A Twist of Destiny Bk. 01

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I woke again, the next morning, in an unfamiliar room, lying on a much softer bed. The room itself was rather utilitarian, not like a civilian hospital room, but I didn't care at that point. I sat up in bed feeling refreshed and ready to take on the world. Looking down at my forearms, which seemed to have increased in mass and tone literally overnight, I started looking for the tell-tale signs of having been hooked up to that machine. I couldn't even find a bruise, let alone any puncture marks. I experimentally snapped my fingers and the result was amazing. Fire erupted from my fingertips. It was just a small burst of flame, but it was no mistake: I was pyrokinetic, just like I knew I would be.

I glanced up at the ceiling and immediately noticed a video camera that had been installed in the corner of the room. I waved at it with a dopey grin. Good morning! And sat up fully, certain that someone would come bursting through the doorway shortly. I didn't have to wait very long for, a moment later, Dr. Lamb, followed by a small entourage of lab-coat-garbed assistants, came in with a winning smile on her face.

"Good morning, NightShade!" she chirped, looking a lot younger in her eyes than her actual age could account for. Her eyes twinkled like a small child's would on Christmas morning. "How did you sleep? Any nightmares?" she asked with a hint of wariness in her voice.

My brow furrowed a bit at the question. "No," I said haltingly. "Actually, I slept like a baby. No dreams at all that I know of."

"Good!" she said with a clear measure of relief. "That's very good! I caught a glimpse of you on the monitor as I was coming in, saw that little display of yours. Pyrokinesis! Remarkable! And it seemed like you were able to control it, too, which is nothing short of miraculous, considering how new it is to you."

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Miraculous?" I echoed as she approached my bedside.

"I should say so, yes," she enthused. "Most of our subjects, when they first manifest any kind of ability, tend to make a mess of things. One of them caused such a flood of water that... well, what took him two seconds to create took us four hours to remove with bilge pumps. Pyrokinesis, though- very rare. Only one other case we've seen of it, actually. How are you feeling?" She produced a stethoscope from seemingly out of nowhere and pressed its drum against my chest cavity, her ears listening carefully to my body's internal functions. Heart, lungs, stomach, kidneys- everything checked out all right, it seemed.

"I feel fine," I said. "Really. Hungry as a horse, though. What's for chow?" I asked.

Now it was Dr. Lamb's turn to regard me with a little surprise. "You want to eat?" she asked and then glanced at one of her lackeys. "You heard the man! Be quick about it!" As the young man started to swiftly walk out the door, she stopped him. "Wait! Aren't you going to even get his order or are you psychic and you've been holding out on us?"

The young lab tech blushed profusely at the jibe and then regarded me with an expectant look. I just smiled at him. "Anything will do. I said I could eat a horse. Got one lying around?" He said nothing but smirked and then was gone.

While Dr. Lamb quickly and efficiently gave my body a once-over, she engaged me in idle chit-chat, mostly clinical questions about my state of mind and overall sense of health. I kept telling her that I felt fine, better than ever, but she persisted in checking everything out. By the time she was done the lab assistant returned with a tray of food. Pancakes, two fried eggs, sausage, a biscuit and orange juice to wash it all down. Under the watchful gaze of Dr. Lamb I wolfed it down in moments like I hadn't eaten in days. When the plate had been cleaned of all evidence, I let out a loud, resounding belch, apologized for it (which was brushed aside) and thanked the lab tech personally.

"So..." Dr. Lamb started, "do you think you feel well enough to stand?"

I gave her an incredulous look. "Doc, not only do I feel like standing, I could probably do a thousand jumping-jacks, play a fiddle and thread the needle with a camel, all at the same time. Where's that bear? I'll tackle 'im!" I cast the sheets off my body and swung my legs over the side almost in the same movement. Now that I was sitting up completely I looked around. "Where's my clothes?"

