Chapter 1
Notice: This chapter contains descriptions of blood and death.
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March 22, 33 AE
Rays of light began their steady ascent into the sky, grasping onto the horizon to lift themselves higher. Slowly and steadily, the morning chill drifted away, replaced by the subtle warmth of the sun. As a breeze passed, a wave glided over the sand with a gentle rush before falling back to the sea, humming softly.
The ocean was calling him.
Mack took one step onto the beach, then another, letting the cool sand seep between and over his toes. And then, unable to wait any longer, he ran.
"Aue!" a woman scolded.
Suddenly, a hand wrapped around one of Mack's arms, bringing his takeoff to a standstill. While Mack initially wanted to shake the hold off, he knew he couldn't. Not only was the grip strong and firm, but it was also warm and gentle, and he didn't want them to let go.
"But Ma!" he whined, turning with the biggest eyes he could muster already on display.
Of course, his protest had little effect on the petite woman before him. Instead, her firm gaze seemed to grow sterner, and her dainty hand held him even tighter. Despite that, a corner of her dark lips raised ever so slightly.
"A'ole, Mackenzie," his mother said. "It's too cold."
"Ma, I'll be fine," Mack insisted, then gestured to his body with his free hand. "What you think all this muscle's for? Insulation!"
"Aiya..." His mother sighed heavily, obviously trying to hide her chuckle, before turning back to him with renewed resolve. "Oh, really? So you promise you not gon' go out there, then try run back in when you see how cold it is? Hah! I hope you're not always this lolo."
Mack couldn't help but grin at his mom's nagging. "Only when I'm with you, Ma."
And that, finally, got an unrestrained laugh from his mom.
"Alright, alright," she relented, letting go of Mack's arm. "Go on."
As soon as his mom's hand left his skin, the early morning chill whisked away the remnants of warmth left behind. A part of Mack longed to take it back; another part urged him to move on.
So with one last grin, he turned back to the water and took off once more, leaping just before his toes reached the ocean's edge and landing in the clear, blue sea a moment later.
Instantly, the cold enveloped him like a snowstorm, biting every inch of his skin. When he kicked back up to the water's surface and took a huge gulp of air, his lungs felt tight within his chest. But he refused to regret his decision, and with stubborn determination, he forced himself to move his body, dragging his numb limbs through the icy water.
After a while, the sharp chill smoothed, and the water became refreshingly cool amidst the growing heat in the air. And with the new equilibrium reached, Mack let himself rest, his body floating at the surface of the water while his eyes gazed at the transforming sky above him.
When the water started to get warmer, Mack didn't think anything of it. When the sea began to feel viscous, he thought his limbs were just getting tired. But when the wind suddenly carried a wisp of iron, he froze, then bolted upright.
At that moment, all he could see was red.
Where the ocean was once clear and blue, it was now opaque and scarlet. His body felt like he was wading through gravy, and the scent of metal burned his nose. Even when he extended his gaze to the horizon, the rays of the rising sun only cast their light on a sea of blood.
A woman screamed.
Mack spun back towards the shore, and he choked on a yelp before it could leave his throat.
His mother still stood on the cool, soft sand. She still smiled at him, her lips holding happiness, and her eyes filled with love.
The only difference was the red that trickled down her face, covering her chest, and engulfing her clothes. She looked almost exactly the same, as if she didn't notice the blood flowing down her limbs, dripping from her fingertips and soaking into the sand beneath her feet.
His mom raised one of her scarlet hands ever so slowly and waved. A greeting; an assurance; a farewell.
Another scream pierced the iron-filled air.
The choked yelp finally left Mack's throat as a gasp as he bolted upright, struggling to catch his breath. It took him a moment to realize the scarlet ocean was replaced by a sea of green foliage; another minute passed before the scent of metal was exchanged for the fragrance of soil.
A scream rang out through the forest.
Mack was on his feet before he could think twice, and he could only mentally curse his trained instincts as he navigated the jungle, searching for the source of the sound. It wasn't actually a jungle in his opinion, but for the idiots who dared to wander off the trail, it was basically the wilderness.
Fortune was on humanity's side when Mack finally found the source of the cries for help: a small boar tangled up in vines.
"Kalua!" Mack hissed, raising both of his hands in frustration. "Seriously?"
Kalua--Mack thought the runty boar was Kalua, at least--merely yelped even louder.
"You know, this is what you get for trampling over plants all day," Mack replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "They're finally getting their revenge."
While Mack wasn't the type to get rid of the terroristic beast by other means, it wasn't beneath him to give the animal a stern lecture.
"Do you have any idea how many endangered plant species you and your friends kill every day?" Mack asked.
Kalua squealed.
"Well, I don't know either," Mack admitted. "But it's a lot. Probably. And that's not good!"
