Oscar was never any good at school, but it was a refuge from his home life. He spent most of his time at River Hill High pissing off teachers and making his classmates laugh. It made sitting through classes more tolerable and kept his mind off things. But once that bell rang? Once, the distractions of high school vanished? That's when the cruel reality of his existence burrowed in like a deadly parasite.
Part of him was grateful for what happened that night in the quarry.
Un nuevo vida. A new life.
What should've ended his gave him a brand new one.
Director Shaw, Victoria, and two Atlas scientists gave Oscar an extensive tour of The Forge. They passed through aisles of humming consoles where holographic blueprints hovered above glowing tables, engineers manipulating them with a flick of their wrists. Along another wall, robotic arms stitched alloys together at impossible speeds, sparks raining in controlled bursts. The air smelled faintly of ozone and sterilized steel.
They crossed a walkway above a cavernous pit where Atlas kept their newest prototypes—drones, exosuits, and experimental weapons. Oscar had to pick his jaw up off the floor multiple times. As they moved deeper into the massive laboratory, he realized they were inside a mountain. About a mile ahead of them was a gorgeous waterfall gushing with thousands of gallons of water.
He stuck his hand into his pocket, feeling around for his lighter. He traced his father's initials carved into the metal with his fingernail.
He'd never seen anything like this before.
"What's all of this for?"
"Do you want to know why I named this company Atlas, Oscar?" Director Shaw asked.
"Here we go with this again," Victoria grumbled.
"In Greek mythology, the titan Atlas literally held the weight of the world on his back. He bore the responsibility of it all. And I had the dream of doing the same by protecting the world and those in it." The man led the group into another section of The Forge. "All of this is for stability. For keeping the world from tearing itself apart. We build the tools that governments can't, that private firms won't, and that ordinary people will never know they need until they do. Weapons, research, intelligence—it all serves one purpose: to make sure someone's always looking at the bigger picture."
"We fight the boogeymen the world doesn't want you knowing about," Victoria elaborated. "Excuse my dad. He thinks he's a philosopher."
Oscar lifted a brow at them. He suspected they were related, but now it was confirmed. He wondered if the entire Shaw family worked for Atlas. It would've been the coolest family business ever.
"You're part of that bigger picture now," Director Shaw continued. He gestured at the wall ahead of them.
A row of six towering glass cylinders glowed faintly. Five figures floated inside of them in clear suspension, their bodies sealed in black, skin-tight suits veined with wires that branched like frozen lightning. Torrents of pressurized air curled through the chambers, obscuring their faces. Oscar squinted; the distortion turned them into faceless phantoms.
He quickly did the sign of the cross over his heart.
"Klaus intended to use you as weapons," Director Shaw told him. His expression soured at the mention of NEMESIS' leader. "It's a miracle we were able to intercept you before they escaped. We had no idea they'd taken hostages. Klaus… He has a knack for finding others like him."
"Primes, you mean?"
"Precisely."
Oscar nodded slowly. He thought back to the old man's explanation of things back at the quarry. None of it made sense then. It barely made sense now. But surely with all this equipment and these geniuses roaming around, someone could tell him how all of this worked.
"Those NEMESIS guys were mining for Primonium in the quarry…" Remnants of the crash hit him. His knees buckled for a moment, but he stayed upright. "That stuff… It was everywhere. That Klaus guy…he said it would give us powers. Was he telling the truth? Am I some sort of freak now?"
"That's not the word I'd use," Director Shaw countered. "Try miracle." He turned to one of the doctors. "Let's get him up to speed, shall we?"
Nodding, the scientist grabbed a glass tablet from a nearby tablet and tapped the screen. They shuffled over to the boy and showed him the display. "During the crash, your body was exposed to copious amounts of Primonium. We've only ever seen its effects on a small scale—never enough to cause any wholesale changes to an individual, with or without the Prime gene. But you and your friends? Your entire DNA strands were altered."
Another doctor strolled over to a movie theater-sized screen. 3D models of the human body—ranging from skeletal to muscular models—populated the bright display. "While you were asleep, we did some extensive blood and DNA sampling. As much as we could without hurting you, of course. We hope you can forgive us for not getting your consent, but we talked to your uncle about it, and he gave us his blessing."
Oscar would have to have a serious talk with his Uncle Hector when he made it out of this place.
