that happened again. The question then becomes, why? Could my near-fatal encounter last night have caused my ability to be supercharged in response? Or maybe that weird ability potion Jonathan gave me had some strange effect when combined with my power? It could even be a mix of both, or some third option I haven’t considered.

  As I think, I continue my training for around an hour or so, continually proving my earlier growth to have leached into every aspect of my workout. All my weights have doubled or more, I can handle almost thrice my old maximum speed on the treadmills and go for twice as long, and I even find myself recovering faster. It’s like I’m a new person.

  “Char! There you are!” As I near the hour-and-a-half mark, I’m greeted by the energetic yet concerned voice of Allacia. I look up from what I’m doing and find her and Elias approaching, both with worried looks on their faces.

  “Hey, you two,” I greet them in return, “Sorry I worried you, I stayed up a little too late last night and ended up sleeping most of the day. I’m fine.” The half-truth slips out easily - I had time to practice. I want to tell them, I really do, but if what Jonathan said last night is true, I’d only be putting them in danger. Not to mention, I might just be killed for doing so. No, it’s better if they don’t know for now. I can always tell them later down the line, but once I do, I can never take it back.

  “Well, you should’ve said so! We were worried sick, isn’t that right, babe?” Allacia turns to Elias, and he nods. He doesn’t really get worried too easily except when it comes to Allacia, but I don’t doubt he asked around when I didn’t show. It’s his way of showing he cares.

  “We know you can take care of yourself, but when even I can’t figure out if you’re okay or not, it can be alarming,” Elias tells me. He does have a point - he proved yesterday with how quick he learned about Jonathan that he’s built an expansive information network over the years. He's no spymaster, but that only makes it clearer how much things have escalated when he can’t even get a hint.

  “Well I’m fine,” I lie, “But I’m glad you’re here now. Elias, mind if we spar? I’ve been feeling unusually strong all day and I’ve been dying to test myself.” I’m changing the subject, but that much is true. I have been wanting to test myself.

  “Stronger?” Elias inquires, “Well, now I’m curious. Any particular style you’d like to train against?” That’s another thing about Elias, his combined love for gossip and heroism has led him to knowing a lot about fighting and being an expert on different styles, making him the perfect training partner, so long as you only need to train against close-combat abilities.

  “Can you mimic that villain, Hot Pink? I have a feeling I’ll be seeing her again,” I request, knowing full well it’s more than just a feeling that tells me I’ll have to fight her more. I haven’t forgotten I agreed to be her nemesis, if only for appearances.

  “Absolutely,” He agrees, strolling over to one of the rings. Allacia lets out an obligatory whistle as he strips off his shirt, revealing the many tattoos he relies on for his ability. As I follow him into the ring, I notice the tattoo he’ll be using starts to glow: an image of a bird surrounded by thunderstorms. Elias’ Ink is one of the most versatile abilities I know of, giving him various buffs when he activates different tattoos on his body. Birds let him move more acrobatically, and the lightning motif is self-explanatory.

  “Thunderbird?” I ask, “Not fire?”

  “I can't summon strong enough flames to burn you,” Elias explains, “Electricity will give me that ‘aura of pain’ effect that is so integral to most melee elemental-based styles.”

  “Fair enough,” I reply, and with that, the time to talk has ended. The two of us square up in the ring, circling each other as we look for openings. Elias is the first to move, leaping forward and throwing a midair punch that I dodge. He then follows up with a flawless back kick that I block. Electricity surges through me as I do, making me recoil, but causing more pain than actual damage.

  Not finished, his next attack comes swiftly: a rain of blows eerily similar to the one I experienced against Rowan that keeps me on the backfoot for a while. I manage a few counters, but bird sets make him fast, and he nimbly dodges every time.

  At last I manage a proper strike, finding an opportunity to land an elbow on his chin between blows. It stuns him for a second or two, but electricity arcs from his body to mine upon contact, and I reel back in pain as well. We recover simultaneously, both sending punches at each other. He’s faster, but I’m tougher, and as I shrug off his blow mine lands with full force, sending him reeling backwards.

