Robert Crane: Alone

I lay on a hospital-style bed in the middle of the room. I had a moment of panic until I realized that my hands and feet were unbound. I sat up and dangled my legs over the edge of the table, then blinked down at them. I wore the same shoes that I had on when I was attacked. My gloves, sweater and jeans all seemed undisturbed. My hand jumped to my throat, checking where Wolfe had grasped me. Bandages covered my neck.

I walked to the mirrored wall, staring at myself. My brown hair highlighted my pale face. My blue eyes turned greenish toward the iris and my skin showed nary a freckle. Strange what twelve years with no sunlight will do to you. My nose was not quite pointed, but long enough to make me self-conscious. I wasn’t sure what to think of my height or weight – it’s hard to compare yourself solely to people on TV.

My fingers found the ends of the bandages wrapped around my neck and I pulled on them, gently at first, and then harder as they began to unwind. They were wrapped three layers deep, with only spots of crimson showing on the first layer, then heavier as I peeled them back until the last layer of gauze was covered in dried blood. I looked to my neck in the mirror and smiled. The skin was flawless.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” A voice from behind caused me to turn, bandages already forgotten and hands at my sides, clenched and ready to move into a defensive position. The speaker was a stately woman in her forties, with bright red hair that showed not a streak of gray, bound into a tight ponytail. She wore a black jacket and pants that gave her the look of a businesswoman – not quite severe, but hardly casual. Her arms were folded in front of her and she wore only the thinnest hint of a smile. “You’re Sienna Nealon.” It was not a question.

She took a step toward me and the door behind her closed with a soft click. “You’ve been out for about a day and the wounds around your throat are gone.”

“I heal fast.” My words came out more acidic than I had intended. “Where’s Reed?”

“He beat a hasty retreat after my men scared off Wolfe.” Her eyes showed the first trace of amusement. “You should get better friends.”

I studied her as she slowly cut the distance between us. “Can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same if I’d been mobile at the time.”

She bowed her head and the smile became more than a hint. “That would have been a mistake. Because there’s no one that can help you as much as we can.” Her eyes rose to meet mine.

I laughed. Loud. “I haven’t even heard who YOU are and now you’re talking about a WE.”

Her smile didn’t dim a bit. “My name is Ariadne Fraser. I’m Chief of Operations for the proverbial ‘we’ – which in this case is called the Directorate.”

My right hand found its way back to my neck and kneaded the new skin against the leather of my glove. “And what exactly is the Directorate?”

“We identify and assist meta-humans like yourself.”

I felt my head spin, and I doubted it had anything to do with my recent injury. “What’s a meta-human?”

She blushed. “A meta-human is someone like you – who has powers beyond that of a normal human.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Your strength is far above a normal human’s, my men tell me.” She pointed at my neck. “I saw your wounds when they brought you in. Gouges like that don’t heal in a day, and they leave scars. I’m sure you have other abilities as well. If you’d allow us to do some testing, we could help you—”

“And if I don’t want your help?” I set my jaw and could feel my teeth clench. I didn’t know where I could go, other than home – and I’d have a hell of a time finding it.

It was as if she could sense the uncertainty beneath my facade. “And where would you go?”

“Home. Where I was before your men broke in and forced me to kick their asses. Did you know one of them shot at me?”

Her elegant face crumpled in a frown. “Which one?”

“I don’t know names. The old one.”

Her frown deepened. “Kurt Hannegan. It was only a tranquilizer pistol—”

“Yeah, I found that out after I took it away from him, cranked a few rounds into Wolfe and he didn’t die.”

She took another step forward, reaching the bed I had awakened on. “Kurt and Zack were ordered to bring you here. Although I would have preferred that it had gone more smoothly—”

“Smoothly? They shot up my house and drove me out into the world, where a huge mutant squeezed my neck until my head nearly popped off!”

She grimaced. “I realize that it was your first exposure to the outside world in several years, and I wish—”

“Yeah, well, if wishes were horses I wouldn’t need a ride home.”

She straightened. “You can’t possibly be thinking of going home now. Not with Wolfe hunting you.”

I glared at her. “I was doing just fine until your keystone cops broke into my house. Hell, I was doing just fine after they drove me out – and how do I know that this Wolfe guy isn’t one of yours?”

“He is not—” she emphasized every syllable, ire running over her words—“one of ours . He is a monster, a killer by any definition, the type of threat we guard against. You must have seen – he killed two strangers in the parking lot.”

Self-consciously, my hand played across my neck. Those men had been trying to help me, and they didn’t even know me. “I saw it.”

“You think we were involved in that?”

“Lady – Ariadne – whatever your name is, I don’t know you. All I know is that my mom has been missing for a week, that your guys shot up my house—”

“With tranquilizer darts.”

“—and then I meet one guy who says he wants to help me and another that grabs me by the throat and throttles me. Then I get brought here. I don’t know any of you, I don’t trust any of you, and I really just want to know where my mom is.” The smallest dab of real emotion escaped me in my last words.

“I can help you with that – with finding her.”

I paused in my tirade. “Do you know where she is?”

Ariadne deflated. “No. But we can search, and we have more resources to help with that than you do by yourself.”

I smirked. “I’m sure you’d do that out of the kindness of your hearts.”

“We’re here to help meta-humans like yourself.” Her fingers met and interlaced.

“And what do you want from me in return?”

She hesitated. “Nothing difficult. We’d like to run some tests—”

“Cut me open and prod my innards?”

“Nothing like that. We don’t know what kind of meta-human you are.”

I rubbed my eyes in fatigue and disbelief. “You keep calling me a meta-human. What is that?”

She straightened, portraying a certain pretentiousness as she lectured to me, the ignorant teenager. “Meta is from the Greek, meaning—”

“Beyond human. Yes, I know that.” Her face fell and I was suddenly glad of the endless hours of study Mother had forced on me just for a chance to needle this woman who I’d known for less than five minutes but who already grated on me. “You were saying ‘meta-humans’ as though there are a lot of us.”

Ariadne took a few steps away from the table and faced the mirror. I could still see her expression, and she looked up, as if she were recalling something. “There are six billion people in the world. By our estimates, less than three thousand are meta-human.” She turned to face me. “Meta-humans have powers, skills and abilities beyond those of normal humans. Superior strength, speed and dexterity are usually signs of meta-human abilities.”

“Is that all? Faster, stronger, more nimble?”

She shook her head. “Those are standard. Every meta-human has other, more unique abilities that manifest around age eighteen and are often hereditary.”