Blurry. That was the only word she could think of to describe the world as she slowly opened her eyes. Streaks of brown, gray, silver, and yellow blended together in a disorienting maelstrom of color. She immediately knew her identity. Her name was Ayda. All the darkness and confusion of unconsciousness was a distant memory. She was honestly embarrassed she could ever allow herself to be so baffled. Of course she was just knocked out. What other possible explanation could there be?

But wait, why was she unconscious? Ayda searched her mind, but that little bit of information was lost on her. Panic replaced any other notions she may have had. Ayda blinked rapidly, willing her vision to clear up. This room was all wrong. She remembered white lighting and metal walls, not yellow washed concrete. The place hummed with the soft din of electricity, yet the one she remembered was perfectly quiet. What happened? Where was she?

Ayda tried to sit up, to get a better look at her surroundings, but made it not even an inch off the pillow. A sharp pain filled her entire head, as if she'd just been hit with a rock. She cried out and fell back into the pillow, clutching her head as if that would help to numb the pain.

Why did her head hurt? She examined the top of her cranium. Gentle fingers felt around for anything out of place. Ayda quickly found a raised ridge on her head. The skin around it was quite swollen and tender. It formed a perfectly circular ring. Where did it come from? Ayda knew not what this scar tissue was, but she had a sinking suspicion it was very bad.

When her discomfort had perhaps reached its peak, distraction came to save the day. The door opened. Ayda hadn't even noticed there was a door, but she turned her head to the source of the noise. Light spilled in from outside, causing her eyes to ache. A man entered. At this point Ayda was seeing much more clearly than before, and though she couldn't really make out his face, it was obvious form his attire he belonged to the military. This man closed the door and walked over to her bedside.

"Good, you are awake. I thought I heard someone stirring in here," he said warmly.

"Where am I? What is this place?" Ayda had many more questions running through her head, but these were the ones which boiled to the surface. Kinda seemed like a waste.

"You're in recovery," replied the man simply.

"Recovery?"

"Yes. Do you remember what happened before you ended up in here?" The man pulled up a chair Ayda hadn't noticed and sat down beside her.

"I remember..." Ayda scrunched her face in effort, trying her hardest to recall recent events. "I remember waking up in the morning. I had a bad dream. There was a guard giving out food, but I didn't get any. He brought me to another room, instead. Dr. Vahlen was there. They strapped me to an operating table and... and..." All at once, the horror enacted upon her slammed into place. She remembered the fear she felt upon being restrained, begging the Doctor to let her go, the agony as his drill cut into her skull. It all came back.

"Dr. Vahlen operated on you," the man filled in the blanks. "He made you his first patient of the day."

"Patient?" Echoed Ayda. "What do you mean? What did he do to me?"

"He put a very special device in your head. I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to explain all of that to you. Dr. Vahlen has been very clear he is the only one allowed to talk to the children about the procedure." The man's tone was firm. "Besides, I really don't understand it myself, honestly."

"He did what? There's something in my head?" Ayda struggled to comprehend this new information. "Please, you have to tell me what it is. Am I in danger?"

"No, you're not in danger." The man batted away the notion. "Far from it, actually. Like I said, I can't go into detail about it, but you're about to be part of something great. You're making medical history, and it all starts with that thing in your head."

"Medical history?" Ayda contemplated that phrase. Vahlen said something similar right after selecting her. "What about you? Who are you?"

"I'm a medic," he said plainly. "Since the soldiers don't really get wounded out here, I tend to the children instead." He was about to say something else, but Ayda's stomach audibly growled. She blushed and shied away.

"You must be famished." He stood. "I'll go get you something from the mess. Just rest here until I get back. Don't try to get up, you'll just hurt yourself."

And with that, he left, vanishing behind the door. Ayda stared up at the ceiling. She had no intention of going anywhere if even the slightest motion would make her head hurt like that again. She really didn't understand what the medic had just told her. There was some sort of device in her head? Now that she thought about it, she did feel a bit heavier, as if a small weight were tied around her ears. Fear welled up inside. She could hear her heart beat, feel it in her chest. What had Dr. Vahlen done to her? What would he do in the future?

…

A full week passed in that recovery room; seven whole days of absolutely nothing. Ayda stayed cooped up, not because that's what she was told to do, but because she couldn't have left at any rate. At first, every little motion sent debilitating spikes of pain through her head. It wasn't just movements of her neck, either. Just wiggling her toes in the wrong way could cause a headache. It vaguely reminded her of the time she was sick with the flu. That time saw her stuck in bed for three days. It seemed so long ago, a memory of something which happened to someone else, a girl she barely knew.

