Larkin swallowed the lump in her throat. She was breathing heavily after her little rant, and was trying to decide exactly how bad her mistake was. On a scale from one to ten, I guess I'd give it a five. At least he's a super, but I would prefer it if no one knew who I was.

Black Lightning blinked a couple times before saying anything. "What?" He shook his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts. "What?" he repeated again, his voice cracking.

Larkin backed away and appeared to deflate. Her shoulders sagged in defeat. She let out a sigh and decided that it was no use trying to conceal her secret anymore.

"You know me, Black Lightning," she confessed. She paced to the corner and sat down on the curb, her back to him.

"Coalescence."

Larkin flinched. She could hear him approach her from behind. Larkin didn't want to deal with questions or talk to anyone, at all. So she escaped. She knew that one of her tunnels lay under this sidewalk. Without any hesitation, she let herself sink through the earth into her underground haven. When she was free of the earth's clutches, she dropped to the ground. Larkin wasn't prepared, so she landed on her tail bone. She cried out into the empty tunnel. It hurt.

Larkin wanted to cry. She knew she was overreacting, but she didn't care. The day had been too long. She had possibly ruined a friendship, someone knew her secret, and she fell on her tail bone. What a wonderful combination. She wanted to cry, but she didn't. Instead, Larkin rose from her position on the floor and stepped through the wall into her base. She used the ladder attached to the wall to climb up onto a catwalk. She pressed a button on a control panel attached to the wall.

A robotic, monotone voice rang out from the speakers in the ceiling. "Three. Two. One. Begin." A beep resounded throughout the space, and Larkin knew that the training session was about to begin.

She walked the center of the rail-less catwalk and tensed her muscles, ready to defend herself from any attack that came at her.

With her super hearing, Larkin heard the faintest of clicks. She was ready when the panel on the wall slid open and the pistol fired. She didn't move, only readied her body for impact. This was the easy part. She let herself relax, and counted off each click of the chamber. Five blanks total. She never used real bullets, for where would her town be without a live hero? As each blank passed through her, she only felt a slight tickle. Despite her mood, Larkin laughed. She lived in the shadow of death, but he couldn't catch her. She was practically invincible.

When she heard the blanks clatter off the wall behind her and fall to the ground, she prepared herself again. Round two. This time, it wouldn't be quite as easy. Before it began, Larkin put her suit on. She wanted to have full movement capabilities, and no disadvantages.

The thing about Larkin's fight simulation program was that it learned from its mistakes. Larkin didn't create the sessions, the sessions created themselves. She had no idea what would occur each time the robot voice decided it was time to begin. Behind her metal walls, she could hear the whirring of machinery as the computer developed a more difficult situation for Coalescence to solve. After keeping her waiting for five minutes, the monotone voice spoke again, and she was ready.

This time, when the fight simulation began, a box descended on Larkin. She was forced to crouch because she didn't know the height of the box. It landed with a clang. She was encased in darkness, and the walls of the box blocked almost all sound from her sensitive ears. She was blind and deaf: her worst fears. Larkin's first instinct was to crawl through the walls of the box. That was the simplest solution, and the simplest solution was often the correct solution. Larkin tentatively stuck out a hand and rested it, palm down, on the wall. She tried to rearrange her molecular density so that she could slide through the wall, but it wasn't working. Her powers were failing her. Larkin dropped her hand before remembering her newly developed ability. She lifted her palm and waved it across the space in front of her, hoping for some sort of reaction.

Her hopes were fulfilled, and an ethereal green glow filled the cramped space. She noticed how the glow was reflected off the walls of the box and she realized that it was not made out of regular corrugated metal. Gold? How on earth did my computer program get a hold of a gold box? Larkin sighed before waving her hand again and allowing the glow to dissipate. Gold was her weakness, her Kryptonite. For some reason she didn't really understand, Larkin was unable to pass through or absorb any objects made of gold. Luckily for her, criminals didn't carry around golden bullets or gold encrusted daggers. That was a rarity.

For a moment, Larkin was struck dumb about what she was supposed to do. She couldn't go through the walls of the box, and she didn't have any super strength to remove it. She knew she could call off the simulation, and her computer would store this particular one away again until it thought she was ready, but Larkin wasn't one to give up that easily.

