Andraeon glanced around the large room, taking in the padded walls and the gym mats neatly slotted together across the length and width of the floor. There was a window high up in the wall opposite the door they had come in by, and he could just see a booth behind it, occupied by scientists in lab coats. They were all crowded in front of the glass, staring down at him. Below the window, arrayed in a row along the floor, were a series of targets of varying shapes and sizes, and what looked like the pieces of some sort of obstacle course had been jumbled in a pile against one of the other walls.
“Pay attention, Andraeon.” Aloria pinched his chin between her thumb and forefinger, forcing him to look at her. “I said I want to see what you can do.”
“I forgot how.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t even start playing this game. I could tell you that for every time you refuse after this, I’m going to have Shiki lose a body part, but I’d like to keep this civil. So. Show me what you can do now.”
He studied her face for a moment then nodded, reaching down for the wellspring of power. It came easier to him now and he was able to control it enough to send it at just one target, though that target exploded into a shower of wooden splinters. A few of the bigger splinters were flung with such force into the walls that they stuck there, quivering.
“Well, it’s a start,” Aloria said after a moment. “Is that all Shiki taught you? How to blow things up?”
“He didn’t have a lot of time,” Andraeon said defensively.
“Boys. You all think the most important thing is what goes boom. Well, you have time to learn now. We’re going right back to the basics. You don’t just grab and throw, Andraeon. Do it again and just hold it, like you’re holding something in your hand.”
He glanced up at the scientists watching him avidly from the booth and tried to do as she said, reaching into the wellspring and taking a handful to hold. It made the area between his shoulderblades itch and he had to fight the urge to release it somehow, preferably at the booth where the scientists stared. He was facing towards them but he still felt as though they were all around him, crowding in against his back and sucking all the air out of the room. He narrowed his eyes and glared at them, but he could still feel their hungry gazes all over him, possessive and clingy.
He blinked and he was up in the booth with them, the power raging at what little control he had over it. As they scrambled away from him and fought to get out the single door first, he felt it slip loose of his grip and explode outwards around him. The shockwave flattened everyone still in the room and blew the window out in a tinkling shower of glass. The computers along one wall went up in fire with a dull fwumph noise, causing the sprinklers overhead to turn on and cover everything in sticky clinging foam that irritated his nose and made him sneeze. He stood there in the mess the booth had become and looked out through the broken window, to see that Aloria was laughing so hard she had doubled over, clutching at her ribs.
Later, when he’d been returned to his room and left alone (Aloria left still giggling, though the guard with her had kept a hand firmly on his gun, reminding Andraeon so strongly of Jones that he felt sick), he thought about how easily he had moved from the floor of the padded room to the locked booth high above. It had felt as easy as breathing to do it at the time, though he still wasn’t entirely sure of how it had happened. Closing his eyes he tried to do it again, just moving himself from his bed to the other side of the room.
The only thing he managed to do was tire himself out and give himself a pounding headache. Groaning in frustration, he got up and went into the small adjacent bathroom to stick his head under the tap, letting the cold water run down his face until he felt a little better. When he was done he used a towel to dry his hair and twisted it back into a ponytail before returning to the bed. From the light coming in through his single small window he judged it was still only late afternoon but he closed his eyes anyway and tried to relax, absently scratching at an itchy spot on his hip. His fingers brushed something hard and cool and he sat up immediately, pulling his shirt up to see what it was. The corner of his mouth curved up in a grin as he saw the blue-green shimmer of a world sphere just above the line of his pelvic bone, and it was the work of a moment to draw it free.
“Okay,” he told it, unconsciously pitching his voice to just above a whisper. “I’m not even sure what I can do or what you can do, or even why you’re here. But please just take me out. Take me to Jones.”
He pushed his pillows up and leaned back against them, cradling the sphere loosely in his hands and on his chest, over his heart. Taking a deep breath he looked at the sphere, letting himself relax and just watch the patterns until the room faded away around him.
He’s out this time and he knows he’s out for good; he’s been careful and hidden away, so they won’t find him. He thinks maybe they’ll have ways of trying to track him but he also thinks he’s got a pretty good headstart now. He hitched a ride in a delivery truck, jumping into the back as the driver was getting into the front, and his heart still pounds from the fear and excitement of it all. He was so convinced that someone had seen him that when the truck stopped at the front gate, he nearly burst out of his hiding spot to bolt. Instead he had managed to cram himself further into the corner of the boxes he was hiding among and fought the urge, biting at his knuckles until there were bruised teethmarks in his skin. The truck had seemed to sit there for hours but eventually it started moving again, and when he risked a peek out he saw they were already back on the road and heading away from Edgemount.
He slumps back in his corner and starts to think of how he’s going to get out of the truck without being spotted, and where he’s going to go. He knows very little of the world beyond Edgemount; he’s been there for at least 5 years, though his sense of time is a little fuzzy. Sometimes it seems as though he’s been there his entire life, though he still remembers the orphanage. He misses it, a little, sometimes. At least there he had friends around his own age, even if no one outside wanted him.
The truck turns in somewhere and when he peeks out again he sees it’s stopped in the parking lot of a fast food restaurant on the side of a highway somewhere. His stomach growls at the scent of cooking meat wafting through the air towards him, and after watching to make sure the truck driver goes inside, he creeps out of the truck. Stretching out in the cool night air feels like the best thing he’s ever done and he starts immediately for the front door of the restaurant before realizing he’ll need actual money to buy some food. He hesitates then reluctantly turns away and heads behind the restaurant to see if they’ve tossed out anything edible in the dumpster.