Left alone to her own devices, she had a lot of time to think. It became quickly apparent, however, thinking may not be the best course of action. No matter how positive or random her thoughts started out, they always eventually returned to her situation, how hopeless and destitute it was. The future looked bleak. Her life was beyond saving. Nothing could ever make her happy again.

After a couples days of feeling sorry for herself, Ayda decided enough was enough. At that point, she was starting to feel much better. Ayda decided to put all her energy into recovery. She forced herself to move, to push her limits. If her body could get used to the sensation of motion, then theoretically the pain would begin to vanish. That was the thought, anyway. The reality was not quite so plain. Moving still caused her quite a bit of discomfort, although it was not unbearable.

On the morning of the fourth day, her healing sped up exponentially. It was almost as if someone flipped a switch inside her body. Where just the day before sitting up caused her agony, it now was just barely more than uncomfortable. Standing still proved impossible, but this was a massive step in the right direction for her. The medic wasn't surprised, though. According to him, most patients followed the same rapid recovery pattern. Ayda neglected to ask why, but she didn't really care. He probably wouldn't have told her, anyway. She was just happy to be on track.

On the fifth day, Ayda decided it was time to finally get out of the bed. Sitting produced even less discomfort than before. Now, it was little more than annoying tension in the back of her head. Her confidence soared. Ayda swung her feet over the side of the bed and leaned forward, hands on her knees. Here she paused. Such quick motion made her dizzy. She waited for the world to stop spinning. With a deep breath, she pushed up.

Her knees buckled. She fell forward hard onto the palms of her hands. Her breaths were hallow. Spikes of throbbing pain burrowed through her head. Laying in bed so long had made her legs weak. Even after making such great strides, she was still pathetic. To her surprise, a trio of tear drops fell between her hands? When did she start crying?

No, no tears. No weakness. She had to be strong. Ayda wiped her eyes. With everything that had happened in such a short time, she refused to be the thing which held her back. Ayda crawled around to face the bed. Using the mattress, she pushed herself up. Her head throbbed. Most of her weight sank onto the bed, but she was standing. A smile stretched across her lips. She wouldn't limit herself.

Grit and determination. Those were the things which kept her going. Ayda forced herself to get better, for the sake of no one else but herself. With adrenaline through her veins and passion in her heart, Ayda would conquer this beast called incapacitation. It gave her purpose, made her feel alive. She had something to work toward, other than sitting around and slowly dying.

When the seventh day rolled around, Ayda was up and about more often than not. If not for the still tender flesh on her head, no one would ever know she'd been bedridden not long ago. She felt strong and ready to face the world.

Morning on the eighth day, and it was time for her to face the world. Instead of the medic, two armed men came for her. They quickly explained a group of children was being gathered for a presentation, and she was to be among them. Without question, Ayda fell in and allowed herself to be led from the room. At this point, she knew asking them anything was useless, so why even bother?

Ayda had enjoyed living in her own little isolated reality for the last week. The moment Ayda stepped from her room, the real world smacked her in the face. All at once she remembered where she was, everything which had happened. The hope she'd felt vanished entirely, replaced by an all too familiar sense of dread. Suddenly, following these soldiers didn't seem like a good idea. She stopped in the middle of the corridor, a dumbstruck expression on her face. The soldiers noticed almost immediately when she fell behind. One of them went back to get her.

"Come on, get moving." He grabbed her by the back of the head and pushed her along. Ayda wished he hadn't because it shot hurtful pangs through her skull. Of course, the soldier probably knew exactly what he was doing. Ayda was in too much pain to protest, as doing so would just cause further discomfort.

The three of them walked down yet another series of identical passages. Ayda decided to turn this into a learning experience, lest she die of boredom. She didn't know where the motor pool was, but a smart architect would put it near the center edge of the facility. The operating room was quite far away. The place couldn't have been much bigger than the distance from the cells to there. By that logic, the place where the guards took her was most likely close to the exact center. This was all conjecture, of course, but it made sense to her.

The guards led Ayda through a set of gray double doors. On the other side, she found a quintet of other children protected by four soldiers. They brought her over to join them before falling in behind the group. They were in a semicircular room, completely barren except for the five panes of glass in front of them.