Dr. Lamb gave a quick nod to one of the technicians who was carrying a duffle bag. He opened the bag up and pulled out a small bundle of dark clothing which I recognized instantly but pretended otherwise. "Your military uniform," Dr. Lamb said, "is officially retired. I burned it myself last night. As of right now, the person you were exists only on paper... and, of course, only at home, with your family. From here on out you will be referred to by your codename. Even these nurses here don't know your real name or identity- operational security is officially observed around you at all times. And, so, NightShade... I present to you your new uniform." She took the small pile of clothing from her assistant and presented it to me.

I took it from her and wasted no time in getting dressed, not caring about modesty at that point. The clothes did fit snugly, but they still had zippers and whatnot on them. I walked over to the full-length mirror in the room and stared at myself critically. After a quick glance in the reflection at Dr. Lamb I refocused my gaze on my new clothes and willed them to change. We all watched, I with glee and everyone else with clinical awe, as the clothing seemed to ripple and shift according to my desires, tailoring itself to my body like it was a second skin with pockets. By the time I was satisfied with the new look I could see Dr. Lamb scribbling furiously on a notepad like a woman possessed as she muttered, "Fucking remarkable!" I did my best to stifle a chuckle at her reaction.

"This," she said when she finished writing, "is going to be one hell of a day. I can see that already! Test subjects rarely exhibit multiple abilities in so short a period of time," the doctor explained to me. "More often than not, their abilities manifest in surprising ways and at unexpected times. You truly remarkable for showing such ease with this. Tell me, do you sense any intuitive idea of what you can do?"

"Well, I feel like I can fly, you've already seen me use fire, I can change the shape of things without really thinking about it or knowing how. I feel stronger, faster and healthier. And I feel energized, like I've got all kinds of energy stored up in me just waiting to get out."

She stepped toward me, sizing me up, and then announced to her assistants, "For practical tests, I think we'll start with what we've seen so far: the fire room first and then we'll go from there. First, however, I want to get a fresh scan done. Follow me, NightShade." The assistants were out of the door before we were and they split up to scamper off and prepare for the day of tests. Dr. Lamb seemed to be almost on their heels, clearly not wanting to waste a moment.

I followed her out of the room feeling strong and powerful like never before. When I'd had just that small sampling of abilities I felt better than I had in my whole life, but what I felt now was like night versus day, making that previous sense of myself seem like a shadow of reality, a mere daydream. She led me into a room that was very similar to the one I'd gone into for my initial scans. The room contained an identical scanning booth but it was situated on the opposing wall from the first one I'd been in. When Dr. Lamb asked me to remove my new uniform I gave her a bit of a surprise by doing so in a very unorthodox way: I willed the clothing to compact itself into a small, tight black ball that formed in the palm of my hand. I handed it to her with a smile, wearing nothing more than that, and said, "Hold on to that, please. I'm gonna want it back."

She stared down at the dense ball of cloth in stupefaction and then looked back up at me, not even noticing my nakedness. "How exactly did you do that?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know. I just... wanted it to happen. I can barely darn socks, but I pictured the clothing as a wadded-up ball on my hand and then just let go of it after that, like it was a foregone conclusion, like walking."

"Yes," she nodded and then countered, "but most people learn to walk over a fairly long period of time. How did you know that you even could do that?"

"Instinct, I guess," was my answer. "I remember reading somewhere about experiments in survival instincts were conducted on babies who could crawl. They placed the babies in a room that had a giant gap in its floor. They placed a perfectly clear window over the gap that the babies could crawl on-"

She nodded impatiently. "Yes, yes. I'm aware of the experiment. The babies refused to cross the gap, thinking that they would fall even though they knew nothing of gravity and couldn't recognize the glass as something that they could crawl on. They exhibited the instinct for self-preservation in the absence of instruction. A very well-known case study. But you are implying that you are using your abilities with innate knowledge to guide you."

I tilted my head to one side and shrugged. "I guess so, yeah."

"And you're not afraid of that, even a little bit?" she asked shrewdly.

A look of confusion crossed my features. "Why would I be afraid of it?" I asked. "I figure that my abilities are a part of me now, like my brain, heart and lungs. Are you afraid of your organs?"

"No, but my organs don't have the capacity to manipulate matter."