"Now, no one knows exactly how Primonium works yet. Not even NEMESIS. We don't even know how it got here. Its chemical signature suggests it's not of this world, but carbon dating proves it's been here for millions of years. Genetic researchers from Nexxus Industries discovered the Prime gene about two decades ago. Our calculations suggest only a minuscule fraction of humanity possesses it. The fact that six of you were in the same small town at once… It's statistically impossible."
"But it happened," Director Shaw interjected. He placed a hand on Oscar's shoulder. "And that's why you and your friends are miracles. Anomalies. Call it fate or destiny or divine intervention…it doesn't matter. What matters is what we all do next."
The man might've looked nice enough, but he was beginning to sound a lot like Klaus.
He glanced at the glass pods up ahead. "Where are my friends?"
"They're almost done with today's round of testing," Director Shaw explained. He gestured at the pods. "You'll get to see them soon."
"They're in those things?!"
He nodded.
"Tell him about his worm skin," Victoria said with a snicker.
"Worm skin? I have worm skin now?!"
Director Shaw gave his daughter a disapproving look. "The changes your body showed after coming into contact with the Primonium were…surprising, to say the least. The flames claimed the lives of the drivers who kidnapped you. But not yours. Your skin cells have developed a more…complex structure. It's similar to that of a Pompeii Worm."
"You're immune to fire. It's why you didn't turn into a burnt chip in that van," Victoria explained.
He almost laughed. Almost.
The more time he spent awake, the more memories from that night returned. The anxiety he'd felt sitting in the back of that NEMESIS van coiled around him as if he were there again. Terror dug its fangs into his neck as the fire filled his vision. Suddenly, The Forge was alight with flames. Smoke burned his nose and eyes. Screams echoed in his ears.
Fire had already taken his parents from him and his little sister.
And it had almost finished the job with him.
"Oscar?" The scientists rushed to his side. "Oscar, are you alright?" He felt their comforting hands on his back, steadying him.
He blinked himself out of his daze. Wiping tears from his eyes, he nodded and forced the ball of emotions in his throat to dissipate. "S-Sorry. I just—" He examined his hands. "So…I'm fireproof?"
"Among other things, yes."
"There's more?"
Director Shaw nodded. "Your file is…quite interesting, to say the least."
"I have a file?"
"Yes, you've got a file," Victoria told him. "Try and keep up, yeah?"
"You try waking up after a fourteen-day coma in a random military base after almost burning to death. You'd have a lot of questions too."
That seemed to shut her up. He grinned victoriously.
"We were waiting for you to wake up to conduct more tests," a scientist told him. "Would you be up for that?"
"Not like I've got much of a choice, do I?"
"You've always got a choice here," Director Shaw told him. His gaze softened. "That's where we and NEMESIS differ. They want to take destiny into their own hands."
"And what do you want?"
"To keep people safe."
Oscar figured he'd find out the truth soon enough.
"Two out of four biometric tests complete!" a technician who'd been manning one of the six pods announced. "Still waiting on P01 and P06."
"Excellent." Director Shaw gestured toward the testing area. "Let's get you reacquainted with your friends."
###
Relief hit Oscar harder than a freight train upon seeing Emily, Theo, and Stella step out of those pods. He'd been told repeatedly they were alive and well, but doubt still clung to him like morning fog. It was all gone now.
His three classmates rushed over once they saw him. They enveloped him in a warm embrace he hadn't known he needed until he got it. None of them had been particularly close before the incident—but surviving death at the hands of maniacal, superpowered terrorists had a way of bringing people closer.
Tears fell from his eyes as he hugged them all back.
Stella let out a breath after letting him go. "We thought you'd never wake up."
"It'll take a lot more than a fiery car crash to get rid of me."
"Good to see you haven't changed a bit." Emily laughed.
Out of the group, Andre and Emily were the ones he knew the most. They'd been classmates since middle school. They hailed from the same poor part of town and were some of the few people at school who knew how his parents died—and how he and his sister survived the fire that claimed their lives. He met Theo and Stella during his freshman year. They weren't exactly friends, but they had a few classes together over the years.
Chase was the only one he didn't know.
Speaking of Goldilocks…
"Where's Dre and that new kid?"
Theo jerked a thumb toward two of the furthest glass units down the line. Two remaining figures floated inside, wires stretching from their suits like frozen lightning. "They're still in the tubes getting tested."
Oscar resisted the urge to laugh.
