Captain Elnora focuses down the firing range. The surfaces of the training room walls are severely damaged with blaster burns marks and holes. She holds her breath, glancing down the sights of the rifle. It’s quiet enough I can hear my own heart beat within my chest. A red light buzzes loudly and a small, red-ringed target springs up. Captain Elnora pulls the trigger and a flash of blue pierces the target. The next panel swings outward and she fires another bolt, hitting the target dead center. More targets appear, but the Captain doesn’t hesitate. She fires one after another, not once missing her target. The buzzer buzzes again, and the Captain lowers her rifle.

Pyrrha and Jorge clap with amazement, cheering the Captain’s name. She returns to the observation deck, mounting the rifle onto the gun rack.

“That was amazing!” says Pyrrha. “I don’t think you missed a shot!”

“I didn’t,” the Captain replies. Dawud huffs under his breath. Luckily for him, she didn’t hear him. The Captain interacts with a holographic interface within the observation deck. Large pistons pull the modular walls of the training room on large tracks, expanding the firing range into a large room at least one hundred feet wide. The floor panels rise up at various different heights and projected on the tops of a few are glitchy wireframes of humanoids in a T-pose. Elnora dims the lights in the room, making the holograms easier to see.

“Alright, now that we’re done playing with guns, I want to see each one of your powers in action. Pyrrha, you go first,” says the Captain.

“Yes, ma’am,” Pyrrha obliges. She looks to me. I smile and give her two thumbs up for encouragement. Pyrrha enters the training room and the heavy metal doors lock behind her. I move closer to the window to get a better view and watch as she creeps up to the center of the training room. She surveys the locations of each hologram then hops a few times to shake off her nerves.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Elnora says impatiently into the intercom. Pyrrha stands idle, then slowly raises her hands outwards. She snaps her fingers on both hands simultaneously. A spark flickers from her fingertips, and a delicate glint of blue fire forms inches from her palms. The blue flames spin rapidly, taking the shape of an orb. Pyrrha grunts then hurls one of the wisps from her hands like a baseball. The fireball pierces one of the holographic targets and erupts onto the wall behind it, leaving the surface scorched black. She hurls the second with even more power and hits another target. Elnora opens the interface again, and the floor panels begin to move up and down. This doesn’t faze Pyrrha. She conjures more fireballs and hits the moving targets with deadly accuracy. It’s spectacular to watch.

Pyrrha grunts vehemently and the fire intensifies, engulfing her arms all the way up to her shoulders. The sleeves of her white shirt disintegrate to bits of orange embers that flutter to the ground.

“Uh-oh,” Jorge whispers to Dawud. “Is she gonna try it?”

Pyrrha raises her hands over her head and the fires merge into one large, spinning sphere above her. Pyrrha grunts one final time and the sphere condenses into the size of a golf ball, emitting a bright white light that made it impossible to stare directly into. Through squinted eyes I watch Pyrrha slowly wind her arms back over her head. She throws the small fireball and it shoots across the room and between two holograms. It erupts behind the targets in a massive explosion, blanketing the impact site in a sea of flames and black smoke. Pyrrha pivots around and gives us a smokey pair of jazz hands.

“OO-RAH! THAT’S MY GIRL!” Jorge whoops proudly. I can’t help but applaud her myself. To see the destructive potential up close without being in harm's way is breathtaking.

“That was good, Pyrrha. I expected nothing less from you,” says the Captain. Pyrrha rejoins us in the room. Dawud and Jorge approach her to deliver her praise and high-fives.

“Woah! Your hands are still a little hot to the touch!” says Jorge childishly.

“You finally managed to stabilize your nova. Good job,” says Dawud, patting Pyrrha heavily on the shoulder. She chuckles modestly and rubs the back of her neck.

Elnora resets the room, and initiates the room-wide extinguishers to snuff out any remaining flames that still burned.

“Jorge, you’re up,” she says. Jorge cracks his knuckles which pop loudly like a string of firecrackers. Elnora changes the training room once again. Long retractable arms lower from the ceiling, strategically placing large bulky, free-standing punching bags around the room. As soon as the doors open, Jorge eagerly bolts through and charges towards the nearest one. I sidle over to Pyrrha.