  The electricity still hurts, but adrenaline begins pushing the pain from my mind. I aim a knee at Elias, which he takes in stride, but I manage to wrap my opposite arm around the back of his head, putting him into a headlock.

  It’s a grave mistake on my part, as the electricity now has a perfect path to flow through me. The resulting shock causes me to let go and stumble back, reeling from the pain. Elias follows up with a blow to my jaw, which doesn’t hurt nearly as much as the following shock.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  I’m on the backfoot once more, only able to block blows and not dodge, which just sends me deeper into the abyss as even a blocked attack still causes a surge of electricity. I stumble backwards until I hit the edge of the ring, then narrowly manage to duck under another blow. I’m losing, badly, and I need to find a way to turn things around.

  So I roll, which would be a terrible move if not for the fact I have enough upper-body strength to turn that roll into a somersault which lands me back on my feet, successfully out of Elias’ range. I whirl back on him, seeing him charge towards me. In response, I go low and slam my shoulder into his chest, accepting the shock as I knock him off balance.

  Now’s my chance. Deciding most of the takedowns I know will only get me shocked again, I instead go for a throw, grabbing his arm and lifting him over my shoulder to slam him into the padded floor as hard as I can manage.

  The shock distracts me for a second, so I almost miss the crack and its accompanying noise of pain. I’m startled, stepping back on instinct as I realize what just happened.

  Allacia rushes onto the ring and kneels beside Elias who is now groaning on the floor. I’m dumbfounded - I didn’t think I threw him all that hard. Certainly not hard enough to injure Elias in spite of the padding, he’s a SAU with years of adaptability training under his belt for god’s sake! He should be much harder to hurt than that.

  Allacia lifts Elias up to a sitting position, testing his arm by poking around a little, causing him to hiss in pain. After a second, she sighs, visibly relieved.

  “Just a dislocated shoulder,” She announces. I relax, letting out the tension in my muscles, feeling as relieved as Allacia looks. I certainly didn’t mean to hurt him.

  “Elias, I’m so sorry, I didn't think…” I begin, but a look from him cuts me off.

  “It’s fine,” He assures me, barely containing a scream as Allacia casually sets his arm back into place, “Damn, Charlie, you weren’t kidding about feeling stronger. I don’t think I’ve seen someone be injured by the floor of these rings before; they’re so padded people say you can drop porcelain from the height of the Bowl and it won’t shatter.”

  Allacia slowly helps him up and he begins moving his arm in circles, groaning. I wince in empathy, remembering the pain of such an injury. Dislocated joints are common among SAUs, those areas being difficult to train up tougher, even with adaptability. I’ve had a dislocated shoulder or two in my time, but at least I know from experience the worst is over. Especially with Dr. Hennessy around.

  I begin to follow them out of the ring, but Allacia holds up a hand to stop me. Confused, I stay put as she leaves Elias on a bench beside the ring and steps back in. Then she cracks her knuckles, and suddenly I realize what she’s doing.

  “Not so fast, Char,” She says menacingly, “I haven’t had a turn yet, and now I need to avenge my boyfriend.” She opens her palm, and a small, translucent orb grows into view inside it. I shudder, remembering the last time we fought. Her bubbles pack a surprising punch considering how flimsy they look at first glance. They are not flimsy.

  “Go get her, babe!” Elias cheers from the sidelines. I shoot him a dirty glare, but it just makes him laugh, then wince at the feeling. Traitor.

  “Wait, Allacia, we can work this out…” I step backwards, putting distance between us as she hefts the bubble already in her hand, preparing to throw it. I put my hands up in the ‘woah, there’ stance to show I don’t want to fight. Allacia’s no slouch, she earned her place as a hero, and I’d rather not get beat up again after last night.

  Then a crackle echoes through the room that we all know too well. The announcement system - the entire room pauses and looks up, waiting for what it has to say.

  “Would the hero ‘Frontrunner’ please make their way to Room 964? I repeat, Frontrunner to Room 964.” The announcement echoes as all heads turn to me. Allacia frowns, looking disappointed. Saved by the bell.