He sighed. "Look, we both know I'm not going to kill you. But can you at least just... I don't know, go back to your friends and ask them nicely to be a little more careful when they're frolicking around or whatever it is you guys do?"
Kalua grunted. Mack assumed that was a yes, but maybe it was more of a maybe.
"That's as good as I'm gonna get, isn't it?"
Resigned, Mack approached the panicked pig and began to free it from its natural restraints. Of course, that was easier said than done since Kalua seemed to resist each of Mack's attempts to help.
It took almost ten minutes before the pig was freed, and Kalua immediately dashed off into the wilderness without even a simple thanks.
Apparently, Mack was not some fairytale princess with an animal sidekick.
"That thing is gonna find itself in an imu one day," Mack grumbled to himself before taking in his surroundings.
The Three Peaks were his birthplace; unofficially, of course. No one knew where he was really born, but that's just where he happened to be found by the police over thirty years ago, a newborn baby kept quiet by idly sucking on the shell of a macadamia nut.
Then, after that fateful moment, he spent the next thirteen years enduring "Mack Nut" jokes. Because whoever named him clearly didn't realize how awful kids could be sometimes.
Mack was over it by now, obviously. In fact, he even brought a macadamia nut with him, and he could feel its weight in one of the front pockets of his shorts. And with that constant pressure at his side, he took a deep breath and retraced his footsteps through the wild terrain.
He knew he was in uncharted territory; or rather, he knew he was in territory that was uncharted for most visitors to the mountain. But while hikers typically wanted to challenge the trail to see the spectacular views of the island from one of the three monstrous peaks, Mack's business was much lower than that. So he was on his own as he navigated the thick clusters of trees and vines, careful to keep his footing against the treacherous and steep incline.
It wasn't long before he reached the small clearing where he had originally fallen asleep. But with his dream still fresh in his mind, he had to take a deep breath before he could face the large boulder in front of him.
As expected, the rock hadn't changed the slightest from when Mack first visited it as a small child. At the time, he had stumbled upon it by accident--or rather, he rolled into it.
It had been a rough day for the Mack Nut, and he was desperate for some form of comfort. He knew about his namesake already: Olomana was the first of the Three Peaks, a rugged and steep mountain that even the most experienced hikers struggled to reach the top of. But that was his home, his true home, and he needed to see it for himself.
So he did the only sensible thing a kid with around ten years of life experience would do: he packed a bag and ran away.
Mack didn't remember exactly how he got to the trail or how his runty self scaled the steep incline. All he remembered was losing his grip during a rock climb and tumbling down the mountain side, leaving himself at the mercy of gravity and nature.
People said it was a miracle he survived that day. If he hadn't been such a tiny child for his age, they said he could have died during that fall down the mountain. Some say it was luck; most said it was his mother watching over him. Mack believed the latter.
While he didn't remember how he got to the mountain, nor much of the climb and subsequent tumble, he remembered exactly what he saw afterwards. He couldn't forget how he lifted his gaze in a daze, taking in the sight of the large boulder he had only seen in pictures.
It wasn't what he had expected. For one, it was a lot bigger than he imagined, and the moonlight that filtered through the trees cast different shadows on it than the flash of a camera. If anything, seeing it at night made the rock look even more foreboding than he ever thought possible.
Secondly, and definitely the more drastic difference, the stone wasn't bathed in blood.
It made sense, he realized later, and there was no way the blood would still be there ten years later. But his younger self had expected it, expected to see the dark scarlet splattered over the gray canvas. He expected everything to look the same, just like it was depicted in the crime scene photos he snuck a peek at from his file at the orphanage.
But it was empty. The rock was there, but it was devoid of blood. Similarly, the surrounding foliage was clean too, with no drops of red staining the tree trunks, nor dark puddles oversaturating the soil. There were no lines on the ground, no white tape tracing the familiar silhouette of a mountain range that Mack had memorized down to every ridge.
There was no sign of his mom, her petite body stained with her own blood, her dark skin transformed into a pale brown, and her empty eyes staring blankly at the sky above.
It was as if nothing ever happened.
Today was no different. But while the Mack Nut had spent hours in a mindless daze sobbing for his mom in the wilderness, Officer Olomana was a mature adult. And instead of looking at the ground and expecting a body, he sat at the base of the boulder and adjusted his handiwork of flowers he laid out before his unscheduled nap.
It looked a bit pitiful, honestly. It was a random mixture of plants he collected since the day before, their stems protruding from a football-sized rock with a deep hole he found during a previous visit. There were a couple heliconia he cut from the orphanage garden, a bundle of anthuriums from a florist in Downtown, and a single bird of paradise he got after chatting with a yard worker on his way to the mountain. (The worker had also gifted him with a broken plumeria branch, but all the flowers had broken off by the time Mack reached his destination.)
