Chapter 2: (Eden's POV)

Author's Note (June 22, 2009) Another character name change. Amy is now Eden, which is what I originally named her.

Author's Note (June 8, 2009) The original version was about 500-600 words, but obviously I've added quite a bit since then. Also, for those of you who've read this before, I've changed "Hunter's" name to "Jesse," because I decided to use the name Hunter for a different character. Hope you enjoy it!

Author's Note (June 4, 2009): I found this while cleaning my room after I got back from college. I wrote this several years ago and thought it was still interesting when I reread it, so I thought I would post it and get some feedback. I would really appreciate any comments/suggestions, as well as any ideas on where to take the story from here. Thanks!

Chapter 1: The Beginning (Eden's POV)

Almost there. As I crept forward, inch by inch, my attention was focused on making as little noise and movement as possible.  The last thing I wanted was to draw the attention of the red-haired boy in the center of the room. He faced away from me, his keen eyes scanning every inch of what once was a library for the slightest sign of an attack. He was tall—probably close to six feet, but with a slim build and youthful look, which caused me once again to forget his strength and power. His hands were clenched into tight fists—the only visible sign of stress he displayed. Despite his mundane appearance, he had proven to me before that he was quite a formidable foe.

As I reached my planned position behind a wide, ivory column, I allowed myself to pause briefly in order to catch my breath and give my aching body a much-needed rest. I leaned against the pillar, welcoming the feel of its cool marble against my hot skin. I ran the back of my forearm over my brow, wiping away the sweat that was beginning to form there. I closed my eyes for a moment and rubbed my sore temples. My pounding head and throbbing muscles reminded me that I was quickly approaching my limit.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew past me. Strands of black hair escaped my ponytail, striking my face and causing my eyes to water. The fact that we were inside an enclosed area with no open windows made it impossible to mistake the unusual gale for anything other than a sign from my teammate, Jesse. It was time for the final strike. Abandoning my hiding place, I snuck out from behind the pillar, minding my steps with utmost care, knowing that the slightest disturbance would alert my opponent to my presence. As I began to approach him from behind, a tall, dark-haired boy appeared suddenly on the opposite side of the room, visibly stirring a stack of old papers. They had been resting in a neat pile on the floor, but now swirled around the boy wildly, disturbed by the same gust of wind that had signaled me to attack.

At the sight of Jesse, the red-haired boy snapped to attention, his entire body tensing as his eyes followed Jesse’s movements. Taking advantage of the distraction, I hastened my pace, moving as quickly toward the target as I could without drawing his attention.

For a moment, I thought the plan had worked. But when I was just five feet away, the boy’s image flickered, then disappeared. Startled, I began to frantically search the room with my eyes, trying my hardest to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach. Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye. I spun around in time to see the boy appear behind Jesse. I opened my mouth to call out a warning to him, but before I could, Jesse turned around to face his adversary, arm raised in preparation to throw a punch. But the boy caught Jesse’s fist and, using his other hand to grab him by the shoulder, easily threw my teammate into an empty bookshelf.

Seeing this, I sprinted forward to help Jesse. But before I could reach him, my opponent appeared directly in front of me, smiling devilishly and freezing me in his gaze. Realizing my mistake, I cursed under my breath. In my rush to aid my friend, I had made a critical mistake, and taken my eyes off the enemy. Now I was completely helpless, unable to perform the necessary task of breaking his stare. Not knowing what else to do, I braced myself for what I knew would come.  Sure enough, the boy’s ice blue eyes began to glow a violent red, and I felt a warm, tingling sensation, beginning in my head, then trickling down to my stomach and legs.

Suddenly, the somewhat pleasant feeling intensified, turning into hot, sharp pains. Soon, I was on my knees, writhing in pain as an invisible fire consumed my body. I was burning, my blood boiling angrily in my veins.

I'm not sure how long I laid there. It seemed like an eternity, but in reality, it was probably only a few seconds. As my vision grew dark at the edges, a familiar voice rang through my almost unconscious mind.

"Ian! That's enough!" I sighed in relief. Jesse. I’d spent enough time with him in the last few years to recognize his voice anywhere. Slowly, the pain began to fade away. Before long, the burning sensation was gone, replaced by a dull ache throughout my entire body, and a slightly nauseous feeling in my stomach. I rubbed my throbbing head, unintentionally letting out a weak groan.

