Oscar currently wanted to die. The reason? The piece of a paper sitting in front of him. It was decorated with complex questions ranging from ''what to do when your team mate falls in battle'' to ''which vein should you target when trying to stealthily knock someone unconscious''. Of course, he knew the answers to none of those questions.
Well, he would've if he bothered to read the textbooks given to him.
''This blows, man.'' He'd never been particularly good in school. If he was being honest, he wasn't good at all. It was a miracle he even made it to senior year. He shuddered just thinking about it. High school was a nightmare. His favorite class consistently turned out to be lunch period. It was the only refuge he had from pop quizzes and angry teachers.
He looked up from his desk and glanced at his friends. They all scribbled away on their tests, their pencils creating an unpleasant symphony that only served to remind him of his inadequacies.
A couple of days passed since Emily's weird moment with Director Shaw. Everyone seemingly moved passed it, including himself. Sure, the guy lied. It wasn't like it mattered, though; not to him. He was willing to give Shaw the benefit of the doubt. It was the least he could do.
Since then, they'd been subjected to classes on top of their training to become official Atlas agents. At first, Oscar thought it would be pretty cool. He'd learn a few useful skills, ace a few easy tests. That wasn't the case. Not in the slightest. After being subject to an exam on the meanings of certain military hand signals, he realized he wouldn't be able to coast through the classes like he did back at River Hill.
In other words, he could no longer be lazy.
As he continued glaring at his paper, Stella got out of her seat and walked over to where he was sitting. She frowned at him, most likely seeing he'd only written his name on the test.
''Oscar, you haven't even answered the first question,'' Stella chastised. She placed her hands on her hips. ''It's not that hard. You're not even trying.'' He blew air out of nose at the sight. She reminded him of his mother whenever she got mad at him for forgetting to do the dishes.
His expression soured at the thought of her. Just when he thought his mood couldn't get even worse, it did.
''Everyone's not a genius like you, Ms. Know-It-All,'' he retorted.
Theo laughed from across the room. In a flash, the boy was now standing on the other side of Oscar's table. His test fluttered at the arrival of the speedster. ''Jeez, dude. I'm pretty dumb and even I get this stuff...for the most part at least. I still can't tell the difference between the jugular and the superior vena cava veins....''
''He's right,'' Stella said. ''All you have to do is read the books they give us.''
''That's the point,'' Oscar whined. ''I have to read. I don't like doing that.''
Stella was unimpressed. ''If we want to get better at being agents, we have to do this.''
Oscar folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair. ''I'd say we're plenty good now. Who says we need to get better.''
Chase turned around in his seat and frowned at him. ''Hey, get rid of the attitude. If we're going to save the world, we've got to keep progressing. You don't think Kismet is training to kill us right this instant? We've got to get better.''
''But can't we fight them without doing all of this stuff?'' Oscar pursed his lips. He was fighting a pointless battle at this point. No one was coming to his aid, not even Andre, who was usually reliable in these situations. The big man stayed silent in order to complete his test.
''Suck it up, you big baby,'' Emily said. She smiled sweetly at him from the seat beside him before returning to her work. He hated when she did that. She only smiled when she didn't mean it. Not only was it confusing, but it was annoying too.
''Yikes,'' Andre quipped from the back of the room.
Great, Oscar thought. Now they've got Rock Man on their side too. What is it? Gang up on Oscar day?
Stella and Theo laughed and returned to their seats to finish their assignments. Oscar grumbled under his breath and picked up his pencil. They won. He'd do his work, but that didn't mean he'd be happy about it. If it were up to him, he would've been training with Agent Strong. And he hated both of those things; both Agent Strong and training.
To ease his frustrations, he dove into his pocket and pulled out his lighter. He absent-mindedly ran his thumb over the engraving, the cool sensation of the metal against his skin focusing his fried brain.
