Dylan checked his watch. It was only ten minutes since he last checked it. God, it felt like a lot longer ago. The crowd started clapping so he joined in too but had to confess to not seeing what he was clapping for. He took a gulp from his water and waited for the next contestant.

Dylan was at a gymnastics gala for high schoolers, filling in for a faculty member who would usually be at this competition, scouting for potential talents to be future stars of the program at Clestin College. He didn’t mind helping out- it felt like the right thing to do in his quest for a regular life and this boredom and monotony he was experiencing.

Once this was finished, the plan was to go back to his middle range hotel and go check out what Los Angeles had to throw at him in one night.

But that was four hours away from happening.

Four long hours.

An impressed gasp rippled through the audience, stirring Dylan from his nth day dream of the day and fixing his attention back to what was happening on the floor. Dylan checked his program to see who he was watching. A lad called Pan Cho-Smith, from some leafy high school here in LA.

Dylan watched as he navigated his way around the floor in his routine and had to admit the kid was good. Very good. Too good. Dylan tried to shake the thought off. A regular person wouldn’t be so suspicious or cynical of what they were seeing. But despite his desperation to be regular, Dylan accepted he wasn’t regular. And something about what he was watching wasn’t regular either.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a text from Terri. LUCAS SAYS YOU KNOW ABOUT MOUNT HOGON. HOLT AND I ABOUT TO GO AND FIND HIM. ANYTHING ELSE I SHOULD KNOW ABOUT HIM? HOPE YOU ARE OK. XX He clicked the screen off and returned it to his pocket. Nope, he thought. I’m not going to get drawn into all of that.

The Pan boy had finished and there was a much louder applause for him than other competitors so far. Dylan circled the boy’s name on his program, noting the school he was at, and watched him head off the mat to his coach. The lad was either incredibly disciplined or just wasn’t interested but he didn’t look like someone enthusiastic about his own performance. His school friends looked more excited for him.

Dylan saw a lot of himself in those short minutes watching the boy and his performance. It wasn’t until he was a few years older than the kid was now that Dylan stopped competing competitively, as the fun had gone in winning all of the time and he felt that the advantage he had was only getting greater and unfairer.

Half an hour later, in a short break, he made his way over to Pan’s high school coach. Dylan could feel people whispering when they recognised him but he ignored it and kept his head down, as if he wasn’t known worldwide as Flip, the elite gymnastics extraordinaire and one of America’s younger Collective members.

“Hello coach,” he said, extending his hand for a shake. “I’m Dylan Petersly, a coach from Clestin College here in California.”

“Good to meet you,” he said back, not showing any indication to whether he knew who Dylan was or not. A professional, Dylan noted.

“I’m impressed by the calibre of your competitors, specifically the Pan kid. How long has he been with you?”

“You’re not the only one. Been with us just a year so far. He moved to us from out of state and we didn’t know much about him. Kinda came out of the blue.”

“Interesting. What are his grades like?”

“Perfect. He’s in some accelerated classes. One of our best. He’s going to have his pick of anywhere,” the coach said.

Is he suggesting he could better than Clestin College? Dylan ignored the potential shade and smiled warmly. “Would I be able to meet him?” he asked, hoping to establish more about the prodigal child from talking to him personally.

“I’m not sure where he is,” replied the coach looking around for him. “But I’ll let him know you were looking to meet him.”

Dylan thanked him and walked off back to his seat, not knowing that across the other side of the gymnasium, peeking through a door, that Pan had heard every word.

***

The remaining four hours of the competition dragged by, but at last Dylan was able to leave and head back to his hotel room. He was looking forward to hitting the Farmer’s Market and browsing the plethora of world cuisine on offer before checking out the Boulevard.

But first, shower and freshen up. Finding a music channel on the TV playing the latest Billboard songs on a loud but respectable volume, he collected his towels and headed for the bathroom.

A frantic knock at the door gave Dylan reason to stop what he was doing and hurry to check the peep hole. Eight adolescents boys were crowded at the door.

“Open up quick. We know you’re in there!” said a young voice.

Am I being robbed? Dylan opened the door and the eight teenage boys pushed their way through.

“Close the door,” one boy instructed, and another then stood by it.

“Excuse me but what the hell is going on here?” Dylan asked sternly.

“You’re in danger, Flip,” said the smaller boy. Dylan recognised him instantly.

“Pan?! What are you doing here?! How did you find me here?” He looked around. The boys were all of Thai heritage and Pan was the youngest looking of them all. They were dressed similarly in jeans, hoodies and baseball caps of some varieties.

