Powered

by Cheyanne Young

  “What?”

  She moves the controls on the fishbowl and it lowers to the ground. My heart races as she steps out of the bowl and onto the floor—the same floor that I’m standing on not ten feet away. Now is my chance to attack her.

  But I can’t. I want to hear what she has to say. She’s found a way to freeze me like the others by using her words instead of a fancy DNA device. She laces her fingers together and in front of her body, leaving her completely vulnerable to an attack. She knows I won’t attack her. That really pisses me off.

  “The only thing we know is that one twin will always turn evil. Every. Single. Time.”

  “I’m not evil,” I repeat.

  “Look at that dark hair. Look at the ruthless anger in your eyes, how quickly you lose control when something pisses you off. You killed a droid, am I right? And yet, why are you not depowered? What makes you so special that you get to live until the age of sixteen when you have a fifty percent chance and a whole hell of a lot of evidence pointing to you being evil?”

  She puts her hand in the air and makes a come here motion behind her. “Why, Maci? Maci Might?” She bites off my last name as if it’s a curse word. Her head lowers, her voice going from bold to condescending with each word, “Because your daddy is president, that’s why.”

  “Or because I’m not evil,” I snap, knowing all too well that my argument doesn’t hold water.

  “Why don’t we ask the man himself?” The squeaking of wheels in dire need of grease signals the arrival of another villain, dressed in all black, her small feminine features cloaked in what looks like the hood of Death himself. She pulls a hospital gurney behind her. Metal ropes hold my father onto the rusty frame.

  “Dad!” My startled cry makes him jerk on the gurney, lifting his head to see me. His clothing is in shreds across his arms, chest, and legs where the ropes hold him in place. I know those aren’t ordinary ropes. They’ve singed straight through his shirt and jeans. Aurora holds out her hand. “Take one step toward him and he gets depowered.” The villain parks my father in front of the depowering machine and pulls a crank on the gurney, making it rise into a standing position. I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed that machine until now.

  “Excellent,” Aurora says. “Now everyone has a front row view.”

  Several emotional grunts and gasps come from the Heroes who stand paralyzed behind me. I don’t make a sound. Only I can fix this now. Only I can save my dad and the entire Hero Brigade. I just need to figure out how.

  “Nice to see you again, Mr. President,” Aurora says as her Death-impersonating villain takes her side. My mind flips into Hero mode. In two seconds I could scale the room, in ten seconds, I could overpower Aurora and knock out her stupid sidekick. In half a minute, I can rescue my dad.

  “Oh, by the way,” she says, holding up her DNA-freezing device. From a closer view I see that it has four buttons in the center, not just one. Her thumb hovers over the second button. “Try anything and I’ll explode your friends’ brains just like I did to the others.”

  I close my eyes and swallow my outrage. If there was ever a time to be calm, this is it.

  Aurora steps around the fishbowl toward Hugo Havoc. She places her hand on his cheek before turning to look at me. I don’t move. I don’t really see a point in it. “Did you ever wonder why your father allowed you to be raised in the Super society, despite knowing that you could be evil?”

  “He believed in me.” I try to keep my voice steady and unwavering. Dad is listening after all. “He knew I could be good if I was raised to be good.”

  “How did he know that? Does he have some sort of superior-breeding genetics that would increase your likelihood of not being evil?”

  “You know he doesn’t,” I say. “I was an experiment.”

  Aurora’s eyebrows shoot to the top of her forehead. “An experiment!” She abandons her caress of Hugo’s cheek and turns to me. “President Might knows all about experiments. He participated in dozens. Do you know who he liked to use for his experiments?”

  Dad’s arms pull at his restraints. A sizzling light zaps through the metal ropes and he falls still once again as the smell of burnt flesh wafts in my direction. I know where this she’s going with this. She’s trying to intimidate me.

  And it’s working.

  But I won’t let her know that.

  I cross my hands over my chest. “Twins. He experimented on twins.”

