The room hummed with a quiet rhythm, machines blinking softly around me.
Cary moved from monitor to monitor, his hands quick and precise as he fastened sensors to my temples and wrists. Melanie watched from behind the glass — calm, steady, her eyes cutting through every movement like she was reading a language only she understood.
"Just breathe," Cary said gently. "Think about the moments that stand out — when you felt something you couldn't explain."
I nodded and closed my eyes. The hum of the machines faded into the background.
The first memory that surfaced wasn't a place or a face — it was the sky.
I could feel the wind on my skin, cold and clean, the world stretching far below me. I wasn't falling. I was flying.
It felt right — like I was meant to be up there, like gravity had simply decided I didn't belong to it.
And always, before I woke, the same words echoed through my mind, haunting and familiar:
Save the cheerleader. Save the world.
I didn't know what it meant or where it came from, but it felt important. Like something I'd already lived through — or something I'd failed to do.
Now that I think of it the other time something happened was when I had tried to lose myself in something normal — mindless television, static noise to drown out the rest. Then, without warning, a blue spark appeared and zapped the shit out of me. Which I thought was nothing until It happened again in that alleyway That got me sent to clockworks.
I remember entering the alleyway amd running into that woman, before I could speak, the air around me folded inward. My chest seized. My feet left the ground. I slammed into the wall behind me, the impact cracking through my ribs.
Then came the pain.
It started at the top of my head, slicing across my scalp like invisible blades carving through bone. My vision flashed white. My knees buckled.
She wasn't touching me, yet I could feel her Cutting open my head and then Something inside me screamed, and a burst of Electricity came out from my chest, which sent the woman flying backwards, making her it the wall away from me.
Clockworks came Next
A place meant for healing that felt more like punishment. The walls were too white, the air too clean. Everything was designed to erase edges — of time, of thought, of self.
They said I was dangerous. That I needed help. Maybe they were right.
The guard that day was tall, broad-shouldered, the kind of man used to being obeyed but all he was, was a pathetic Bully.
When I Finally confronted him and we ended up getting in a fight he hit me hard in my stomach. Something inside me broke loose.
A rush of invisible energy tore through the room. He was thrown backward like a rag doll, his body slamming into the far wall before sliding down in silence. The noise of that dull, final thud was something.
Then afterwards , when I was looking for syd I started to hear so many voices at once it was so Overwhelming.
I just didn't understand what they meant at that time.
But These powers — if that's what they were — didn't feel like mine. It's so hard to explain its like trying to fit pieces into a puzzle that wasn't meant for them
The machines beeped softly. Cary muttered to himself, studying a display that flickered with streaks of light. He frowned, adjusted a dial, then frowned deeper.
"Melanie," he said, not looking up. "You might want to see this."
She stepped closer to the glass. "What's happening?"
Cary hesitated. "Everything's… overlapping. His readings aren't following any known pattern. It's like his brainwaves keep on changing".
I could hear them, but their voices felt far away.
Inside my head, the world was still spinning Fragments of memory, faces I couldn't name, flashes of light wind and pain.
I felt it again that charge, that sent that woman flying as well as the Lightheaded feeling that happened right before the guard was killed.
"Peter," Cary's voice broke through, sharp now. "Stay calm. Whatever you're feeling, don't—"
He didn't finish.
The monitors flared white. Lights overhead dimmed, then flickered violently. The chair vibrated beneath me, metal creaking as static hissed through the air.
"Melanie, the readings are spiking!"
She pressed her hand to the glass. "Peter, listen to me. You're safe here. You're not in danger."
I wanted to believe her. I really did. But that feeling had already taken over.
Images flashed across my mind faster than thought: the alley, the guard, the wind, the falling sparks, the faceless girl I was meant to save.
Then, just suddenly, everything stopped.
The lights steadied. The hum faded. Cary's instruments returned to a steady rhythm.
Silence filled the space.
When I opened my eyes, both of them were staring at me — Cary wide-eyed, Melanie unreadable.
Carys eyes darted to the screens again. "His readings spiked across multiple spectrums electromagnetic, kinetic, even psychic resonance. No single mutation matches that profile."
Melanie glanced at me. "Maybe he's not a single mutation."
Their words felt distant, muffled by the steady pulse still echoing in my veins.
I looked down at my hands. No sparks this time. No tremors. Just stillness. But I could feel it underneath, patient and alive.
Cary scribbled something down, still muttering. " this much power in one person… it's unstable."
When they finally unhooked the sensors, my skin felt raw where the metal had touched. I stood, unsteady, the world tilting slightly.
Melanie opened the door. "You did well," she said softly. "Get some rest. We'll talk again soon."
Her words were calm, but her eyes betrayed her she wasn't sure what she'd just witnessed.
Neither was I.
As I stepped into the corridor, the hum of the machines faded behind me. The air in Summerland was cool.
The door hissed shut behind Peter, leaving only the fading echo of his footsteps.
For a long while, neither Melanie nor Cary spoke. The machines still hummed faintly, their lights pulsing in uneven rhythm as if even they hadn't recovered from what had just happened.
Cary broke the silence first, his voice low but unsteady. "That wasn't a surge. That was a storm. The instruments maxed out across every channel — electromagnetic, telekinetic, even synaptic resonance."
Melanie stood at the glass, staring at the empty chair. "And he didn't even try. That was just him thinking."
Cary nodded slowly. "I've studied a lot of anomalies, Mel. People who can move objects, channel heat, distort sound, bend light — but never all of it. He's not drawing power from one field. It's like he is the field."
Melanie turned to him, her eyes sharp, searching. "Are you saying he's evolving beyond mutation?"
"I'm saying," Cary replied, "Peter might be one of the most powerful gifted person we've ever seen. He's up there with David".
Melanie's jaw tightened. "Power like that always comes with a cost."
Cary hesitated, then said quietly, "You think he's dangerous?"
"I think," she said, her voice calm but heavy, "that he's scared. And if someone doesn't help him understand what he is before Division finds out…" She trailed off, the thought finishing itself in the silence.
Cary looked down at the readings again still fluctuating, still refusing to settle. "Then the world won't be ready for what happens next."