Recognition Song

**November 8th, 2019**

At the strike of the appointed hour, eagerly anticipated by every single soul within the confines of the building, the school rings echoed through the corridors. The last classes were over, and students and teachers alike were now free to close their notebooks, pack up and enjoy the weekend at their leisure. Within a minute each and every doorway was packed with people trying to make their way to the exit in as chaotic, unorderly manner as possible.

Except for one of the rooms. Mostly void of presence, the school library boasted only the librarian and a single, straw-haired student slouching over a number of opened books. His face was locked in a mild smile, and his fingers were likewise locked over page and pen together. He was taking notes, cramming most likely, in a measure of contentment that belied an ounce or two of misery. The librarian said little, not really in the business of interrupting a diligent student - no - *agent* doing his best in catching up where the normal curriculum had failed. All that mattered is that time owed to the school was being repaid, and that apparently none of the rowdy crowd outside dared to disturb the books’ peace.

*Brrrrrrrrrriiiing!* Ernest grit his teeth as the neon pink triangles of the school bell darted their way across his vision. While the other students grabbed their backpacks and made beelines for the exit, he reached for his headphones. The noise cancellation immediately washed out the bright flashes of color clamoring for his attention, and he pulled up a soothing lavender song from his playlist as he waited for the horde to disperse. Although it had been months since he summoned a blizzard in the hallway because someone bumped into him, his irritation with crowds sometimes manifested as a thick fog that got everyone worked up about villain attacks. After a couple of songs, the multicolored haze of chattering voices and hurried footsteps faded, and he was free to leave in peace.

Ernest dawdled in the halls, stalling on the decision of where to go next. Timothy had rehearsal like usual, and their mom was busy volunteering at City Hall, so the apartment would be empty for a few hours. He could stop by the Big Team Base, but he was still sore from training on Wednesday and not in the mood for more. His thoughts trailed off as he passed the library, spotting a familiar face inside. “Hey, Wren! How’s it going?”

Upon hearing his name called, the erstwhile agent jumped from his seat. His pen almost went flying, and the trail of ink certainly left a very messy sketch line down the middle of the page. Da Vinci he was not, and the only effect this sudden doodle had was complete obstruction of half the words he had written down so far.

“Are you in detention or something?” Ernest asked, ignoring the pointed looks the librarian was shooting him. He couldn’t think of a reason for a student to willing spend their Friday afternoon in the school library.

Composing himself, Wren shook his head and raised his arm. He spoke in the familiar maroon, fingers running down his messy, long ponytail. “No, why would I be in detention? I mean, I skip classes all the time but it’s on A.E.G.I.S. business so legally I’m totally excused! No detention for me, hah-haha hah!” The room flooded with cherry-purple motes, the sound of Wren’s silvery laugh.

“Lucky, I ended up in detention all last week for missing class to deal with Gambite stuff. But you know,“ Ernest dropped his voice to a whisper, “some people have secret identities and all that. So we couldn’t really claim it was official Big Team business.” Not that he hadn’t received detentions for far less noble reasons, back at his old school. Refusing to remove headphones during class, ‘disrupting class’ when they figured out that the sudden indoor showers were his fault and not a defective sprinkler system, skipping class entirely… although they eventually gave up assigning him detention for that once they realized he was just as likely to skip detention as well.

“I see! I’m, uh… studying for an exam. You know, math, from a week ago. Mission took me right out of it so I have a new term set for Monday. I’m, ah, actually kinda booked with all these catch-up terms, and since I just came back from an emergency patrol I figured I’d not interrupt the class by barging in and instead sit here and cram what I was supposed to cram anyway.”

Ernest leaned over to glance at the equations scribbled on Wren’s page. They looked vaguely familiar, probably stuff he should have learned a couple of years ago. “If you’re studying math, I’m not going to be any help. The numbers never want to do what they’re supposed to for me. You should have enough time to prepare for Monday, though, assuming Godspeed doesn’t give us a mission that takes us all weekend.”

