President Holder took a long, hard look around the Oval Office.

  There were beautiful, hand-painted portraits. Expensive curtains and drapes. Lacquered wooden furniture. Information-stocked cabinets that were a felony for 99.99% of the populace to peruse. A rug of exceptionally fine quality, with the Seal of the President boldly emblazoned in its center.

  From his position at the literal seat of the nation, he saw everything. His status and prestige was the envy of millions. Billions.

  I am the most powerful man in the world.

  On the day he first took office, that thought had felt like an affirmation of glorious victory – the culmination of decades worth of effort. Years spent politicking and campaigning, all for this.

  Now?

  Now it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.

  Holder heard a knock on the door. With practiced ease, he took a moment to compose himself. Don't lose your cool. Perhaps you've misunderstood the situation. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time you've turned unexpected news to your advantage.

  How difficult can dealing with one man be?

  "Come in," he commanded. The door opened, his stalwart aide George Winston quickly shuffling inside.

  They were alone in the Oval Office. Normally an ever-present squadron of Secret Service members would be present as well, but Holder had ordered them out, wanting privacy so that no one could see his meltdow– so that he could have time to think and plan in solitude.

  Not like they'd make a difference anyway, a traitorous thought reminded him.

  "Hello, Mr. President," Winston greeted, with an appropriate level of deference. He held up a stack of freshly-printed papers. "I've brought the analysis reports on Subject Delta."

  Holder knew what was written there. That colossal asshole Jason Miller had already informed him hours ago, gloating in a tone so smug that it was like the idea of show-offsmanship encapsulated into a young man's voice. And how the fuck did he get my personal cell number?

  Nevertheless, Holder also knew better than to trust Miller at his word. The so-called Red Blur could be exaggerating. Could be wrong.

  Had to be wrong.

  "Go on," he said, motioning for Winston to continue. His aide nodded, eyes shifting to the very top of the papers.

  "Codename: Subject Delta. Birth Name: Rob..."

  Winston frowned. "Hmm. It seems they forgot to note his last name." Shrugging, he moved on. "Gender: Male. Age: 21. Height–"

  "Is this an analysis report or a dating profile?" Holder snapped. "Get to the part that matters."

  In response, his aide merely nodded. While anyone else would've been shocked at seeing the kindly, genial President Holder lashing out, Winston was used to the occasional outburst.

  "Subject Delta agreed to a battery of tests performed by all divisions of the military. It is stated that he seemed 'eager', although that may be supposition on behalf of the writer."

  Winston hesitated. "Before we get to the results of those tests...you'll want to see this."

  He pulled out a single sheet of paper and passed it over. Frowning, Holder grabbed it in a hurry.

  With every line the President read, he felt a migraine encroaching on his forehead.

  Recorded Correspondence #6 between USA Liaison 'Archie Star' and Codename 'Subject Delta'

  Delta: So, got a question for ya. What's up with McDonalds? The one nearby?

  Star: McDon – wait, when did you have time to leave the premises? And how?

  Delta: I ran fast. Was motivated.

  Delta: You have no idea how long I've been craving a real goddamn cheeseburger.

  Star: But, I...we haven't finished instituting your personal account.

  Delta: Yeah, kinda realized that when I got there.

  Delta: Not the point though. Even if I'd had money, I would've left without getting anything.

  Delta: Prices were a total ripoff. Can you believe how much they're charging there? It's twice as expensive as I remember!

  Delta: Surprised you government types are letting big business gouge you like that.

  Star: Oh, those are the standardized prices. You'd see the same anywhere else nowadays.

  Delta: Huh.

  Delta: You don't say.

  Personal Opinion on Correspondence #6, as provided by Analyst 'Lisa Smith'

  1. Based on Subject Delta's developing pattern of behavior, I am of the strong opinion that he was already aware of the recent 'inflationary' price increases, even before verifying them at the McDonalds located 40 miles away from Military Base [REDACTED].

  2. It is likely that Delta's conversation with Archie Star was planned out from the beginning.

  3. Delta intentionally used a combination of surprising behavior, leading questions, and a casual demeanor to impel an honest, off-the-cuff answer from Star.

  4. It should be noted that Delta then visited multiple department stores after his correspondence with Star, citing a desire to 'See what games have come out while I was gone'. No items were purchased or requested from any of these stores.

  5. Conclusion:

  -Caution is advised when speaking with Subject Delta.