Ayda peered through the window. She looked down upon a large round room. Placed at equal distances around the edge were twelve baseball pitching machines. In the center stood a boy. He was about ten years old, completely bald, and dressed in the same gnatty rags as everyone else. Next to him on the ground was a five foot long metal staff. Ayda turned her gaze higher up to inspect the rest of the room. Directly ahead of her on the opposite end was another window, completely blacked out so it was impossible to see the other side.

She would've liked to look around a bit more, but motion from one of the soldiers caught her attention. He pressed a button on a speaker box attached to the west wall.

"We're ready, Dr. Vahlen." Said the soldier.

"Excellent." The Doctor's voice came through the intercom. There was a pause before he continued. "Good morning, children. I trust your recovery is going well? I bet at this point, you're wondering what exactly is going on. 'Why did the good Doctor drill a hole in my head?' 'Why am I here?' I can practically hear your thoughts."

"Always the same speech..." one of the soldiers murmured to another with a roll of his eyes.

"Well, today I will answer all those questions and more." Vahlen cleared his throat. "The human body is practically bursting with energy. We generate more electricity and heat than we could ever use, so the question is, what happens to all that excess energy? It just gets wasted. I think we can all agree that's a bit counterproductive.

"And that brings us to our purpose here. Those little implants I went through all the trouble of putting in your heads are designed to unlock the full potential of the human body, to store up all that wasted power and put it to better use. Now, I could explain exactly how it does this, but I think it's better if I just show you. Subject Twenty, here, will demonstrate. Are you ready, Twenty?"

The boy standing in the room below nodded. He assumed a fighting stance, long and low, like something straight out of a classic kung-fu movie.

"Ataboy. Begin the exercise!" The sound of a switch flipping could be heard just before Vahlen cut out.

All attention was drawn to the floor below. The pitching machines whined to life in one shared breath. Their sound could be heard inside the observation room. Clearly, it was made to be sturdy instead of air tight.

Once the pitching machines had finished spinning up, one of them fired a baseball at Twenty. It was almost too fast to see. Twenty, though, faced the threat without flaw. He pivoted on his heels and thrust a palm out to meet the projectile. What happened next defied explanation. With a sound much like a miniature sonic boom, a loud burst of purple energy ensued from his open hand. It created a shockwave about two feet in circumference just in front of his hand.

The ball rebounded from this burst. It flew back at the wall, considerably faster and at a higher angle than it had been shot in the first place. The force with which it hit the concrete tore the seams apart and sent the bouncy rubber middle flying upward. It knocked off the wall and comically bounced around the floor.

The children looked on with stunned expressions. Their brains struggled to comprehend what just happened. There would be no respite, however, not for the moment. Another baseball was fired at Twenty from a different direction. He rounded on the threat to repeat the process. Again, he struck at the ball and again a purple blast sent it flying into the wall. It landed a glancing blow and bounced around wildly a few times.

Baseballs continued to assault Twenty, and he continued to bat them all away with energy blasts. His reactions were at a blazing speed, much faster than any normal human would be capable of. By the time Ayda had perceived the threat, he had already begun to move against it. He was mesmerizing to watch. While the assault persisted, Vahlen explained the action.

"As you can see, Twenty is able to create concussive blasts by tapping into the energy stored by his implant and forcing it outward, but that's not all. Pick up your staff, Twenty."

In between baseballs, with compliance to Vahlen's orders, Twenty bent down and picked up the staff beside him. A purple glow, the same color as the blasts themselves, outlined the weapon, slowly pulsing with unimaginable power. Another projectile was sent his way. Twenty batted it away with his staff. The resulting blast was considerably more powerful than any previous.

After that, the pitching machines increased their attack. Barely any gap separated their fire. As soon as Twenty deflected one ball, another had already been sent at him. This new speed had no noticeable effect on him. Twenty continued to intercept each without a flaw, twirling his staff around to beat them away. His defense was impeccable.

"Your power can be amplified even further by channeling it through metal objects," explained Vahlen.

Again, the pitching machines sped up. Their barrage came like machine gun fire. Each one shot at irregular intervals with no clear pattern. There were always multiple balls in the air at any given time. Twenty changed his own pace to match them. The projectiles were inconsequential. He deflected every single one with perfect execution. He wasn't even trying. So numerous were the blasts inside the chamber, it was almost hard to see what was going on.