Then Emily snatched it from his grasp. Everything around him froze. It was like when the record scratched in a movie and the entire frame stopped. She dangled it above his head. Anger sparked inside his chest as he kept his face forward. His hands trembled on the table.
''Give it back.''
''Not until you do your work, loser.''
He shot out of his chair and faced her. He tried his best to look intimidating. Judging by the annoyed look she was giving him, he wasn't doing a very good job.
''Give it back. Now. I'm not messing around, diabla.''
She scowled at the nickname, which was more of an insult than anything. It was her own fault that he called her that anyways. She dressed like the lovechild of Marilyn Manson and Kurt Cobain. Her color scheme consisted of blacks, maroons, and violets; never any bright colors. And she always wore that stupid black skull beanie that covering her short, ebony hair. Along with the dark lipstick on her lips, she reminded him of a more emo vampire.
She glared at him. ''Make me, loser.'' His lip curling, he reached for the lighter. She was quicker than him. The girl moved it from his grasp and smirked triumphantly. ''You're always playing with this stupid thing. Flicking the top off and stuff. My ears pick up on that noise and it's fucking irritating. Sounds like someone's snapping right in my ear.''
''It's not stupid,'' he said, his voice quiet. ''Just give it back. Haven't your parents taught you to respect other people's property?''
''Haven't yours taught you not to be so annoying?''
Oscar's hands clenched into fists at his sides. His palms warmed while his irises took on the image of flaming balls of fire. He felt his entire heat signature shift upwards in response to his rising anger. Steam billowed from his mop of curls. He didn't care enough to stop. Emily was pissing him off and he was getting tired of it.
One of her eyebrows arched upwards in. ''What's your problem? I was only messing with you.''
Stella and Chase quickly walked over and separated the two of them. The blond cautiously prodded the fire-wielder back.
''Oz, you alright? Just take it easy.''
He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to cool down. His insides and outsides felt like he'd spent too long in a sauna. Since the incident, he hadn't felt genuine heat in weeks. Even when he took showers with scalding hot water, it still felt lukewarm at best. He'd never gotten that hot before. It was an odd sensation; almost like a surge of unchecked power had infiltrated his bloodstream. He glanced down at his fists, which had coils of smoke emitting from them. That was new.
Stella took his lighter back from Emily and handed it to him. ''It's okay, Ozzie.''
He nodded and thanked her after taking back his little trinket. He glared at Emily who was still peering at him curiously.
Chase turned to the girl, his expression stern and uncompromising. ''Apologize.''
She snorted. ''For what? I didn't even—''
''Apologize!''
Oscar flinched like a gun recoiling after being fired. The sudden shift in his tone seemed to catch everyone off guard, including Emily. Swallowing hard, she looked away from him and coughed out an apology.
Oscar nodded. ''Accepted...I guess.''
''Why is that thing so important to you anyways?'' Emily pointed at the lighter. ''You haven't smoked since you got here.''
He thought about her question for a moment, debating on whether or not to tell her. After all, he never told anyone the actual story. Sure, people knew about what happened to his parents, but they didn't know the details.
And he'd never tell them.
He couldn't let them know how he failed his parents or how much of a coward he was...
''You were supposed to pick me up two hours ago,'' Isabella reminded him as Oscar led her down the street back to their apartment building. It was a warm summer evening in San Antonio; heat waves vibrated in the air, hovering above the scorched pavement. He shielded his eyes from the violent sunrays above.
''I was busy,'' he replied shortly. ''Just be lucky I even got you at all.''
His little sister stuck her tongue out a him. He responded by ruffling her dark hair.
She was right, though. Their parents strictly told him to pick her up and get home on time, as they had reservations at a restaurant later that day, as it was her birthday. Naturally, that was never going to happen. He was rarely punctual for anything. But he really tried this time. Despite how much he teased his baby sister, he didn't want to ruin her seventh birthday.
