Treya sighed with relief as she indulged in the warmth of the new, massive bathtub. She sank below the water, letting the heat burn away her anxiety as a sense of calm slowly asserted itself. I’m okay, she thought. Ethan has kept me safe.

  It had only been a bit over a month since he first gained his powers…and he had only been around for maybe five days of that time. For a month she had thought he was dead-dead. Sure, that whole “Chosen” thing that appeared floating in the air said he would come back…but she wasn’t sure.

  And when he did come back, he was a lot stronger. Not just physically, given what she had been keeping up on with the various social media feeds. But he was making a real difference in the world.

  In a way, she was jealous. She was the superhero nerd and comic book geek with her pristine collection – well, pristine in her eyes for hand-me-downs – of Silver Age DC and Marvel comics.

  Why wasn’t I chosen? She thought. People who are bad, like that FMG guy, got powers…but not people like me?

  She breached the water and leaned back against the cushioned neck rest that let out a satisfying swhish of air as she let herself succumb to the heat. At least my husband…soon to be husband is a superhero.

  She glanced down at her finger, We should get our ring situation sorted, along with actually getting married. Oh! We could do a destination wedding! Just the two of us. He always did want to visit Italy.

  Treya finished her bath, got dressed, and sat down at her computer – towel wrapped around her still-damp hair as she kept working on the formula her professor had assigned her. Even if I don’t need to work…if I’m not going to get super powers like Ethan…I’m going to make myself useful.

  She glanced sideways to their bedroom, where he was sleeping after visiting a dead friend. He had told her of the encounter, and she had helped him through his emotional upheaval. The math can wait until tomorrow.

  She finished her nightly routine and slipped into the bedroom, sliding into bed behind Ethan and snuggling up next to him. He barely moved, and she whispered, hoping it broke through to his dreams. “Love you.”

  “Ey, Pauly! Go get me another pack of smokes!” Detective Matthews barked.

  His younger partner, Detective Pauly Troker, sighed and stood up, stretching as he set down the sheaf of papers in a folder. “You’re killing me, Matt.”

  Matt Matthews smirked, “Yeah, well, better killing you than being without tobacco.”

  “Those things will kill you, y’know,” Pauly replied as he went towards the door.

  Matthews shouted after him, “We know a guy for that!” he chuckled as he sank into his chair and savored the last few, hot, burning lungfuls of the sweet smoke that he loved so much. I should send him a text, see if he can give the whole department a once-over. Matthews pulled out his phone and scrolled to his Radiance contact, typing off a quick message asking for just-that.

  But, it was past midnight, and he knew not to expect an answer. Shame, he thought as he stood up and snagged the file that Pauly was going through. I would’ve liked to pick his brain a bit.

  The case file was for Juarez Citro. The Beast. Or, more commonly nowadays, Full Metal Gangster. It was a huge stack of paper and one of Matthews’ biggest headaches he had to deal with. Cataloguing all the interactions of his gang outside of their newly designated territory.

  Maybe Radiance can pull him out with that weird summoning thing, he thought. Just like what he did with that bomb on the airplane. He chuckled at the idea of Juarez being pulled right into a jail cell. But then that thought soured. We don’t have jail cells to hold him.

  He tossed the file on the desk and rubbed his face with his hands. Glancing at the clock, he blinked a few times before going to the bunk room. Officially, it was meant for temporary stays when they needed to pull double or triple shifts. But Matthews had been living there for years, and he went to his small bunk on the far side of the room. The only things there were his trunk, a small bedside table he had picked up from a cheap Goodwill, and a single photo pinned to the wall.

  From back when he served in Iraq. Him and his squad. He made the sign of the cross, pulling his rosary out from inside his shirt, and then brushed the picture with his hands. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he undressed and made sure to remove his foot – the prosthetic was giving him a little bit of trouble, and he used a screwdriver to make a few adjustments before setting it aside and tucking in.

  Fucking Imbued. He chuckled as he tried to drift to sleep.

  Aaron Restor, Imbued special reporter, was seated in the chapel. He was muttering the same prayer, over and over, that he had been told to say by his pastor.

  The knowledge of a verified afterlife from Radiance was earth-shattering to the young news reporter, and his whole world view had shifted. Once raised in an extremely religious household, he had gone away from that when he attended college and his world view expanded thanks to the cultures and religions he was introduced to. He liked to think of himself as agnostic; since there were so many possible options out there.

  But…someone who he saw as a worthy source of information had spoken of judgement, and a white building which Aaron instinctively felt were the gates of judgement. And since that conversation, he had been to every single church he could. Praying for forgiveness, for his sins to be wiped clean. If there was judgement, he wanted to be as ready as possible.

  Hatred, for a brief moment, flicked across Aaron’s mind. Why the hell – sorry, heck – won’t he tell the world? He thought. Radiance could bring everyone of all faiths together, all conflicts to an end, if he just told the world that he had seen what is beyond death. Confirmed to everyone that there is something beyond. Even…even though it may be a sin, just say that it was the gates of judgement.

