Yuls had never felt more alive. The days in Jack's penthouse had settled into a stimulating routine. Mornings were for training, for pushing the limits of her control over gravity until every muscle in her body ached and her mind buzzed with exhaustion. The afternoons, however, were for conversation. They talked about everything and nothing: the stupidity of reality shows, the theoretical physics that underpinned their powers, the tactical flaws in action movies. It was in those moments, a glass of iced tea in hand, that she felt she had found her place. The camaraderie, having someone who not only understood her power but also appreciated her mind, was a new and potent feeling. The man the press painted as an egocentric monster was, in private, a patient mentor, a fascinating conversationalist, and an unconditional ally.
That afternoon, however, the outside world broke into their sanctuary through the television screen. They were sitting on opposite sofas with a chessboard between them. Jack was winning, as usual, but Yuls enjoyed the challenge.
"If you move that bishop, I'll have you in check in three moves," Jack said without looking up from the board.
"That's assuming I'm going to move the bishop," Yuls countered, moving a pawn. "Your problem is that you always expect the most obvious attack."
Jack raised an eyebrow, a smile forming on his lips. "The most obvious attack is often the most effective. People get lost looking for complexities where there are none." He captured her pawn with his knight. "Check."
Yuls sighed, frustrated but amused. Before she could plan her next move, the monotonous voice of the news anchor was replaced by the urgent tone of a breaking news report.
"Turn that up, will you?" Jack asked, leaning back on the sofa and abandoning the game.
Yuls grabbed the remote and raised the volume. They were watching the news, a habit Jack insisted was crucial for "staying aware of the situation." Sarah Vance's face filled the screen; her expression was professional, but it also held a barely concealed tension.
"...the kidnapping crisis continues to terrorize Metroville's elite," Sarah was saying. Her voice was clear, but her eyes betrayed a lack of sleep. "Last night, philanthropist Michael Sterling was kidnapped from his home in the financial district. This morning, a ransom of ten million dollars was demanded. This is the third such kidnapping in two weeks, and authorities are attributing the attacks to a new group led by an individual with powers."
The screen switched to grainy security footage. A tall, slender figure moved across a manicured lawn. The ground around him distorted, visibly rippling. A security guard ran to intercept him but stumbled and fell, sliding uncontrollably across the grass, which suddenly offered no friction. The man didn't even stop.
"This individual, who calls himself 'Fractal'," Sarah continued, her voice hardening noticeably, "appears to possess the ability to manipulate surfaces at a molecular level, creating planes of near-zero friction. Police sources, speaking off the record, express their frustration. We're told that tactical teams can't even get close when he's present." The camera cut back to Sarah. "And many critics are already pointing out that the emergence of these new supercriminals is a direct consequence of the era of anarchy inaugurated by Gamma Jack."
Jack turned off the television with a flick of his hand. The screen went dark, plunging the room into silence.
"Anarchy," he snorted, the sound full of contempt. He got up from the sofa and walked to the enormous window that offered a panoramic view of the city. "What a dramatic word. They use it for anything they don't understand or can't control. I call it evolution. And in any evolution, opportunists appear."
"He's using his powers to kidnap people for money," Yuls said. Her voice was firm and sharp. "It's despicable. It's a perversion of everything you represent."
"Oh? And what is it that I represent, according to you?" Jack asked, not turning around. He continued to gaze at the city.
"Power," she answered without hesitation. "But power with a purpose. You want to change the world, to tear down a system you believe is corrupt. Yours is ideology, however twisted some may find it." She stood up and walked toward him. "That guy has no ideology. He just wants to line his pockets. It's not something you would inspire, Jack."
"I represent power," Jack repeated, this time more firmly. He turned to face her, and his gray eyes hardened. "And power attracts imitators. This guy, Fractal, he just represents greed. He's a thief with a new trick, nothing more. But you're right about one thing."
"What's that?" Yuls asked.
"He's using the attention I've generated for his own benefit. He's staining my name." He paused, a dangerous idea beginning to form in his eyes. "And when someone stains your name, you have to make a very public and very clear statement."
Yuls felt a chill, but it wasn't from fear. It was anticipation. Her mind was already working, connecting the dots. "The police can't catch him. They said it on the news. His powers let him bypass any physical barrier. They can't lay a hand on him."
"Because they're playing his game," Jack said, starting to pace the room. "They're trying to run on the ice he creates. They need someone who can ignore the normal rules of floors and walls."
"Exactly," Yuls confirmed. "They need someone who can fly."
"No," Jack corrected her, stopping in front of her. "They don't need me. If I show up and crush him, I'll just confirm Sarah Vance's narrative: 'Gamma Jack, the tyrant, eliminates the competition.' No. They need someone new." He looked at her intently. "Someone to show that not all of us with a gift are monsters or tyrants. They need to see that power can also protect. They need a real hero."
Yuls's heart skipped a beat. She understood instantly. She felt breathless. "Jack, no."