  Fire roars behind her eyes as she stands directly in front of me. “Twenty-one sets of twins were experimented on during your father’s first decade as president. Four of them survived. Our president knew that half of those children were good Supers and deserved a fulfilling life and yet he allowed every single one of them to be subjected to the torture veiled as experimenting in the name of the greater good.”

  I stay strong. “That is not my fault.”

  “Right again!” She slaps her hands together in front of her chest, a loud echo filling the silent room. “You know whose fault it is. I’m not alone in thinking that the president shouldn’t be allowed to spare his own child when he didn’t care about anyone else’s.”

  “He was only trying to protect everyone else in the world.”

  “He was being a selfish, hypocritical asshole!”

  My hair blows across my face at the force of her hands flying through the air as she talks. I swallow as I prepare a tactic I’ve never used before—reasoning.

  “I have no excuses for my father,” I begin, my voice sincere. “But killing him won’t make you happy.”

  “Wrong.” She glances at her fingernails to prove just how bored she is with my reasoning. “Killing him would make me very happy. But I’m not going to kill him. I’m going to depower him.” She points to her eyes with both index fingers. “Eye for an eye, and all that.”

  I glance from her to my dad, to the tiny yet fatal object still in her hand. “Let me assure you, Maci, darling—” she reaches for my hand and I pull away. “You will die tonight. But it is not because of the rules you broke, or the darkness of your hair, or even because I just don’t like you. Your death won’t be from anything you did. This is your father’s punishment.”

  “Yeah?” I say, stretching out my hands and popping my fingers. “Bring it.”

  Unaffected, she turns on her heel. “I’m not going to kill you just yet. I have a Hero Examination to grade.” Spinning on her heel, Aurora walks back into the fishbowl and places her hands on her hips. “Here is your exam: You proclaim that you are not the evil twin—now is your chance you prove it. You will fight my protégé.”

  She motions toward the depowering machine to where the girl dressed as Death steps forward. “If you do not wish to kill her, you may be depowered with your father. But if you happen to have the gift of villainy and you choose to end her life, then I will set you free.”

  “Mother!” The voice comes from the person next to my dad. “You never said I’d have to fight her. That was not part of the plan!” God, she sounds even younger than her small frame suggests. She’s too young to be a villain.

  Aurora snorts. “Just because you are unaware of something, doesn’t mean it’s not part of the plan.”

  Death’s shoulders straighten. She doesn’t make a good Death, not like the ones in horror films, but I’ll call her Death because that’s what she’s dressed like. Like a tiny version of the grim reaper who wanted to dress like a villain but robbed a Halloween store instead. “Fine,” she says. “I’ll fight her.” Her cloaked face turns in my direction.

  “What about my dad?” I choke out, buying time. “Let him go.”

  “Oh, honey, he will be depowered no matter what. I am only sparing him that grueling agony so that he may have all his senses to watch his precious daughter take her exam.”

  Only the worst of all villains would consider a fight to the death an exam. “Why are you doing this?” I ask, stepping backward as Death approaches me with slow precise steps. “What are you trying to prove?” />
  The fishbowl rises into the air, stopping at the halfway mark. The same spot the real examiners were when I took my first Hero exam. Aurora’s eyes have a reminiscing glaze over them. “I don’t have to prove anything, you little brat. I am avenging those innocent twin children.” Her voice is so quiet I have to strain to hear her. “All forty-two of them. But especially the two who were my sons.”

  Remember your training. Remember the Hero rules. Remember the classes that taught the importance of never losing your cool in a real life situation. The voice in my head says the opposite of what I feel. This is not a training session. This is real life. You can do this.

  My arms bend at the elbows, hands gripped into fists, ready to fight but waiting for my opponent to make the first move. A thin vibration of power rolls off Aurora, filling the air around me with the feeling of pure elation.

  I am not afraid to fight, but Hero training did not prepare me for this. I have no Heroes to call in for back up because they are all frozen in a state of terror, forced to witness this scene as it unfolds. I have no Retrievers because they are in lockdown. I am surrounded by people but totally alone. Yep. There’s no chapter on this in the Hero manual.