Wren let out a small chortle, air escaping rapidly through his grinning teeth. “That’s just one of the obligations I have to deal with, you know? As much as I like being part of the Team, I’m still a Big Team Member second, RESONANCE Agent first,” he said, once more bearing his unwavering, characteristic smile. Slowly but surely, the books that littered the lone table found themselves closed. One stacked on top of another, and before long Wren was seemingly ready to go.

“Which reminds me. I do have a check-up and maintenance test to run today too. It’s still some time off but I might as well study at the cafeteria there. It’s quieter than here at school, hah-hah!”

“...would you like to come with?”

As Wren was consolidating his supplies, Ernest had wandered over to the window. Thin wisps of clouds stretched across the sky, glinting in the afternoon sun. His fingers twitched as he tugged at the air currents, trying to pull the white strands into interesting shapes.

Hearing the agent’s question, he turned back towards the library with a grin. The clouds he had been toying with vanished, allowing sunlight to stream through the window with renewed intensity. “Absolutely! That’s where they made your awesome suit, right?”

“Yeah! It’s where I work! We’re keeping Halcyon safe and sound in our way!” Wren said, his hands already busy getting all of his books back to his bag. Now nothing stood in the way - except, of course, his own enthusiasm and motor mouth. “The armour’s just one of many cool inventions and gadgets we’ve got stashed. I’d love to show you around!”

“I can’t wait to see them!” Ernest shifted his weight back and forth from his heels to his toes, eager to get moving. “So are you part of another team like the Big Team with RESONANCE? Or is it mostly adults like the League of Heroes? I hadn’t really heard of RESONANCE before I met you, but I didn’t really pay attention to most of the superhero stuff happening in Halcyon until we moved here a few months ago.”

“That’s because… we’re not really *superhero*, not in a strict sense,” Wren said, hoisting his bag over his back.

“How about I tell you on the go?”

The term “downtown” universally meant a few things, be it in Halcyon or any other city on the planet. Lots of people, lots of cars and lots of noise. Busy traffic, jam-packed rush hours and public transportation doing its best but unfortunately oft falling on its knees, wheezing and hapless. Yet, at least in here, the trouble of getting to downtown was rewarded with a thriving city life, glass spires and state-of-the-art museums, parks and other recreational areas.

The RESONANCE Research Group HQ was no different, though for allegedly an impressive organization dedicated to study and practical application of superpowers the single mid-height skyscraper (if pristine-clean) felt a little… less than one might expect. The reason for this, as dutifully explained by the young agent, was due to the Group’s relatively fresh roots. With a personal and partially state-funded budget, one can’t expect laurel leaves and gleaming walkways of an extensive science complex.

Still, for an organization not three decades old, the clean glass sliding-doors promised a proper welcome. The inside of the building lead first to a lobby, stylized to fit a modern, almost science-fiction esque aesthetic heavy in plastic, glass and metal. Single pots of plants decorated the walkways that spread out to either side. Almost at once upon stepping inside the premises, the loud bustle of street cars and busy traffic almost vanished - relegated to distant, quiet noise. The only thing unchanged was Wren’s constant purple talking on and on.

Between fuschia car horns and the multi-colored swirls of half-shouted conversations between pedestrians, Ernest had needed his headphones just to focus on what Wren was saying. Once the sounds of the city were shut out behind them, he was finally able to pull them off and soak in the ambience of the building.

“So, that’s the gist of it. Some powers are so… useful, be it for practical applications or replacing whatever tech we can, it’s a waste not to study and figure out how to replicate and use them widely in the world, no? And if we can help people who have trouble wielding their powers in the first place,” Wren paused, pointing to his own chin, “like myself, that’s a win-win, no?”

“Oh, and welcome to RESONANCE!”

“It’s great that people are researching how to use powers like that! I wouldn’t have guessed you had trouble controlling your powers from how I’ve seen you use them, so I guess that means it must be working pretty well? I could still use a bit of help in that department,” Ernest said, smiling sheepishly. “So you said you have to run some kind of test, right? Is it gonna be in one of those labs with all the machines and bubbling beakers and everything? Can I watch?”