"In time, you too will learn to wield this kind of power," said Vahlen. "If our predictions are correct, this isn't even a tenth of what is possible."

All of a sudden, the pitching machines stopped entirely. Twenty remained in a ready stance for a few seconds, prepared to meet any new threats. Soon, though, he realized it was over. He relaxed his stance and bowed honorably.

"That's good, Twenty. You are dismissed." Vahlen said. Through a pair of doors, two soldiers entered the room and led him out.

"Now, according to popular science," began the Doctor, "children have the easiest time learning when imitating something they just saw. To that effect, your training begins now. Guards, take them to the test chamber."

The soldiers did as they were told, leading the children out of the observation deck.

It was a short walk down to the test chamber. All of the kids were terrfied. After being just shown such a spectacular display, they were now expected to do the same thing? The information was still much, too new. They couldn't even come close to understanding what happened. How were they supposed to replicate the results? They would have to learn fast, as each child was placed in front of a pitching machine. The soldiers left in a bit of a rush. Ayda didn't like where this was going. Vahlen spoke through another loudspeaker.

"Before we can begin, there's the matter of turning your implants on. I'm sorry, but this will only hurt for a moment."

The children began to panic just moments before blue electricity snaked along the metal floor. It engulfed each of them. They screamed out in agony as the lightning took their bodies. Ayda froze in place, unable to move for the electricity coursing through her. It lasted exactly four seconds, no more, no less. The pain vanished as quickly as it had appeared, terminated at the press of a button. All but one of the children fell to the ground. Ayda refused to let herself topple. She'd spent enough time on the floor recently.

The four guards reentered the room and began to forcibly haul the children back onto their feet. As they did, Vahlen spoke.

"Alright. Now that that's out of the way, we can move on. I know you're wondering how exactly you're supposed to use these new abilities of yours. It's all about intent. For reasons we don't quite understand yet, the blasts only work on attacks. Purely defensive maneuvers won't work. Don't just block the baseballs, focus on sending them back at the pitching machines. In this way, you create a counter-attack and maintain the offensive. Don't worry, I don't expect you to get the hang of this today. We have plenty of time to master the skill."

In a sudden spurt of courage, one of the children spoke up.

"What if we don't want powers? What if we don't want to do what you say?" His antagonistic tone cause all eyes to fall upon him. Even the guards looked in amazement. Vahlen just laughed.

"It's cute you think you have a choice. There's one in every batch, you know? You've seen what I do with the people who displease me. Don't make yourself one of them." A simple threat squashed all other protest. "Are there any more questions?" Not a soul dared ask. "Wonderful. Begin the session."

The pitching machines whined back to life. They were much louder from inside the chamber. The soldiers quickly vacated the area. Each child assumed their best combat stance, most of which were clumsy and uncoordinated. Ayda tried her best to replicate Twenty. Of course, she had know idea what she was doing, but emulating someone who did seemed like a good start.

The first volley of baseballs was dispensed. Instinct took over. Instead of trying to hit the ball speeding toward her, Ayda ducked. It sailed harmlessly over her head. Most of the other children avoided their projectiles as well. Those who did try to deflect failed miserably and were hit.

"Do not dodge," Vahlen warned. "That's not the point of the exercise. Continuing to do so will result in severe punishment."

That threat in mind, Ayda squared her stance. She was ready for the next attack. Or so she thought. The next round came. This time, Ayda thrust her hand forward. Not only does this fail to create a blast, it also completely missed the ball. It hit her in the ribs. The blow was stinging, but not overly so, not nearly as bad as she anticipated.

The third ball shot. Foolishly, Ayda thought it would be aimed at the same place. She blocked low, and missed by a mile. The baseball collided with the shoulder.

Alright, this wasn't working. She had to rethink her strategy. Screw everything else, Ayda was now determined to block at least one. Dr. Vahlen said something about the flow of excess energy. Maybe that was the key. Ayda focused, trying to detect this force running through her body. If she squinted in just the right way, she could almost feel it. When the next attack came, Ayda tried to release this energy in one quick, clean motion. It didn't work. She took a baseball to the chest.

Frustration built. Getting hit by baseballs was a great motivator. When the next one came, instead of try and hit it, Ayda made a swiping motion. To her great surprise, she actually managed to catch it. Her palm buzzed from the impact, but the ball was held in the firmly in her grasp. She smiled, proud of herself. Vahlen, however, was not so impressed.