Only now had he noticed the outfits the others were wearing. This time, he couldn't stop himself from chuckling. They'd been dressed in skin-tight, long-sleeved leotards patterned with glowing lines—each suit possessing a different color.
"You guys look like you just left a ballet recital."
Theo snorted back a laugh. Emily screwed her face at him.
Stella simply shook her head. "The scientists call them bio-suits."
"I'm not really sure what they do, but I hate them," Emily muttered, tugging at the matte black fabric.
Theo did a couple of stretches before jogging in place. One would've never guessed he had an aggressive form of asthma. "Sure, they're a little tight, and they chafe in all the wrong places, but I think they look pretty cool!"
"Whatever you say, man." Oscar would've taken the Atlas gear he had on over what they were wearing any day of the week.
"They're designed to adapt to your bodies and assist with your unique abilities," the technician operating the testing site answered while typing something in their console. "For example, Theo's reduces friction and monitors his air pressure when he runs."
"Runs? Theo doesn't run."
"I do now." Theo's eyes lit up. "Wanna see something cool?"
"I'm scared..." His head was still spinning from all the new information. He wasn't sure if he could handle more.
Naturally, the curly-haired boy ignored him.
"Been practicing this for days. Hopefully my shoes don't burn off this time."
Oscar shot a look at Emily and Stella. "What's he talking about?"
"Just watch," Stella urged. He did as he was told.
After taking a few steps backward, Theo got into a runner's stance. He closed his eyes for a second. Then he exploded forward. A blur of black and silver streaked around the perimeter of the lab before landing back where it started. The smell of burning rubber lifted into the air. Two foot-shaped skid marks stained the linoleum flooring.
It all happened in about three seconds.
Oscar mumbled a prayer in Spanish. "I am…very confused."
Panting like a dog, Theo wiped the sweat from his forehead. He whipped out an inhaler—different from his usual one—and puffed it twice before letting out a manic laugh. "Wasn't that awesome! Whoa, everything's moving fast again. But it's fine. I'm fine. We're all fine." He wouldn't stop bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Stella steadied him with a hand on his shoulder. Emily just laughed as his face reddened.
"It's remarkable what you all can do," Director Shaw said as he joined the group of teenagers. A doctor flanking him held a silver tray bearing a neatly folded black suit. Orange lines decorated the fabric.
Oscar forced an appreciative smile. "Wow… A super-tight jumpsuit? You shouldn't have. No, seriously—you shouldn't have."
Shaw chuckled. "I know, they aren't very fashionable, but they'll help with the tests."
"We're ready for him now, sir," the lab technician called. The last two glass cylinders hissed open, thick mist rolling out and spilling across the floor. Scientists rushed to steady Chase and Andre as they stepped out, their suits clinging to their muscular frames like armor.
Now they looked like superheroes. Oscar doubted the spandex would look flattering on him. He hadn't seen the inside of a gym in, well, forever.
"Excellent." Shaw clapped once, sharp and decisive. The team of scientists and workers immediately got to their positions. He handed Oscar the folded suit. "I'm afraid your reunion will have to wait. Get changed. It's time for us to see what you're made of."
Swallowing hard, he stared down at the suit.
There was no telling what it had in store for him.
###
"What do these tube things do, anyway?"
Oscar stood in the center of the cylinder, the bio-suit clinging tighter than his own skin. It even gave him a wedgie. He would've fixed it, but too many eyes were on him. Definitely not a good look.
"The 'tube things' assess your physiology and how the Primonium affected you," the technician answered from the console.
Oscar pursed his lips. "Just gonna pretend like I know what that means."
A few chuckles rippled from behind the table.
He looked down. The metal floor was riddled with pinprick vents, cold even through the black shoes they'd given him. "So, when do we start? Kinda want to get this over with and go back to sleep."
"I take it you're ready?"
"Something like that."
A low tone sounded. Air hissed up from the vents, carrying sulfur and something sharper—familiar enough to make his pulse spike.
The smoke came next.
It rose in heavy clouds, swallowing the cylinder until he felt trapped inside a syringe of ink. Fire flared beneath his feet, licking at his shoes. He couldn't feel its warmth, but the danger was there.
His eyes bulged as he plastered his back against the rounded glass. He hammered at it with his fists. "What the hell?!! Are you trying to kill me?!"
"Oscar," a voice poured through an intercom inside the tube, "we need you to relax."