  -Before his disappearance, all records indicated that he was a direct, straightforward person, not known for guile or subterfuge. This may no longer be the case.

  -His time spent in the Anomalous Otherworld known as 'Elatra' may have tempered these aspects of his personality.

  -Furthermore, this new propensity for deception may potentially be a subset of his Anomalous Otherworld Abilities (see: Page 27, Section 8).

  Holder swallowed a lump forming in his throat. He almost regretted not working to inhibit corporations from price gouging the everloving shit out of people. Granted, that – alongside reforming the healthcare system – had been one of his campaign promises, but who ever upheld those?

  As if the paper was an armed bomb, he gingerly slid it back towards Winston. "How unhappy did Subject Delta seem about all this?"

  "Hard to tell." Winston clasped his hands behind his back. "We tried explaining that the...shifting economic situation was a result of unavoidable inflation."

  "Did he buy that?"

  "No clue."

  "Damnit." Holder repeatedly tapped his foot, expending a buildup of nervous energy. "I'll worry about that later. What else does the analysis report say?"

  "Various types of weaponry were tested on Subject Delta. None harmed him."

  Several seconds passed before Holder realized that his aide wasn't going to continue. "And? Can't you explain it more in detail?"

  Winston's lips tightened. "What detail, exactly? It's the same thing in every section. Small firearms used on Subject Delta. No injuries recorded. Large firearms used on Subject Delta. No injuries recorded. Ballistic missiles employed against Subject Delta."

  His eye twitched. "Oh, would you look at that! Minor bruising recorded. Bruising that healed in a fraction of a second. Wonderful. At this point, Subject Delta also remarked that they were starting to get into 'Dauntless Reprisal territory', whatever the hell that meant. Then there's the tests of his physical strength, running speed, reaction speed, mental acuity..."

  With a defeated groan, he threw the stacks of papers on the Oval Office table. "It's everything we feared and worse."

  Holder had absolutely zero desire to look over the report, but a sense of morbid curiosity drew him in. He chose a sheet at random and pulled it out, searching for a crumb of optimism to latch onto, hoping against hope that the situation was salvageable.

  It was then that he learned that Miller – if anything – had been underselling things.

  "He EXPLODED?"

  "At no harm to himself, yes." Winston unconsciously wrung his hands. "Other types of recorded Anomalous Otherworld Abilities include long-range teleportation, total force nullification, and the capacity to flush all radiation from his body. Apparently, he learned the last AOA after enduring a close-range nuclear blast."

  Holder blinked, a dozen questions immediately popping into his head. "Elatra has nukes?"

  "Had. Subject Delta successfully disarmed them. He...expressed an interest in doing the same to Earth, though it was an offhanded comment. Likely joking."

  'Delta intentionally used a casual demeanor to–'

  A line from Lisa Smith's analysis sprang to mind, and President Holder banished it just as swiftly.

  "This is good news," he began, speaking in his favorite Everything Is Fine voice. "From what I understand, Subject Delta has been completely cooperative. He still considers himself to be a citizen of the United States. Rather than as some type of threat, we should be viewing this as our nation gaining a powerful soldier, resource, and rallying point."

  Half-truths and political spin came easily to a man like Holder. The necessary words flowed off his tongue with ease – yet all of it rang hollow. Unfortunately, while he was adept at convincing others, he'd never been great at fooling himself.

  The unimpressed look on Winston's face didn't help matters either. His aide reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, dollar-store notecard.

  "One other thing. The leaders of each branch of the military met together, then devised a communal policy to be used going forward, effective immediately. They now consider this official military doctrine, and heavily advise that you follow suit."

  Holder wasn't sure what to comment on first – the military making sweeping decisions without his input, or members of the army and navy actually agreeing on something for once. He chose to remain silent, taking the unassuming little notecard out of Winston's hands.

  Its contents were short, brief, and terrifying.

  The 'No' Protocol

  Step 1: Never put Subject Delta in a situation where he feels compelled to say No.

  Step 2: Repeat Step 1.

  "Mr. President," his aide began, "are you aware of the concept of the social contract?"

  "Don't patronize me. I graduated at the top of my class." Thanks to some timely donations, but he'd been a straight-B student even without that.

  "The social contract," Winston continued, as if he hadn't heard anything, "describes the general relationship between individual and state. An individual agrees to surrender their authority to the state. In return, the state agrees to protect and assist the individual."