“Of course!” Wren exclaimed.

“Of course… what exactly?”

Wren turned around as the two approached the reception counter. The man behind leaned forward, making suspicious eyes at the teenager - one in particular.

“Ah, hi Derek. I was, uh… just talking about showing my friend from school around the facility!”

Ernest did his best to look completely uninterested in the conversation or even the idea of being shown around the complex. The act was perhaps less convincing than usual due to his enthusiasm moments before, but the practiced expression had gotten him out of a fair number of lectures from adults who lost steam when their words failed to produce a crack in the facade of boredom.

The man sighed. “Not *strictly* against the rules but I don’t need to remind you about respecting clearance levels, right? Do I? Please tell me I don’t.”

“You… don’t…?” Wren muttered out, his smile not fading despite the surprise and a little worry in his tone.

“Great,” Derek smiled a knowing smile. “Then I hope you and your friend have a fun time,” he inclined his head towards Ernest. “Remember, Wren. *Clearances*.”

“I got it, I got it!” the teenager barked back and immediately urged his friend to follow. “This way!”

Ernest made sure that Derek could see him roll his eyes before trailing after Wren.

Before long, the two were out of earshot from the reception area, Wren leading Ernest down the white, clean corridor. The only sparks of colour, aside from Wren’s own overpowering voice, were thin lines trailing along the wall and the floor, guiding would-be explorers and workers to their destinations. With Derek’s presence already fading from his mind, Ernest dropped the apathetic act and hung on to Wren’s every word.

“As I was saying… of course! Sure you can! I mean, it’s not going to be too exciting, I think. Most of the tests now are just taking the suit and having it cut things, lift things or push things. Sometimes I fly in a wind tunnel. It really is less exciting than you might think, a-haha,” he let out an awkward laugh.

“I’ve never even seen a wind tunnel before, so that sounds pretty exciting to me,” Ernest countered. “Although, I guess there was that one time I accidentally summoned hurricane-force winds, according to the National Weather Service, so I might know a bit of what that feels like?”

“Like being in a slurpee blender, that’s for sure!” Wren joked. “At least, that’s the now. Back before, it was testing what my vibrations can do, and before *that*, well… a lot of breathing, focus and anxiety exercises! That said, I wouldn’t count that as testing. Kind of hard to actually *test* things when you’re risking turning the entire test chamber into a fine powder. But that was then, now’s now! I don’t think I could ever do that anymore, even if I tried.”

“How long did it take them to figure out how to control your powers?” Ernest asked. “I’ve had mine for a few years, but still feels like I don’t know what they’re doing half the time. I mean, that might also be because I’ve only been intentionally using them for the past few months. Before that I tried to avoid using them at all, but that didn’t really work.”

”Good question,” Wren paused, pondering. Before the other could stop in tandem, the teenager was already moving ahead once again. “I think I had them since birth? At least, mom said I was crying particularly loud at the nursery,” he chuckled at the memory. “But, it wasn’t until like… eight or ten when they really started showing. Sometimes I whispered something, and it came out like through a megaphone. I once tried to grab a spoon and it ended up melting in my fingers. Did you know vibrations can induce crazy amounts of potential energy? Physics!”

As Wren narrated, he continued down the corridor. They turned left, right, left again. The two passed a number of larger chambers - each with a single set of automatic door, and a large panel that serve as a see-through wall to the inside. Many of them were vacant, equipment stowed to the side or hidden completely in the side room. Some still had researchers and “agents” within. A woman attempted to superheat an object with a small flame. Another man in a lab coat was focusing intently on the changing colours of a common rose - with a fruit hanging below one thorn that clearly did not appear there as nature had intended. Ernest found himself slowing to watch the ongoing experiments as they passed, then needing to jog to catch up with Wren’s brisk pace.

