Alarms rang through the air as red lights flashed against the sterile white walls of the Arkangel Pharmaceuticals facility. Oscar, Chase, and Andre darted out of the research laboratory in pursuit of Frost. She was faster than he expected. Much faster. Panting like a dog, he lagged behind the two other boys, who stormed ahead effortlessly like trained soldiers running into battle.
They didn't seem nervous at all. But Oscar?
He was starting to panic. Big time.
Once he made it outside, his anxiety only got worse.
Atlas had emerged from their hiding spots in the grass with guns blazing as they attacked the fleeing NEMESIS mercenaries. Masked soldiers dressed in black and red fired back while loading up their armored vehicles with machinery and crates from inside the facility.
Oscar's steps faltered. Gunfire rattled in his ears as the smell of sulfur stung his nostrils. Chase and Andre didn't dare stop. Bullets bounced off them as they charged at the NEMESIS soldiers. They didn't have any weapons—they were the weapons.
Up ahead, a blurry streak darted from one spot to another, knocking over the nearest NEMESIS soldier, occasionally wrenching their guns out of their hands. Theo. Whenever a gun was raised in his direction, he'd change course, speeding away like a rocket. He might not have been much of a fighter, but that didn't matter when no one could lay a finger on him.
Even Emily and Stella were working well together. They had gone after one of the black trucks attempting to flee. Bright rays of light poured from Stella's palms, momentarily blinding the soldiers. Emily hit a few of them with arrows from her bow before releasing an ear-piercing scream that crumpled the side of an armored vehicle.
The six of them had only had their powers for a few weeks now.
But they were already a force to be reckoned with.
Oscar watched the battle from the fringes—frozen. They didn't need him. No one ever did. What could he do to help anyway? Out of everyone, he had the least control over his abilities. Besides, his powers weren't helpful like everyone else's. Fire wasn't a tool. It wasn't a gift like Director Shaw preached. It was a force only capable of destruction.
He glared at his palms. He glanced back up.
The number of mercenaries was significantly smaller than before. Though, that was probably due to the fact the Atlas agents dispatched half of them.
They didn't need his help. They didn't need him.
An Atlas agent broke away from their squad and jogged over to him. Oscar faced them as she removed her helmet. Black hair clung to her sweaty face. He cowered under her harsh glare.
"What the hell are you doing here?!" Victoria shouted.
His face burned. "It's a funny story actually—"
"How did you even—" She cut herself off to fire two rounds from her handgun. An encroaching NEMESIS soldier fell to floor, motionless. "Never mind. You need to get out of here."
"Not sure if you noticed..." Oscar gestured at the dwindling battlefield. A few NEMESIS vehicles had sped off, but majority of them had been intercepted by Atlas and the young Primes. "But we kinda helped you stop them."
Overhead, clouds moved across the sky, blocking the morning sun. Everything darkened for a moment.
Then, Apex emerged from a massive doorway in the facility's cargo bay. He gripped his crimson katana; the blade scraped the ground behind him, sparks flying from the tip of the blade. Oscar shivered at the sight of him.
"Okay, maybe I spoke too soon..."
"You think?" Victoria snapped. She pressed a finger to the communicator hidden in her ear. "Apex has entered the field. I repeat, Apex has entered the field."
All attention turned toward the red-eyed ninja.
Chase dropped the NEMESIS soldier he'd grabbed by the straps of their suit to face the man. He scowled as he stomped toward him.
"It's over!" he shouted.
"Over?" Apex laughed, the sound warped by his metal mask. "We're just getting started."
Red and black particles surrounded him. Oscar blinked. Apex appeared behind Chase and swiped at him with his katana. The blade never pierced his skin. They both froze.
"Nice try," Chase said. He turned and delivered a swift punch to Apex's gut. The NEMESIS commander went flying.
Oscar grinned. His smile didn't stay long, though.
Apex teleported before he hit the ground, appearing a few feet away with his hand pressed to his stomach. The armor plating covering his abdomen cracked into pieces before falling away. Fury burned in his crimson irises.
Uh oh.
"Take him down!" an Atlas agent ordered.
Bullets ripped the air. Apex teleported again and again and again. Shell casings and bullets scattered the gravel floor. Before Chase—or anyone else—could react, the red-eyed man teleported away. Again. This time, he landed beside one of the few unaffected NEMESIS vehicles.
"We can't let them get away with that tech," Victoria grumbled. She sprinted back into the fray to help her fellow agents.
Oscar remained behind.
NEMESIS continued to flee. To his right, the engine of an eighteen-wheeler roared to life. A masked soldier sat in the driver's seat. They steered the massive trailer out of the cargo bay and bent a corner. Hard.