  I’m watching Aurora in one moment, lying on my back staring at the ceiling in the next. Death pulled a sneak attack so quickly I hadn’t even seen her move. Kicking onto my feet, I launch myself at her, missing her by an inch as she swirls and delivers a kick to my cheek. Damn that stings.

  She leaps toward me and I grab her arms, bringing both of us to the floor. My head crashes against the granite and everything doubles as my skull fractures along my temple. The intense pain of a shattered skull feels exactly as horrible as it did two weeks ago. When I grab my head, her feet slam onto my arms, breaking them.

  The walls change colors and my vision blurs as she kicks my head over and over again. The bones in my arm knit themselves back together, allowing me to reach up and grab her ankle, blocking her next kick. My legs heal a moment later and I jump to my feet. Adrenaline grabs hold of me. This isn’t over yet.

  I seize the fist she throws at me, twist her arm around, and use her own leverage to send her flying over my head and crashing to the floor. Diving on top of her, I break both of her wrists and jam my elbow into her throat. She gasps and coughs, blood spilling out of her mouth as she struggles to breathe.

  My laugh is satisfying despite the immense amount of pain it causes in my head, stomach, and ribcage. The weight of my decision no longer pulls at my ethical heartstrings; if anything, this villain deserves a quick death from me. Aurora will only kill her anyway.

  “Any last words?” I ask, a bit ironically as I dig my elbow further into her windpipe. She’s barely breathing—she sure as hell won’t be talking. Aurora’s stiletto heels clack across the floor as she approaches me. Because of this distraction I probably don’t hear what I think I hear when the villain’s lips part and mouth what looks like the words, I’m sorry.

  My eyebrows draw together as I watch the villain slowly dying. I’m vaguely aware that Aurora is now only an arm’s length away until she starts to clap. It’s the most faked applause ever.

  Clap. Clap. Clap.

  I look at up at her, refusing to let her see the doubt in my eyes. “Well done, Maci. I’m impressed. You’ve beaten your opponent and are well on the way to killing her. But, before you do, and believe me I can’t wait until you do—” The villain writhes beneath my grip, her lips moving furiously in words I can’t understand. Aurora frowns and then continues, “I’d like to show you something.”

  She kneels and grabs the villain’s facemask. If she thinks seeing someone’s face as they writhe in pain is enough to deter me, she’s wrong. Her eyes lock with mine as she peels the mask up to her forehead, stopping when the dried blood makes it too difficult to continue. My grip falters as I look into the eyes of the person I am about to kill. Light brown with flecks of chestnut and gold. Thick eyelashes under unevenly spaced eyebrows. Blood drips down a square jaw. I realize I am looking into a real life mirror. The person I am slowly choking to death looks exactly like me in every way.

  My eyes squint back up at me in a desperate plea. My lips struggle to talk over all the blood and swelling. Aurora’s voice is a whisper in my ear. “Your young little mind is reeling,” she says with a smile. “You’re putting all the pieces together.”

  My body trembles with a mixture of rage and confusion. This can’t be possible, this isn’t happening.

  “Oh, but it is possible, my dear.” Aurora plucks the thought from my mind. Satisfaction pulses from her power, slamming me in the heart with every beat. Slowly, I remove my arm from my sister’s neck, allowing her to breathe again. “That’s right …” Aurora coos. “You know you want to. You just have to see for yourself.”

  With a trembling hand, I reach for the black fabric around her forehead, the remaining mask that covers her head. I know what to expect as the fabric screeches from being yanked back over so much dried blood. But knowing it doesn’t make me any less shocked when I rip her mask off, revealing a tangled mess of hair.

  Long, platinum-blonde hair.

  Surprise and revulsion have me tripping over my own limbs as I jump up, wanting to get away from this clone of me as quickly as possible. With pained movements, my attacker pushes herself into a standing position but only makes it as far as holding her knees with her head sunk between her shoulders. My hand clenches into a fist.