And that sobered me a little. I wished dearly that I could tell her of my prior knowledge of these powers, that I knew some of what I'd end up getting in the bargain, but I couldn't. I understood perfectly well that my knowing about them had helped me to mentally prepare for their reality and, therefore, I was able to readily accept them. Mastery of a skill which had, before, merely been potential, was rooted almost exclusively like confidence and acceptance of it. A person who wants to play a guitar and feels comfortable with the instrument will have a much better and faster learning curve versus someone who doesn't share the same mindset. I knew what some of my powers would be, ergo, I was predisposed to using them. I hated it, but she would simply have to accept my explanation at face value. I'm fairly certain that she was somewhat frustrated by it, too.

I got into the booth a moment later and waited patiently for the scan to complete. As before, it had taken two agonizingly slow hours. For the duration of that time I couldn't talk to anyone, couldn't use my abilities and couldn't even read a book to pass the time. All I could do was sit there, anxiously anticipating the more practical tests that lay ahead throughout the day.

The scan finally ended, however, and I was only too happy to get out of that damned box. Dr. Lamb handed me my balled-up uniform and watched with keen interest as it reshaped itself, moving almost like it was being pulled over my skin in sweeping waves, until I was once again fully clothed. I left the head piece off, however, having willed it to form a sort of u-shaped bubble that wrapped around the back of my neck. Down here, in Project Odyssey, I didn't feel the need for masks and didn't expect that I ever would.

We walked down a few different hallways, deeper into the underground complex that was Project Odyssey, until Dr. Lamb finally stopped in front of a very thick-looking pair of security doors. She slapped a button on the wall beside the doors and they parted to reveal a vast, empty chamber. All of the walls seemed like they were made of stainless steel. The ceiling had bay doors in it. I suspected that objects would drop out of it and I'd be expected to focus my energies on anything that came down.

"Please enter the chamber and await further instructions," Dr. Lamb said in her thick accent. "I'll be behind the observation window right over there," she pointed to a mirrored wall, "watching everything and studying the results."

I silently nodded and walked into the room. For several moments nothing happened until I heard the doctor's voice fill the chamber. "Okay, first we're going to see how hot you can make things in there. If we give you the order to relax, please do so- we don't want to destroy the room if we can help it."

With a nod, I squared my shoulders and then closed my eyes to concentrate on raising the room's temperature. I didn't hear anything at first but after a few moments I could hear a slight hissing sound and the doctor's voice called out, "Relax! We got it. Thirty-six thousand degrees Fahrenheit. Very impressive, NightShade! Did you feel like that was your limit?"

I shook my head. "Not by a long shot, Doc. Didn't even work up a sweat. I was just getting warmed up, I think. Puns not intended."

"Okay, sit tight while we vent some cool air into the chamber and we'll start the next test in a few minutes." Moments silently passed and I could sense the room becoming cooler over time, but I didn't feel the change in temperature in the same way I did when I was normal. What I got was more like an impression of temperature variance. After a short time the doctor spoke to me again. "All right, NightShade. We're going to lower some wooden targets from the ceiling. I want you to try and focus on them, try to burn them in whatever fashion feels most comfortable to you. Understood?"

"Completely, doctor. I hope you brought your sunglasses."

"The observation window is tinted. Don't worry. Targets are coming down in ten seconds. Get ready!"

I waited patiently for the wooden targets to come out of the ceiling. Slowly, two rather large, thick tree trunks were dropped down, suspended by steel cables, and waited for their destruction. At Dr. Lamb's word, I focused my sight on the two logs, pointed each palm at them and projected a real desire to burn the ever-lovin' shit out of them. The effect was immediate and dramatic: two massive spheres of fire erupted from my palms and slammed into the logs with incredible force. There was a large "fwoosh" sound as the logs were engulfed in flame and, seconds later, the flames died out. Nothing was left of the logs, not even ash. They'd been completely erased from existence by my fire pulses. The gloves that covered my hands, though, weren't even singed. To my astonishment, I hadn't even registered the expulsion of energy. It was as simple a process of me wanting it to happen, so it did, leaving behind only smoke as evidence that the logs had existed at all.

"How do you feel?" Dr. Lamb asked me.