Eventually, Wren turned to the right and flicked his ID tag over the door’s scanner. With a simple click, they opened inside a lab room and dressing room at once. Wren threw his bag away as if it was its usual spot. “My parents signed me off to RESONANCE when I was 11, so I’ve been here for five years now. I got bullied in the playground and uh… I cried,” he said, turning to Ernest with a shy smile. “Yeah, just like that.” He lowered his hand and pressed the two switches on his belt. In but a moment, the thin under-armor layer sprung over his frame, soon followed by the rest of his Anemoi Gear unfolding in place.

“So after I nearly turned the entire backyard into gravel, I landed here and well, it’s like I have that much more family now! I think I stopped making people’s ears bleed after months, and it only got better from there. ***HEY EVERYONE***” he shouted as he stepped into the testing chamber, “***I’M*** … here?” he trailed off.

The chamber was empty.

“Huh, I guess we’re first.”

Ernest dropped his backpack in a corner of the lab and stepped in after Wren, taking in the humming of scientific equipment that layered a staticky peach field over the scene. “Do you need someone to run the controls or something?” he asked, pointing at a wall of knobs, switches, and screens to the side. “I bet I could figure it out if you point me in the right direction.”

“Well,” Wren spun around, “it’s not a half-bad idea, actually! I mean, the equipment here borders on magical if I ever sit in front of a terminal, but maybe that’s just me,” he laughed. Slowly, he began to make his way back to the side-room, urging Ernest along. “I can plug my suit into recording mode easily, and we were supposed to test maneuverability in turbulence today. If we can figure out how to turn on the turbines, get some wind, we might get the testing done before snack time!”

“Oh, if it’s wind you need, we don’t even need to figure out the machines,” Ernest said, stepping around Wren’s attempts to direct him out of the room. He held his hands in front of him and began spinning the air between them. The whirlwind rapidly picked up size and speed, and Ernest pushed the roiling mass into the center of the testing chamber. It certainly wasn’t the prettiest windstorm he’d ever made, but Wren said he wanted turbulence. “How’s that?” he shouted, voice barely audible above the rushing of the wind.

There was no response. Where Ernest stood, he was alone. Wren was gone. Yet, it was mere moments after that the teen rushed in through the side-doors, straight into the head of the vortex. His shoulder-armor unfolded two large prongs of metal, both vibrating and serving as thrust for the exhaust propelling him skyward. All Ernest could see different from before was the single green diode flashing next to Wren’s visor, and the kid’s bright, excited grin. It all took less than a second.

“This is perfect!” Wren said excitedly - but not all at once. The wind current essentially spirited him away, sending him hurling aimlessly as if in the throes of a blender. Little by little, his armour adjusted the trajectory. His arms served as guides, his leg thrusters corrected his stance. By the fourth spin, Wren was properly flying through the airy torrent, and finally delivered what he was meant to say.

Then, he burst out of the tornado, coming to a steady float near the corner of the room. “All’s calibrated! Turn it up and I’ll see how fast I make it this time!”

Ernest watched Wren nervously at first, ready to dampen the wind if it looked like he was being pushed around too much. As his flight leveled out, Ernest’s grin widened until it matched Wren’s.

“You got it!” He spooled air into the twister, urging it to spin faster. His storms always wanted to grow larger, more chaotic, and feeding into that impulse was exhilarating.

The eddies shedding off from the central vortex grew strong enough to push Ernest back against the wall. A navy blue patch fizzled in the corner of his vision as a piece of metal somewhere began to creak and groan, but he dismissed it. After all, this place was designed as a wind tunnel. Surely it could handle this bundle of turbulence.

“Awesom—…”

Before Wren could finish, and lurch himself inside the vortex for further calibration, the wind seemed to have better plans for him. The teenager was snatched, his thrusters failing to stand against the gale force. His voice echoed throughout the chamber. Between the blistering winds, one could see the youth spinning madly, round and round the chamber. He tumbled and twisted, his visor reading seventeen different warnings. His guidance system struggled to re-establish a course, but each time they made even the slightest headway, the vortex shifted and crushed any heretofore complete calibrations. Wren could only struggle for moments, seconds of clarity and stability before the torrent would take him again.