  “Stop!” a voice yells just as the lights flicker, distracting me. Two loud snapping sounds come from the gurney as I look over to see my dad burst out of the restraints across his chest. In all my confusion, I hadn’t recognized my own father’s voice. He twists his neck, stretching from side to side. He steps over the metal that was once around his feet and sets his eyes on the fishbowl.

  My twin gasps and covers her mouth with her hands, her attention focusing solely on Aurora instead of me. Stupid, amateur move. I’m about to throw her to the ground, but something makes me stop. She isn’t gasping over Dad’s incredible strength in breaking the ropes, or about the gruesome raw gashes across Dad’s skin, or the way the broken metal ropes burn black lines into the floor below.

  She’s gasping because she’s in trouble.

  I blink and she’s gone. I may be the fastest runner in the world, but I’m no longer alone as the record holder. My twin sprints across the room. Aurora throws something and my twin jumps into the air, twisting three hundred and sixty degrees to catch it before landing on her feet as graceful as a gymnast at the Olympics.

  I glance at Aurora and find her watching me, not them. As if reading my thoughts, she holds up her hand and twists the doomsday device she’s still holding, her face giving me a pure look of neiner neiner, I win, you lose.

  Even if I tackle her, she’ll still be able to push the button. This is the worst sort of hostage negotiation ever.

  “Do it!” Aurora yells.

  My twin flicks her wrist and Dad’s body goes rigid against the gurney once more, this time held in place with two retriever hooks. “Please,” Dad’s voice strains as he looks at her. At his daughter. My stomach hurts. “You don’t have to do this.”

  Her hands clench into fists at her sides as she stands almost as tall he is. “Yes. I. Do.”

  Aurora lowers the fishbowl back toward the ground and Dad rushes through his words to get them out in time. “We can help you. You can come live with me. With your family.”

  “Fuck my family,” my twin says. She points at Aurora. “She is my family. She took me in when you left me for dead. She raised me and she told me about the horrible things you did to innocent children. You would have just killed me anyway. Aurora let me live. Why would I ever want to be with you?”

  A mix of family pride and hatred for Aurora has me diving across the room to slap my sister across the face. Her mouth falls open. I wonder if she’s as weirded out looking at me as I am looking at her. “He would have killed you too,” she says, grabbing her jaw. “Aurora
saved both of our lives. But now you get to die.”

  “Aurora ruined our lives, you brainwashed idiot!” I duck the punch she throws my way and counter it with a blow to her head. “Dad wouldn’t have hurt us,” I say through gritted teeth as she fights me back, matching my blows with blows of her own.

  I’m not entirely sure what I’m saying is true, but Dad deserves to keep some dignity in front of all these witnesses. “He would have raised us to both be good. He would have shown us there’s another way to live. He would have loved both of us.”

  She rolls her eyes and yanks my hair so hard my neck cracks in three places. I elbow her in the ribs, taking advantage of her shriek of pain to throw her onto the ground and dig my boot so far into her stomach she coughs up blood.

  “And in case you haven’t noticed, dumbass,” I hiss, dropping to my knees and grabbing a handful of her hair, digging my fingers into her scalp. “I’m the evil one.”

  With a burst of power, I stand, taking her body with me—hair first. I twist to the right, planning to rearrange her facial features into the shape of the column next to me, but what happens next makes me drop her straight to the floor.

  Aurora kicks the latch on the gurney, sending Dad horizontal again. She talks too quietly for me to hear, telling him things with a smile on her face, as she steps around the gurney and—oh, god no. Her hand presses against the screen on the depowering machine. The lights dim as electricity flows into the massive machine, powering it up as the inside circle illuminates into a blinding white light.

  Dad’s body goes rigid, his fingers and toes taunt as they hover in the air, his feet at the entrance of the circle. A gasp comes from my feet and I look down to see my sister watching the scene unfold, lips curled in disgust. Blood everywhere. So much blood.

  The overhead lights dim to a soft glow as the depowering machine sucks most of the energy from the power lines, concentrating all the light in the corner of the room. I look behind me, at the frozen Heroes forced to watch an act of terrorism without participating. Crimson’s eyes reflect the bright light in front of us.