Wednesday, April 19th

  Location: Hostage in random room

  Mission: Pray

  “Come on, get to it!” Tilli barked.

  I glanced at Nikki; I couldn’t tell if she’d glanced back. The air in the room tasted like static and fear. “Helmet’s off. In fact, take all your armor off,” Tilli ordered. “Now.”

  “Okay… okay… okay… chill,” Nikki pleaded. We moved slow and careful, peeling helmets and armor like we were defusing something volatile. The clatter of gear hitting the floor felt impossibly loud. For a second, having the weight of the helmets gone was the best thing that could have happened.

  “These must be the YMPA agents they warned us about,” Tilli said to Marcus, voice flat as steel.

  “I don’t know… you tell me,” Marcus replied, hands folded as if he were still behind a lab bench instead of in a locked room with loaded guns aimed at us. Tilli leveled the muzzle at me and I felt my bladder betray me a little. I was the least of her concern—right now—but the panic pooled in my stomach all the same.

  Then Tilli’s eyes dropped to my waist. “Mhm. They are,” she confirmed. “Take all those weapons off.”

  “Well, that’s a lot to take off… you sure you don’t wanna kill us with them on?” Nikki shot back.

  I turned toward her, eyes wide, frustration burning through me in a way I couldn’t disguise. Tilli snorted, amusement mingling with contempt. “They sent amateur junior agents. I’m insulted.”

  “Excuse me…” Nikki hissed. “We found you in seconds.”

  “You know what? Sit down,” Tilli ordered.

  “Where?” I asked. The floor looked less like something you sat on and more like a punishment. Tilli gestured with the barrel and we obeyed, settling onto the cold, unforgiving concrete.

  “Gotta love it,” Nikki muttered. Tilli barked again. “Hush, would you?!”

  Nikki shut up immediately. Honestly, who wouldn’t? When someone screams at you with a gun aimed at your head, silence feels like a life-preserving maneuver.

  “Why did they send you?” Tilli asked.

  “Because that’s our job,” Nikki answered, steady and clipped.

  “Why did the YMPA send you?” Tilli asked again, this time sharper. Nikki glanced at me; I shrugged. She faced Tilli once more. “I’m sure I already told—”

  “Why did the YMPA send you? What business do you guys have in C.A.R.G.O” Tilli pressed. Nikki’s jaw tightened. “Let me return the question: why in the world did the TSA spawn you guys here?”

  “Like I would tell you,” Nikki hissed back. “Do you see the leverage we have here?”

  “Well, in all honesty, we did find your mole in a matter of seconds. Sheesh. You led us right to him,” Nikki went on, tone sharp with a smile. “I assume you have no information to even give. That’s just how bad you—”

  “Why did the YMPA send you?” Tilli cut in, voice a dangerous calm. “Or I’ll shoot you right in the head.”

  She looked at me then, and my stomach dropped. “I’m sure you don’t want her to die, do you?” she said.

  My head snapped to Nikki. How had this suddenly become my problem? Nikki shrugged, as if the solution to being threatened at gunpoint could be worked out by indifference. “Figure something out,” she mouthed.

  “What?” I hissed. “You figure something out!” Tilli cocked the gun. The metallic clack made my teeth ache.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  I squealed when panic tightened my chest. Tilli’s eyes flashed with something like exhilaration. She trained the muzzle on Nikki. I squealed again, higher this time.

  Then the door exploded inward.

  Mari and Tisiah barreled in, wands out, moving like a pair who’d been rehearsing for this exact moment. They collided with Tilli. In the chaos, Nikki pushed up off the floor.

  Tilli fired.

  Nikki screamed and folded, a sound that ripped through me. The bullet found her shoulder; blood fountained, dark and sudden. My heart lurched into a cold, stunned stop. That shriek—God—was the kind of sound nightmares are built from.

  “Nikki!” Tisiah roared, diving on top of her. He was all frantic motion—hands, breath, fury. Mari lunged for Tilli, pinning her with a strength that seemed almost casual until I realized she wasn’t casual at all.

  “Run, Marcus!” Tilli shouted with whatever lungs she had left.

  He ran.

