The flight back to The Acropolis—Atlas Industries' central headquarters in northern Oregon—took about four hours. Instead of taking a nap like the rest of his team, Chase spent his time in the jet staring out at the night sky as it passed by his window.
He couldn't take his mind off the images Phobos showed him.
When he was younger, there were countless times where he thought his father would never come back from deployment. For a long time, his worst fear had been seeing the sullen faces of two Navy officers at his front door. He never wanted to see that damned casket or the flag covering it.
The mere thought of it made his stomach twist into a knot.
While he had been bleeding to death back on Adak Island, he feared he'd be the phone returning in a wooden box. Images from that day flickered through his mind, waning in and out like a small flame.
That wasn't going to happen. Not to him. He was going to make sure of that.
As soon as the jet pulled into The Acropolis' hidden hangar, Chase and his team exited the aircraft and helped bring Phobos to a pair of Atlas agents.
"He's going to The Vault, right?" Chase asked them.
"Yep," one of the agents answered. "The inmates have been looking for a new buddy."
Phobos cursed at Chase in Italian as he was escorted to another plane.
"Sayonara!" Angus waved at the man with a goofy grin on his pudgy face. He turned to the tall blond beside him. "We totally owned him."
Chase snorted. "I wouldn't exactly say we."
"Whaddya' mean?"
"You blew up a boat," he explained as they continued through the hangar. "And you undermined my authority. Not cool, by the way."
"I was just givin' a suggestion—"
Chase stopped on his heel and narrowed his eyes at the boy. "Look, you're new here, alright? I'm not. I've been doing this for almost two years now. When Director Shaw put me in charge of the squad, he knew what he was doing."
"I neva' said—"
"When I give an order, I expect you to follow it. You get me?"
Angus pursed his lips, his complexion reddening to match his ginger hair. With his upper lip curled, he stepped up to Chase. While he was a few inches shorter, he made up for his lack of height with his bulky frame. Sneering, he lifted his square-chin at his team leader.
"Ya' may be team captain or whateva', but watch how ya' speak to me," he spat. "I'm not a kid and you're not my pappy."
Chase tilted his head a bit. The two of them were just a few inches apart now. Their eyes bored holes in each other deeper than the Grand Canyon.
"Alright, alright," Archie grumbled as he wedged himself in between them. "We don't need you idiots destroying the hangar. The janitors just scrubbed the floors."
"I agree with Boy Genius," Emily quipped while passing by the boys with Kai at her side. "This argument is pointless. Angus, just don't be a dumbass. Chase, stop being a diva."
"Dumbass?"
"Diva?"
Both boys squinted at her.
She held her hands up in innocence while Kai laughed.
Chase shook his head and turned his attention back to Angus. "Just don't question me again, alright? And don't blow up anything else."
"Aye, aye, Cap'n," Angus replied with an air of sarcasm and a half-heartedly salute. He turned and headed for the hangar's exit.
Shaking his head, Chase followed behind him.
"No one mention I blew up a boat when the others wake up, alright?" Angus asked while he and the others passed by the common room.
Chase rolled his eyes. Idiot.
"You blew up a boat?" someone from inside the room asked.
They all froze just outside the door.
Chase peered at the person in the room. It was Lucky Locklear, the group's resident medic specialist and Angus' best friend from home. His ability involved creating fields of transparent energy that were strong enough to stop a mortar shell.
He wasn't too great at fighting, though, which was why he didn't go on too many combat-heavy missions.
Lucky, clad in deer-themed pajama pants, was sitting on a couch in the common room with two others.
Angus rubbed the back of his neck as he entered the room. "It was an accident."
"Looks like someone still needs to work on his aim," Lucky said with a small smile.
His friend rolled his eyes and took a seat next to him.
Chase remembered the day they both arrived at The Acropolis. They had been one of the first people to exhibit abilities following the incident. Once they were on Atlas' radar, they were invited to join the program.
They both hailed from Omaha, Nebraska and had been friends since primary school. Lucky grew up on the Native American reservation down the road from the farm Angus' family owned.
