Unbreakable Storm

by Patrick Dugan

We’d been in Blaze’s boot camp for over a month. Marcel still hadn’t found the metal man, but given we trained six hours a day, he didn’t spend a lot of time on it, but he constantly tweaked his neural networking algorithms, whatever that meant. I sat on a stool in the kitchen, talking while Marcel and Abby cleaned the dishes, when Dad strolled in.

  “Hello, all. Good dinner tonight. Tommy, you and Susan are a great team in the kitchen.” He stopped next to me, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go spar for a bit.”

  I hopped off the stool, waving to the dish crew. “Sure thing. Catch ya’ later.”

  Abby mock glared at me. “Sure, run off and play with Dad. We’ll be here cleaning up your mess.”

  “Bruh, did you really need to use every pan in the place? I swear there are more dishes here than we own.”

  I laughed. “You have to suffer for my art.” They both groaned, but I noticed the leftovers were still out and being snacked on. Gifted burned through a lot of fuel to keep our metabolisms going at peak levels.

  I followed Dad out and down the hall to the stairwells. Having to take the stairs everywhere did wonders for my leg strength and endurance, not that I had any choice since there weren’t any elevators in Castle.

  The self-sealing hatch opened onto the stairway complex. It led to the old command center that held the training room. “We sparred earlier today, so why a second time?”

  Dad glanced over at me; at six-two, I stood about an inch shorter than him. “We need some specialized training, and I don’t want an audience. I’ll explain when we get there.”

  Hmm. I couldn’t think of a reason why we needed privacy, but obviously, Dad felt the need for it. I guess old habits die hard. Before the Dark Brigade attack, he’d had to keep his personal information away from even his team. Good thing, since the Protectorate had captured a lot of the Gifted from the government teams.

  We took the stairs in silence. After growing up with just Mom, having Dad around was nice but weird. At times, he still seemed like a stranger to me.

  Entering the gardens at the bottom of the stairway blew my mind. If I hadn’t known I was over one hundred feet underground, I’d have thought I was outside. Crickets chirped in the background, butterflies floated around, and birds darted everywhere. Marcel said the gardens totaled over three football fields in area. Everything from wheat to apples grew here, hydroponically. These shelters had to be designed to withstand just about anything. If the world ended while we were here, we might not notice.

  Exiting the gardens through another hatchway, we strode along the hall to the training center. We used these every day. The main room took up the majority of the floor. It held a large open area for practice along with adjoining areas for weight training, cardio or whatever else we could want. Blaze had set up a shooting range at the far end of the room. I walked into the room, but Dad had stopped.

  “What? I thought we were sparring?”

  Dad nodded. “We are but not here.” He turned and headed for a section of the left-hand wall. He slid a panel to the side, revealing a keypad. After he punched in a code, the panel slid open with a hiss. Another set of stairs led deeper underground.

  “Where does this go?”

  Dad smiled. “You’ll see.”

  The door closed behind me as we descended the stairs. On the next landing, Dad entered the code to open the door. Another flight of stairs continued to more levels below us. “What’s down there?”

  He stopped and looked at me. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but this needs to stay with you. If I don’t tell you, you’ll get Marcel to hack into here and explore, right?”

  My face turned bright red with embarrassment, but I didn’t deny it.

  “I thought as much.” He sighed. “There are cells down there to hold Gifted prisoners. Most of the larger teams had them in case they were needed. The worst of the worst ended up transferred to the orbital prison.”

  “Oh.”

  “Capturing powerful Gifted who went rogue was exceedingly difficult. Law enforcement couldn’t tackle them, so the government formed the teams to protect people. When we did capture one, they had to be hidden until transferred. It was a messy business.”

  I thought for a minute. “So, they are like the Block?”

  Dad frowned but agreed. “Only we held people who abused their Gifts, whereas the Protectorate threw anyone they wanted out of the way in the Block. I’m convinced I met some non-Gifted people the Protectorate wanted removed while I was in there.”

