Meta (Book 3): Rise of The Circle (12 page)

T
hey say
that hindsight is 20/20. I've always taken that to mean that looking back at a situation and seeing things clearly is easy, but seeing things for what they are in the moment? That's what we have trouble with. While I know
intellectually
that that's true, in hindsight, I think I still would have punched Nathanial in the face. I mean, deep down, I knew in that moment it was a bad idea. I don't regret it, but I maybe wish I hadn't punched him
quite
so hard.

Most of the time nowadays I rarely regret hitting someone harder than I should have, but that's because nowadays, when I'm hitting someone, it's because they're a “bad guy,” and I'm a “good guy.” Before I got these metabands, the number of physical altercations I'd been in was very, very low. Single digits for sure. And I never, ever started them. Back in those days, I was a near master at avoiding fights. When you've moved around as much as I have as a kid, you either have to get good at fighting or
really
good at avoiding fights. Luckily for Derrick's health insurance, I picked the latter ninety-nine times out of a hundred.

The main problem with deciding to be the one who started a fight, for once, is that I was the guy
not
wearing metabands. And that's why I'm sitting here with approximately half of the bones in my hand broken, fractured, or just plain shattered.

I'll probably be blamed by the others for being the one who brought faculty attention to the cavern, but the truth is that there were already faculty members on their way out to the site before the punch even happened. Someone else on campus had posted on social media about seeing Nathanial, Carter, and myself up in the air. A team was dispatched into the woods within seconds to find out what was going on.

They were probably relieved that it was just students out there in the woods at first. I'm sure their worst fear was that someone else had stumbled on the cavern by accident, which could have led to others becoming curious about what else was hidden on campus. If they were relieved, that relief was short-lived and quickly replaced by anger.

All of this has led to me sitting here, back underground, waiting for X-rays of my hand. You might think it's a colossal waste of time and energy to take X-rays of my hand when putting my metabands back on would fix all the crushed bones in a second or two. Personally, I think it's a giant waste of time and energy. Michelle disagreed, though.

Nathanial gave up my metabands pretty quickly after the faculty threatened him with expulsion if he didn't, but the metabands were handed over to them, not me. It's not like you could really “hand” something to me in this condition anyway. Any section of my right hand that isn't broken is too purple and bruised to move. Michelle decided that this would be a good time to teach me a lesson.

So that leads us to the present, where I'm sitting on a metal hospital gurney deep within the underground facility, clutching my bandaged and broken right hand and wanting even more desperately than before to just go home.

"Hi there. You must be ... Connor?"

The question comes from an older man as he enters the doorway. He's balding, with salt and pepper gray hair, and a tightly manicured matching beard. He's wearing a white lab coat and flipping through pages on a tablet that he's looking at over the top of a pair of circular wire-frame glasses.

"Yeah, that's me."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Although I will say that I had hoped it would be under slightly more accommodating circumstances."

"You don't like meeting people for the first time when they've broken part of their own body doing something stupid?" I ask.

"No, that part I don't mind. I've met plenty of people that way over the years. The part that I mind is getting dragged out of bed in the middle of the night to do it."

"Fair enough."

"I'd shake your hand, but, well, you know. In any case, I'm the physician."

"I kinda figured that part out, with the lab coat and all."

He pauses to look down at how he’s dressed.

"No, no, that's not what I meant. Well, that is what I meant, but I meant you can call me The Physician."

"Okay. You don't have another name you like to be called by?"

"Well my real name is Doctor Phillips, but what's the point of agreeing to be the on-call physician for metahumans if you can't have a little fun?"

"So ... you want me to call you The Physician? Like, pretend it's your meta name or whatever?"

He glances back up from his tablet and smiles, which I take to be a confirmation.

"Okay, so, The Physician ..." I say.

"Yes?" he replies, beaming at the fact that I'm calling him by the name he's asked me to use.

"When can I get my metabands back so I can fix this hand up? Michelle did a great job bandaging it before she left, and I don't mean to make light of her work, but I just really think I could do a much better job once I have my bands back."

"Of that I have no doubt," he says, still not looking up from his tablet.

There's a long silence as I wait for him to continue, but instead he just keeps leafing through the pages on his screen while muttering to himself.

"It's just that the pain medication Michelle gave me isn't really doing the trick, you know?" I say, trying to push the subject.

"Ah, yes. Of course, sorry," he finally says.

He places the tablet on a nearby metal table, like the kind you'd expect to see a scalpel and other surgical tools resting on. With the tablet secure, he begins riffling through the pockets of his lab coat. Finally, he pulls out my metabands from deep within and hands them over to me.

I take the bands with my one good hand and place one in the crook of my left arm so I can hold it steady while I gently guide my bandaged right hand through it. The other is slightly easier to put on by holding it in my lap as I guide my left hand into the opening. With both bands in place, they instantly adjust and tighten around my wrists. The feeling of relief comes quickly, and I feel better already. Inside my right hand, I can hear tiny snaps and pops as the muscles move out of the way for the bones to snap back into place.

"Thank you, doctor," I say.

"Umm," he says, pointing to his name badge, which I hadn't noticed before now. It clearly says “The Physician” right on it.