“Well you said you wanted to meet me.”

“Yes but not in my fricking hotel room!” Dylan snapped back, throwing a hoody over his head. “Tell me what’s going on, or get out.”

“You’re in danger. There are people coming for you, you need to leave,” Pan explained.

“You know who I am right? I think I can handle myself, ok?”

“Not by yourself you can’t,” a lad with an orange tee shirt said. “That’s why we’re here. Hide in the bathroom with Pan and we’ll pretend the room is ours.”

“What? No. No, that’s just silly.” Dylan pushed past the chunky lad on guard at the door and opened it, poking his head out into the corridor. “See, there’s no one there. I’ll just leave now.”

“It’s too late,” warned Pan. “They’re already here.” The elevator down the hallway pinged, indicating its arrival. Chunky Lad pulled Dylan into the room and slammed the door shut.

“Quick, move the bed over,” Pan commanded, and with ease, five of the lads lobbed the mattress off from Dylan’s twin bed and carried the base to block the door. But before they could, the door was unlocked and opened wide enough for a grenade to bounce in.

“Flash bang!” Dylan yelled and they sharply turned away from the door, covering their heads with their arms.

The door burst open again a few moments later, so the boys tried again to get the bed base in position in front of it.

At the same time, Pan grabbed the desk chair and hurled it at the window. The glass shattered out. The seven boys were pushing against the door, preventing it from being opened. Dylan looked towards the room door and then the broken window.

Pan grabbed Dylan’s hand. “We’re getting out of here,” he said.

Dylan’s eyes widened. “We’re six storeys up!” he hissed.

“That’s why you need to hold onto my hand. Don’t let go!” And with that, Pan began running to the window, jumping out of it. Dylan fell out after and instead of falling like he expected to do, they hung there in mid-air, Dylan thrashing and flailing about.

“Don’t let go, bro,” Pan playfully reminded Dylan.

With his free hand, the flying wonder whistled, which signalled the other boys to leap one by one out of the window and joining them in sky outside of the hotel window.

The hotel room filled with armed men dressed all in black and Dylan felt a tug as he was pulled by Pan, them all flying off over Korea Town.

***

The boys and Dylan landed in a dark MacArthur Park by the water’s edge. Dylan staggered back once Pan released him, longing for the return to solid ground.

“I knew you were special earlier kiddo, but that was something else!”

“We were lucky back there,” Pan said to Dylan. “Is anyone hurt?” he asked, turning to his friends who let him know they were ok.

Was this kid their leader? Dylan wondered.

“So come on. I want answers now. How did you know that that was going to happen?” asked Dylan, coming to his senses more.

“I had a sense when I saw you earlier. I didn’t know what, but I knew something was going to happen,” the boy explained.

“And what, you just fly around, getting these premonitions?”

“That’s just the start of it.” Pan quipped. Dylan eyed the boys up suspiciously. There’s something about him. “You think it was those evolutionist pricks?” Pan asked.

“Yeah. It could only really have been The Purists up there,” Dylan said.

“It makes sense,” Pan agreed. The Purists were very vocal with their aggressive propaganda on the internet over their hatred towards people with enhancements.

“You’re going to have to be careful now though, boys. They’ll have seen what you can do. Do you have parents that know what’s going on? How old are you?”

“Don’t worry about us. We may look young, but we can look after ourselves. It’s you I’m worrying about. Not being in The Collective anymore has made you more of an easier target,” warned Pan.

Dylan hadn’t thought of that. He wouldn’t be able to handle himself and get the upper hand over a heavily armed team like that if they came again. Collective or no Collective. Would they come again? Was this an opportunistic strike or part of an agenda? Maybe exploiting his vulnerability alone in the world.

“Hmmm, perhaps.”

“I think it’s for the best if you reconsider your situation. But look, we’ve gotta go now, Dylan. Be seeing you around I’m sure. We should talk about Clestin!” he winked.

“Wait! I still have questions!”

“All in good time, all in good time.” And with that, the eight boys took a running jump and leapt up into the sky, flying off into the warm LA night sky.

It wasn’t safe for Dylan to stick around anymore. He thought back to what Pan had said. Was he a target now? He was desperate just to get on with his life, but maybe now wasn’t the time. Maybe he still had work to do with The Collective before he gave it up.

He got his phone out and dialled for a ride out.

“Brad, it’s me. Are you free?”

Next week…… Two issues will be released, marking the start of the end.

First up on Tuesday 22nd, the short prologue to The Fallout of Two Former Friends storyline! Proten #3, sets the scene as tensions between Brad and Lucas reach boiling point.