  Marcus didn’t hesitate; his wand flashed and a gust slammed against the window, shattering glass into a sudden glittering rain. Adrenaline ripped through me—no time to think. I had to move.

  He climbed out on the ledge. I didn’t even know that ledge existed until he was balanced on it, and then the world pitched. My scream left before my feet did. He scooted along the narrow strip, and I followed, limbs trembling, crouched low, each inch a negotiation with gravity. We were at least thirty feet up. “Stop!” I shouted. “There’s nowhere to go!”

  He looked at me—eyes wide with a terror that had nothing to do with my threats. “Killing me is not the problem!” he shouted back.

  He struck his wand and a concentrated blast of air slammed into me—wind with a punch that felt like being hit by a truck. It was like the air had been juiced, turned into a physical force intended to break me. I went over the edge.

  For a terrifying instant the world narrowed to falling, the ground rushing up at a speed that should have pulverized every bone. I activated reflexively—some small, bright activation of my Perk—and managed to avoid total catastrophe. I smashed into a parked car thirty feet below with the kind of pain that rearranged my ribs and sense of self. The sound of metal and my own breath filled my ears.

  Guards started shouting. I had to move, because staying meant getting scooped up by the wrong people. I pushed myself into a scramble and looked up in time to see Marcus leap—wind swirling beneath his feet like a broomstick—land on top of a semi and slide down to the ground, tailwind pushing him like a shadow.

  He ran for the delivery docks—the backside of the facility where crates and forklifts cast long, useful shadows. He climbed a stack of boxes with the agility of someone who’d practiced this escape a thousand times. I couldn’t match every move; copying would have been a marathon. I jumped, using my speed to get extra height. He turned, startled to see me—surprised that I’d followed—but his expression registered more annoyance than fear.

  I landed and slammed a shockwave into him. Even his wind couldn’t fully block that. The force knocked him backward in a way that felt good and terrible all at once—terrible because I hoped to subdue him, good because the plan was, for once, working.

  “Okay—listen—if you just stop right now, we can help you. Trust me.” My breath sounded like a foghorn in my ears; adrenaline was draining like a leaky bucket.

  He conjured another whirlwind and used it like a bat; I flew into a radio pole with a sickening crack. My ears rang, and stars bloomed across my vision. I flailed and hit the ground. Somewhere a car skidded and slammed into something in the distance.

  When my sight recalibrated from newborn blur to something like 480p resolution, Mari hovered over me, disappointment radiating off her in waves. “Nice job,” she hissed.

  “What do you mean?” I managed.

  She grabbed my collar and hauled me upright like I weighed nothing. The world rebalanced as I forced myself to stand. Marcus lay propped against a crate—alive, unconscious, probably full of wind and regret.

  “Did you hit him with a car?” I blurted.

  “Yeah. It worked, didn’t it?” Mari said, almost pleased.

  I pressed myself against the hood of a van and exhaled a ragged, horrified laugh. “Lord, have mercy,” I whispered.

  Mari scoffed. “You couldn’t even handle a kid whose Perk is wind.”

  “Hey, first of all—wind is very useful!” I protested.

  She turned to me with that look—the one that says you are simultaneously the subject of a story and the punchline. “Yeah. That’s why basically no one has it.”

  I pushed the ache in my knees down and tried to be serious. “What about Tisiah and Nikki? Nikki’s hurt. We need to get her to medical—now.”

  Mari hefted Marcus easily under an arm. “Call the YMPA ambulance,” she said. “Don’t they teach you this in Predicament class?”

  “Predicament class?” I repeated, stunned.

  “Haven’t got there yet?” she scoffed, as if the answer should have been obvious. “That’s why they put you with me. You guys are amateur agents.”

  Amateur. The word landed like another hit. I had just tangled with a man beforehand who could steal Perks—what did that make me? I opened my mouth to argue, to defend the five minutes of chaos I’d survived, but my legs trembled and the words died.

  Mari kept walking, then stopped and looked back at me. “You know how Tisiah and I knew to come?” she asked.

  “You just found us,” I said, expecting some heroic reveal.

  “I wish.” She rolled her eyes and smirked. “Nikki left her radio on. Convenient timing.”

  And just like that, my self-esteem had just disintegrated.