Zane ground his teeth.
He adjusted the Forthrite uniform he wasn't really allowed to wear and cast a nervous glance around the bay of the jet. He caught sly gazes on him that were averted as soon as he raised his head. The other soldiers shuffled their knees, trying to keep up a lively conversation between themselves, but Zane Morrison was the elephant in the room. Or plane. He turned away.
He knew the soldiers knew he wasn't supposed to be there. He knew they knew of his awful superhuman ability to completely dissolve the physical structure of anything. Either they were scared of him because he had single-handedly obliterated a squadron of New Vancouver soldiers and they didn't want to confront him, or Dmitri had ordered them to say nothing when he snuck on reconnaissance missions. He wasn't sure he wanted to know which reason it was. Being feared was not as exhilarating as Wawrzynski played it.
He twisted the sleeve of the uniform and deduced that he would have to have a talk with Dmitri when he got back to Headquarters. He didn't want everybody's pity. Joseph may be gone, but that didn't give them reason to coddle him like a puppy.
Zane's vision flashed red as he remembered the last time he had seen Joseph. The other boy had been immobilized, which had been Wawrzynski's doing, and had put his whole trust in Zane.
He shouldn't have.
It had been three months, and Zane had yet to catch any stray information on any of these unauthorized tag-alongs as to where Joseph was being kept. Dmitri left him to his own devices, but it was only a matter of time before he started irritating the Forthrite leader and his own friends.
But he couldn't bear to see them happy.
It was like twisting the knife.
When Zane had first heard of Forthrite, during the monumental battle that took Joseph from him, he was excited at the prospect of having a relative who had fought for years to free him from New Vancouver. However, when Dmitri had taken Zane and his friends to the Forthrite Headquarters, there had been nobody.
Mallory had found her street partner from Rio.
Marcus had found his parents from Australia.
Daisy and Anastasia had already found each other and their big brother, and then were reunited with their father.
And Jonas had been scarred enough by being Wawrzynski's foster son that he was glad there was nobody to welcome him.
But Zane wanted there to be someone.
But there was nobody.
Only Joseph.
And he was gone.
I'll always be here, Joseph.
I'll always be here to help you.
A tear rolled down Zane's cheek and he rushed to wipe it away. Once again the soldiers' gazes had fallen upon him. He rolled his eyes angrily and crossed his arms over his chest.
To ward away the reminiscence that threatened to overwhelm him, he reminded himself of his hatred of the man who had started it all. Lucas Wawrzynski. The man who had imprisoned them like rats in a laboratory maze, experimented on them, forced them to follow his bidding inside a horrible facility, chased them halfway across the world to kill them, and then stole the only person that truly mattered to Zane. Zane's body shook and his jaw trembled furiously. His hands clenched into fists and his fingernails dug into his palms.
He knew he had to find Joseph.
Joseph was the only person who was able to save him from a horrible descent back into a New Vancouver citizen. Daisy had promised him she would never let it happen, but they had seen marginally less of each other. Daisy had her family back, and Zane had nobody. But she tried to stay true to her promise and had been helping him discover hobbies and interests and aspects of his personality that had been hidden his entire life.
The descent was slow, but it was happening.
A young soldier across the bay of the jet caught Zane's eye and held it. He nodded once, and Zane's mind lifted slightly. It gave him hope that he could be appreciated for himself. And more and more people were starting to do so. But none were as influential as Joseph had been.
The mission commander, Felicity, walked out from the cockpit, her face all business. She was also dressed in the Forthrite mission uniform, black tactical gear with red stripes in abundance across the sleeves, legs, and torso. A blood-red insignia upon her shoulder, upon all of their shoulders, depicted a broken chain link, representative of their missions to burst open New Vancouver and free everyone within the steel walls.
She placed her hands on her hips, and all the soldiers turned to face her, including Zane. Her hair was thrown up in a messy bun and a helmet with the same chain insignia was propped between her elbow and her stomach. Her broad shoulders and wide stature were very intimidating, and the scowl on her face seemed never to leave. "We'll be beginning our descent in a moment or two," she said, her voice holding authority. "Prepare to move out and search the city."
They all nodded and Zane twisted the sleeve of his uniform again, nervous. This was Forthrite's seventh reconnaissance mission into Japan, and Zane had hijacked five already. He shouldn't be nervous.
The missions usually consisted of a short survey of the city and then an interrogation of a couple of the locals to see if they knew anything. Zane never stuck around long enough for any of that. His only objective was finding Joseph, and he was prepared to do whatever it took.
He wished his friends were here with him. However much he credited Joseph with keeping him sane, they had a huge influence on his sanity. Daisy kept him grounded and found all his flaws and strengths. Mallory showed him rebellion amped to the max. Marcus taught him to remember and embrace his past. Jonas helped him remember the absolute terror New Vancouver caused over and over, because of Wawrzynski. And Anastasia taught him that no matter how lonely you feel, you can always find somebody to support you.
