HERO

23 / The Way It's Meant To Be

Children were the future.

Were. That's what had always been said. Look after them. Nurture them. Teach and love and guide them.

'Were' the future. Things change, whether it's intended or not. Now, no one knew if there's actually be a future, with or without children in it. Eight years old was too immature to suddenly discover powers that could make a person stronger than everyone around them. There was no gradual increase to ease the child into their ability. They didn't have time to become accustomed to having them and their parents were unable to teach their offspring how to use them. There was no prior indication of what they'd end up with or how advanced it would be.

Children were fully aware they'd be getting the powers. They'd see mum or dad able to fly or to lift the heaviest of objects. Siblings would demonstrate those they had – sometimes with fatal consequences.

Still, eight years was not enough time. Eighteen years would not, really, be adequate.

But such was the way. Such was the reason there were orphans roaming the streets, joining gangs. Stealing and killing.

Because, at eight years old, a genetic switch was flicked that propelled the body far beyond anything it should have been expected to deal with.

Then came puberty. For a couple of year or so, in irregular bursts, a power would become enhanced. Faster, stronger or higher. It would also, in similarly irregular bursts, decrease. Slower. Weaker. Lower. The latter was particularly problematic for those given the ability to fly. If they were pubescent, and the hormones were firing their collective cannons, the flyer could abruptly be the faller.

Before it became so apparent that Thomas wasn't getting his powers any time soon, he'd had a friend, James. James's brother, Harry, could fly. He was quite good at it, too, until he was twelve years, three months, four days old. Then, for exactly six seconds, his power failed.

Harry was one hundred and sixty feet up at that moment, a personal best. He hit the ground in a shiver over three seconds.

And was dead when his powers returned.

"Are you still with them?" Thomas asked.

He didn't want to be a part of such a gang, if there'd have been any way of his being accepted as one of their number. If Bren still hung around with them, he would prefer to avoid contact. He'd put himself out, alone, rather than be drawn into criminal activities.

Or he figured he would, if the decision was placed in front of him.

"No. I left them a while ago. It was becoming too difficult to not do the things that were too easy to do. I was increasingly put on the line where murder could be necessary. I didn't want to cross it."

"If it's OK to do it when things are like that, why did it matter?"

It did matter, he knew, but he wanted to see if she agreed with him.

"'Cos that line, if I crossed it, was a one way ticket. Once you're a killer, you can't not be one. If you steal and don't get caught, or get caught but face off against someone less powerful than you, you get a bug that's almost impossible to squash."

"You just keep doing it?"

"Yes," Bren said. "You start to think you're invincible, a problem too many people already have. When you think that, things escalate quickly. I've seen it so many times."

She ran her fingers through her hair, scrubbing her scalp with her nails.

"So I left. They tried to stop me – I knew them and their secrets – but gave in. They knew I wouldn't grass on 'em. Besides, they wouldn't have found me."