Hard enough to put Oscar right in the path of the metal death machine.
"Stop that truck!" someone shouted.
But there wasn't anyone else around. No one except for Oscar. He'd agreed to come on this ill-advised mission. He'd agreed to help Atlas stop NEMESIS. He should've stayed behind. He wasn't a hero. Not even close. He was more of a coward than anything.
But maybe I don't have to be...
With his lips pursed, he nodded to himself. He held his hands out and charged up as much fire as he could. Tiny sparks flew from his palms before massive flames began licking at his hands. He kept his stare forward as the truck barreled toward him. It wasn't backing down.
Neither was he.
Cocking his arm back, he prepared a fireball, bigger than any he'd ever conjured back at the Acropolis.
He'd never throw it, though.
Memories of the fire that claimed his parents flashed in his mind. The smoke, the ash, the smell of burning flesh... It was all coming back. He lowered his hand. The flames died down as the truck continued gunning toward him. He paid it no attention as his memories swallowed him. He couldn't save his parents back then.
What could he possibly do now?
The eighteen-wheeler's horn blared, jolting Oscar out of his daze. Inside, the driver sneered and pressed on the gas. He tried to move, but his feet were heavier than anchors. His heart thumped in his chest. Blood rushed in his ears, drowning out everything around. Turning his head, he prepared to get flattened like a pancake.
The impact never came.
Someone tackled him out of the way in the nick of time. All the air left his lung as he hit the floor, narrowly missing the speeding truck as it fled the scene. Bullets riddled the side of the vehicle as it went, but it didn't stop. Within seconds, it disappeared down the only road leading to the Arkangel Pharmaceutical's facility. The Atlas agents were already chasing it down.
Coughing, Oscar turned to see Andre picking himself up off the floor beside him. The metal coating slowly left his skin.
"You got a death wish?" The big guy dusted off his clothes.
"No," he shot back, still on the ground.
"Then stop trying to die."
Andre jogged over to where the others had grouped up.
Groaning, Oscar buried his face into his hands. His body deflated like a sad balloon. He hung his head and cursed in Spanish under his breath.
He wasn't cut out to be a superhero.
Not even close.
Mierda.
###
The battlefield reeked of sulfur, scorched metal, and failure. After the fighting was done and NEMESIS thwarted all attempts at capturing them, Atlas agents begrudgingly swept the facility. They barked into their radios as they assessed the damage and took inventory of what was taken, while other operatives dragged unconscious NEMESIS mercenaries into restraints.
Oscar found himself staring at the black smoke curling from the cargo bay where they loaded their loot. He frowned, jamming his hands into his pockets. The cool metal of his trusty lighter did little to soothe his nerves this time.
He lingered at the edges of the smoking battlefield, his palms trembling as tiny embers fizzled out. His chest tightened upon overhearing an agent reporting into their comm.
"Confirmed. Section Nine of the prototype reported stolen."
The machine they'd seen in that room inside... It was what NEMESIS and Klaus were forcing Arkangel to make. He didn't know what it did or what it was for, but something told him he didn't want to find out.
Whatever it was, it wasn't good.
And he'd let it get into the wrong hands.
So much for helping.
Nearby, Chase and Emily were already arguing with Victoria about the sequence of events that followed their decision to insert themselves into the mission. Chase claimed he could've taken Apex if they had more time. Emily insisted Atlas wouldn't have stood a chance if they didn't step in. Victoria wasn't having any of it, though. It took Stella stepping in to quell the raging flames of the argument.
Meanwhile, Theo couldn't stop grinning. He looked like he'd just walked out of an action movie. Even Andre looked relatively pleased with himself as he stood over two incapacitated NEMESIS soldiers he'd knocked out himself. They all looked like they belonged there—even if they didn't.
While to stop all of NEMESIS from escaping, namely Apex, Frost, and a few pieces of stolen equipment, they did capture a good number of their soldiers. The mission wasn't a complete failure.
So, why did Oscar feel like one?
Maybe because he failed to do anything. He didn't fight any of the agents. He didn't stop the truck. If it wasn't for Andre, he'd be dead.
After the area was secured and reports were drawn up, Atlas agents rounded Oscar and the others before marching them to the waiting jet. Inside, the hum of the engines filled the tense silence. The others collapsed into seats, buzzing with post-battle energy, but Oscar drifted to the far corner, sliding down into a solitary chair by the window.
He squinted at the glowing horizon, arms folded tight across his chest. Outside, the world blurred into streaks of green and gray as the jet lifted off. His reflection in the glass stared back at him. Tired. Defeated. Useless.
They'd stopped nothing. He'd saved no one.
And, thanks to him, NEMESIS was one step closer to completing their ultimate mission.