Chapter 8
2236words
"Your teachers," he paused. "...Especially Mr. S'dala, have informed me about your... gift," Brent said, his tone firm but not unkind. The way he said Mr. S'dala's name seems like they know each other.
I felt my jaw tighten at the word "gift."
"I have no gift," I muttered, my voice low... cold.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly unfazed by my response. He leaned back in his chair, observing me with an intensity I didn't that look.
"Maybe not in the traditional sense, but your academic performance suggests otherwise. You're more than capable of contributing to the future of heroism in ways that extend beyond powers."
He pulled a circular device from his jacket and placed it on the table. At the press of a button, a hologram projected above it, the Special Armed Forces base.
It stands tall in a frozen wasteland, partly buried beneath layers of snow and ice. The base's exterior is built with white and gray composites, designed to blend into the harsh, snow-covered terrain. If someone were to try to find the base, they would have a hard time finding it. They might even die trying due to the cold weather. It's so well camouflaged.
Inside, scientists and engineers work around the clock, developing technology designed to support and enhance the powers of registered heroes. The interior is brightly lit, sterile corridors, sleek, seamless, and humming with machinery. There is a series of underground tunnels that extends far beyond beneath the ice, linked with train stations. Inside the trains are vital supplies, equipment, and classified prototypes that are being transported under heavy security.
"This is our base," Brent said, gesturing to the holographic. "Many of the scientists her were just like you once, they were all intellectual saviors in their schools. Now, they work on weapons, surveillance systems, combat drones. They build what we use when fighting villains."
He paused, glancing at the hologram in front of him, the shifting hologram light reflecting off his face. ""We need students like you, Slyvian, because what we, the Special Armed Forces, fight against are real threats."
I said nothing.
"We're talking about forces that operate in the shadows. Ancient enemies, rogue nations with powers, things buried in ruins, and forgotten. Some of them... aren't even like us. Some of them never were." He leaned forward.
"They don't want wealth or small control; they want total domination. They want chaos. Destruction. Erasure. Or they do it simply because they're bored. Our job is to stop them. Quietly. Efficiently. Before the world even notices."
His eyes met mine again. "I'll say it again. We need people like you, Slyvian. Powers or not."
I didn't respond. But his words settled within me in a strange way.
After the meeting, I walked out in silence, my mind swirling with thoughts. The hallway was lively, students chatting, laughing, brushing past me, and I barely noticed them. My thoughts were too loud, too persistent.
We need people like you.
I'd never been needed before.
Not by my mother.
Not by this school.
Only by Mr. S'dala... Mr.Or'dara I suppose and now... Brent.
It was strange...how that one phrase made me feel.... happy wasn't exactly the right word, but something close. Warmth.
I reached my classroom just before the bell rang and quietly took my seat, sitting near the window. The usual chatter of my classmates surrounded me, but I didn't pay attention. As the lesson began, I looked outside. The breeze moved the trees gently, the leaves falling off the branches and gently falling on the grass.
For once, I felt needed.
That single phrase, We need people like you, lingered longer than it should have. I tried to ignore it, to bury it beneath logic and skepticism. But the warmth never went away... such a traitorous spark.
But hope never lasted long in my life.
The bell rang again. I gathered my things in silence and stepped into the hallway. That's when I noticed it, the shift.
Eyes on me.
Whispers behind my back.
I kept walking, but my pace slowed slightly.
The voice, his annoying voice
Mocking and loud.
"Well, well. Looks like the mundie girl thinks she's special now, huh?"
Andrew Hitchcock.
He leaned casually against a locker, a smirk twisting his face. A group of students stood around him, watching with cruel amusement.
He was leaning against the locker with that annoying smirk, the one he always wore when he was about to ruin mine or someone's day. A handful of students gathered around him, just like vultures.
My chest tightened. That flicker of warmth from earlier? Gone.
He stepped closer, his sneer widening. "Face it, you'll never be more than the mundie nobody who no one cares about. You're not special. You're nothing."
"What? Did they tell you? That you're needed?" Andrew laughed. "That you could help save the world? Please. You're just a pawn. A broken one at that."
I kept walking. Eyes down. Fists clenched.
He stepped closer to me.
"You'll never be more than a mundie nobody. You're not special. You're nothing."
I didn't respond. I didn't flinch. I just stared at the floor, letting the numbness wash over me like a shield.
Finally, he stepped aside with a mocking grin. "Anyway, go to the usual spot during lunch. Nathaniel wants to speak with you."
My felt my stomach dropped.
Lunch came too quickly. I moved through the halls slowly, my feet carrying me toward the attic out of habit more than intent. My hand touched the railing of the staircase.
And then...
"Going in the attic, Slyvian?"
Mr. S'dala.
I turned slowly, not daring to meet his eyes. "I... I just wanted to eat alone."
He studied me for a moment before speaking, voice warm and unrushed. "While your choice of dining spot is... unconventional, I wanted to talk more about the facility in Black Waves City. Come with me."
He turned and walking down the hallway without waiting for my answer.
I hesitated. My mind screamed at me to go upstairs to the attic, to face Nathaniel and get it over with. But my body didn't listen. My feet moved.
I followed Mr. S'dala.
Meanwhile, in the attic, Nathaniel sat perched on the table, tapping his foot incessantly, arms crossed tightly over his chest. The steady rhythm of his tapping echoed in the otherwise silent room, growing faster with each passing second. His patience, already thin, was wearing out quickly.
