--II--

The man leading the pack looked me over. Between his Vicinity Four accent and whatever he'd been smoking all his life, I could hardly understand him.

"Ain't nobody see James with no permission, little boy," he said. "Get lost 'fo ya get hurt, or somebody decides you're too pretty."

I didn't have to be told the meaning of that.

"I have permission," I said.

He half coughed, half laughed. "To get a drug? Look at ya. What're ya, twelve?"

"Seventeen."

"And you here 'fo da Smack? You is throwin' yo life away on da hard shit, already? You too young!"

I didn't have a life to throw away. What an idiot.

"I came here for the antidote," I said. I tried to say it with a steady voice but failed, I wanted to cry but this was not the time or the place. "My dad's been poisoned."

There was a moment's pause. Then his stare suddenly felt less menacing, his voice less gruff.

"New experiment?" he said.

"No," I replied. "Mines."

"'Sit bad?"

"I don't know. I just know he has it."

"Whadya have for us?"

"Files. The ones James wanted? I have them."

I heard people mumble from behind their desks. There was rumbling all around me.

"You?" the man said. "The one who's getting us the info is you?"

"I don't even know what I'm getting you," I said. "But I have it. All I want is the antidote."

--

James had long straight hair, some sort of shade between red and orange. His glasses reflected the light from all the screens in his office as he spoke.

"...should last you about three weeks, maybe four." He unplugged the flash drive from a device I'd never seen before. "Come talk to me before then to get more."

"Will I have to do something similar?"

There was a touch of amusement on his face, a smile in his eyes, which were the same shade of light green as the ice cream Caleb bought for me and Kaylee, the day we graduated from primary school. It feels like it was just yesterday.

Kaylee and I were in the same classes, and we also were in Experiment Nightingale- the only two survivors. It was aimed towards telepaths, intended to hone their abilities further, perhaps cause reactions that gave us more powers, make us more useful. It's unclear if that experiment is why Kaylee can make plants grow from nothing, why I can touch people and take pain from them and leap unbelievably high and far. I wasn't a good enough gymnast to compete anywhere- because I was disqualified before I could get on an apparatus.

James arranged the vials in a box before me on one of his tables.

"Something similar or even better," he said.

I cleared my throat. Between memories of Experiment Nightingale and my thoughts of Malcolm it was hard to stay in the present moment. "I'm sorry," I replied. "What exactly do you mean by 'better?'"

Before Malcolm came along I was prostituted as a child. It happens when you're poor and you come from one of the worst parts of the Overwoods.

"I mean that the experiment was a success!" he said, tapping the US seal on the badge he always wore on a chain around his neck. I had never seen James so happy before. "You..." he walked over and put an arm around me. "Are a success! The Union of Stars' president will be so happy, absolutely ecstatic!"

I wrapped my arms around the box, the vials of antidote that could very well save Malcolm's life. "Can I go home now?"

"Yes!" he said. "Come see me in three weeks."

I made my way towards the door in a hurry. "Okay," I said.

"Oh, Midnight, one more thing-" he said. He was fiddling with papers and envelopes in one of his desk drawers. "This is for you."

He picked up some type of small object, and threw it in a long arc across the room and at me. I caught it with the top of the box.

For a moment I was so worried it had maybe broken a vial or two, but it was surprisingly very lightweight.

It was a badge, with a seal. Just like the one James was wearing. And it landed face up.

I made out the words pressed into the silver material:

"CHRISTOPHER MIDNIGHT. UNION OF STARS. AGENT LEVEL I."

I looked back at him, confused, and so aggravated that yet another person was wasting my time on that day.

"James," I said, trying to sound nonchalant and failing. "This is for someone else. My name is Danny."

He looked at me, and I had trouble reading his exact expression. It was like he thought what I said was hysterical. Like he was about to throw a party because he won the lottery or something. "Not anymore."

--

The Overwoods

book one

written by realnotperfect out of sheer boredom

--