Adam snapped out of his daze to find a massive fist inches from his face. What was even more terrifying was realizing who it belonged to—a giant man looming over him.

  A man with a small, bald head perched atop a tower of muscle. A bodybuilder with a physique reminiscent of a bull rearing up on its hind legs, dressed in cargo pants, boots, and a sleeveless green shirt that looked ready to give way under the strain of his massive chest. His shoulders and arms were gorilla-like, their exposed skin crisscrossed with scars—souvenirs from a fight with some ferocious beast, perhaps.

  Adam recognized him: the brute who, along with Simon, had cornered him and Juzo at Liberty Park that Friday night.

  “Kitty’s here t’say hi,” the giant announced with a twisted smirk.

  How had Adam missed someone this colossal sneaking up on him? Had he been so engrossed in his conversation with Vicky that he didn’t notice?

  He tried to clear his vision, hoping to identify escape routes, but dirt in his eyes made it difficult. When he attempted to get up, his feet slipped on the grass, slick with oil from the destroyed android. Before he could steady himself, something heavy and powerful gripped his ankle—the giant’s hand.

  Adam barely had time to react before he was hurled through the air. The force felt like it had swallowed him whole, dragging him into a vortex. Everything blurred as if the world spun around him: the tree canopies, the grass below, the violet sky above. It all stopped with a bone-rattling crash as his back slammed into a tree.

  The impact knocked the air—and his very soul—out of him. Had he hit the tree, or had the tree hit him?

  “Easy there, pretty boy,” the giant, Kitty, said, cracking his knuckles. “Ain’t gonna kill ya. A few broken bones’ll do just fine for me.”

  Kitty was a thirty-two-year-old mercenary and assassin, ten of which he’d spent behind bars if he added up all the times he’d been locked up. Every so often, he was thrown into a cell—sometimes by the Imperial Army, other times by his own employers. And every so often, he was freed—sometimes by the Imperial Army, and other times by those looking to become his new employers.

  He had started his criminal career at nine years old. His towering stature and massive build had made him the terror of other children and a prodigy for adult thugs. While he wasn’t bright, his animalistic instincts ensured he always aligned himself with people smarter than him, allowing him to focus on the one thing he truly understood: smashing skulls. By age twelve, he already had three kills to his name, kickstarting his career as a mercenary and bodyguard for terrorists and powerful mobsters.

  He was a sloppy criminal—and people with agendas had no patience for sloppy criminals. But his brute strength was unmatched, and that was enough for him and those around him.

  How did Adam know this monster’s background? He wasn’t sure. Maybe Juzo had crossed paths with him or researched his record, and now, somehow, that information lingered in Adam’s subconscious. Who knows! What mattered now wasn’t remembering a killer’s past deeds, but recovering from the sharp pain that killer had caused him.

  Wham! Another punch—this time to his jaw. Adam felt the blow as if he were outside his own body, his senses dragging in slow motion. He watched the giant’s monstrous fist carve a straight path toward his face. He couldn’t block it, couldn’t dodge it, couldn’t even beg the man to stop.

  The fist landed on his cheek. His bones cracked audibly, and a guttural “Ugh!” escaped his lungs. Bright flashes flooded his vision. His tongue went numb, and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

  He tried to stand, but his body was so wracked with pain that his legs refused to cooperate. His muscles felt shackled to the ground by chains of agony. That hulk of a man was ready to strike again, to sink those murderous knuckles into him once more, and he… he couldn’t even stand upright.

  He had to avoid the hits. A broken bone was a possibility—maybe he already had one; his jaw hurt like hell. He thought about his spine. No, the beast couldn’t strike him there. Anywhere else, but not the spine. If Kitty broke his back… He didn’t want to finish the thought.

  Right in front of him lay the mangled body of the park keeper android—shattered pieces of metal scattered around him, along with chunks of solid silicone, puddles of oil, and its severed head with a mess of loose wires. That’s how he would end up; that would be his head, and those wires would be his spinal cord.