Regardless, Mack was still proud of the arrangement and the way the flowers stood proudly in his makeshift vase. He allowed himself a small smile before reaching for his neck and removing the ti leaf lei he had been twisting since his arrival to the island. Carefully, he wrapped the lei around the flowers and vase, letting the ends drape freely on the ground.
"Sorry about that, Ma," he said, fiddling absentmindedly with the flowers. "I had to rescue someone's dinner."
He chuckled, then reached into his pocket, removing the pale green macadamia nut. The exterior was smooth for the most part, except for a long crack on one side that revealed the brown shell beneath it.
"And I know I said this already, but I'm sorry I'm late again," Mack continued, spinning the fruit between his fingers. "It's... work, y'know? We get busy during the holidays. All kine thefts and stuff. It's... it's a lot."
Leaves rustled in the gentle breeze.
"It's not that I don't like it," Mack clarified. "It can be alright, sometimes. I get to help people. I get kids that think I'm a hero. That's kinda fun."
A distant bird chirped.
"I mean... what else would I do with these abilities? I'm meant to help people--to heal people, right?" He sighed. "Right?"
Finally, he raised his gaze back to the flowers, back to the large boulder.
Silence.
"I just..." Mack bit his lip, and he whispered his next words. "Is it wrong that I wish I had a choice in all this?"
Again, there was no reply, nor sign of any kind. Mack expected it, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed.
He sniffed once before placing the macadamia nut on the ground in front of the vase. With everything in place, Mack was finally ready. So after he placed his hands in the grass before him, he closed his eyes and breathed in deep.
At first, his world was dark. Then, lights of life illuminated one by one, slowly first, then surging like a wave, spreading outwards from the palms of his hands. Even with his eyes closed, he could see every blade of grass around him, and their network of roots beneath the surface. He could see the foundations of the surrounding trees, and their paths of life that reached for the sky. He could feel the critters crawling over twigs and through the soil; he could feel when a fly landed on his shoulder, and when a bird leapt from a branch.
In front of him was a round ball of light; the macadamia nut. Behind it was an illuminated rope, winding up a patch of darkness; the ti leaf lei against the stone vase. Past that was an even larger shadow; the boulder. And that was it.
Puzzled, Mack spared a hand to reach blindly forward, not stopping until he felt the stem of one of the flowers beneath his fingertips. And after some adjustments, the flowers finally illuminated, as if he suddenly replaced the burnt bulb in a string of lights. The circuit was now complete.
Once he returned both hands to the grass, he took another deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled for as long as he could.
Instantly, his world brightened, as if a million fireworks went off in slow motion. Each living organism around him--the grass, the trees, the flowers, the bugs--glowed even stronger in his darkness, overpowering the voids until nearly everything was filled with life. And for a while, he felt at peace.
Until the darkness began to return, a shadow growing at the edges of his world, and Mack knew he couldn't hold it for much longer. With a grunt of frustration, he forced himself to leave, to return to reality. He opened his eyes.
First, he could see nothing but dark green; he had keeled over at some point, exhausted and gasping for air with his face almost in the grass. But once the ache in his head lessened, he managed to sit up enough to view the new world around him.
Thankfully, it worked, and some of the light from his world managed to transfer to the one around him. The plants around him had grown and brightened in color. The birds sang a little louder, and the bugs zipped around his head even faster than before. And the flowers in front of him had come to life again, even....
Mack paused, then reached to the ground at his side. He had almost forgotten about the pitiful plumeria branch that had fallen from his pocket at some point, so he was surprised that it looked nothing like it did before. A small bouquet of buds burst from a few of the ends, and even a couple small flowers had bloomed here and there. They greeted his nose with their sweet perfume, as if they were thanking him for the second chance at life.
With a hint of pride, Mack got to work, digging a small hole beside the rock vase and planting the branch firmly in the ground. He wasn't sure if it would survive after he left--contrary to his most recent display of power, his green thumb was more of a sickly brown--but he was optimistic. In fact, that was probably one of his favorite talents: he could always hope.
"A hui hou," he whispered.
And after admiring his work one last time, Mack slowly rose and began his descent.
It didn't take him long to realize he expended a little too much energy during his childish ritual, and he stumbled slightly after easing his way down his very first obstacle: a short, rocky cliff. He couldn't help but silently curse his naivety; normally, he would spare some of his reserves for a hiker in need, especially since there was always someone who would underestimate the complicated trail and the Hawaiian heat. But this time, he was in no better shape than they were.