  I didn’t say anything. Honestly, I hadn’t ever thought about these types of things before. From my room in Redemption, it was all black and white, Gifted vs. Norms. The more I learned, the hazier things got.

  “History lesson over?” He examined me, waiting for an answer.

  “Yes, but can I ask questions later?”

  He chuckled. “Of course. I’d rather have you ask than unleash Marcel.”

  I grinned, looking over his shoulder. A hallway stretched out before us, doors in the left and right walls. “So, what is this place?”

  “Follow me, and you’ll see.” He went down the hall and opened the right-side door. A huge gun-metal gray room stood on the other side. The room itself had no features, just metal walls and ceiling, rivet heads studding the walls.

  I entered, totally confused. Dad closed the door and walked past me. “Isn’t this great?”

  So, throwing lightning damages your brain. Good to know for the future. “Umm.” The witty replies kept on rolling.

  He laughed. “How about now? Sal, load tactical situation alpha.”

  Lights flickered around the room as I found myself standing in the middle of a shopping mall. People strolled around, carrying bags and snacking on various treats. “Wow!”

  “This was a mall in Chicago, before the attacks. The computer can use old footage to recreate environments. We will use them for training.”

  I stopped. “Wouldn’t this help Abby as well?”

  “I doubt it. Her Gift is different from ours. In certain situations, your tactics have to change. I could launch a whirlwind in here, but people would be sucked off the upper floors and plummet to their deaths when the winds stopped. These are the things you have to think about.”

  It made sense. Abby basically pummeled whatever got in her way during a fight. Not a lot of strategic thinking involved.

  The clatter of gunfire sounded off to my right. Three men armed with machine guns ran out of a jewelry store. People screamed in terror as they ran.

  “Tommy, stop them,” Dad said, his voice intense.

  I ran toward them, pulling the energy as it swirled within me, preparing to strike. The lead guy leveled his gun at me. Without thinking, I threw a bolt of lightning at him, hitting him in the chest. It launched him across the marble floor, and he crashed through the window of some fancy clothing store. Mannequin parts flew in all directions, like bowling pins hit by a giant ball.

  The other two ducked and reversed direction, darting between people as they ran. I tore after them, dodging around the fleeing shoppers as I went. I’d never catch them at this rate. Wait, this was a simulation. I could just run straight through stuff; it wasn’t real. A trash receptacle with the mall logo and “Keep the Atrium Clean” on the side blocked my way, so I ran through it, or at least tried to. I landed flat on my back, the air whooshing out of me.

  I heard Dad laugh behind me. “Simulation pause.” He stepped over, offering his hand. I grabbed it so he could help me up.

  “It’s a simulation; I should have been able to run through it.”

  He grinned. “Sal, show the room.”

  The light changed as the mall disappeared. The floor rose around me, including the solid trash can in front of me. The balconies above jutted out from the walls going thirty feet into the air. Pillars stood indicating where the people in the mall would be, down to a stroller shape I’d seen a mother pushing. My mind shuttered at the possibilities.

  “Holy crap! This is amaze-balls!
”

  “I thought you might like it,” Dad said, leaning on the trash-can-like pillar. “We need to discuss your Gift.”

  I didn’t like the sounds of that. “What about it?” I sounded way more defensive than I’d meant. Dad had mastered his long ago; I must look like a chump.

  “Tommy, you are extremely powerful. The bolt you used on the criminal would have killed him. Sal, resume simulation in paused mode.”

  The light changed, and the mall sprang to life around us. Dad walked over to where the criminal lay on the ground. “Sal, run tactical analysis.”

  The room was silent for a moment. “Tactical analysis complete,” Sal’s voice said into the room. “Three enemy combatants involved. Two escaped. One combatant dispatched. Ninety-nine percent chance of death. Collateral damage estimate: eighty-two point three-eighths percent chance of bystander fatalities. Structural damage estimate: thirty-two thousand dollars with a ninety-four point two four percent chance of fire causing an additional forty-two thousand dollars in damages.”