"You're burning me alive!"
"You're fireproof now, remember?"
He froze. Right. That's what they told him. But how could he trust that? How could he trust anything they told him? What if they were wrong? What if he wasn't as strong as they thought? Then again…he had survived a car explosion. That couldn't have been luck.
He ran out of luck a long time ago.
Heart racing, he lifted a foot over the fire. Still no heat. Not even a tickle. His nerves recognized the flame, but refused to register the burn. Ghost pains flared on his side—remnants of the scars he received in the fire that killed his parents.
But that pain wasn't real—even if it hurt like hell.
This was real.
Oscar laughed nervously as flames rose around him. Esto es loco. "Yo, how hot is this?!"
"Coming up on 800 degrees Fahrenheit."
His mouth hung open. He immediately closed it to avoid gulping down smoke, but the familiar bitter taste of sulfur and ash never came. He could barely smell the black clouds twisting around his body.
What the—
"How are you doing in there? We're going to increase the temperature a bit. The inside of the van we found you in was much, much hotter than this."
He barely heard them. Slowly, he extended his arm. His fear of fire manifested after the accident in his family's apartment years ago. He'd never been afraid of it before then. These days, even a candle nearly sent him into cardiac arrest.
But not now. Now…the flames seemed to be calling out to him. They unraveled his fingers. They crawled up his wrist before swirling in his palm. It settled in his hand—obedient and alive. He flicked his wrist. It followed. He was like a puppet master, and the fire was his marionette.
"Whoa," he breathed.
Gasps echoed from outside the glass. Director Shaw's voice was hushed. "Incredible."
Oscar grinned despite himself, manipulating the flames like paint on a canvas. They swished around him as the smoke thickened. He didn't cough like before when the flames threatened to swallow him. He didn't choke. It was breathable. Natural even.
It was exhilarating. But only for a moment.
The bright orange glow of the flames shifted to a stark blue as the temperature spiked. Then, something burst from within him, like windows exploding from the pressure of a sweltering gas fire.
Unwanted memories rushed in. They were sharp, unfiltered like carbon monoxide, and merciless. His vision tunneled. He pressed his hands to his temples, shaking his head, but the images sharpened into points that pressed against his brain.
The summer heat.
The apartment.
The fire.
He dropped his knees as the flames swirling around him only grew hotter. The pain from that day burned him more than any fire ever could.
Isabella's hand in his.
The smoke on the horizon.
The firefighters holding him back.
He'd been too weak to do anything. Too slow to react once the flames reached a fever's peak. Too lateto save his parents. He'd never stop blaming himself for not doing more.
He pressed his palms to the ground as a raw scream was ripped from the depths of his esophagus. The fire responded, growing hotter and sharper. It licked away his tears like a comforting dog. It tickled. But it quickly started to sting.
"Oscar, you're raising the temperature. We need you to stop whatever you're—"
The flames surged; the entire glass cylinder turned a brilliant azure. He sucked in ragged breaths, forcing himself to calm down. Slowly, the flames decreased, fading back to their normal glow. The tube hissed as the systems powered down. Smoke drained, replaced by short bursts of clean oxygen that reinvigorated him like a sip of water on a hot day. The glass lowered into the floor. Hands reached in, steadying him as he stumbled out.
"His vitals are good," the lab technician said while studying the console. "No internal injuries or burns reported."
Director Shaw approached him, his face etched with concern. "Oscar, are you alright?"
He blinked back tears. "I…I'm fine. Just a little overwhelmed. Not every day you get thrown into an oven, you know?" He stared at his hands as if they'd turned into nuclear warheads.
It must've been God's retribution for his sins. Or perhaps a trick from the devil himself. These abilities… They were a cruel joke. A punishment. A reminder of everything he'd failed to save.
He hated fire. Always had. Always would.
"I knew we shouldn't have pushed you to test today." Director Shaw studied him, then nodded. "We'll reschedule your observations for later. You need to rest." He gestured to Victoria, who had just arrived at the testing area. Even she looked worried for him. "Show him to his room."
She nodded.
As the scientists helped him down the platform, he slid his hand into his bio-suit's pocket. The cool metal of his lighter pressed into his knuckles. He traced the engraving over and over again, steadying himself.
"You coming, Oscar?" Victoria asked at the foot of the stairs.
Nodding, he mustered a weak smile and followed her toward the elevators.