Maya

"I told that one-eyed prick once already, I'm not gonna say it again." She said. "You can fuck right off and leave me the hell alone."

Language, I unconsciously thought. (Thank you for that, Steve.)

Dr Franz was unfazed by that. Not surprising since I was a bit hostile with him during our first few sessions.

"I don't think you're in a position to demand anything are you, Safia?" He clicked his pen. "Are you ready to begin?"

Safia shot him an annoyed look but didn't raise her feet back up.

"Fine," she muttered.

Boy, this was going to be a long day.

—

Safia

Safia hated every moment of this.

She couldn't remember the last three years of her life, she feels like her whole body is going to explode from the inside, and they—whoever they are—have sent in some bow tie-wearing moron with a clipboard to take her apart.

Safia mutters her consent to the evaluation, feeling bitter about it.

"Excellent. Now, I'll ask you a series of questions and you'll answer truthfully. I don't mean to sound intimidating but I'm aware of your abilities and we have safeguards in place to deal with anything unsavory. Please keep that in mind."

"Unsavory?" She scoffs, hanging her elbow over the armchair. She could give less than a shit about slouching. Her mother isn't here to correct her.

The doctor shrugs. His lab coat is too large for his wiry frame and his half-moon glass glints in the fluorescent light.

Safia isn't sure how old he is. He looks like he's in his twenties and forties simultaneously.

He smiles kindly and she hates it. "Safia, there's no need to be defensive. We just want to help."

Who the hell are they?

They as in the people who took her mother away from her?

They as in the man who created her?

They as in the woman who looked at her with tears in her eyes?

She felt the little sparks flicker to life, dancing between her fingertips. Safia had learned to control it through trial and error, the errors being harsher than necessary. She closed her hands, pushing back against the urge to release the energy that was slowly building up inside of her.

"Nobody can help me," she said.

"Well...perhaps. But wouldn't it be beneficial to help yourself first?" He regards her like an animal backed into a corner. "Help is never forced or taken. It is simply given."

She chuckled, feeling the static in the air. "You must've lived a nice cushy life to say that."

"It is my job to help people." He says. "Please, Safia. I only want your safety. Nothing more. There are no enemies here."

Safia didn't believe him. She didn't want to believe him.

People like him didn't have to worry about food or shelter. They didn't have to listen to their mother cosying up to strange men with money for a taste of the good life. They didn't have to run away from home because they felt unsafe. They didn't have to forage in dumpsters for food or beg for clean water.

Everything in her life was taken.

Nothing was given.

She bared her teeth into a smile, the one she used before she got into a fight in the shelter. "Bullshit," she hissed. "What do you want?"

"Safia—"

She slammed her fist down on the table. "What do you people want?" She repeated.

Dr Franz glanced at her and the small blue sparks that flickered in her hair. He sighed deeply.

"Very well. Safia, can you tell us about your father?"

—

Carlos

Carlos fiddled with his thumbs, not sure where to look.

He could hear, smell, taste, and feel everything around him. He just didn't know what to think.

When he was younger, his mother used to bring him his favourite snack on her way back from the restaurant where she worked. The older he got, the more he would refuse Camotes because he wanted his mother to keep the money she earned.

He didn't understand the world but he understood that their way of life wasn't very good. His mother did everything in her power to protect him but he had eyes and he could see.

Carlos closed his eyes and thought about his final evening with his mother. She was in her waitress uniform with a bag slung over her shoulder. She brought his Camotes, insisting that the cart seller owed her a favour.

She chatted about everything and nothing, pointing out the people who walked in the square where they sat. Her laughter was always sweet and Carlos would ingrain that memory of her for as long as he lived.

The stale recycled air was filled with the scent of sweet Camotes. He no longer heard the voices of agents behind the walls but the soft murmur of a crowd. He found the taste of sweet potato on his tongue. Carlos felt his surroundings slowly change until he was back in the square, the warm hand of his mother pressed against his back.

For a brief moment, he was okay.

And then the door opened.

Everything evaporated and he bit down on his lip, trying to quell the emotion that threatened to take over.

A man in a too-large lab coat stood at the door with wonder all over his face.

"Hello," he said, gently. "I'm Dr. Franz. Shall we get started?"

"I want to go home!" Carlos blurted out. He didn't mean to but the words just came out.

The man—Dr Franz smiled and sat down in front of him. "Where is home?" He asked.

"A-Acupulco."

Dr Franz wracked his brain for something. "Mexico?"

Carlos nodded his head. "Yes, sir."

His mother always reminded Carlos to speak to his elders with respect. Even if he was afraid of them.

"That's a very long way from home," he said, pressing his pen down on the clipboard. "Tell me, Carlos. How did you get here?"

Carlos felt his insides turn. He couldn't remember.

He remembered the man Mama was talking to on the night of the fire. He remembered crying out her name. He remembered trying to escape on the beach but someone—something chasing him.

Carlos wiped the tears away from his face with the back of his hand.

He missed Mama. He missed home.

He couldn't even recall the scent of her perfume or the taste of the butterscotch candy she carried in her purse.

Dr Franz pressed a tissue into his hand. "Take your time, Carlos. There's no shame in crying. Especially when the wounds are deep."

—

Annette

Were all cells this cold?