But then he got detention for. It was totally bogus too. It wasn't his fault Ms. Johnson didn't lock up the science room. Had she done that, he wouldn't have broken those beakers. After school that day, he found himself sitting amongst the degenerates and delinquents of his middle school. He wasn't anything like them, though, despite how often he found himself in that forsaken classroom. By the time he got released, he should've already been at home getting ready.
''Are you excited?'' he asked Isabella.
''Yeah!" She beamed up at him. ''I just hope we get home in time. Papa is gonna be pissed.''
He arched an eyebrow at her. ''Where'd you learn that word, Izzie?''
She smiled innocently and shrugged. He shook his head at her. They turned the corner onto the road their apartment complex. That was when he saw the firetrucks and police cars. Water spouted from the vehicle, dousing the flaming building before it. Officers instructed the civilians in the area to stay back. Onlookers stood by, watching on in horror as the apartments went up in fire.
Oscar froze.
His parents were inside that building. But they shouldn't have been. They would've been already on their way to the restaurant had he not gotten detention. Tears stung his eyes.
''Ozzie, what's going on?'' His sister trembled beside him.
He turned to her and squeezed her hand. ''Stay here. I'll be right back. I promise.'' Struggling to put on a brave face, he kissed her forehead. ''Te amo.'' He darted away from the sidewalk and towards the burning apartments.
He spotted a few of his neighbors who seemed to make it out. His parents weren't among them. They peered at him, pity filling their faces as they watched him push through the crowd. He got to the front and ducked under the wooden barrier the police put up. The authorities were to busy trying to stop the fire to spot him at first.
His heart racing, he dashed for the front door of the building. The glass was melted and cracked, enraged flames screaming out from the openings. Behind him, he heard firefighters yelling for him to get away. About how it was too dangerous for him to be there. He didn't care. His parents were inside.
Before anyone could stop him, he rushed into the building through the ruined door. His apartment was on the third floor. The good news was that the fire seemed to have originated from the top of the complex. The bad news was that the stairs were completely ruined; and there was no chance of him using the elevator.
Panicked screams rang out over the sound of crackling embers and groaning metal. The building was already old. Coupled with a poor infrastructure and the fire ravaging throughout its walls, it stood no chance. If Oscar didn't get out soon, he'd find himself collapsed under a pile of rubble. There was no way he was leaving, though. His parents needed him; now more than ever.
He looked around for a way upstairs. Though, he could barely see a few feet ahead due to the thick, suffocating smoke swirling around him. His throat burned and he coughed violently. Squinting, he decided the stairs was his only option of getting to third floor. He made a dash for the stairwell.
But he'd never get there.
A strong set of arms wrapped around his midsection, dragging him backwards and out of the building. He kicked and thrashed and punched at the person pulling him away. They were stopping him from saving his parents. He had to save them. Rage-filled tears streamed down his sooty face as he and the firefighter holding him emerged outside.
''Let me go! My parents are inside!" he bellowed.
''Can't do that, kid,'' they replied. ''I'm sorry.''
He was dropped on the pavement near an ambulance. A few EMTs held him back when he tried to escape. His entire body ached. His insides felt like they were melting from all the smoke and ash he inhaled. That didn't matter to him, though. The only thing that mattered was his parents were inside that building and he couldn't help them.
He couldn't save them. The only reason they were even there was because of him. It was his fault. Eventually, he stopped fighting against the people holding him. He sunk into their arms, weeping, as he watched the carnage ahead of him.
A bright, orange-red glow ignited the street. The flames brightened. The temperature rose. The apartment complex exploded in a flamboyant spectacle of glass and brick. Ash rained down from the sky like black rain.
His parents were dead. The fire had taken them.
He wished it had taken him instead.
The sound of someone snapping in his face pulled him out of the vivid.
''Hello?'' Emily waved a hand in his face. ''Earth to Oscar.''
Scowling, he slapped them away. ''What?''
Stella wore a worried expression. ''You just zoned out?''