  He tried to push his enemy away, but the energy he expelled was little more than a sad attempt at a Fotia. With dizziness clouding his head and pain weighing on his neck like a collar of anvils, his chances of creating a true electric fire grenade—or landing an accurate shot—were next to none.

  Meanwhile, Kitty laughed, a heavy, stupid sound, cracking his knuckles again as if warming up for another round.

  Adam saw him reach for his waist and sidestepped onto the grass before that mass of muscle could grab him. The branches of a bush jabbed into his back. He tried to escape by flying, but lacking control over that ability, all he managed to do was hover about three feet off the ground, wobbling like a damaged prop plane. When he finally gained a little altitude, his foot got tangled in the bushes, and his escape plans crashed—literally—along with him.

  He tried again, but Kitty grabbed his ankle in midair. Levitating, Adam twisted to face the hulking figure and fired off another series of Fotia sparks—mere fizzling flares that only added to his humiliation.

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  His eyes burned, his mouth was clogged with blood, and every inch of his body ached to the point of groaning.

  “Let me handle this!” Juzo’s voice rang through Adam’s consciousness, a trumpet announcing the cavalry. With nothing else left to try, Adam surrendered, relinquishing control of his body to his brother’s spirit.

  Kitty grabbed him by the ankle, pulling him closer to strike at close range. But the moment Adam felt those knuckles sinking into his cheek again, energy lines surged from within him, as if the punch had forced them to the surface—as if they had been waiting behind a mental barrier for the right signal to break free.

  Power exploded around Adam, burning the giant’s fist.

  Kitty staggered back, hissing and cursing like someone splashed with boiling water. Adam’s flames had scorched his arm black, leaving his fist raw and smoking.

  Adam rose into the air, his eyes blazing with bursts of light. Despite his battered face, his expression hardened into that of a furious warrior. He lifted his less-injured arm—the right one—coiled it in a vortex of energy, and struck the giant with a backhand blow that sent him sprawling.

  The crash of thunder roared alongside Adam’s punch, shattering the stillness of the hillside. Birds scattered, and even the insects fled.

  As the crackling echo of electricity faded, Kitty collapsed to the ground like a massive tree felled by lightning, smoldering and frozen in an expression of stunned disbelief.

  The fierce energy drained from Adam like a summer storm clearing the sky, leaving behind the grimace of a wounded man.

  Adam descended, leaning against a tree before slumping onto the grass, staying there.

  He glanced toward Kitty to confirm the brute wasn’t getting up. From that distance, Adam couldn’t tell if he’d merely knocked the man out… or killed him. There were no groans of pain, no signs of movement.

  Dead or alive, Kitty wouldn’t be standing anytime soon.

  Adam looked at his left hand. At some point, he’d lost the splint that had been holding his index finger steady. Not that it mattered; every part of him hurt just as badly.

  Slowly, careful not to make any false moves that might unleash more pain, he unzipped his torn-up tracksuit jacket, lifted his shirt, and examined the spot near his ribs where Kitty had landed a blow. He found a dark, purplish bruise blossoming near an older one from training with Vicky days earlier. A couple of teeth wobbled in his mouth, and he hated the mercenary with every fiber of his being.

  A few feet away, the destroyed Cyclops android jutted out of the grass, its severed head lying farther off. It was a miracle Adam hadn’t ended up like that—yet another miracle would be walking away without broken bones. He’d have to wait for a doctor to confirm the damage. He coughed, choking on his own blood, sharp, stabbing pains in his chest.

  If he’d known how to handle his powers, he might have come out of this in better shape. Juzo had played the superhero again, coming to the rescue just in time. And while some part of Adam felt reassured that his brother would always help, he dreaded the idea that it might only ever be at the last second—a luxury of timing he could no longer afford after this.

  He needed to learn to control his powers. It was time to take Vicky’s training seriously.