My reply was short and concise: "Exhilarated!" I said. "It felt like... I don't know... like, once I had decided that it was time to burn those logs I suddenly had this surge of energy that I just had to get rid of." I blushed a little bit as I said, "Kind of like an orgasmic release, really. But instead of wanting to roll over and go to sleep, I want to do it again. What's next?"

"That's a pretty good description, NightShade. We've heard a few similar responses, which leads us to believe that focusing your energies like that is somehow tied in with the pleasure-centers of your brain as a sort of motivation, very much like the basic biological imperative to procreate, actually. Next up: metals."

Over the next hour I found that I could render almost any metal to molten liquid in, literally, a hot second. Copper, iron, all kinds of steel, pure nickel and even titanium, all metals of varying thickness and density, didn't stand a chance and fell in fiery blazes, some faster than others. To speed the tests along, I played around with focusing the size of my fire balls and, in some cases, simply projected jets of fire, like my hands had become flame-throwers. In every exercise my clothing didn't even end up with carbon scoring and remained cool to the touch (they sent in some thermometers for me to touch immediately after projecting various types of fire).

Dr. Lamb explained this phenomenon succinctly: when I reach my hands out, they act like radio antennas. Antennas transmit waves of energy which excite air molecules and cause them to move at high speeds of frequency. The levels of excitement generated by me, however, are considerably higher to the point that I cause air to literally combust through my influence (heat, after all, is the by-product of molecules moving at a rapid rate, which creates friction among those molecules and the end result is an expulsion of energy, usually in the form of combustion). She turned on a monitor to show me a very close play-back of what I was doing and, as I watched, I'll be damned if I didn't see the air in front of me at first shimmer violently and suddenly coalesce into blasts of super-excited flames. Once the flames started to come to life just a few inches from my palms, they immediately moved forward as though to follow a trail of oxygen that was meant to catch fire, too, like a conduit. In the case of fire balls the air would fold back in on itself repeatedly, sucking in more oxygen, and gather in size until it, too, was propelled along a directed path. All of this happened in the space of a split-second, but it was happening due solely to the force of my will. It was an incredible thing to behold and I felt like Prometheus: Lo! I bring fire!

Dr. Lamb decided that the pyrokinesis tests are conclusive enough to move on to other tests. When she asked what I'd like to try next, I was quick to suggest energy pulses. "If I can do the same thing on other frequencies," I'd reasoned to her, "the results should be just as exciting. Besides, this is fun!"

So she took me into another room, this one lined with lead, and we followed a pretty similar routine as we did in the fire room. After projecting a few small pulses of blue-colored energy at small objects the doctor upped the ante and started presenting me with much bigger items. The energy pulses seemed to have more "oomph" behind them and, even though nothing melted in exactly the way it did when I applied fire to it, everything was soundly destroyed, one target after the other. The interesting thing to note, however, is that every single energy pulse I emitted was blue. Dr. Lamb has no idea what the significance of that might be and I haven't a clue to offer- I suppose that it'll always be a mystery until or unless science can somehow catch up to my alien-driven, advanced biology.

I was surprised to find that the day was already winding down. Dr. Lamb was positively thrilled at my performances, but she'd been up all night long to monitor me and was getting exhausted. We finished up the energy-pulse exercises and then she joined me in the room. The floor was littered with debris of all kinds as she came in, kicking bits and pieces of metal and other detritus aside with her shoes to make a path. When she got about halfway to me, I playfully swept my hand in front of me and, suddenly, the rest of the path was cleared for her. I'd done it almost instinctually, like I'd been doing it all my life.

Dr. Lamb stopped cold when I did that, her spine erect and her mind suddenly very alert. "Please note," she said loudly for the benefit of her assistants, "that NightShade has effectively demonstrated telekinesis as well and we'll be making that the focus of tomorrow's discovery sessions first." Then she fixed me with a stern look. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, NightShade, but I've got to ask you to limit use of your abilities around other people until we're sure of your full range of talents and control. I know you feel confident in yourself, and it may not be ill-placed, but just the same: our safety must be of primary importance to you."