  “Darn,” She says, “I guess we’ll have to do this later.”

  “Looking forward to it,” I lie, hurrying out of the ring. Then I freeze, realizing something.

  “Wait…what is level nine used for again?” I turn and ask Elias.

  “Executive offices. You just got called to see someone very important,” He responds.

  Shit, now I remember. That room is Jonathan’s office, the one he took Rowan and I to last night. That can only mean that he wants to see me.

  I may have been saved from Allacia, but I think this might be worse.

  —

  I take a deep breath, then knock on the polished wooden door labeled with the brass number of 964. I didn’t get a good look at it in the dark, but the outside of Jonathan’s office is just as fancy as the inside, unsurprisingly.

  “Come in,” The cold, familiar voice beckons me. I turn the handle and push the door open, stepping inside. Jonathan is seated at his desk, wings spread, his gaze following me as I sit down on one of the two chairs in front of him.

  “Charlie Gardner,” He greets me, rather ominously given he apparently researched my full name, “At least you responded to my summons in a timely manner.”

  “Is this about yesterday?” I cautiously inquire.

  “What else?” Jonathan casually replies, “As you’ve likely surmised, I did a little research since we last met. In particular, I was startled to learn about your family history. You see, I knew your father, back when he was alive, and by extension your mother as well. Both wonderful people, very well respected.” He waits a beat. “You must be going through a rebellious phase.”

  “You leave my mother out of this-” I begin, but he holds up a hand to silence me.

  “You misunderstand me,” Jonathan tells me, “I’m not threatening your family or any nonsense like that - I’m not a villain. No, you must understand, I couldn’t leave Colonel Gardner out of this if I wanted to. After all, she’s been an integral part of the Reaper corp since its founding.”

  “She’s a cop,” I assert, “Not some murderous pseudo-military operative."

  “Really? When's the last time she’s discussed her job with you in any detail?” Jonathan asks. I’m speechless at the question. Come to think of it, Mom’s always been awfully quiet about her job. She’s a naturally private person, but I’m a hero. Surely it’s not out of the ordinary for her to at least commiserate once in a while. Right?

  “I can tell you’re still unsure,” Jonathan informs me, “so I think I'll leave you to discuss it with her in person. I figure there’s nobody better to help you come to terms with what you’ve learned than your own mother, especially given her involvement."

  “Mom’s here?!” I exclaim, incredulous. She doesn’t work at the Bowl; even if Jonathan is telling the truth about her involvement, I would’ve seen her at some point.

  “Yes, to talk to you,” Jonathan waves off my surprise, “Here, take this. I’m assigning you off of patrol for the time being until I can trust you won’t cause trouble. Please close the door on your way out.” He hands me a closed envelope and waves his dismissal at me. I don’t move.

  “Wait, you need to explain more…” I start to object.

  “No, I don’t. Ask Colonel Gardner. We’re done here,” His dismissal is evident, but I’m still not satisfied. I press further.

  “Sir, I need to know more-”

  “Enough,” Jonathan speaks quietly but harshly; I fall silent, “Contrary to what seems to be your understanding, I actually do have better uses for my time than comforting a spoiled child. You will leave this room, the Colonel will handle your questions, and I will get back to work. Do I make myself clear?” I match his gaze for a beat, then look down.

  “Fine,” I say, standing, turning on my heel, and walking out. The door slams shut behind me before I can even move to touch it. For a few seconds I stand there, just outside the door, still reeling from the surprise and confusion from a moment ago. That conversation - if you can even call it that - was painfully brief and full of more questions than answers. And an insult or two snuck in, if I’m not mistaken. I don’t even notice someone standing in front of me until she speaks.

  “Charlie?” I look up and find, true to Jonathan’s word, my mother - Colonel Veronica Gardner - standing just before me. She’s pretty short, like me, with her graying brown hair pulled back into a simple military bun. Her face is covered in laugh lines, though it’s rare to see her laugh, and her soft hazel eyes look tired. She’s dressed in her uniform: all navy blue with golden buttons and cuffs and several simple stripes pinned over her heart denoting her medals. A silver pin on both sides of her collar marks her distinguished rank, but it’s simple, not very ornate. True to her nature, in a way.