“What‘s Jorge exactly?” I whisper to her. In the time it takes me to ask the question, Jorge drop-kicks of the punching bags creating a loud clap that echoes throughout the inside of the training room. The black sack of sand is launched like a bullet through the air and crashes into the wall with tremendous force, exploding on impact. He squats and leaps ten feet into the air before coming down on top of another bag. He plunges his fist through the sack up to his elbow and rips out a handful of sand.

“He’s going to run out of punching bags. I hope this room isn’t too expensive…” Dawud snickers. Jorge lifts a bag by the pedestal and swings it around his body hammer throw style. He releases his grip on the bag and it comes flying in our direction. Elnora doesn’t even flinch as it hits the reinforced glass and cracks the surface.

“Jorge’s a Titan. He has super strength if it isn’t obvious already,” Pyrrha says. I continue to watch as Jorge pummels and obliterates the remaining punching bags with ease as if they were made of wet tissue paper. His is carnage doesn’t stop there. The moment the last bag is deflates, he charges for one the modular wall panels and tries to pry it off.

“Enough,” Captain Elnora says sternly. Jorge, ignoring her, persists. She sighs the. presses a button on the interface and the panel Jorge was trying so desperately to break apart, shoots out and knocks him flat on his ass.

“You need to listen to what I say or you’ll get yourself killed,” she barks.

Jorge brushes himself off and then raises his fist to give her the bird. Luckily he comes to his senses at the last second and reclaims his bloodied and bruised hand.

“Are you alright?” Pyrrha asks Jorge as he enters the observation deck. She takes his hand and observes the torn flesh around his knuckles.

“Nothing a good mediform dip can’t solve,” Jorge chuckles.

“Well why don’t you go and do that,” Elnora says exasperatingly. “Take ten. It’s gonna be a while to reset this mess. Just take the elevator down one floor and head down the corridor to the infirmary. There you’ll find some mediform.”

Jorge is the first to bolt towards the elevator. The three of us follow after and take the lift down one level. I drag my feet on my way to the infirmary, half listening in on their small talk and banter. Pyrrha, notices my lack of presence then falls back to join me.

“Why aren't you with us, slowpoke?” she asks.

I half-shrug. “You guys have history with each other. I don’t want to wedge myself between that. Besides, I don’t think Jorge and Dawud like me.”

Pyrrha scoffs and playfully jabs my shoulder. “Don’t mind them. They’ll warm up to you eventually. You have no idea how long to took for Dawud to even utter hello to me.”

Her statement does little to reassure me. Neither Dawud or Jorge have noticed Pyrrha’s absence and continue their conversation without her. It makes me question if their relationship is mutual.

We come across steel double doors with a holographic banner above labeled “Infirmary”. The four of us enter immediately greeted by a middle aged doctor dressed in blue scrubs and white lab coat.

“Hello, how may I help you?” he asks kindly. Jorge doesn’t spare a second to show off his bloodied and bruised knuckles to the doctor.

“Mediform. STAT,” he says. The doctor fumbles an imaginary football in his hand before racing to his medical cabinet. Dawud and Jorge follow the astonished doctor as Pyrrha and I take a seat on a sofa closest to the entrance. She lifts up the leg of her pants up to her knee, revealing an unsightly cybernetic leg. The enclosure is misshapen and barely holding together by DIY botched repairs. She unfastens the locking mechanism and detaches her limb, setting it beside her. She sighs a breath of relief and massages the scarred nub of her knee.

“Goddess, it feels so good to take this thing off,” she says. “The joint starts to pinch the nerves.”

“It looks quite old,” I comment.

“Yeah…” she replies remorsefully. “I lost my healthcare after I was discharged from the DSSO. This was all I can afford.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that...”

She shrugs. “It’s fine now. The Prime Minister said he could get me full healthcare if I joined this task force. Now, it feels risky, I was well aware of the potential violations with the Hero Accord n’all but I was so desperate. We all kinda are...”