As I regained my senses, I rose to my feet. At least, I attempted to. As soon as I stood up, the room began to spin, and I felt myself falling.  As my surroundings blurred once more, I braced myself for a painful collision with the concrete floor. Instead, a pair of arms caught my shoulders and gently pushed me back into a standing position. The strong grip turned me around, and I looked up into Jesse’s dark brown eyes. He met my gaze and gave a tense smile—the one he always gave when he was angry or annoyed. I grinned weakly back at him, then hurriedly pushed him aside as my stomach heaved and my lunch made a second appearance.  Jesse patted my back softly and, after I assured him that I was alright, he turned to face our opponent.

"I think you went too far this time, Ian. Look at her! She’s a mess!" I laughed, but the noise came out of my hoarse throat sounding like a dying animal. Thanks, Jesse. I was well aware that my current condition probably wasn’t my best look.

At the rebuke, the red-haired boy turned to me, his face anxious.

"Sorry, Eden. I…” He fumbled for words, clearly ashamed of his actions. “I guess I just…lost it there for a minute.” He looked down at me, his eyes full of worry. “You okay?" I nodded, smiling for him, despite the stubborn black dots still marring my vision. Ian often had difficulty controlling his powers. But then again, the kid was only fifteen, despite the fact that he towered over me.

“That’s enough for today, guys.” My thoughts were interrupted by a voice coming from the balcony above us. I looked up to see my father, James Lowe, looking down at us. “We’ll pick up again tomorrow.”

Following my father, Ian and Jesse left the large, open practice room through the entryway, which was once guarded by tall, oaken doors. Now, only dust and half-rotted planks remained, a subtle mockery of the beautiful artistic haven this structure once was. A century before I was born, this building housed some of the greatest pieces of art, knowledge and human history known to the world. However, anything of value had been looted long before we discovered this place, carted away by petty thieves and greedy collectors.

Instead of leaving the room with my father and the boys, I grabbed a rag and some disinfectant from a battered old storage closet and began to clean up the mess I'd made. When I finished, I tossed the soiled cloth into the nearest trash bin and returned the cleaning supplies to its spot on the shelf. Then, still exhausted, I leaned against the nearest wall and slowly sank down to the floor. It was times like this, when my body ached and all of the frustration and anger began to bubble up inside of me, that I would sit in this giant room, alone with my thoughts, and remember why we lived the life we did. Why we fought so hard to gain what little ground we could.

Fifty years ago, the southern half of the United States tried to withdraw from the northern half. Déjà vu, right? Well this time, they were successful. The South had become almost violently liberal, especially concerning scientific advancements, while the North stayed in favor of conservatism. Both sides continued to press their political agendas on the other, creating an extremely tense environment. All hell broke loose when a southern scientific research center was bombarded with hand grenades and makeshift weapons, supposedly by a northern activist group.  All of the workers, caught unaware, were still inside at the time. As a result, the Southern army invaded the North, beginning the war, and causing chaos and catastrophe of Pandoric proportions.

The American Civil War was deadly, but imagine the devastation when history repeated itself nearly one thousand years later with better technology and superior weapons. Both sides eventually resorted to using untested chemical and radioactive weapons, designed to wipe out the other side’s inhabitants and weaken their military. But some of the effects of the weapons were unexpected: instead of dying or becoming crippled from the attack, a small percentage of the population began to mutate and develop special abilities. While these seemed harmless, even useful to their respective sides at first, the exposure to uncontrolled chemicals and radiation caused most of them to eventually go rogue, becoming more animal than human. While the majority of the Transmuters, as they became to be called, were driven out of heavily populated areas, they still remained in rural sections, especially in forests and abandoned buildings. Even today, they’re considered extremely dangerous—as most are unable to distinguish human from animal or friend from foe.

To complicate things, scientists eventually discovered that more people were affected by the untested weapons than originally thought. Apparently, a small number of those who did not become Transmuters after exposure did undergo changes on a genetic scale. While the effects were dormant in the people exposed, these alterations would flare up in their descendants, causing additional mutations and abilities to develop, though not manifesting themselves as severely as in the Transmuters.