But sadly, his friends did not support him sneaking onto these reconnaissance missions. They preferred to stick behind and follow Dmitri's orders.
But Zane had bad experiences with following orders.
So he rebelled.
It was his way of coping and Dmitri knew that. That was why he pretended not to notice Zane slipping into the soldier's uniform or marching onto the jet. He was thankful for that.
The nose of the plane dipped and conversation started up again, theories of what the Japanese village below was like, wishes of what information the citizens might possibly have, bets on how long the mission took. Zane closed his eyes and focused on the words around him, letting them blend together and become white noise, which he used to calm himself. It was a method Daisy had suggested to him. He thought he knew her, but that girl was full of surprises.
The sounds mixed together inside his brain, the exact opposite of when he used his unnatural power and dissolved his body. He hadn't used the forced-upon power since the battle in London, but he remembered the intense swell of sounds, sights, feelings, scents. It was as if every single cell in his body had the capacity to sense a multitude of things he was never aware of before.
He lost track of time, and the familiar screech of the jet wheels upon the ground startled him from his meditative daze. He adjusted the belt on his waist, and felt the smooth surface of the pistol he carried with him. Ever since he and his friends had escaped Wawrzynski's facility months ago, the weapon had barely left his side. His hand also dropped lower to feel the syringe inside his pocket.
The syringe had been with him far longer than the pistol. Mainly because it was a part of him, both mentally and physically. The syringe was a result of using his newly-gifted power to gain more power. Zane had never been able to return it back to his pinkie finger that, because of the cells the syringe consisted of, had no final knuckle. It was a symbol of his greed and want, his hunger for power that he refused to acknowledge. It was what Wawrzynski wanted. He wanted Zane to want more power, to fervorously and repeatedly yearn for more power to save Joseph until it finally consumed him.
But Zane couldn't give in to Wawrzynski.
If he did, he knew he'd lose everything.
So he had struggled with the complete absence of any information on Joseph's location or what Wawrzynski was up to. Dmitri had not been able to sneak any Forthrite members into New Vancouver. Ever since Wawrzynski had ordered the bomb that decimated a foreign embassy and his soldiers murdered men, women, and children, the enclosed city had been just that: closed off. Nothing went in or out. And without any evidence to prove that it was New Vancouver soldiers who had attacked London, nothing could be done against the isolationist civilization.
The bay door slowly opened, the gears whirring as the door dropped to the ground. Felicity marched forward and turned to face the soldiers and Zane. "This is a larger town than what we've infiltrated before," she said. "So this mission had to be shorter than what we've done. Just because Forthrite is not a government-sanctioned organization does not mean we are immune."
The soldiers nodded.
Zane didn't.
Because he was immune.
Nobody could prove his existence.
And he could destroy a person with a single thought.
He took a breath. He shouldn't be feeling superior. He may be more powerful than everybody in the jet combined, but his problems were just as big. The boy he might love was gone. He was losing touch with his friends. His unconscious mind was incorporating doubts into his brain like little needlepricks. These soldiers only had to worry about carrying out orders.
Felicity arranged them in lines and Zane took a spot at the back of one of the single-file lines. As soon as his foot hit the ground, he slipped off to the left where a concentration of buildings rose to the horizon. Felicity caught his eye and her gaze flashed but she said nothing. Instead, he saw something he would never have expected from her.
She smiled.
And, on a rare occasion, he smiled back.
He heard her barking orders as he walked away, his shoulders hunched and his hand unconsciously covering the broken link insignia on his sleeve. He lowered his eyes and smoothed his hair to the side. He cracked his knuckles and breathed deeply as he rounded a street corner and the jet faded from view.
He wished Joseph was with him at that moment, being the rock Zane could lean on if he began to overthink, which was almost a certainty. He thought of how Joseph had always calmed him down by interlocking their fingers, and his heart ached.
He exhaled slowly and looked around. He had gone through these actions five times before.
His eyes found a spiffy-looking woman strolling down the street. He narrowed his eyes. She was carrying a briefcase and holding a bundle of papers in her hands. She looked official.
He walked toward her, his gait picking up to catch up with her. She never looked back, her head facing forward and her steps purposeful. Zane glanced around to make sure nobody noticed what he was doing. A pair of boys on the opposite street were conversing quietly, but they were the only other people in sight.
He slowed his speed when he came astride the woman. He pulled the pistol from his belt and pressed it against her hip, wrapping his arm around her shoulder to hide it from sight. She made a little gasp and whimpered. He winced. "I just want some information," he said. She met his eye and said nothing. "Can you do that for me, please?" A note of desperation crept into his voice.
It had been three months.
I can't live without you.
He blinked away tears.