She looks over to Dawud and Jorge, who were taken into another medical room connected to ours. Through the square window, I see Jorge dunking both his hands in two separate medical beakers filled with mediform.

“So what’s the whole story with you three?” I ask.

Pyrrha chuckles. “Now that’s a good question—You’re well aware that Dawud has served a long time in the DSSO, right?”

I nod my head.

“Okay, so the DSSO forms Gifted squads of three. Dawud, being the most experienced, was our leader. By the time I was assigned to the squad I think Jorge was starting his second tour? I can’t recall, but I know I was their replacement because their previous third was killed in action. Anyway, it was a bumpy start. I was a late bloomer. I didn’t start to use my powers until my late teens because I was always afraid of the destructive potential. I was prone to accidents and screwing up the easiest assignments. This set us back and caused tension between the three of us at first...”

Pyrrha snaps her fingers, forming a small blue wisp at her fingertips. She sighs and frowns wearily.

“Our first assignment was on the shattered moon of Traxis. I threw a fireball and miscalculated the throw. It hit Jorge square in the back and instantly set his armor ablaze. He’s still scarred on his back because of it. He was angry at first, really angry. He wouldn’t talk to me for the longest time until I offered to cover up his scar with a custom tattoo. He instantly forgave me.”

“You paid for a tattoo and he forgave you just like that?” I say in disbelief.

“Paid?” Pyrrha chuckles. “Oh no, I’m a tattoo artist, inked him myself.”

“Oh, that is awesome. You didn’t strike me as the artistic type,” I reply.

“Yeah, I’m pretty quiet about it. I’m not licensed or anything. I do a lot of my work from my garage. It helped pay the bills.”

“I wanted to get a tattoo once back when I was in high school. I drew it out and everything.”

“Oh?” Pyrrha says with wonder. “And what happened to this sketch? Did you ever get it inked?”

“I tossed it. It was too cheesy.”

“What was it of?”

“A serpent coiling around Lady Fortuna with the words, fuck luck written below.” I sigh with embarrassment. Pyrrha’s face twists like she just sucked on a sour lemon.

“I know, stupid right? I was an ornery teenager,” I say.

Pyrrha laughs and slaps my shoulder. “That’s funny! At least you didn’t go through with it!” She turns her back to me and lifts the lower part of her shirt, revealing a butterfly tattoo with wings made of flames. “I got this when I was fifteen.”

She and I both chuckle together and she lowers her top. “If you want, I can totally give you a tattoo if you’re interested!”

“Sure!” I shrug unbiasedly.

“We can talk design later! Anyway, back to us. So things changed after the Odessa Revolts. Do you know anything about it?”

I shake my head.

“To fill you in briefly, a group of hydroponic workers got upset at another wage cut and barricaded themselves on Odessa’s only food source. We were supposed to go in, incapacitate the workers and get out… It escalated into much more. As soon as our shuttle touched down on the landing pad the workers ambushed us. They sabotaged the shuttle turbines. We were sitting ducks.”

Pyrrha looks down to her leg. “One of the workers lobbed a grenade right at me. I didn’t even notice until my vision was consumed by grey smoke and my ear drums were blown out. I collapse to the floor scared out of my wits. I hastily reacted…”

Pyrrha starts to frown and bows her head in shame. “I threw a fireball in a random direction and it struck an oxygen tank. The chain reaction spread through almost the entire hydroponics laboratory. Eighty percent of the planet’s food supply burned in minutes.”

I remain silent.

“The Fleet Admiral discharged me a day after the incident. He deemed my lack of experience with my gift posed as more of a threat than helpful. This infuriated Dawud. I don’t know why… He snapped and went off about how it wasn’t my fault and yadda-yadda. He stuck up for me ya’know? It proved to be futile. The Fleet Admiral dismisses his claims and had him retire. Jorge, not wanting to separate with either of us, punches a CO, breaking his ribs in two places and also getting himself discharged along with a few months in prison.”

The door to the medical office opens. Jorge enters the room drying his hands on his jeans.

“Yo, are we ready to go?” he asks. Pyrrha puts on her cybernetic leg.

“Totally,” she replies, before turning back to me. “We’ll talk more later.”