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

  He paused. "The 'protect' and 'assist' parts are more of a modern interpretation. Historically you would surrender your autonomy, and in exchange, the local warlord allowed you to keep your life. In that sense, not much has changed. At the end of the day, all governmental authority must be enforced at the barrel of a gun."

  Winston grit his teeth. "Otherwise, our laws hold no real power."

  "You're discounting the effectiveness of red tape," President Holder grumbled. "Most restricting thing in existence."

  "Stop being obtuse. You know what I'm getting at. You know why I'm explaining this, trying to push it through your thick, empty skill."

  Winston leaned forward. "You need to understand how utterly fucked we are."

  The President went pale with outrage – and another creeping emotion he refused to recognize. "You're out of line, Wins–"

  "Face facts, Holder! With Subject Delta, the social contract no longer exists! We can't stop him from doing...anything, honestly. If he wanted, he could bring this entire country to its knees."

  "He's just one man, and our armies are–"

  "Cannon fodder. All but our strongest weapons injure him at a slower rate than he regenerates. If we did manage to injure him, he could teleport away, or reflect the attack or...you didn't see him in action, President. Delta isn't even human anymore. He's just a fucking monster pretending to be one."

  Holder felt the hairs on the back of his neck tingle. "Can't fly," he blurted out. "Subject Delta can't fly. What about the Air Force?"

  "Admittedly, that's a weakness of his. Delta's known Anomalous Otherworld Abilities don't seem suited for aerial combat. However...he doesn't need to fight against aircraft. If we send a squadron at him, he'll teleport halfway across the country. And planes have to land and refuel eventually, so Delta could win a battle of attrition by avoiding combat until then, then striking when they're grounded."

  "Can we hit him from a distance he can't see? Drones? Bombers? Sniper rounds? Long-range missiles?"

  "Subject Delta's enhanced reflexes would let him activate his Force Nullification AOA in time. I don't think it's physically possible for us to catch him off-guard."

  "While conscious. What if we assassinate him as he sleeps?"

  "Even if it were feasible, Subject Delta has exhibited the ability to teleport back to the Anomalous Otherworld. We can't follow him there. He could rest easy at night, then come terrorize Earth during the day."

  "We...we can force an error. Keep hammering him until he makes a mistake. No one's perfect."

  "Yes, I'm sure that'll play well with the press. President Holder unveils grand new strategy: throw your sons and daughters into the meat grinder in the hope that Subject Delta fucks up. Troop morale will skyrocket."

  Winston sagged. "Our only real advantage is numbers. It would take a very, very long time for one person to completely eradicate a military. He would probably get bored before then."

  Bored. The word rang inside Holder's mind like a gunshot.

  They, the most powerful nation in the world, were being safeguarded by the prospect of...monotony?

  "Sadly," Winston remarked, "Operation Meat Grinder is still the best plan we've got. Theoretically, we could kill Subject Delta by overwhelming him with repeated assaults. We'd be sacrificing countless lives and gambling on him making a mistake, but our chances are higher than zero, at least."

  Holder perked up. "Then–"

  "Which is why he likely wouldn't engage the military at all. Not directly. Why should Delta risk himself at all when he can teleport around, avoiding conflict, virtually untouchable? While his wartime expertise seems limited, remember that Subject Delta has also established himself as a leader in the Anomalous Otherworld. He'll have access to advisors with more military know-how."

  Winston grimaced. "They'll instruct him to target areas of infrastructure – food, electricity – until the country can barely function. We'd gladly surrender if the alternative was being sent back to the stone age. Other nations might send reinforcements, but when he teleports across the ocean and starts doing the same thing to them, their support won't last long."

  A despairing laugh escaped him. "The One-Man War; fought and finished without a single drop of bloodshed."

  "This is all hypothetical doomsaying," the President interjected. "A worst-case scenario that will never come to pass. Why are we considering Subject Delta an enemy when, as of now, he has only expressed his full cooperation?"

  "As of now. What about years down the line? Delta is an impressionable, emotional youth. The stories he's told of his exploits in the Anomalous Otherworld are...absurd. He won't sit and do nothing when encountering a perceived injustice."

  Winston pointed at the tiny notecard still held in Holder's hand. "That's where the No Protocol comes in."

  'Step 1: Never put Subject Delta in a situation where he feels compelled to say No.'

  "You were right about one thing, Mr. President." He said the title like it was a joke. "By some stroke of luck, Subject Delta does in fact consider himself to be a citizen of the United States. He's cooperated. Been polite, even. The social contract is technically still there."