  Dad appeared grim. “Sal, show most likely bystander collateral damage.”

  The lights flickered, and bodies appeared on the floor. The bolt had penetrated the criminal and hit three additional women who had been shopping in the store. A sales girl slumped against the back wall of the store which had a massive hole in it.

  I felt cold as the realization that had this been real, I’d have killed four innocent people. Tears welled up in my eyes, even though my brain screamed it was a simulation.

  “Sal, end simulation.” Dad put his arm around my shoulders and walked me back toward the center of the room. “Sal, two chairs.”

  The floor shifted, and two blocky metal chairs rose up. Dad settled me into one and sat in the other. “Tommy, simulations give us a chance to make mistakes and learn. Gifts like ours require all the attention Blaze has been teaching us about shooting on a range, and then some. When lightning flies, it doesn’t hit just one person.”

  “I know,” I mumbled, chin down on my chest. The only times I’d fought had been us against the bad guys. I could have hurt one of my own team and not even realized it. Dad preached safety and responsibility every day.

  “Do you understand now?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Now let’s talk about how you use your Gift.”

  I looked up at him confused. “How I use my Gift? I throw lightning just like you.”

  He shook his head. “No, you don’t.”

  Could today get any more surreal? First, I found out about the hidden levels of Castle, then, the amazing simulation room, now I don’t throw lightning? I came up with a total burn response. “Huh?”

  Dad chuckled. “Tommy, I generate electricity.” He held up his hand and a small arc shot between his finger and thumb. “You absorb energy. If you are shot, the bullet’s force translates into energy within you.”

  “And it hurts like a bastard.”

  “I’m sure it does.” The arc flared a bit as he spoke. “Any energy you absorb magnifies, and you can release it.”

  “As lightning.”

  The arc snapped out of existence. Dad rubbed his face. He sighed mightily. “Yes, but you don’t have to. Remember when you were fighting Powell? You hit him and knocked him across the room. I went and re-watched the fight, and your hand glowed. Somehow you had funneled the energy into your punch.”

  The ton of bricks crashed down on me. I hadn’t even realized I’d done it. I thought back and realized I’d done the same when I fought Jon in the boxing ring. “I really did. I don’t know how though.”

  “That is why we are here. You need to think outside of the box when it comes to your Gift. In the Gauntlet, I thought up a way to use my Gift to build a shield of electricity.”

  I leaned forward. “In the maze.”

  He nodded. “Yes. I’d never done it before but needed to find new ways to use my Gift the designers hadn’t seen before. It was my only chance.”

  It struck me as odd. After being one of the strongest Gifted around, there were uses for his powers he hadn’t uncovered before. “Couldn’t you have done that while you fought the Reclaimers?”

  “I could have, probably should have.” A wistful look crossed his face. “Maybe had the Gifted been more creative, we could have found a way to stop the Dark Brigade. Maybe we could have avoided all those needless deaths. So many innocents killed due to our arrogance.”

  It didn’t sound right. “Arrogance? Mom always said the Gifted fought to protect the people who couldn’t fight back.”

  “Tommy, you’ve heard the saying ‘Absolute power corrupts absolutely’?”

  I nodded.

  “The Gifted throughout history started with good intentions.” He paused as if considering his words. “When the governments of the world built Gifted teams, the goal of protecting the population from rogue Gifted was the most important thing. Over time, teams fractured over personality conflicts and jealousy. Gifted fought more for endorsement deals and fame than they did for the people of Earth.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “The big news toward the end revolved around who was dating whom and which team could beat the others, who was strongest, fastest, toughest. Huge amounts of money went to teams who won with spectacular footage, not results. When Titan used a city bus, no one cared who had been on the bus, but the footage ran constantly. He appeared on talk shows to pick up construction vehicles. It turned into a circus with the clowns running the show. I know some teams would let perpetrators escape so they could fight again. The Dark Brigade attacks ended it all, and everyone on their team had been stopped many times before.”

  I couldn’t believe what he was saying. My world flipped upside down and stood on its head. “Were you like that too?”