"No what? You're not powerful? You're not smarter than all the cops in this city put together? You don't want to stop this clown?" he challenged her.
"I can barely keep a decanter steady in the air," she said, her voice trembling. "A hero... Jack, that's something else. I'm not that."
"You held up a multi-ton scaffold for seventeen seconds to keep it from crushing a group of people," he reminded her, his voice now softer. "And that was a week ago. You've improved exponentially. But your greatest power isn't gravity, Yuls. It never has been. It's this." He pointed a finger at her head. "The police are investigating the places Fractal has already hit. They're reacting, always one step behind. We need to anticipate. Do you think you could...?"
He didn't need to finish the sentence. "Intercept their communications," Yuls completed. The fear was replaced by a surge of adrenaline, and her eyes showed a new determination. "The Metroville PD uses a third-generation encrypted radio system, but their encryption algorithm has a known vulnerability if you can overload it with junk data packets. I could create ghost access, listen to their communications in real-time without them knowing I'm there."
"Now you're talking," Jack said with a predatory smile. "Get to work. We need to know where he'll strike next."
The next few hours were a flurry of frenetic activity. Yuls, with fierce concentration, turned her laptop into a sophisticated listening station. She pulled additional hardware from her bag that Jack had gotten for her: an external processor, a signal amplifier, and several interface devices that she connected with absolute precision. Jack watched, fascinated. She typed lines of code with astonishing speed, her fingers flying across the keyboard.
"Need anything? Coffee? Food?" Jack asked, feeling strangely useless.
"Quiet," she replied without looking away from the screen. "And an internet connection with no bandwidth cap. Yours will do."
Jack smiled and sat on the sofa, simply watching. He saw Yuls open multiple windows, each displaying streams of incomprehensible code and data. He listened to her muttering as she worked. "Packet filter active... initiating overflow attack... come on, little guy, give... the authentication server is the key..."
Finally, after almost two hours, she leaned back in her chair and let out a breath. "I'm in," she said, her voice tired but triumphant. She put on a pair of high-end headphones. "I'm inside. They're talking about the Fractal case right now." She closed her eyes, focusing on the stream of information. "The analysts are trying to predict his next move. They think the victim profile is the key: they're all incredibly wealthy, but they're also involved in urban development projects that compete with a conglomerate called OmniCorp. They're looking for connections there." She paused, listening intently. "Wait a second... there's a patrol unit reporting suspicious activity near one of the potential victims. They think Fractal is going after the industrialist Marcus Vermonth tonight."
Just as she said it, the lights in the penthouse flickered and died for an instant before coming back on. Yuls's equipment let out a sharp beep, and the screen filled with static for a second before returning to normal.
"What was that?" she asked, taking off her headphones and frowning. She checked her systems. "Looks like a massive power surge on the city grid. It overloaded my power supply for a moment."
Jack stood motionless, looking toward the window. "I don't know," he said softly. He had felt something else. A shiver. A strange feeling of emptiness that lasted only an instant, a sudden chill in the air. He dismissed it. It was probably just paranoia. They had a target.
"Marcus Vermonth. Ironic," Jack said, the smile returning to his face. "He was one of the main donors for the campaign to declare me public enemy number one." He rubbed his hands together. "Alright, Apogee. It looks like you have your first mission."
*****
The night was cool and clear, a relief after the day's heat. On the rooftop of an office building across from Marcus Vermonth's opulent mansion, Apogee watched. The magnitude of the situation overwhelmed her. She wore a dark, functional suit that Jack had "acquired." It was made of a flexible and durable material designed for movement, not for show. A black domino mask covered her eyes, giving her a strange sense of anonymity and power. The night wind stirred her hair.
"Nervous?" Jack's voice asked from beside her. He wasn't wearing a mask. He didn't need one. His face was already more famous than any movie star's.
"Terrified," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "I feel like I'm going to throw up."
"Good," he replied, matter-of-factly. "Fear keeps you sharp. Overconfidence is what gets you killed. Take a deep breath. Focus." He handed her a small earpiece. "Put this in. We'll stay in communication. Your job is simple: defense and extraction. I don't want you to fight."
"What? But..." she started to protest.
"Listen to me," he interrupted, his tone serious. "Your control is good on large objects, but have you tried to stop something small and fast, like a bullet? Or affect multiple people at once in a chaotic fight?" Yuls didn't answer. "Exactly. You're not ready for that yet. I want you to focus on getting Vermonth out of there as soon as the attack starts. Use gravity to create barriers. Lift a piece of the floor, a wall, whatever. Make a shield. Don't engage them directly. That's my job. Understood?"
"Understood," she said, though a part of her felt disappointed. She wanted to prove herself.
"This isn't a test, Yuls. It's an operation. The objective is to save the idiot Vermonth and stop Fractal. Not to score style points," he said, as if he'd read her mind. "There will be other chances to shine. Tonight, stick to the plan."