So when he finally made it back to the trail and saw a group of hikers wave him down five heavy breaths later, his heart dropped. He was lightheaded as it was, and taking energy from the surrounding plants would risk premature erosion of the mountain. Still, he inhaled deeply, readied his signature smile, and carefully made his way to them.
"You called?" he grinned, blinking a bit to stave off the stars that dotted his vision.
"You're Mack, right?" the furthest of the four hikers asked, their eyes wide. "Mackenzie Olomana?"
"That's me." Mack glanced around at the group, silently hoping that he wasn't swaying along with his movements. Each of them were looking at him with wide eyes and unreadable expressions, but they all seemed to be relatively fine. Unless some fell.... "D'you need me for something?"
"Well, no..." the first hiker said, then exchanged timid glances with the rest of the group.
Maybe they just wanted a selfie with him, but Mack didn't want to be presumptuous. For all he knew, maybe they just wanted someone to take a picture of them. Whatever the reason, it at least didn't seem like anyone was in danger.
"You didn't see the news?" another of the group asked, their shock now transfigured into concern.
And that alone was enough to smother whatever remained of Mack's good spirits.
"What're you talking about?" Mack belatedly realized his voice was so quiet that he wasn't even sure if they heard him through the wind.
They must have, since the hiker closest to him pulled out their phone and held it out to him a few moments later.
"It... it happened last night, our time," they said, not seeming to mind Mack's hesitation in taking the offered device. "You knew--know Elsie Bates, don't you?"
He did. Els-bells was one of the few good eggs in Hollywood, and the only reason why Mack didn't mind starring in a not-so-subtle propaganda film with her. He hadn't seen her since the casting was announced, but she was perfectly fine, and they were supposed to be having a table-read soon....
Hang on. Mack didn't actually know what the bad news was yet, and he had simply been staring blankly at the hiker's phone for an indeterminable amount of time. So he forced himself to inhale deeply, mustering as much calm as he could, before reading.
METAS ATTACK! Japan's Unity Games ends in flames
Actress Elsie Bates and guardian Off. Camilla Wyatt declared missing
"Oh, god..."
The words left Mack before he knew it. If the picture, an aerial shot of the charred and partially collapsed Games stadium, was anything to go by, the chances of survival were...
No. Mack couldn't think like that. Elsie was perfectly safe, especially if Camila Wyatt was with her. While he didn't really know the woman personally, only having met her once in passing, he heard the stories just like every other guardian. And if you could look past her unusual personality, Camilla Wyatt was a legend.
And no matter how badly Mack wanted to jump on the first flight to Japan to help, he had no idea how he would fare in such a tragic situation. But not Camilla; she was different.
She was powerful, and she wouldn't need to sacrifice one choice over another. She was level-headed and could make efficient calls, even under pressure. She was independent, and she didn't need teammates to make up for her shortcomings when she had none.
She was the perfect guardian.
She was Elsie's best chance at survival.
And there was nothing Mack could do.
There was nothing he could do.
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NOTES
For readers of Triple Point, welcome back!
For new readers, it's great to meet you! Additionally, I'd like to point out a few things about this world of meta-humans and guardians.
In the universe of Triple Point and Ultraviolet, a small percentage of the population possess the genetics to develop supernatural powers around the age of 13-15. These people are called "meta-humans", or simply "metas". International law requires countries to test all citizens for the meta gene at the age of 13, and those that possess it must enroll in a federally-run school for training for seven years. In the United States, this is referred to as the Academy.
Some metas can control non-living matter such as solids, liquids, or gases. Other metas can control cells, either using generation (e.g. healing) or manipulation (e.g. increase muscle strength). Metas are ranked by Class based on rarity and usefulness of their abilities, and international law requires all metas of Class 2 and higher to enlist as guardians.
Guardians are essentially overpowered police officers that follow a militaristic structure. They are assigned by the federal government to cooperate with local law enforcement and first responders. Additionally, most guardians have jobs aside from their guardian duties, sometimes referred to as a "secondary". Supposedly, this gives guardians a chance to choose an occupation that they may have pursued if they weren't forced to become guardians. In reality, it's a way for the government to give themselves a positive image, especially if their guardians choose high-profile jobs.
For more information on the details of meta-abilities, please see Triple Point - Interlogue (between Chapters 15 and 16).
Thanks for reading and voting, and I hope you enjoy the rest of this story!
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MACKENZIE OLOMANA
Full name: Mackenzie Olomana
Hometown: Honolulu, HI
Birthdate: November 30, 2 AE
Height: 5' 10"
Occupation: Guardian (Class 3) (Rank: First Officer) (PRIMARY), Actor (SECONDARY)
JORDAN SONG
Full name: Jordan Minseok Song
Hometown: Seoul, South Korea
Birthdate: February 21, 5 AE
Height: 6' 1"
Occupation: Singer
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