  He considered for a minute. “No, I don’t think so. All I wanted to do was retire and sneak off with Susan. If the Dark Brigade hadn’t struck when it did, we would have been together on the farm where you were born. Well, until the Protectorate came for us.”

  I studied the man who was my dad. I saw that it cost him to tell me this, risking our new relationship. He watched as I came to my conclusion. “It’s in the past, and I wish it had been different, but I’m glad you’re here now. How about another simulation, then upstairs for a movie?”

  He smiled, and I could see his eyes had become a bit damp; we’d passed a hurdle for sure. “Sounds good.” Dad stood up, and as I did the same, he grabbed me in a hug. A good-natured laugh escaped him as he did. Stepping back, he asked, “You ready for another one? Try not to wreck the room this time.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Well, if the room can’t take a bit of lightning.”

  He snorted. “Sal, launch random combat simulation.”

  The lights dimmed, and my personal hell arose around us.

  7

  My brain screamed in panic as I realized we were on the set from the final round of the Gauntlet. The scattered cars, the red brick buildings. My eyes shot to where Wendi’s bloody body would be waiting for me. It wasn’t there.

  Instead, I noticed dead soldiers littering the battlefield. Their bodies twisted and charred from the primal fury the lightning Cyclone Ranger had unleashed on them.

  Dad fell to his knees, tears flowing down his face. “Not again. No, I can’t fight anymore,” he whispered, rocking back and forth. Anguish flooded his eyes as he stared down at the limp body of a woman dressed in a skin-tight black combat suit. Long blonde hair poking out the back of her combat helmet lay in a pool of vomit. The symbol on her chest—a golden dagger through a downward facing red crescent moon—gave her away: Dominion.

  This wasn’t Saturday Night Showdown; this was the scene from the day Dominion used Dad to destroy Powell’s men. The day Dad surrendered rather than continue to fight. I surveyed the wreckage to see if Powell was in the scene, but he wasn’t. He’d fled the battle before then.

  I knelt beside Dad and put my hands on his shoulders. “Dad, it’s not real. It’s a simul
ation.” He didn’t notice me. The memories had taken over. The agony reflected in his eyes mirrored my own as I thought of what Powell had cost me; a moment of mercy had been repaid with the death of Wendi.

  “Sal, end simulation,” I said causing the room to reappear as it really was. I sat in front of Dad as he fought to regain control. After all these years, the memories of killing those men still haunted him. I thought I understood since I had nightmares of the men in the arena dying under streams of lightning as I fought to save my family. I could hear their screams when I closed my eyes. I’d never realized that the damage I’d done had been to myself as much as the men I fought.

  Even worse was the kids I’d vaporized. Something in me broke the day I killed Clint, Ryder, and Brunner. They had deserved it, but their blood would forever be on my hands.

  “I can still hear them,” Dad murmured as he came back from that horrific day. “I can smell the charred flesh, feel my skin burn as the lightning killed them all. I think Powell was the worst; he had to live with the aftermath of the day.”

  “Powell’s gone, Dad.”

  Dad’s eyes locked on mine. “Yes, he is, but he’ll always live on in my memories.”

  “Mine too, Dad. Mine too.”

  For the next few days, I felt drained. I couldn’t shake the image of the women in the simulation lying dead from the blast I had unleashed. Without fail, those thoughts led to Wendi’s blood-spattered body in the arena. It had been over a month, but the pain magnified as the days flowed past. I needed to take it out on someone, but Powell was dead.

  Training went on as always. Mom turned out to be an ace with her pistol. Dad called her Annie Oakley. Mom just rolled her eyes at him. My parents are weird. Marcel still dreaded the sessions, but Blaze said his progress was encouraging.

  The fourth morning, I hit rock bottom. I could hardly sleep. When I did, horrible nightmares destroyed any rest I could get. Wendi begging me to stop Powell before he killed her, Clint apologizing as the lightning tore him to shreds, people dying under the constant surge of white-hot energy.