Meanwhile, the room stood and buckled. The doors to the control chamber slammed shut, a click lost to the gales signifying safety mechanisms engaging. The plates and cushioning lining the walls began to loosen at their core, shaking and twitching as the winds rent them little by little. Outside, a single warning siren blared unknown to the two teens inside. The chamber was reaching a critical condition.

Ernest watched for a minute, waiting for Wren’s flight to stabilize as it had before. When the teen continued to pitch and swerve erratically, he realized something must be wrong. He tugged at the slipstreams, trying to pull apart the whirlwind, but his efforts seemed to tighten the knot further. His panic rose, and the storm responded by bubbling over with dark clouds. Ernest could only catch occasional glimpses of Wren as lightning began to arc through the air.

The plates started tearing free from the sides of the wall, the wind whipping them away as soon as they became unanchored. One piece slammed into Ernest’s stomach, knocking the air out of him. As he struggled to draw a breath, his last thread of control slipped.

The storm exploded outward. The glass panel looking out into the hallway shattered into a million glittering fragments, and the remaining metal plates crumbled under the force. Its energy spent, the wind finally subsided, leaving Ernest kneeling and gasping in the rubble.

When he could struggle to his feet, he rushed to where his friend had fallen. “Wren! Are you okay?”

The armored teenager was nowhere to be seen. When Ernest called out, no definite response came. At least, not a verbal one. Rather quickly, the facility became aware of the structural collapse in the corridor. Lights turned a slight shade of red, and an automated gunmetal-steel alarm system began to announce instability in the testing chamber index-whatever.

Then, moments later, something wiggled in the distance. One of the loosened, ripped metal plates spontaneously collapsed from the tip of the stack in the corner of the room. Soon, another fell, followed by more scrap. Then, Wren’s leg finally came into view. The teenager scrambled and wiggled, doing his apparent best to free himself from the predicament. With another plate of metal falling away, Ernest could see Wren’s face, slowly crawling up little by little with the help of his extended hand.

“Fine,” he muttered out tiredly, clearly panting. “Mostly fine. Condition early yellow. Bruised, ha--” he coughed. “Bruised, not broken.”

Ernest pulled Wren into a relieved hug. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been using my powers in here when I can’t control them well. That was such stupid idea, and now you’re hurt, and all this stuff is broken, and I’m really, really sorry…”

“Ahh…” the other teenager mumbled out, his limbs flailing haplessly as Ernest embraced him. His eyes still felt bleary, whilst his visor was all too busy drowning him in error prompts and critical system failure warnings for Wren to compose a coherent response.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to.

As Ernest’s babbling apology continued, a new gust of wind began stirring behind him. It started as a light breeze, barely shifting the smallest shards of glass, but began building intensity, clattering the fallen metal plates against each other. One of the fragments was flung a little too fast for comfort, and found itself spiraling towards the face of a woman rushing urgently to the scene. Then, it hit *something*.

A crackling zap blinked into existence, vaguely in the shape of a letter against a semi-translucent spherical barrier around the woman. The fragment was immediately flung elsewhere, and the woman dashed towards the two as if the danger hadn't even registered.

"Are you boys alright?!" she asked in a hurry, already separating the both of them. Her eyes scanned each like a medical professional.

A thunderclap echoed down the hallway as Ernest was caught by surprise at the sudden contact. He tried to answer the woman’s question, but couldn’t get more than a few intelligible words out before becoming distracted by trying to wrestle his powers back under control.

"That," another womanly voice came from up the corridor, "will require a thorough explanation." The woman in question affixed her glasses and pulled away hair from over her sights, disturbed by the winds. To her side stood Derek, who looked at the entire scene with dejected acceptance.