  The man infuriated Aaron. How could he keep something like this secret? Aaron couldn’t tell people – no one would believe him, and it would tank his career. It had to come from Radiance. I need to have him say it. I’ll record him secretly. Yeah. That’s it. And there’s nothing wrong with it since its going to be for a much greater good.

  Aaron knew that his cause was just and right. If he had to betray Radiance’s trust…then so be it. He could be forgiven for that, he knew, if the world came together. If people treated each other better, because they knew, for a fact, that they were going to be judged in the beyond.

  Fred lit up another cigarette and looked at the spreadsheets. Radiance’s merch sales are off the charts! He chuckled as he went through several emails from distributors who had confirmed their ability to produce the products he needed. Fucking legendary, he thought.

  There was a knock at the door, and he looked up to see Teegan Brown, his lawyer, there. “Teegan, you’re up late,” he commented.

  “Only three a.m.” the young man replied as he shut the door behind him. “I wanted to let you know that the paperwork on the movie deal is almost done. We’re redlining the last few contract items – just bringing the final copy by you for approval.” He handed Fred the large stack of papers, stapled with a huge metal spike in the top corner.

  Fred sighed and took it, “Good job. Go take a few days off. I’ll get someone else at the firm in charge of it so you can take some time off. Spend it with your mom.” He glanced up, “How’s she doing, by the way? Post-healing and all that.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Teegan immediately brightened up. His tired, disheveled appearance all but vanishing. “She’s doing great! It was a little hard getting her to understand how long she was out of it…but holy hell. We need to get Radiance out there healing more people.”

  “Agreed,” Fred replied. “I’ve got dozens of people in a queue. Right now I’m talking to the Governor of our fine Golden State about getting a few arenas packed out with people who are sick, have a disability, and the like. Then we can just have Radiance going to those specific locations, instead of doing a ton of hospital visits.” He sighed and leaned back as he took a puff of his cigarette. “It’s a massive effort, though. It’ll take days of coordination, and setting up transport…and making sure we have merchandise on the premises for after the healing is done.”

  Teegan beamed, “It’s fantastic. Sounds great. Thanks for giving me a bit of time off. I am going to take my mom to her favorite beach. It’s been a long time since she saw the waves.”

  Fred glanced at his screen, “We did get word from Petal, also. She’s good for the documentary deal with National Geographic. They’ll send a camera crew to her next destination.” He shook his head, “She and that Raindancer guy she hooked up with are going to re-green the Sahara. Fucking wild, man.”

  Teegan shrugged, “That’s way beyond my pay grade. Anyhow, see you.” The young lawyer left.

  Fred began skimming the contract and noting a few terms and items. I am the fucking best.

  I need more bags, King Blood thought as he finished producing liters of O-negative blood. The large vats were full again, but he was out of the blood bags that were required for transport. The leader of the IRE and founder had been filling up blood banks all around the world for the past month straight; making sure that there was a ready supply of the life-giving and saving substance.

  There was a loud crashing noise and he sighed. Of course, someone wants my blood. He sighed as he pulled his hood up to conceal his features. The deep, crimson cowl barely able to hide his slightly elongated canines. He turned to face the doors as they burst in, and a pair of men with guns came through, shouting and pointing.

  King Blood just kept his hands at his sides, and barely flicked his wrist as he thought the Ability phrase. Exsanguinate.

  Both men withered away to husks in under a second, their blood shooting out of every orifice before forming a sphere that floated in between them. King Blood just walked forward, grabbed the sphere, and kept walking through the now-wrecked door. He heard shouting, and gestured again, Blood Blockade.

  The sphere expanded to a horizontal barrier that hardened as the iron in the blood solidified and formed a very tough defense. Bullets pinged off of the substance, and he made a hole just big enough to see through. Exsanguinate.

  More paramilitary, dead within a second. More blood added to his sphere-turned-wall. And as he exited the facility, he saw that the military had sent a large detachment. One more Exsanguinate eliminated all of the threats. Except for the pesky drone he saw and heard up in the sky.

  Crimson Cannon, he thought. The blood in the sphere before him, and the square that had been protecting him, coalesced into a single, huge projectile that rocketed up into the sky, impaling the drone. It exploded as something vital was struck, and began to fall.

  Fucking military, he thought as he looked around at the snow. Why can’t they be grateful for the free blood?

  Agent Druthers sat across from a panel of esteemed military members. One of them was on the phone, and muttered something under their breath before they hung up on the secure line. “Agent…we are out of options. We need something to pressure these Imbued with.”

  Druthers reached into her briefcase already on the table and open and pulled out the file. “Well, here’s every person in LA who resigned their jobs without a two-week notice a month ago. Only got it from businesses that volunteered it.” She pulled out another ream of paper, “I also did the same for any sudden college withdrawals of students. We should be able to figure out some potential suspected Imbued from these records…but the agency is being stingy with funds right now. They think it’s just a fishing expedition.”

  Vice Chairman of the Joint Chief of Staff, Melissa Mercer, sighed and tapped her fingers on the table. “We were not able to secure the Imbued known as King Blood. He took out everyone.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Druthers whispered, aghast. “I thought he was one of the good guys.”