Chase didn't mind Lucky too much. He was quiet and friendly and always followed orders. It was his chubby, orange-haired friend who gave him the most grief.
Sighing, the blond followed the others into the common room. His eyes lit up after he spotted Stella sitting on the edge of a sofa. His girlfriend sprang from her seat and rushed over to him. He beamed at her and swept the girl into a hug.
"Gross," Emily protested.
"You're just jealous," Kai told her. Emily simply rolled her eyes as her cheeks reddened.
"How'd it go?" Stella asked after Chase set her down.
He shrugged. "It went alright. We got him." He arched an eyebrow at her. "What're you doing up so late? It's like four a.m."
"I was here first, by the way," someone said from the kitchen. "Lucky and Stella must've followed me in here."
Chase turned to look at Danai Jones, one of Atlas' first recruits after The Incident. The eighteen-year-old was a self-described anarchist and a Theo-described conspiracy theorist. After videos of her hovering in the air while vandalizing corporate buildings surface on the net, Director Shaw sent a few agents to pay her a visit.
The man had offered her a choice: come join Atlas and use her powers for good or eventually be arrested and thrown in The Vault.
The choice hadn't been a hard one. As Oscar always liked to say, "who wouldn't want to be a superhero?"
"No one followed you, Danai," Lucky countered calmly. "This is the common room. Meaning it's for all of us."
"Yeah, yeah."
Chase squinted at both of them. "Matter of fact, why are you two up? You guys do have a curfew, you know that right? And training starts at six in the morning."
"Couldn't sleep." Danai fixed her silver-dyed braids into a bun atop her head. She jumped from the kitchen to the couches, letting the air in the room carry her like a feather. She landed on a sofa and sat cross-legged.
"Same here," Lucky added.
Chase faced Stella. "And what's your reason?"
She rolled her hazel eyes at him. "I wanted to make sure you got back safe, dummy."
Smiling sheepishly, he rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry."
"So, what was the target's power?" Danai asked. She had turned her attention to the television on the other side of the room, which was chronicling the night's earlier battle. "Did he cause that boat to explode?"
Angus hid his face behind a pillow. "It was an accident!"
The others laughed at him while Chase simply scowled. Had it not been for him, the mission would've been carried out perfectly. Now, the mission report was blemished by a damaged piece of property. In the grand scheme of things, it didn't matter, but Director Shaw was starting to feel pressure from various angles.
While a good portion of the world's governments believed Atlas' special task force was doing a wonderful job dealing with the Prime threats around the world, there were a select few who thought otherwise. Chase couldn't really blame them either. A few of their missions—namely the ones in Manchester and Moscow—ended in catastrophes.
Even though victory was achieved, lives were lost on those days.
His fists clenched at the memories.
"Well, at least you all came back in one piece," Stella said. She chuckled to herself. "Remember when Andre came back from Bulgaria with half of his prosthetic arm blown off?"
Archie snorted and pushed his glasses up his stubby nose. "Oh yeah, I remember. I had to build a brand new one. Those things aren't cheap."
Chase glanced at the time on the television. Considering training for the other recruits and those who didn't attend the night's mission would be starting in two hours, he deemed it time for the others to return to their dorms. He didn't want to hear any reports from Agent Strong about how they were falling asleep during practice.
"Alright, everyone, it's time for—"
"Hey, Lucky, turn that up!" Danai exclaimed while pointing at the television.
Chase deadpanned at the girl. "I wasn't finished—"
She waved him off as Lucky increased the volume. Everyone cast their attention to the screen, which had shifted from the earlier news report. It was now displaying an interview between a famous reporter and one of the senators from New York.
"Who is that guy?" Angus asked.
"Alastair Crane," Danai answered through gritted teeth. "He's a major advocate for the corrupt prison system in this country." She folded her arms and glared at the smiling man on the television. "He's also running for president this November."
Chase blinked a few times. He'd heard of Senator Alastair Crane before, but not enough to form an opinion on him. But Danai knew more about politics than any of them. If she was outraged just by seeing the guy, he had to be bad news.