Olivia and Sofia sat nearby, chatting quietly and picking at their lunches, seemingly oblivious to the storm brewing inside Nathaniel. Their casual demeanor only added to his irritation. Every second Slyvian wasn't here felt like a personal insult.
The door creaked open. His head snapped up, expecting to see Slyvian finally show her face. But it was only Andrew, waltzing in without a care in the world. Holding a tray of overpriced cafeteria food. The meal looked like it was served at a high-rated restaurant, complete with garnish. Nathaniel's jaw clenched, patience shattered.
Andrew plopped down without a word, immediately diving into his meal.
"You told her to come," Nathaniel said.
Andrew, mid-bite, shrugged. "Yeah, I told her. Relax, she's gonna show. She always does," he replied casually, putting the food in his mouth.
Nathaniel's eyes darkened. "Yet she's not here." He paused, "Go look for her."
Andrew continued to chew, unbothered. "She's probably on her way," he said with another shrug. "Besides, I just got here, and I'm starving."
No one saw him even move. But he struck. His hand clamped around Andrew's neck and squeezed.
The tray clattered to the floor.
"Perhaps you didn't hear me," he growled.
Andrew's hands flew up, clutching at Nathaniel's arm in a futile attempt to pry him off. Olivia and Sofia watched, wide-eyed, but neither made a move to intervene.
He leaned in closer.
"Go. Find. Her."
Nathaniel's grip loosened, and Andrew collapsed back into the couch, gasping for air. His hand shot up to his neck, rubbing the reddened skin where Nathaniel's fingers had been. He glared at Nathaniel but said nothing, knowing better than to argue. Without a word, he pushed himself up from the couch and stumbled toward the door, still panting.
The attic door creaked as it closed behind him, the silence that followed thick and uncomfortable.
Olivia and Sofia exchanged uneasy glances. The room felt heavier, the tension suffocating. Neither had dared to speak while Nathaniel was angry, but now that Andrew was gone, the oppressive quiet was too much.
"You didn't have to do that," Olivia muttered, but Nathaniel didn't respond.
Instead, he turned toward the wall, muttering to himself. "She's not slipping away from me. Not now."
Olivia and Sofia exchanged uneasy glances again.
"Uh... Nathaniel," Sofia began, her voice shaky. "About the tunnel we found... how exactly did you know it was there?"
Nathaniel turned slowly.
He looked at the two girls with cold, unreadable eyes. For a moment, it seemed as if he wouldn't respond at all. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he leaned against the table, crossing his arms, his expression still indifferent.
"I have my ways," he said.
Olivia frowned, exchanging another glance with Sofia. "But what were you looking for?" Olivia asked, her voice a little bolder now. "We didn't see anything special down there, just darkness, paintings, and a door."
Nathaniel's lips curled into something between a smile and a sneer. "All you need to know is that there's something in there. And I intend to get it."
Sofia shifted in her seat, her unease growing. "Something... dangerous?" she
"Perhaps," he said.
The girls fell silent again, unsure of how to respond. Nathaniel's cryptic words left them with more questions than answers, but they knew better than to push him further.
Just then, the door creaked open again, and Andrew reappeared, still rubbing his neck but looking more composed. He shot a quick glance at Nathaniel before sighing in slight annoyance. "I looked around. She's with S'dala classroom," he said.
Nathaniel's hands twitched, his simmering frustration barely contained.
Mr. S'dala's classroom was calm, almost too calm. He sat at his desk, watching Slyvian with that gentle, unreadable gaze.
"When you turn eighteen, you'll be eligible to work at the facility in Black Waves City," Mr. S'dala said, his tone gentle yet purposeful. "As I mentioned before in the meeting, I'll be there to guide you since I used to work there."
My eyes remained fixed on the floor. My fingers anxiously played with the edge of my school blazer sleeves, twisting and pulling the fabric in an attempt to calm myself.
"...I know," I mumbled.
Mr. S'dala watched her for a moment, his gaze softening. The way she refused to meet his eyes, the way her fingers fidgeted, spoke volumes. He let out a quiet sigh before speaking again, his voice laced with patience.
Mr. S'dala leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering.
"I know this is a lot to process, I know that you might doubt on a lot of things, and because of your living situation plus your mother absence in your school life. It's a challenge for you. But do know that you can trust me."
That warm feeling came back again.
Trust. I repeated in my head.
"You... worked at the facility," I whispered, "Why did you leave?"
Mr. S'dala's smile never faltered, though his hands, once resting calmly on his desk, now tensed just for a moment.
"I left," he said, "because I was reassigned. To watch over someone." He said.
"...Who was it?" I asked.
Mr. S'dala's smile deepened, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Someone," he said, his tone calm, almost teasing. There was a knowing glint in his gaze, as if he was holding onto a secret.
I was going to say more but... I stopped myself to not annoy him.
Mr. S'dala stood up slowly, breaking the silence. He walked to the window, looking out at the clouds gathering on the horizon. His back was to me now. It's very... broad.
Andrew stood in the doorway, voice cold and annoyed.
"Nathaniel's looking for you," he said.
I felt my blood going cold.
Mr. S'dala didn't move. "Thank you, Andrew."
I stood up slowly, my hands trembling. I don't want to go to the attic but...
"...Do I have to?" I whispered.
Mr. S'dala turned halfway, "You shouldn't leave your friend waiting," he said.
...I don't have friends and Nathaniel is definitely not my friend, he is my tormentor and I am his puppet.
Mr. S'dala glanced at Andrew, then back at me, his smile still not faltering.... I wonder if he knew what really goes on. If he did, wouldn't he save me from it?
I... suppose.