The four of us rejoin Captain Elnora at the training floor. The training room is reset with all the battered bags and sand cleared.

“Ten minutes, fifty-three seconds and point six milliseconds. When I say ten minutes, I quite literally mean exactly ten minutes,” says the Captain irately.

“We’re sorry, ma’am,” Pyrrha replies without missing a heartbeat.

“You may be sorry,” she stops halfway and inhales deeply. “Whatever, I had to make some adjustments to the training room to help with measuring the strength of our Kinetics,” Elnora looks to Dawud and I. “I hope you two are familiar with the TST.”

“Familiar?” I think to myself. “I looked forward to the telekinetic strength test every year! It’s the only time of year I can really let my powers unleash without any repercussions.”

“I’ve rigged one of the panels measure forces acted against it. If it works, I can get an estimate of what your current mental strength is.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” says Dawud impatiently. He steps up to the door and looks to the Captain for the okay. She lets him proceed and the three of us hurry up to the observation window for a better view.

“This guy is super strong,” says Jorge excitedly. “Watch and learn from the Kinetic King!”

Dawud steps up to the center of the room and waits. Elnora activates one of the north panel walls. The piston springs the wall towards Dawud. He raises his arms and catches it, holding it back with ease.

I lean over towards Pyrrha. “He uses his arms?” I whisper.

“Yeah it helps him concentrate and visualize his mental grasp,” she whispers back. “Why? What do you do?”

“It’s kinda weird to describe. But I pretend that everything in the world has a negative charge like a magnet. Depending on I need to do, I alternate my telekinesis with the opposite or same charge to influence my target. So if I need something pulled towards me I pretend I’m a positive charge and if I need something pushed I’m negative.”

Pyrrha looks to me, wide eyed from perplexion. “What?”

“Yeah, forget I said anything,” I reply, trying to hide my embarrassment. Elnora amps up the power of the piston and the wall starts to advance. Dawud squares his feet and grunts, pushing back the wall. I glance over at Elnora’s screen and see his power levels sitting at a steady five point sixteen tons.

“Call it off!” Dawud exclaims. She then powers down the panel and Dawud lowers his hands. He pants a few times and grips the side of his head.

“Very good, Mr. Abidi,” Elnora praises. “We’ll see if our rookie can top your score of five point sixteen,”

Although Dawud looks to be in extreme exhaustion, he finds the energy to turn around and smirk in my general direction.

“You can do it, Ayden!” Pyrrha cheers. I enter the training room.

“Good luck,” says Dawud condescendingly as he passes me. I shake off the nerves and make my way towards the center of the training room. I hear the door close in the distance. I take a long, deep breath and wait.

The panel springs towards me without warning. I focus on the white rectangular section of wall and catch it. The piston crunches loudly. It’s easy at first but I feel the wall close in on my position gradually. I apply more force and drive back the wall.

“Come on Ayden!” I hear Pyrrha cry over the intercom. “Be negative!”

I chuckle, which weakens my mental concentration for a moment but I quickly reclaim my hold. I push back the wall harder, using every ounce of strength within me. It’s strenuous. I yell, and give it all I have left. The wall begins to crunch and fold in on itself. The piston breaks way, collapsing on itself, snapping back and colliding with the wall behind it. I stop using my telekinesis and quickly turn around to assess everyone's reactions. Two silhouettes bounce up and down in excitement.

“Color me impressed, Ayden. Just before you broke the machine, you surpassed Dawuds score by point five tons.” Elnora says. My heart drops. I can’t believe the huge jump in power since my last TST. This officially brands me as a category three. I couldn’t be more excited and proud of myself. The door to the training room opens and Pyrrha and Jorge charge in.

“Woohoo! Way to go!” Pyrrha exclaims.

“All hail the new Kinetic King!” Jorge praises, lightly punching my shoulder which actually hurt a bit. Through their excitement, I spot Dawud glaring at me resentfully with his dark brown eyes not looking so high and mighty he was a few minutes ago. With his arms folded over his chest he huffs then leaves the observation room through the elevator without a word.

If Dawud didn’t like me before then he definitely hates me now.