"Sorry. Thank you, The Physician," I say, which makes him smile again.

"Connor," he begins, picking the tablet back up off the nearby table to reference, "I assume you know that we didn't withhold your metabands purely for the sake of punishment."

"I assumed you didn't do it just to punish me," I say as I start unwrapping the bandages off of my right hand now that I won't be needing them anymore.

"Well, no, punishment was definitely part of the reason we withheld them. It just wasn't the only reason," he says. He can see the look of surprise in my eyes and continues. "I had nothing to do with that decision of course. That, you will have to take up with Michelle. However, I was called since we rarely get the chance to inspect cases like these."

"Cases like what?"

"Cases where the owner of a pair of metabands has somewhat seriously injured themselves and doesn’t have immediate access to their personal pair of metabands. We wanted to take a closer look at your hand and the healing process, to see what, if any, residual effect the metabands have on your physiology after they've been deactivated and removed from your person."

"And what did you find?"

"Nothing conclusive at this point, but some very interesting data to pour over in the coming weeks."

"Well, I'm glad I could be of help to someone tonight then. I don't mean to be rude, but am I able to go back to my room now? I'm going to go ahead and guess that you don't give out sick notes, and I've got a 7:30 a.m. math class that I was dreading getting up for even before my unexpectedly adventurous night," I say.

"Yes, yes, of course. We have all the samples we wanted so you're free to go."

"Thanks, doct— I mean, Physician," I say as I hop off the gurney and head toward the door.

"Actually," The Physician announces, "there was one thing that I wanted to ask you about, if you have the time."

"Sure," I reply reluctantly as I halt my march toward the door to turn and give The Physician my attention.

"Your metabands. While they were in my possession, I had them examined and run through a full spectroanalysis as well. There are some elements to them that are quite different from previous sets I've seen in my time as a researcher. I'm not quite sure what the differences mean at this point, or if they're of any importance or not, but there was one element to them that I am positively sure I've never seen before: the tiny cracks that are running throughout both."

"Yeah, I know the ones you're talking about," I reply.

"My apologies if you've already answered these questions for Michelle. I haven't had a chance to look through your entire file yet. Usually I'm brought in for a full medical exam for all incoming students, but your arrival was a little later than usual, and I was unavailable at the time. Can you tell me, were the cracks present when you first found the metabands, or have they only become visible since the metabands came into your possession?" he asks.

"No, they weren't there when I got them. It happened recently. During the fight over Silver Island."

"Hmm, I see. Is it safe to assume that this was the work of Iris then?" he asks.

"No, it was one of the Alphas, before Iris came after me."

"That's not very reassuring news to hear."

"Iris isn't bad, you know," I say.

"You mean the same Iris who freed a prison full of metahumans and left you for dead?" he asks.

"I know how it looks, but there was something ... different about her that day. I'm not sure what it was, but that wasn't her."

"You knew her well then?"

"Well, no. Not exactly."

"So your judgment that she was acting out of character is based on...?"

"It's hard to explain, but I could just sense it. There was something wrong."

"Well there are cases of metahumans gaining additional senses in some instances. Since these senses were not present at birth, it can take some time for the subject to adjust to them and learn how to interpret them. In your case, I would be careful to trust those types of instincts before you fully understand them."

I nod in agreement, mostly because it's so late and I'm too tired to argue.

"Have you noticed any changes in your abilities since these cracks first appeared on your metabands?" The Physician asks me.

"I have. There are some things that I used to be able to do that I can't anymore."

"Such as?"

"Teleportation."

"Really? That is fascinating. Absolutely fascinating. I have a lot more questions for you, but for right now, I believe it's time to call it a night, for the sake of both of our sanity. But I'll be seeing you tomorrow afternoon, and we can resume this conversation with the aid of a few scientific instruments."

"As long as I get to go to bed, I'll probably agree to just about anything," I say.

L
ast night
I was worried that I was so tired the alarm might not wake me up on time this morning. It turns out there wasn't anything to worry about since my new roommate, Tyler, wakes me up with something way harder to ignore than an alarm clock: the stench of half a can of body spray that he seems to think is a good alternative to taking a shower. Pretty soon I'm up and out of bed, getting ready for my day as quickly as I can just so I can get out of this room and get some fresh air.

Outside, the weather feels especially crisp. Fall is in full swing and winter seems like it's not far behind. Last winter was especially mild in this part of the country, and I'm hoping for more of the same this year if I'm going to be spending half my day trudging across this sprawling campus. It sucks enough as it is already. I don't want to find out how much more it can suck when there's snow.

Math is the first class of the day, and it's kind of nice to use that part of my brain for a little bit. As far as I know, no one in this class is a metahuman, so I'm able to just be a normal student for a little while without having to deal with stares from people who know what happened last night. I'll have to deal with the consequences of all of that later today, but the further it can be pushed off into the future, the better. That's pretty much my philosophy on most things in life nowadays. I'm sure that will work out well for me and not backfire horrifically in the future. Yup.