Busy digging through the garbage, he doesn’t realize someone’s coming until they grab his shoulder and pull him back. He squeaks in fear and automatically puts his arms over his head to protect himself. When the person makes a sympathetic ‘aww’ noise he risks looking through his crossed arms and sees it’s a woman dressed in the uniform of the restaurant they’re behind. She’s wearing glasses and her hair’s tucked into a hairnet, though a few stray wisps have escaped. Something about her immediately makes him feel safe and he offers a slightly nervous smile.
She smiles back, then glances at the dumpster and shakes her head. “You don’t want that shit, kid. Come with me, I’ll get you some food.”
She starts for the back door and after a slight hesitation he follows, trusting in his intuition that she really does just want to feed him and maybe try to learn why he’s out here digging in a dumpster at near midnight. She takes him through the preparation area, waving off questions from her coworkers, and sits him down in what must be the employee break room, then she tells him to wait. He spends his time looking at the safety posters on the walls and the messages on the bulletin board until she comes back with a tray full of steaming hot food. He barely remembers to thank her before tucking in, shovelling the food into his mouth so fast he chokes and has to cough half of it out into a napkin.
“It’s not going to disappear,” she tells him. “Eat a bit slower.”
“Sorry,” he mumbles, and obediently slows down.
She sits and watches him for a few moments, smiling a little. “You remind me of my son. He’s always been a big eater too. So what brings you down here?”
He can’t tell her the truth, obviously, and after a moment’s hesitation he says, “I got kicked out.”
Her face softens in sympathy again. “Look... Like I said, you remind me of my son. I can put you up for the night if you’re okay with that. Better than sleeping on the streets, right? Or do you have somewhere to go?”
“No, ma’am.” It comes out naturally. “I’d really like a place to stay. Thanks.”
“Great.” She glances at the clock. “I’m about done anyway. Let me clock out and we’ll get going. Tomorrow we can look into your options. Finish your food.” She gets up and he swallows the last few bites without even really chewing, getting up as she comes back with her coat.
They walk out to the parking lot and he slides into the passenger seat of her little hatchback, obediently putting on his seatbelt when he’s told to. She drives in silence for a few minutes then turns the radio on, which is fine with him; he’s full and feeling sleepy. He dozes for a while, until she pulls into her driveway and wakes him up by shaking his shoulder. He follows her inside, where she introduces him to her teenage son (Pete or Paul, he doesn’t remember) who looks at him askance but is friendly enough.
The woman sends him to have a shower and Pete/Paul brings him some clean clothes to change into, then they’re both ushered off to bed. Pete/Paul has bunk beds and he takes the bottom one after Pete/Paul tells him to, snuggling up under the covers. He’s so exhausted he falls into a deep, dreamless sleep almost immediately, until someone gives his shoulder a hard shove and wakes him up.
He opens his eyes and blinks sleep away, frowning when he sees the girl crouched by his bed. He knows he hasn’t seen her in at least a year and for a moment he’s convinced his escape was only a dream. Then Pete/Paul snorts in his sleep and rolls over on the bunk bed above him, and he realizes none of this is a dream.
She tugs on his arms and he willingly gets out of bed, letting her draw him to the middle of the room, where moonlight puddles on the worn carpet. She’s smiling and he smiles back, admiring the curve of her lower lip as she slides her hands down to his wrists. Distracted by this he doesn’t realize she’s putting something on him until he hears a soft click and looks down to see she’s fastened golden cuffs around each wrist. He’s so confused he doesn’t move as she raises her hand to his neck, even though he can see the glimmer of more gold in her hands; and she’s fastened the collar around his neck before his sleepy body can catch up to the alarm signals going off in his brain.
He jerks back, away from her, but it’s too late; she has him tethered by his neck and by his wrists, and when she speaks a single word the cuffs flare to life with runes etched in fire, sending pain shooting up his arms. He falls down on his knees, smelling smoke, and looks up at her with confused betrayal etched on his face. She just smiles, and pats his head, and then takes him to a room filled with items, most of which he can’t even recognize. He’s shoved into a cage down the end and she fastens a chain to his ankle before stepping out and closing the door, leaving him alone behind the golden bars.
Andraeon jerked upright, breathing hard, and immediately choked on the thick, heavy smoke that filled the room. He cupped a hand over his mouth and nose and rolled off the bed, trying to keep down on the floor where the air was a little sweeter. He heard explosions from somewhere in the building and then something hit his door with enough force to disintegrate it into little more than sawdust. Gasping a little in fear, he scrambled up and reached for the wellspring of power, determined to at least try to go out fighting.
The smoke cleared and Jones stepped through the doorway, soaked in sweat and streaked with soot, carrying his gun in one hand and something that looked almost like a cell phone in the other. The smoke eddied around him and behind him in the hall Andraeon caught another flash of fire, followed by a rolling explosion that shook the floor. Jones flinched a little and looked over his shoulder, then shoved the gun into the holster on his hip and held that hand out to Andraeon.
“Take my hand, Drae. Now.”
Andraeon hesitated, studying his face, half-convinced this was still some sort of dream. Then, fingers trembling slightly, he took the hand held out to him.
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