  Mercer’s eyes narrowed, “Unless they are an asset of the USA, they are not one of the good guys.” She grabbed the papers, “We’ll get our analysts on this ASAP, but I want you as our point of contact. You’ve already met with this Fred Lark, the agent representing some fifty Imbued of varying renown. You have that connection already in place.”

  “I have met him once,” Druthers replied.

  “Well, Radiance seems okay with working with law enforcement, so that is our ticket in. Go back to LA, make yourself really friendly with him – rope him in on a few cases, and see what you can learn.”

  Druthers swallowed, “I…I don’t know if I can be that convincing. He’s already developed a distaste for me.”

  Mercer snapped her fingers, and two MPs came up behind Druthers, making her feel quite small and fear raced through her chest. “I did not ask,” Mercer stated bluntly. “I gave you an order. You will follow it. Or I’ll have you arrested on grounds of treason.”

  Druthers felt her heart racing near-uncontrollably as she knew that this person before her had the power to put her into a hole in a black site for the rest of her life – just vanishing her from the face of the Earth. “I’ll…I’ll try my best, ma’am.”

  Walter finished working on the prototype and turned to Alice, who was seated on a couch reading her fifth translated Light Novel. “How’s it going?” he asked her.

  She sighed and rubbed her eyes, “This is confusing as hell. I mean, I get it…but board games were never my thing.” She put down the copy of No Game, No Life, and leaned back into the couch. “I need a shower.”

  Walter shook his head, “But can you manifest the powers you read in it? The game world, implementing rules on reality?”

  “Oh yeah. In a limited radius, though,” she replied. “Thanks…for…for giving me a chance to try and help.” She closed here eyes and Walter turned away as he heard her crying ever-so-softly. “I…I didn’t mean to kill people.”

  “You’re helping now,” Walter replied, trying to sound warm and caring. “That’s all we can ask for. Help more people than you hurt.”

  She groaned and stood up, “I’m going to take a shower and hit the hay.” She headed over to the small dormitory area to the side of the Imbued Initiative’s main rooms.

  Walter kept tinkering with the design, and heard the familiar whack and “son of a bitch!” as Alice hit her ankle against something – the bulk of the GPS monitor really putting her off balance. Ever since he had figured out how to strip Abilities – mostly by accident – by cutting off the Curator from the Imbued, he had been coming up with ways to ensure a minimalistic removal.

  The GPS monitor was the first successful effort he came up with. It restricted Alice’s Abilities; effectively making her…normal. If she took it off, then Walter would be notified and the GPS injector would shoot a small tracking chip into the skin. But…she would have her powers back.

  But, he thought as he fitted the prototype rocket boot onto his foot and shin, it does give us a means to let less dangerous Imbued out on bond pending trial. He had already made cages and cells using the same experimental technology, but only he could make them. He had tried giving the schematics to an old friend from the college he worked at with mechanical engineering – and even though the design was perfectly replicated, it did not work.

  The assumption? Walter’s hypothesis was that only he could design them, with his hands. If not done by him, then it wouldn’t work.

  Okay, time to test this out, he thought as he put the other rocket boot on and stood up. Clanking loudly, he headed down to the parking garage-converted-workshop. Tapping the small controller on his wrist, he felt the pressure build underneath his toes, then the heat spread to his heels until it felt like he was standing on warm sand.

  Then, he pushed the power just a little bit more and began to rise. Small side-thrusters popped out to help keep him stable, but he fell backward from the odd movement of upward momentum, and he went crashing down to the foam pad he had set up for that exact possibility. “Motherfucker,” he growled as he shut off the rocket. Iron Man made this look a lot easier.

  Then, it hit him. Idiot, he thought, I don’t have an AI to control things like he did. Hey, Researcher.

  Hmm? His Curator replied.

  Can I put you into a suit of power armor that I’m in?

  No. Cool, distant, calculated.

  Damn. Fine then, I’ll have to make my own AI. But it will be very limited. I’m not risking making a Skynet.

  “Get me another bottle,” Juarez shouted as he put the whole bottle of tequila onto the silver tray held by one of his bitches. She nodded and moved away, swaying her wide hips seductively as she walked to the bar, fetched another bottle, and brought it back. “Good shit,” he said as he bit the top off, spat the glass into a small trash can next to his throne, and sucked down the liquor. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and gently squeezed the other bitch’s waist that was seated on his lap. “Well? When we getting the next shipment?” he asked.

  One of his lieutenants, kneeling in front of Juarez’ throne, looked up. “It’ll be a week, boss. Cops and border fuckers on the southern end of your territory.”

  “A week?!” Juarez shouted as he stood up – the woman tumbling off his lap and scrambling out of the way as the huge brute of a man, covered fully in metal, walked down the small dais to stand in front of the lieutenant. “You know what that means?”

  “No,” the man replied, his voice shaking and full of fear.

  Juarez crouched down and moved the man’s chin up to face him. “We need to expand, eh? Bigger territory.” He looked to the other lieutenant, “Get the boys ready. We’re going to take a few more streets’ worth of property.”

  “Boss…what about those Imbued guys? The ones doing hero shit?” the man in front of him asked.

  “We kill them if they get involved.”