  “Hey, Mom,” I respond, sounding just as tired as she looks, “I guess we need to talk.”

  “We do,” She agrees, “Walk with me?” I nod, and the two of us fall into a stride, walking down the narrow halls of the Bowl’s upper floors largely in silence. Neither of us seems to want to be the first one to speak. Eventually, I grow sick of it.

  “How long have you known,” I turn and ask her; she hesitates, so I press further, “That everything I thought I knew was a lie, that being a hero didn’t matter as much as I thought it did, that people were being murdered regularly just to keep things under control.”

  “Since the start,” She reveals; I see her catch my gaze and she flinches, “You have to understand, for those of us who went through the Upheaval, this felt like the better option. When the Prophet - little more than a man with some power and too much ambition - took control of the country in less than a week, it scared people. It proved we needed to adapt to the changing world or we’d end up just like everybody else: right back to the dark ages. I wasn’t too involved with the decision myself, but I agree with it. I would’ve done anything to make a safer world for you, especially back then.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I press.

  “Charlie, I couldn’t-”

  “Don’t give me that!” I snap at her, “I’m a hero! I wanted to be a hero my entire life; I said as much nearly every day! You knew what that meant and yet you never told me!” The two of us stop in the middle of the hallway, staring each other down.

  “Would it have changed your mind?” Mom asks, looking me in the eyes with unwarranted serenity. Her tone is more tired than mad.

  “…Maybe,” I reply, lost. Admitting so almost feels like saying I don’t want to be a hero anymore, and I can’t quite bring myself to say that. I’ve given my whole life to this dream. I’m really not sure what it would mean to change that now, but the thought scares me.

  “I don’t think you would,” Mom asserts, “Charlie, I know you better than that: you’re just like your father, you want to do as much good as you can but refuse to hurt anyone to do so. You’d never become a reaper.”

  “Killing people is wrong,” I say, as much to her as myself, “Not that I would know what Dad was like anyways. You made sure of that.”

  “I’m not the reason your father’s gone,” Mom’s gaze narrows, a cold rage seeping into her eyes. Her anger only fuels mine in return.

  “No, the fucking Prophet is. You just refuse to tell me anything about him!” I shout at her. I know I’m throwing a tantrum, but my own mother’s been lying to me, I kinda deserve to. And I’m not wrong, regardless. All I know about Dad I learned from the older heroes that knew him. Mom never talks about him.

  “Charlie Celera Gardner!” My mother shouts back, “I had to raise you by myself. Do you have any idea how hard that is? I did everything right!”

  “Clearly not!” I wheel around, fuming. I can’t stand this conversation any more, so I just start walking away, moving as fast as I can without looking like I’m running.

  “Charlie!” Mom shouts at my back, but I don't stop. I keep moving, getting further and further away. I head down a floor, then another, and at last come to a halt in an empty corridor. I put my back against a wall and slump to the floor, burying my face in my knees.

  I cry, I’m not ashamed to say it. I cry as I finally let myself process all the bullshit that’s happened in the past 24 hours. I’m angry and I’m scared and I’m tired and most importantly I have no fucking idea what to do now. I can’t tell my friends anything or I might be killed - or worse, get them killed. My own mother thinks all this is fine. And I just realized I completely forgot to find a way to contact Rowan, possibly the only person I can talk to!

  At least I still have my hero work. Even if it’s meaningless, if I go out there eventually Rowan will come find me, and in the meantime I can do something that at least feels normal. Then I remember: the thing Jonathan gave me. He said I’m no longer on patrol, did he give me a new assignment? I still clutch the envelope in my fist, and so I slowly open it, praying for something that will at least keep me busy. I pull out a paper and…

  “Shit,” I curse under my breath. My heart sinks as I face the reality of what is bound to be hours of uninterrupted thinking time. I just got handed the absolute worst job there is.

  Jonathan assigned me to watch the Politician.