She twirled a strand of her hair, twisting it around her finger till it curled.

This was the first time she was in a cell.

It was cold and quiet. She didn't like those kind of places. It reminded her of her grandmother's house in Berlin, an old relic of the Cold War.

Her mother always left her at her grandmother's house. There were no children in her neighborhood and her grandmother was always in the garden tending to the plants, hardly paying attention to her.

Annette used to sneak out all the time and explore the city.

Nobody could hurt you if nobody could see you. She liked being invisible—literally.

All she had to do was think about blending in and just like that her skin would match whatever was behind her.

Her mother pretended like it didn't exist but Annette knew she was afraid of her. That's why she left her alone.

Well...that's what her grandmother used to say.

She placed her hand on the steel table, watching as her skin slowly match the cold surface.

She snatched her hands away when the door swung open.

A man in a lab coat came through the door. His grey and black hair stood up as if he had been electrocuted.

Annette saw a lot of things when she walked through the world but never had she even seen a man like him.

Had he seen her hands?

"You must be cold," he said, draping a blanket around her thin shoulders. She hadn't even noticed she was shivering. "I'm Dr Franz. And you are?"

Annette gripped the blanket closer and slowly disappeared into it. He watched carefully, eyes sparkling with wonder.

"Annette," she whispered. "Do I have to stay here?"

He shook his head, placing the clipboard down. "Not at all. Nobody here will ever hurt you, Annette."

"I don't believe you," she said, tightening the blanket around her.

Now the chair was invisible too. She didn't mean to do that. It just happened when she was scared.

"Do I look frightening?"

She shook her head. "The people outside are."

"They're not so bad. They're just doing their job."

Annette pouted. "They could be nicer about it."

The table was turning invisible too. First was the leg and then the surface. Dr Franz kept his hands where they were even if it looked funny as if they were levitating on air.

"How about we play a game!" He suggested.

Annette liked to play games. She didn't have many people to play games with growing up.

"What type of game?" Her curiosity piqued.

"An association game," he said. "I say and word and you'll respond with something that reminds you of that word. Trust me. It'll be fun."

She very much doubted that.

"Fine. Let's play." 

—

Rayan

This place is boring, Rayan thought.

He picked up the ball and threw it at the door as hard as he could, watching it bounce back with equal force straight at him.

Before it hit his face, it stopped.

It hovered. Floated. Levitated. Defied freaking gravity.

Rayan grinned.

He was getting better at this.

When he was in school, he would always throw things at his teacher when her back was turned. He would just think it and it would go flying through the air.

He felt like freaking Matilda. He and his babysitter loved watching that film together.

His mom hated coming down to the school. He didn't mean to upset her.

It was just fun. That's all.

All he wanted was to make her laugh but all she did was scold him. His babysitter told him to be a good kid, his babysitter also told him that his mother was just stressed.

He wondered what his babysitter was doing. Was she lost in the park? Was she looking for him? Did she even care?

Claire was the one who gave him extra snacks. Claire was the one who took him to the park for baseball. Claire was the one who found out he had powers.

When he was a baby, Claire used to tie a rope around his waist so he wouldn't fly away. Flying was fun and so were moving objects. He liked throwing things at his tutors when they weren't looking.

Why was that such a big deal?'

It's all a bit of fun.

He tossed the ball back again. It sailed through the air and he watched in glee as he changed the trajectory, sending it towards the door.

Just at that moment, the door swung open.

"Watch out!" He cried, standing up.

The ball stopped once again, centimetres from a man's face.

"Oh! That's new!" The bow tie man said, grabbing the ball from the air. "The other one nearly electrocuted me."

Rayan watched the man like a cat watched a mouse. He seemed unfazed by his intense gaze upon him.

He sat down on the other side of the table, tapping his pen against his clipboard as he waited for Rayan to make the next move.

Something was...off.

Rayan stayed still, mimicking his posture.

"I'm Dr Franz. And who might you be?"

"Rayan." He said. "My friends call me Ray."

"Okay, then. How are you, Ray?"

He frowned. "You're not my friend. You can't call me Ray."

"Would you like to be friends?" Dr Franz asks.

Rayan isn't sure if this is a joke. It pisses him off just a little bit that he's not the one controlling the joke. The punchline is the best part.

He narrowed his eyes at him. "Friends usually bring gifts for others."

"And who told you that?"

He shrugged. "My babysitter, Claire. She told me friends should be nice to each other. They bring gifts and give hugs and don't be mean."

"She seems really wise."

Rayan couldn't hold back a smile. "Claire is the best. She would always bring me something."

Dr Franz chuckled. "Oh, of course. How silly of me." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lollipop. "Will this do?"

Was that...Blue Raspberry?

Claire used to sneak him blue-flavoured raspberry lollipops when his mother used to ground him.

Rayan cleared his throat and looked up at Dr Franz with his 'Bambi Eyes.' Claire used that term whenever he tried to get something from her.

Dr Franz just seemed amused by it. He placed the lollipop in his hand.

Rayan snatched the cover off and popped it into his mouth. He felt better already.

"Now, that I've gotten you something...how about you tell me something in return."

"Like what?"

"How about..." Dr Franz glanced over at the ball still in his hand. "How about you tell me how you were able to move this?"

Rayan grinned. "Deal."