She nodded. "I can do that," she whispered. Zane cocked his head, surprised that she knew English and that he didn't have to bring out his translator, a Forthrite invention. He pulled her into a side alleyway and she looked at him closely. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," he snapped and she cringed back, the gun still pressed against the side of her ribcage. "I ask the questions, alright?" She nodded fervorously.
She waited patiently while he took several heaving breaths, dispelling everything; the agony of Joseph's loss, the desperation to get him back, the hatred toward Wawrzynski, the time-crunch on the current mission.
He raised his eyes. "Does the name Joseph Romanson mean anything to you?" he asked her carefully, controlling his breathing like Daisy had taught him. His fist tightened around the gun and the steel pressed into his palm.
She shook her head. "No," she said with finality. "I've never heard that name before in my life.
"Are you related to the government in any way?"
"Yes," she responded, indicating the briefcase with a tilt of her chin. "I'm the mayor of this town, and I-"
"I ask the questions, remember?" he barked.
She snapped her mouth shut quickly, seeing the crazed and desperate look in his eyes. "Sorry," she muttered. He inhaled deeply, trying to regain control of himself. He doubted he had time to spare.
"Do you know anything about the attack on the Foreign Embassy for Preservation of the Environment?"
This time she nodded. He leaned closer. "Do you know who launched the attack?" She opened her mouth to begin, but he raised a finger. "Please don't lie to me. I'll do something I'm bound to regret."
Her eyes widened. "New Vancouver," she whispered. Her gaze dropped to the ground. She bit her lip as if to prevent herself from speaking again. "It was a theory in the news."
Zane closed his eyes. The same answer he got every time. He just hoped the next one would be different. "If they were to take prisoners, where would they take them?"
She steeled her gaze. "Back to New Vancouver," she said defiantly.
Zane pulled back and the small woman flinched.
Zane's fist struck the stone wall. He gritted his teeth and punched it again. He had hoped for a different answer, but it was always the exact same response: the prisoners were taken back to New Vancouver. And Dmitri, no matter how many times Zane had asked, would not launch a reconnaissance mission into New Vancouver. There wasn't even any guarantee that they could get in.
Wawrzynski had Zane exactly where he wanted him: in a desperate effort to find Joseph, whatever it took. And the man knew that by keeping Joseph in New Vancouver, Zane would show up eventually. He was sly, conniving, and arguably evil, but he wasn't stupid. He knew what Zane wanted, he knew what Zane needed, and he knew what Zane would do to save those he loved.
The woman ducked under his arm and away from the gun. She ran away from him, and he punched the wall again. He heard bones crunch in his knuckles, but he didn't care. They could be mended. He just needed to get his anger out of his system. Pain lanced up his arm but he didn't stop. His fist continued to fly into the wall over and over.
Eventually he stopped, his blood dripping to the ground, red fist prints on the grey wall. He hissed through his teeth as he gaped at the wreck of his hand.
Shaking his tense arm vigorously, he closed his eyes and released the power Wawrzynski had cursed him with.
His hand dissolved, sloughing off like sand on a beach. His breathing was ragged as his hand became a cloud of cells floating in front of him. He licked the fingers of his other hand and tried unsuccessfully to wipe the drops of blood from his uniform. He sighed as he began to reform the injured hand. He would get a lecture from multiple people when he got back to Headquarters.
His particles swirled together and his hand became a hand again. He wiggled his fingers and rotated his wrist. The injuries were gone. He was tempted to punch the wall again, but he found he didn't have the anger. Instead he found despair in its place.
He collected himself and exited the small alley, heading back toward the jet. He massaged his knuckles as he went, twinges of feeling running through his arm. The injuries may be gone, but the memory was still there.
And it wasn't the first time he'd punched a wall.
His feet clomped against the harsh asphalt as he strolled away, his posture stiff and his face emotionless. He kept his eye to the side alleys and windows. Lately he had been seeing Wawrzynski's face everywhere, smiling back at him, often holding Joseph at knifepoint. He shivered and sped up.
He swept his hair to the side as the plane came into view, its sleek frame the same color scheme as the Forthrite uniforms, iridescent black with blood red stripes sliding along the sides. Felicity was ushering the soldiers back on the plane and, just like when they'd left, Zane slipped into the back of the line, his head low.
Felicity once again said nothing as Zane slipped back onto the jet. As soon as he sat down, he felt gazes on him and began to feel slightly exposed. He made an effort to appear comfortable, slouching and spreading his legs marginally. Once again, they said nothing. It was as if silence was the only suitable reaction to Zane.
Zane resolved once again to beg Dmitri to send him to New Vancouver. Joseph was within his grasp, easily attainable when Zane could dissolve anything by sheer willpower. Joseph was waiting for him, counting on him.
He saw a face reflected on the wall across from him.
An unnerving, smiling face.
He closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and slipped into a fitful sleep.