  Winston clenched his hands. "But it's just a white lie. Leftover social mores from his upbringing. Earth can't constrain him any more than we could constrain a meteor falling from the sky. He knows that, yet he's willing to play along – if we do too."

  The aide locked eyes with his President. "He'll push your authority. Let him! Graciously acquiesce to his demands, if need be. And don't you ever fucking make him say 'No' out loud. Don't ever force him to reject you outright. Because if you do, that's the moment when this polite fiction of his will end."

  There was a knock on the door.

  Both Holder and Winston flinched as if they'd been jumpscared by a horror movie. The two men shared a quick and panicked glance, silently confirming that they were in agreement.

  Somehow, they both knew who was waiting for them outside.

  Holder hastily stuffed the notecard into his suit pocket. "Come in," he affirmed, with a less commanding tone of voice than he'd used for Winston.

  The faint creak of a door resounded. "Thanks," their visitor greeted. He walked inside and closed the door behind him, eyes widening as he peered around. "Woah, nice rug. Feels weird to see it up-close instead of in pictures."

  When his curiosity had been satisfied, Subject Delta turned to face them, a smile broadening across his features. "Name's Rob. It's nice to meet you."

  Nondescript. That was President Holder's kneejerk impression of Subject Delta, even knowing who and what he was. Nothing about the young man screamed that he was extraordinary in any particular way.

  His posture was slouched and unconcerned. His clothes could have come from any two-bit corner store. His face wouldn't have been attractive, photogenic, or interesting enough to take him far in the political sphere. A well-muscled frame could be spied lurking underneath his baggy attire, but that was the product of protein and gym hours, not inherent exceptionalism.

  Holder gradually let himself relax. When compared to Jason Miller – who seemed born for the role of a loudmouth celebrity – Subject Delta was positively ordinary.

  Maybe this wouldn't be so–

  Pain.

  Holder couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Pressure was squeezing. Like gravity had inverted. Pushing in from all directions. Intangible shackles binding his limbs. Invisible hands choking his throat.

  Power.

  Power. Power. Pressing down. Exerting itself. Crushing–

  The sensation vanished.

  Just like that. Not as if it had petered out...but as if it had been forcibly suppressed.

  President Holder let out a gasp. He sucked in beautiful, joyous air into his lungs, breathing like he might never breathe again. Winston did the same, leaning on the desk for support as he practically coughed up a lung.

  Conversely, Subject Delta had become bizarrely interested in a random spot on the wall. While it was surprisingly difficult to read his facial expressions, he appeared – of all things – mildly embarrassed.

  Was that...

  Was that an accident?

  Which would be more frightening? That Subject Delta had intended to scare them with this show of force, or that he hadn't?

  No one spoke. Silence dragged on.

  It was the opening Holder desperately needed. Have to seize some sort of initiative. He stood up on shaky legs, rallying himself. On too much of a backfoot already.

  "A pleasure to meet you, Rob." Following the typical script of meeting with political opponents, Holder began to reach his arm out – then covertly pulled back, thinking better of shaking hands with the man who could break steel like matchsticks. "We weren't expecting you so soon."

  Subject Delta grinned. "I was in the neighborhood, so I figured I'd drop by." He took a moment to examine the leader of his home country, his gaze flashing with lingering bits of awe. "President Chase Holder, in the flesh. Mind if I call you Chase?"

  Yes. Holder was about to gently decline...

  Until he remembered the notecard tucked inside his pocket.

  "Not at all," he replied, with a smile perfected through hundreds of hours of training. "Now – what can I do for you, Rob? I'm sure we could find some people to give you a tour of the White House, take pictures to show your family and friends."

  "Thanks, but I didn't come here to sightsee. Got something to discuss. I'm a bit confused about what has and hasn't changed while I was gone."

  Holder stayed calm. He'd been mentally preparing for this line of questioning ever since reading the report on Correspondence #6.

  Deflect and divert, he told himself. No different than a televised debate. Throw McDonalds under the bus if you have to. "Yes, it's unfortunate that prices have–"

  "I remember your campaign promises, Chase." Subject Delta leaned closer, his grin showing just a few more teeth. "Mind explaining why you haven't reformed healthcare yet?"

  President Holder, the second-most-powerful man in the world, did not whimper.

  Heroic Valor: By Any Means Necessary. Any support thrown its way would help a lot!