“There you go,” the soft-spoken doctor said just as she finished applying the last bit of plaster on Ernest’s forearm. “Take it easy for the rest of the week. No full-contact sports of any sort, try not to run, and don’t strain your left hand. Thankfully, all your bones are in one piece and I see no sign of concussive trauma. Good? Great.”

Ernest wiggled his fingers experimentally, wincing at the twinge of pain that ran up his arm. “Sports were never really my thing anyway,” he muttered. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” Wren chimed in. The teen was in markedly worse condition than his friend. Virtually all his limbs were bandaged, and his hair was tied to the side to expose his back for treatment just-finished. Despite having been told to sit down for the next hour, Wren was markedly ready to stand up and cheerfully march over to his friend at a moment’s notice. “We’ve had it worse during Big Team duties anyway, right?”

Before he could make any proper swing off his medical bed, the doors to the infirmary slid open as the slightly disheveled professor from earlier stepped in. Wren virtually froze mid-swing. “We all know that work with the Big Team is just as selfless as it is dangerous, but such claims hold little to no value under your circumstances. That goes to you, *Agent Halil*, and your friend as well.”

Wren could only gulp.

“Now,” Dr. Acharya, as evident by the ID tag on her lab coat, turned towards Ernest pointedly. “While our little troublemaker is somewhat expected to cause a scene every now and then, I’d like to know your reasons for what has happened. You are aware that you've not only committed trespassing on private property, but also had your hand in the destruction of research facilities *and* equipment both? Ordinarily, those alone are rather heavy charges.”

Ernest tried to avoid Dr. Acharya’s eyes, but her piercing gaze found him no matter what direction he looked. “It’s my fault, I convinced Wren to show me around. I wanted to help him with his flight testing, but I guess my control of my powers is worse than I thought.” His hands gripped the edge of the bed to either side of him, threatening to crack the recently-set plaster. “It was an accident, but I should have known better.”

“As the saying goes, hind-sight often is 20/20. But, I can clearly see you know right from wrong and your heart’s in the right place. Thankfully, ‘control of my powers’ and ‘should have known better’ are phrases we’re intimately familiar with here in RESONANCE,” the doctor said. While her features began as stern, they relaxed slowly but surely over the course of her response.

She sat herself down on a nearby chair, sights set more relaxedly on Ernest. “I’m sure you’ve heard it all before, but you happen to have incredible powers. The chamber was designed to withstand rigorous wind and turbulence testing, and yet, here we are,” Dr. Acharya gave a wistful shrug and leaned back. “Is this their full extent? I mean, we couldn’t quite make conclusive evidence based on the camera footage. So, first hand accounts would work as the best alternative.”

“Full extent?” Ernest raised an eyebrow. “It could have been a lot worse, if that’s what you’re asking. There was barely even any lightning or—”

“*Ehm…*” the medical doctor cleared her throat in the back. Her tone was more than implicatory.

“Right,” Dr. Acharya corrected herself. “What I meant to say is - people with powers, especially powerful ones like yours often see themselves as… dangerous. Which we mustn’t make light of the situation - they are. But they’re also people, and people change. It’s our choice whether we want to remain dangerous, or turn that potential into something good, greater even. And I believe, confidently on behalf of everyone in the room, that we would be happy to help you wield your powers in a greater, controlled, constructive way. I’m not going to pressure you into a choice, which is of course yours and yours alone. But, if you wish to consider the offer, our doors are open to you.” The doctor smiled.

The words twisted a familiar knot in Ernest’s stomach, and his fingers began tapping out a soothing rhythm. He knew that his powers made him dangerous to be around, and had said as much himself before. But it was always different to hear it from someone else. As much as he agreed with her premise – after all, he’d joined the Big Team with similar goals of learning control – he couldn’t help a habitual balking at the proposal.

At least their labs were based in Halcyon and not some remote facility halfway across the country. And he supposed he should be glad that they weren’t trying to have him arrested for wrecking a bunch of their equipment, not to mention injuring one of their agents.

“Thanks. I’ll... think about it,” he finally replied. It would be some time before his head stopped spinning from worry and he could properly weigh the offer. “Can we go home now?”