He rubbed the back of his neck. ''I did? Didn't even notice. Probably a side-effect of using my brain too much.'' He laughed, trying to alleviate the tension. It didn't seem to work.
Emily nodded. ''Anyways, you never answered my question, loser. What's the deal with that lighter?''
''Oh. Right,'' Oscar said. He shrugged his shoulders as he looked at it. ''It was a gift from my father. It's pretty much the only thing I have left from my parents, besides my sister.''
''What happened to them?'' Chase asked. He was the only one who was unaware of the passing of his parents. He went to school with the others for years. Naturally, they found out. It was kind of hard keeping something like that under wraps.
Oscar shifted his feet, his eyes boring holes into the floor.
''You don't have to tell me—''
''They died in a fire.'' He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and chuckled. ''I don't even know why I'm crying. It happened so long ago. You'd think I'd be over it by now, right?'' He laughed again.
Everyone looked amongst themselves, sadness present on their faces. Chase got up and placed a hand on his shoulder. ''I don't know what it's like to lose a parent, but I can imagine it's one of the worst feelings. Don't beat yourself up over feeling bad.''
Oscar thanked him.
''I'm sorry for taking your lighter,'' Emily said. Her voice was softer this time. It sounded like she meant it—he hadn't been expecting that from her. Oscar waved her apologizes away and forced himself to smile.
''It's alright. I overreacted.''
As Emily opened her mouth to say something, all of their cellphones went off. Exchanging apprehensive glances, they simultaneously read the messages on their screens. From the looks of it, they all had received the same thing.
''Mr. Shaw wants us at The Grid,'' Chase announced.
Emily snorted. ''I think we can all see that, Goldilocks.''
''What do you think he wants?'' Andre asked.
He seemed a little nervous, which was rare coming from him. Then again, so was Oscar. He hadn't been in The Grid. In fact, the only people to go down there thus from were Chase, Stella, and Emily. He made sure to steer far away from that place. Spending time with Apex and his psycho werewolf buddy wasn't anywhere on his bucket list.
''I've got no clue,'' Chase said. ''But we should get a move on. Let's go.''
He left the room first. The rest of the reluctantly followed him downstairs to the underground prison. Upon arriving at the doors to The Grid, the guards standing at the entrance instructed them to head over to the security room next door. Director Shaw, Victoria, and Cutter stood inside staring at an array of screens displaying feeds from inside the prison.
''Is that psycho meditating?'' Oscar asked as he pointed at one of them.
Director's Shaw estranged son sat Indian-style on the floor, the top half of his dark blue jumpsuit hanging from his waist. Dark tattoos decorated his pasty skin and his shaggy, black hair in desperate need of a cut covered fell into his face. While Oscar's own hair was unruly, Apex's looked like it hadn't seen a barber in months. Or a bottle of shampoo for that matter.
''He's always doing that whenever I come down here,'' Chase said. He faced Director Shaw, who was still silently watching the screens. ''What did you call us down here for, sir?''
Oscar walked over to another screen, which showed Alexei—who'd been dubbed Lycan by the Atlas agents who made his file—doing a bunch of pushups in his cell. He had to applaud the guy for staying fit while locked up.
''We may have figured out why Apex turned himself in,'' Stephen answered, his pale hands clasped against the back of his tailored suit jacket.
He knew the guy was up to something. Him giving himself up was too good to be true. The six teenagers waited for the man to explain.
''We've come to the conclusion that his goal was to give our location to the rest of Kismet,'' Stephen said. ''How he was going to achieve this, we aren't sure. We've done multiple body scans on both him and Alexei and didn't find any tracking devices. But, judging on how close Victor was when we found him, they may be close to finding our headquarters.''
''Well, that's kind of good then,'' Theo said. ''They can't track them.''
Stephen see-sawed his hand. ''While they can't track them, I'm sure Victor has something else planned. He's always been clever. We cannot underestimate him.''
They all fell silent, continuing to watch the two captured mercenaries as they occupied their own respective cells.