In all of the turmoil that ensued during the war, the geographical borders of the two sides became skewed as refugees from all over the nation fled to safer areas. Eventually, organized warfare disappeared as supplies and troops were exhausted, leaving fewer, smaller groups of radicals around the country to continue the struggle. Though the actual intensity of the fighting decreased, only a severely weakened government remained intact to unify the country, and eventually, a new political group rose to power—one that was even more corrupt than the first.  As a result of the war and the new government, the nation descended into a period of poverty and despair. Because the war had destroyed the majority of the land’s nutrients, growing food became increasingly more difficult. Combined with the plummeting public morale and the dramatic increase in poverty, riots started to break out and crime began to skyrocket. Children whose guardians were claimed by war, famine, and disease roamed the streets alone, homeless and hungry. For years, these same street urchins have been disappearing all over the country, rumored to have been taken by the government, then shipped off to experimental labs across the nation. There have been stories of a new breed of soldiers—ones with inhuman strength and skills. The townspeople talk of soldiers with animalistic feature and cybernetic abilities—beings who abide by no conscience or reason. As of now, we don’t know if someone is forming an army of people with preexisting abilities, or if they are being created. I shuddered, the thought both repulsing and scaring me.

All of this is why my father decided to step up our training as of late. As one of the leaders of Equitas, an underground organization dedicated to bringing about peace and freedom in our war torn country, his goal is to train a number of the group’s members in combat skills, stealth, espionage, and other fields in order to fight against the ever-increasing power of tyrannical warlords and corrupt, imitation governments that would pop up every now and again.

At seventeen, I should be too young to begin training, but, as always, Equitas doesn’t have enough active members to carry out all of the missions that the Council prescribes. And as a councilman’s daughter…well, I was one of the first to dive in headfirst when they removed the age restriction three years ago.

Though I was enjoying the much-needed alone time, raised voices from just outside the room soon brought me out of my thoughts. I soon identified them as those of my father and Jesse, and as I strained to hear them better, I managed to catch part of the argument.

“….trying to throw a punch at him? You should know by now that a direct attack is not going to work against Ian’s kind, even with your abilities.”

“It was a reflex, Jim. He surprised me and…”

“And you know what he’s capable of. You shouldn’t have let him surprise you. If that wasn’t Ian you were sparring against you would’ve gotten Eden and yourself killed.”

I sighed, frustrated by the argument that had frequently repeated itself after training. How are we supposed to defeat someone like Ian? You see, Ian was…different. He had abilities, but they were beyond anything we had ever seen before. And they were developing and increasing all the time. He had the strength of a full-grown man despite his age, he could teleport himself anywhere in his line of sight, and, as I experienced, he could easily disable anyone who looked into his eyes or touched his skin. He far surpassed Jesse in terms of sheer strength; despite Jesse’s heritage, which had gifted him both with inhuman speed and just a natural knack for strategic thinking, which made him (infuriatingly) exceptional at hand-to-hand combat.

Unlike Jesse, whose parents were members of Equitas and friends of my father’s, we found Ian four years ago, and still aren’t sure where he came from.

Dad was on a mission at the time, which involved sabotaging a warehouse that was filled with supplies for an infamous political warlord. But the mission was botched due to inaccurate information they’d received regarding the number of guards at the warehouse. Because they were spotted approaching the building, and soon realized that they were seriously outnumbered, Dad and his team were forced to retreat, hiding in the nearby woods. As they made their way through the forest and back toward headquarters, they stumbled across Ian, unconscious and alone, in a clearing. Thinking he was just another orphaned kid, they took him along, planning on treating him back at base. But my father’s team soon realized that he wasn’t just some ordinary boy. When Ian awoke, he panicked, displaying his powers as he tried to escape. It took an hour, five trained men, and a gun loaded with sedative darts to subdue him. Eventually, Dad was able to convince Ian that he was a friend and sit down to talk with him. Strangely, Ian couldn’t remember anything about his past, so my father gave him a place to live, food to eat, and his name, making him part of the Equitas “family.”

My reflections were once again disturbed, this time, by the sound of quickening footsteps outside in the hall. I got to my feet just as Jesse came around the corner and into the room. His eyebrows were knitted together with concern, and his eyes were filled with apprehension. Uneasy, I walked over to him, preparing myself for what I would hear.

“What’s wrong, Jess?”

“Your father called a meeting. It’s the base. The one fifty miles from here. They…” He paused and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, most likely trying to stop one of the oncoming migraines that often plagued him when he was stressed. I put my hands on his shoulders, and his eyes opened once more, boring into mine.

“They what, Jesse?” I asked gently.

“They’ve been discovered. The government's going after them as we speak.”

Word Count: 2,633