The car that picked me up from school was unmarked and silent, its windows tinted to an opaque black. I was given no time for goodbyes. A swift, efficient journey later, I was not at an airport, but on a secluded stretch of coastline where a sleek, matte-black VTOL aircraft waited, its engines a low, humming whisper. This was not commercial travel. This was a deployment.
The interior of the aircraft was Spartan but comfortable, with reinforced seats arranged along the walls. And I was not alone.
Five other teenagers looked up as I was ushered inside by a silent, armored escort. The hatch sealed behind me with a definitive thump, locking me into my new reality. The aircraft lifted off with a gentle, rising motion, the world outside the small portholes tilting and then vanishing into cloud cover.
An awkward silence hung in the cabin, broken only by the hum of the engines. I took the only empty seat, strapping myself in. The analytical part of my mind immediately began cataloging my new… teammates.
Directly across from me, a boy with spiky red hair and a dusting of freckles across his nose broke into a wide, goofy grin. "Hey! Fresh meat! I'm Warner. Warner Ironbark. Welcome to the freak show." He had a restless energy, bouncing his knee constantly.
Next to him, a girl with long, light blue hair and a stern expression shot him a silencing glare. She had an air of natural authority, and pink eyes that assessed me with cool detachment. "Ignore him. I'm Serena Mallow. You must be Arthur Prott." Her tone was all business.
A petite girl with stunning silver hair and curious purple eyes peeked out from behind Serena. Two small purple horns were visible through her hair, and a slender, tail with a spade tip swished playfully behind her seat. "Ooooh, the mystery man!" she chirped, her voice like tinkling bells. "The one who made the big boom. I'm Josefa Cork! Do you like explosions?" She winked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"He just got here, Jo. Don't scare him off," said a calm, intelligent voice. An 11-year-old boy with short, pale black hair adjusted his glasses. His eyes were heterochromatic—one a reddish-orange, the other a bright green—and they held a wisdom far beyond his years. "Henry Rocks. It's logical to assume you're feeling a degree of disorientation. It's a common reaction."
The fifth occupant, a thin girl with striking aquamarine-green and brown hair and bright golden eyes, gave me a sharp, competitive once-over. "Carrie Squabs. So, you're the reason we're all being shipped off to some rock in the middle of the ocean." There was no malice in her tone, just a blunt, passionate curiosity.
"And that's Merrill," Warner said, jerking a thumb toward the back of the cabin where a sixth figure seemed to be trying to melt into his seat.
A short boy with a large, round head and puffy cheeks flinched. Merrill Dendron had thin eyebrows and oval-shaped eyes that were currently wide with a mixture of fear and… something else. He was staring, not at me, but at Josefa's swishing tail and Serena's curvy figure with an intensity that was profoundly uncomfortable. He seemed to realize he'd been caught and quickly looked down at his shoes, his cheeks turning red.
"Right," I said, my voice steady despite the whirlwind inside me. "Arthur Prott. And… I guess I am the reason. Sorry about that."
Warner laughed. "Don't be! School was boring. This is an adventure! We're gonna be heroes, man! Think of the ladies…" He elbowed Merrill, who squeaked in protest.
"The primary objective is strategic stability and civilian protection, not social advancement, Warner," Serena said, her voice like ice.
"Can't it be both?" Josefa giggled, leaning forward to poke Serena's cheek. Serena swatted her hand away without looking.
"So, Arthur," Carrie interjected, leaning forward intently. "What's your deal? They just told us we were being recruited for a 'specialized program.' They were very vague."
All eyes were on me. This was the first test. How much did I reveal?
"My deal is… new," I said, choosing my words with care. "I didn't know I had any potential until a week ago. It manifested during an… incident." I left it at that. Let them draw their own conclusions.
Henry nodded, his dual-colored eyes sharp. "A late-stage emergence. Fascinating. The psychological impact of a sudden Singularity Point must be significant. Your cognitive baseline appears stable, however."
"He looks stable to you?" Warner joked. "Dude looks like he's calculating the airspeed velocity of this plane."
I almost smiled. He wasn't entirely wrong.
The flight lasted several hours. The initial awkwardness thawed into a tense, but functional, dynamic. Warner kept up a steady stream of jokes and impulsive questions. Serena tried, and mostly failed, to maintain order. Josefa flitted between teasing everyone, especially the flustered Merrill, who remained mostly silent except for the occasional muttered, lewd observation under his breath that earned him a sharp look from Serena or a sigh from Henry. Carrie was a ball of focused energy, asking pointed questions about training regimens and operational protocols.
I mostly listened, analyzing their group dynamic. They were a collection of outliers, thrown together by a secret government agenda. Just like me.
Eventually, Henry pointed out the window. "We're descending."
I looked out. All I could see was an endless expanse of deep blue ocean, dotted with a chain of small, green-and-white islands—the Glaciora Atolls. We were heading directly for the largest one, a mountainous landmass covered in dense jungle.
The VTOL slowed, hovering over the side of the mountain. Instead of a landing pad, a massive section of the rock face began to slide open with a low, grinding rumble, revealing a brilliantly lit hangar bay carved into the heart of the mountain itself.
The aircraft descended smoothly into the hidden base, the mountain sealing shut above us. The engines whined down into silence.
Serena unbuckled her harness and stood, her posture rigid. "Welcome to Sector 12," she said, her pink eyes sweeping over all of us. "The Aegis Initiative. Your old lives are over. It's time to get to work."
As we filed out of the aircraft onto the hangar floor, surrounded by the sheer, staggering scale of our new home, the reality of Marcellus Gears's offer hit me fully. This was no school. This was a fortress. And we were its newest recruits.
The quiet life was gone. The adventure, and the danger, had just begun.