  Staggering, he went looking for his phone, which had been flung from his hands when he took the first punch. The dim lighting—from nearby buildings and the last hues of dusk—was barely enough, but with some luck and memory of where he’d been, he found it pretty fast. The grass had cushioned its fall.

  He hit speed dial and called Vicky.

  He’d never been so glad to hear her voice, even as she immediately scolded him, “Hey! You hung up before I could—”

  “Meet me at the reserve… same spot as always,” he interrupted, speaking slowly to conserve breath and moving his jaw as little as possible to minimize the excruciating pain. “I… can’t make it home on my own.”

  “What happened?!”

  “Some brute… beat me…”

  “I’ll be there in a minute!”

  “Wait!” Adam stopped her. He paused, waiting until he was sure she hadn’t hung up yet. Then he added, “The swelling cream… it’s in the bathroom cabinet. Bring it, please. I’m not giving my face a chance to puff up like a balloon.”

  Silence.

  Then Vicky sighed. “Once a runway model, always a runway model,” she said, hanging up.

  Adam slumped back against the tree, staying alert in case Kitty woke up.

  The minutes stretched on—the longest of his life—filled with nothing but pain, dizziness, and the irritating buzz of mosquitoes.

  Finally, he heard footsteps in the brush. Vicky?

  Peering through the dim vegetation, he spotted two figures emerging from the other side of the pond, twenty or thirty yards away. He narrowed his eyes, balling his hands into fists.

  Who were they? What were they doing here? Traffickers closing a deal? Two guys looking for a quiet place to have a good time alone?

  The strangers stopped at the water’s edge, their eyes locking onto Adam from a distance.

  From the way they were dressed—gray suits and ties—and their expressionless faces with eyes concealed behind dark sunglasses, Adam guessed they were from some government agency or something similar. They didn’t look like enemy goons, but he wasn’t one to trust appearances. Ignoring his injuries, he forced himself to stand, ready for whatever was coming.

  “No one’s told you how ridiculous sunglasses look at this hour of the night?” he said. The pain coursing through him was significant, but with effort and a sharp mind, he kept his voice steady, free of any tremor.

  “We’ve been tracking you, Mr. White,” one of the men said.

  “And the little show you just put on made it much easier to find you,” the other added.

  Adam took a slow, deep breath.

  “Excuse me, but that show was necessary to save my life. Who are you?”

  “Satellite Agents,” Vicky interjected, stepping out from the bushes behind him.

  To confirm, the men in gray produced their IDs.

  “Chironian Satellite Agency,” one said. “We need to speak with you, Mr. White.”

  Vicky froze mid-step, turning toward them.

  “Him?” she asked, surprised. “Gentlemen, I must say I’m shocked. I thought you’d finally decided to come for me.”

  “We’re well aware of your activities, Miss Viveka,” the second agent replied. “But our interest right now is in him.”

  Adam let out a sharp, displeased hiss. The arrogance of these two was grating. Yet judging by Vicky’s seriousness and the way she crossed her arms as if bracing for bad news, Adam realized these Satellite Agents, whoever they were, weren’t to be taken lightly. Their presence spelled trouble, no doubt a different kind than Kitty had caused, but trouble nonetheless.

  Then he remembered how hesitant Vicky had been just days earlier when he’d offered to take her to the hospital to treat the wound on her back.

  “These are the other vultures you were worried about, aren’t they?” he whispered.

  Vicky didn’t answer. Her silence was confirmation enough.

  “Gentlemen…” Adam addressed them with as much biting sarcasm as his sorry state could muster. “Considering what you’re asking, given the condition I’m in, I’d say you’re seriously lacking in manners.” He wiped blood from the corner of his split lip with his fingers. “You didn’t even bother to tell me my face was a mess? Not even a tissue to clean it up?”

  One of the agents opened his mouth to speak, but—

  “Uh-uh,” Adam cut him off, raising a hand. “I’ve got no problem hearing whatever you’ve got to say—so long as we talk on the way to the hospital. That’s where I’m headed right now, with or without you. You see, bruises… they don’t really suit me.”