“Yes,” the other doctor chimed in. “As long as you adhere to what I said earlier. Wren, however, should stay.”

“Aww…” the teenager in question pouted, visibly deflating as whatever dreams he may have harboured for the evening were just brutally cut short.

“No butts,” the doctor replied with a slight shrug of her shoulders, then turned to her colleague with a knowing glance. “Dr. Acharya, correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t we scheduled for an appraisal some five minutes ago? Considering the patients are very well in a stable state...”

“Oh!” the other woman chimed up. “I completely-...! Thank you for reminding me, Fiona.” Without much of a pause, she had already began making her way out of the infirmary. “Yes, remember what I said, and both of you, take care of yourselves!”

“What she said,” the other doctor, Fiona, followed suit, and bid the two teenagers a soft nod and a knowing, brief wink.

“Thanks, Dr. Acharya, Dr. Barley,” Wren waved… his shoulder, to the best of his ability. The two were, again, left alone to their devices.

Ernest pushed himself off of his bed and walked over to sit in the chair next to Wren’s. “Sorry,” he said, adding to the pile of apologies he’d spouted while the two of them had been getting patched up. Another probably wouldn’t hurt. “I hope you feel better soon.”

“Pffth,” the other teenager blew a quiet raspberry. “No broken bones, just a lot of bruises. I’ll be fine by the end of the week,” he said triumphantly… and added a “hopefully” quieter, under his breath.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Ernest started, tipping the chair back and balancing precariously as he spoke. “Do you actually like working with RESONANCE? I know that they helped you with your powers and everything, but your parents signed you up for all this when you were pretty young. And it seems like they keep you pretty busy. Do you enjoy running those tests, and all that other stuff have you do? When things aren’t going terribly wrong because of your teammates, I mean.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t enjoy it,” Wren said straight. His voice was normal, without much hint of excitement or cheer. It was odd. “My parents signed me up for the therapy. Just that. I finished that when I was 14.” Then, a softer smile lit over his face. “I asked to stay, to help and see what I can do. Those aren’t tests to see if I can control my powers anymore. I’m testing myself as much as the rest of the people here - we’re testing *what can we do*. Because we’re all curious, right?”

Ernest offered a slight smile back, the first hint of one that appeared on his face since the destruction of the testing room. “I’m glad you’ve found something you want to work towards. In a few years, I bet you’ll be able to do even more amazing things with your powers than you can already.”

“Well, I should probably get going before I manage to break anything – or anyone – else,” he said, letting his chair fall forward with a mauve thud. “Good luck with studying for your math exams and everything.”

“Hey, if I can do it, so can you! I’m sure we’ll both be doing great things with our powers in a few years, I know it!” the other teenager gave an excitable thumbs up, just about the same time the chair fell. “Practice’s no different from homework!”

And then, proper silence fell. “...my homework!”

Ernest noticed the storm cloud trailing after him as he stepped off the bus to change lines. The rippling grey mass starkly contrasted against the rest of the cotton candy wisps stretched across the dimming sky. Rather than continuing on the route home, he returned to his seat and rode the line out to the edge of the city.

The cloud continued shadowing him, not growling with thunder, just silently looming, as he hiked the rest of the distance to the shore. The waters of the bay stretched on either side, only a few far-off boats breaking up the flat line of the horizon.

He stood at the edge of the water and shouted until the maroon of his voice was drowned out by emerald green thunder as the cloud unfolded above him. A growing wind swirled around him, breaking the glassy surface of the bay with churning whitecaps. Frustration crystallized into fist-sized hailstones that plunged into the water with rust-brown splashes. The air started to fill with sand and loose branches, but he didn’t pull back. He stoked the gales with rage, pushing them faster and faster until the storm tore itself apart, scattering fragments of clouds for miles.

Finally exhausted, the winds died down and the bay stilled. Ernest sat and watched as the last rays of sunlight faded, staining the sky in brilliant red and violet before slipping away.