She summoned the green light again, and started prodding at the places where bottom edges of the box met the floor of the catwalk.

"I am such an idiot!" she said, chastising herself out loud. Without wasting another second, Larkin dropped through the floor.

It was a freaking bottomless box! Get yourself together! She shook her head before climbing the ladder back to the upper section of her base. She pressed another button on her control panel, stopping the simulations all together.

Larkin sighed before changing back into her civilian clothes. She was proud for figuring out that simulation, but was also simultaneously disappointed at the fact that it took her so long. She sighed again and left her base. She decided that it had been a long night and just needed to sleep. She also decided that she shouldn't sigh as much.

()()()

Jacob was awoken on a perfectly sunny Saturday morning by his father.

"Son, I am a bit confused," spoke the Imposter's voice.

Jacob cracked open one eyelid, and then, realizing it was his father in his room, opened the other eye and sat straight up in bed. His father never got confused. He always had a plan, a plan that favored exactly who he wanted it to. Jacob knew he needed to tread carefully from here. He pushed his blankets back and stood from his bed, ready for whatever his father said.

"I don't really understand," began the Imposter, pausing to draw out the tension, "why Richard Knolls isn't dead yet."

Jacob was familiar with that tone of voice. He heard it the most when his father was talking to his helpers, the puny criminals he had to do the dirty work, when he was angry with them. Jacob wasn't quite sure how he should react to his father's statement. After considering his options, Jacob decided to play the innocent card.

"I've been working on it. I am slightly busy, though. Don't worry father, I have it under control."

That was the wrong choice.

The Imposter's eyes narrowed to slits. A disturbing smile graced his chapped lips, but it almost looked more like a grimace to Jacob. He took a step toward Jacob, and pulled something out of his back pocket.

"It doesn't look like you have it under control," he said. There was not a hint of menace in his voice, but Jacob knew better. He knew that his father was just hiding behind a mask.

That's when the Imposter decided to show Jacob what he had been holding. Very slowly, he pulled out a gun from behind his back. Jacob flinched, wondering if this was the day his father had decided to off him. He wouldn't miss me. That's for sure.

The Imposter held out the gun, and Jacob was surprised to find that the barrel was not pointing at him. It was pointing at the ground, and his father was handing it to him. He didn't want to take it. He really didn't want to. He didn't want to shoot anyone. He didn't want to have lives on his hands. He didn't want to be evil. He didn't want any of this. But then, that nagging voice at the back of head told his something he really didn't want to hear. You are already evil, don't you see? Ignorant child.

Jacob blanched at the thought. He really didn't like being insulted by his own thoughts. It had been gnawing at him since his father had returned, since he had discovered his abilities. He was split right down the middle. One part of him was disgusted that anyone was even asking him to do something so terrible. The other part of him, the part that he tried to stamp out, just wanted to do something, anything. He was becoming restless, and simply wanted a chance to use his skills.

"I'm offering you an ultimatum," explained the Imposter. "All you have to do is kill Mr. Knolls, and I will accept you into my good graces, no questions asked, all mistakes forgiven." The smile never left his lips as he continued to threaten his only son. "If I do not see his obituary by next Saturday, I believe...well..." The Imposter trailed off. A frown marred his face, and yet, his mouth was frozen in its twisted, ugly grin. "I hope I don't have to read a more unfortunate obituary."

Jacob knew perfectly well what his father was implying. He knew that if he didn't take the gun, he wouldn't even make it to next Saturday. Voice or no voice in his head, he knew that he had to take the gun. Whether or not he would use it on Larkin's father, that was something he had yet to decide.

Jacob reached out and wrapped his hand around the grip of the gun. The Imposter dropped his smile and left, very abruptly. Jacob sagged against his bedpost, wondering if he had made the right decision.

Before going downstairs to see his mother and eat breakfast, Jacob changed clothes. What to do with this gun? My mom would freak if she saw this. His mother had no clue that her son had a gun, let alone that a wanted villain was living under her roof.

He tucked the gun into the furthest corner of his closet. Hopefully, he could forget about it until much later.