He supposed his announcement could wait until after the interview.
He took a seat in a chair nearby and Stella joined beside him. The others inside the common room did the same as they watched the television screen.
Crane and the reporter were talking about the senator's proposal to the United Nations. Judging by the graphic positioned in the background of the set, it was called the PRA.
"What the hell is a PRA?" Angus blurted out.
Emily shot him a pointed look. "Shut up. I can't hear."
Lucky turned the volume up more to tune out his friend's obnoxious questions.
"What exactly are you trying to accomplish here, Mr. Crane?" the reporter inquired.
The Senator simply smiled. Despite the benign nature of his appearance, Chase could see something sinister lingering beyond his professional attire and dull, gray eyes.
"The world needs order," the man explained. "Especially in times like these. That's what the PRA is for. Whether we admit it or not, these Primes are a danger to society. I mean, we've all seen what happened in Moscow. Manchester. Do I need to list the others?"
The room went silent as Alastair paused for the interviewer to respond.
"No. No, you don't."
Chase clenched his jaw.
"The PRA will prevent events like those from happening ever again," the senator continued. "Protocols will be placed to apprehend possible offenders before they even get the chance to. And if one manages to slip through the system, they will be dealt with by a group of capable individuals sanctioned by the United Nations."
"Is he talkin' 'bout us?" Angus screwed his face at the screen. "I thought we worked for Director Shaw."
"We do," Chase said, his voice clipped. "The PRA is just a proposal. It's not final."
"Not yet," Danai grumbled under her breath.
Archie nodded. "Little Miss Anarchy is right. People all over social media have been talking. A lot of them agree with this guy's plan."
Chase scowled. "It's not gonna happen, trust me. Director Shaw will figure something out."
"Maybe this PRA is a good thing," Stella said with an innocent shrug. "I mean, we could do with some more guidance. And the protocols and systems this act would be introducing could be incredibly helpful for a lot of people."
She can't be serious, Chase thought with a slight shake of his head.
Emily snorted. "Of course Stella would be the one for more government control."
Stella squinted at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean, you were student class president back at school," she explained. "And they voted you most likely to become president in junior high."
Chase stifled a laugh after seeing his girlfriend's bronze complexion redden. He averted his gaze to the ground after she set her hazel glare upon him.
"Some intervention could be useful," Stella said. "That's all I was saying."
"The government is shady," Chase told her. "Everyone knows that. People have agendas, hidden motives. If this PRA thing starts gaining headway, we'll risk becoming soldiers instead of heroes."
"What's wrong with soldiers?" Angus asked. "Ain't your dad a Marine?"
"Navy," he corrected with a dismissive wave. "But you just proved my point. I would know more than anyone. Soldiers fight wars. That's not what we do. We help people and keep the world safe. If we give the government total control of what we've got going on here, we might not be able to help anyone anymore."
Before anyone could argue with him, the interview returned to the television screen from its short commercial break.
"Well, that's all the time we have for this morning. Senator Crane is a very busy man, by the look of things," the interviewer concluded. "Tune in later this week for the Republican presidential debate."
Lucky cut the television off. "Well, that was something."
"It was a load of crap," Danai said. "That's what it was."
Everyone went silent for a few minutes. Most occupied themselves with the black screen on the other side of the room or some other object. Chase replayed Crane's interview in his mind. It seemed like a harmless proposition, but he knew better than that.
The government, especially the one in his home country, wasn't known for its transparency and honesty. Something was up. And he was going to figure it out.
After a while, he shot up from the couch and brought his hands together. The sound alerted everyone to him. "Alright, everyone. Get to be. Some of you have training tomorrow. And those that don't, we have a recovery session in a few hours."
A series of groans and irritated grumbles followed his order, but everyone got up and began making their ways to their dorms.
Before leaving the common room, Chase took one last look at the deactivated television screen as if Alastair Crane's treacherous, gray irises were still there looking back at him. Shaking his head, he cut the light off inside the room and headed to his bedroom.