"While catching a ball does display the correct reflexes, it's not the ultimate goal. Try not to do it in the future."

That rejection angered Ayda. What was she doing wrong? Subject twenty made it look so easy. In Ayda's mind, she was doing all the same motions, or as close as she could manage, but even her best efforts produced zero result. It was then Ayda realized this was exactly the problem. Of course doing the same thing over and over again wouldn't work. Someone once told her that was the definition of insanity.

Ayda retreated into herself, taking some time to really ponder out this conundrum. Vahlen kept going on and on about the brain, so clearly the problem was mental, not physical. She put her back to the pitching machines and closed her eyes, intense in thought. What was she missing? It must have been something obvious, so what?

Of course, it would've been so much easier to think without the constant impacts from baseballs against her back. With every hit, she grew progressively angrier. Each new red mark clenched her fists tighter and tighter into frustrated coils. Her expression twisted into one of pure, unchecked rage. Soon, she could take it no longer.

She heard the sound of another ball being fired at her. As if someone flipped a switch inside her, Ayda's senses flared all at once. She rounded on the baseball. Although the world around her remained at a constant speed, Ayda reacted as if time had slowed down. She acted faster than she ever had in her life, than she even thought possible. Despite this, she remained in complete control of her movements. Not a split second passed when she didn't know exactly what she was doing. Ayda's open palm accelerated ahead of her, guided along by inhuman reflexes. She unleashed a primal scream at the top of her lungs.

It happened before she even knew what transpired. A sound like a sonic boom filled the space. It drowned out everything else. Purple energy exploded from her hand. It struck the ball with massive force. The object flew back to whence it came, disintegrating entirely upon impact with the wall. The few remaining pieces fluttered to the ground. So powerful was her blast, its effects were felt by the baseballs meant for children to her left and right. They diverted, missing their intended targets. Subject Twenty never managed anything so forceful, not even close.

Ayda blinked a few times in sheer amazement. Every eye turned to her. The pitching machines switched off momentarily. Ayda shrunk under their collective gaze, embarrassed all of a sudden. What just happened? How did she do that?

"Extraordinary, subject Twelve," Vahlen praised. "Try to remember what you just did and replicate it. I'm restarting the machines."

Ayda almost laughed. Remember what she did? How rich. The only thing she could recall was anger. Perhaps that was the key? While the pitching machines started back up, she gathered all the wrath she'd accumulated over the past several days. She remembered being taken from her parents, thrown in a cell, operated on, and then locked in a little room for a week. Anger boiled up inside her, consumed every inch of her body. When the next ball was launched, she let it out all at once...

And nothing happened. Her senses did not fire. No speed took her hand. She missed the ball and it hit her in the stomach. What went wrong? She did everything possible to accumulate anger, so why didn't she blast away the ball?

Wait a minute, the ball! The was the secret to everything! When she produced her blast, she was angry specifically at the ball, instead of just being mad as a state of mind. That had to be it. All of a sudden, everything Vahlen said about counter-attacking made perfect sense. Reflect, not deflect. Don't block, strike. It all came together.

When the next ball issued forth, Ayda put everything she'd just realized to practice. She channeled her effort into striking at the ball itself. It was a concentrated show of force. She knew it had worked even before the blast went off. Once again, she moved quicker than any person had right to. Her hand impacted with the ball, and a purple burst threw it back at the wall. It bounced at an angle and went flying off to the right. This blast was not nearly as powerful as her first, moreso in line with what Twenty displayed, but it was still a success.

"Yes!" Ayda celebrated most deservedly, pumping her fist in victory. She was getting the hang of this. It felt good.

"Good job, Twelve." Vahlen echoed her jubilation. "Keep it up."

Another ball came, and again Ayda hit it with a blast. This time she barely even had to think in order to get the desired result.

Several more balls came at her, and each one met a similar fate. The other children had ceased practicing at this point, and instead elected to watch her perform. Vahlen allowed this, because he too was impressed. Repetition made each burst progressively easier. Before long, Ayda didn't have to focus nearly as hard.

With every ball she destroyed, Ayda's spirit soared. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt strong. She could take on the world.

…

From up in his private observation room behind the blackened glass, Dr. Vahlen looked down upon the scene developing beneath him. He interlocked his fingers in front of his mouth stoically. He huffed to himself.

"Very interesting, little girl. Very interesting, indeed.."