Lunch is a solitary affair today too. I head toward the food court and look for whatever place has the shortest line. The line for Six Guys Burgers is, predictably, practically out the door. Jalapeno Burritos isn't much better either. Looks like I'm going to have to go with the old standby: pizza.

The generic, no-name pizza stand is barren of anyone, except the two employees behind the counter, which doesn't speak very highly of their food, but even bad pizza is still pizza, so I decide to give it a shot. As I approach, the employees continue their conversation, completely oblivious of me standing there. I'm starting to understand why nobody comes here.

"I'm serious, dude," says the employee stuck behind racks meant for holding pizzas after they come out of the oven.

"No way, didn't happen," says the long-haired employee tasked with manning the cash register. The guy who is completely ignoring me.

"I'm telling you, bro. I saw it with my own two eyes. Right out over the woods behind campus," the other says.

Uh oh.

"There aren't any metahumans in this area, dude. If there were, I would have seen them. Someone would have seen them. Skyville is a meta ghost town, no matter how badly you wish it weren't. Just admit that you're making it all up. Why would you have even been hanging out in the woods last night anyway, man?"

"I was just, uh, going for a walk, you know," he says.

"And did you happen to 'partake' in anything during your walk?"

"Are you guys open for lunch or should I just go wait in line at one of the other stands?" Clara asks. These guys might not have noticed me standing here, but I can't really blame them, considering I didn't notice Clara standing two feet away from me for who knows how long.

"Sorry about that. What can I get you two?" the cashier finally asks me.

I
think
this might be a new record. If it's not a new record, then it's certainly somewhere in the top three for sure, but I'm almost certain that this is by far the shortest amount of time I've had to eat lunch alone at a new school. Initially, I'm still pretty pissed off about what happened last night and whether Clara had a hand in it, but this seems like an olive branch, and I'm not really in the position of turning down new friends right now.

"So, you like pizza, huh?" Clara asks to break the silence after we find an empty table to sit at.

"I like pizza and hate lines, so that place seemed like the best move, today at least," I reply.

"The pizza tastes like cardboard that someone put spaghetti sauce and string cheese on, but there's never a line. I assume you've got a pretty packed schedule like the rest of us, so don't be surprised if you bump into others from our little after-school activity there."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Listen, I'm sorry about last night," she says after an awkward silence.

"It's okay. It's not your fault."

"No, but I didn't do anything to stop it either. We started doing little initiation pranks a while back, but we haven't had any new recruits in a while, and I guess it just escalated quickly when someone new finally came in. Some people have had a little too much time to figure out new and humiliating ways to welcome newbies."

"So you don't roll out the red carpet like that for everyone?" I joke.

"Nope, only the ones everyone feels threatened by apparently."

"People feel threatened by me?" I ask, completely confused.

"Yeah. Not in the physical sense or anything. You seem like a nice enough guy and the faculty does a pretty good job of running background on everyone before they get here, so no one's
afraid
of you, at least not in that sense. They just think your abilities make them look weak in comparison. A lot of the people here can do one or two things well, but you've got the full smorgasbord of powers. Everyone who gets a taste of what it's like being one of us wants that."

"Well, that may have been the case before, but I might have to permanently scratch a few of those powers off the back of my trading card soon."

"What do you mean?"

"Ever since Silver Island, there’ve been things that I used to be able to do that I can't anymore. I'm not sure if it's permanent or not. I actually have to do some tests today to hopefully find out more about what happened."

"And what happened?"

"It was the Alphas. One of them, Beta, hit me and Iris full on with a blast of energy. It caused my"—I look around quickly to make sure that no one is eavesdropping and decide to be a little ambiguous just in case—"
bracelets
to crack."

"Your metabands
cracked?
" Clara asks at a volume much higher than the one I'm currently using to speak to her.

"Yeah."

"I wouldn't tell anyone about that if I were you," she says, oblivious to her yelling.

"I kinda figured that, which was why I was whispering."

"Oh, right. Sorry."

"Anyway, since that happened, there are things that I used to be able to do that I can't anymore. I'm not sure if it can be fixed or not."

"That's gotta suck."

"It does, and I'm still getting used to it. But that day, honestly, I just felt lucky to get out of there with my life. Half-working metabands are just a bonus."

"Wow, yeah. I can imagine anything, or anyone, strong enough to crack those things is pretty dangerous. I'd heard rumors that they were able to destroy metabands, but I've never met someone who actually saw it close up," she says.

"Lucky me. So, enough about my abilities, or current lack-there-of. What's your story?"

"What do you mean ‘what's my story?’"

"What's your story? Where are you from? How'd you get your ... you know."

"I'm from around here, actually. I was already going to school here when I got my bands. Found them stuck up in a tree."

"Next to a cat?"

"No, not next to a cat. I was walking home one day, and I don't know why, but I had this sudden urge to look up, and there they were, dangling from a pair of branches about twenty feet in the air. I don't know how long they were up there before I found them, but I did. Before I knew it, they were changing my class schedule here and telling me about hidden entrances and stuff."

"That kinda stinks that they changed your schedule. I used to move around a lot before. I know how it can be to have your routine uprooted like that."

"It wasn't so bad. Most of the classes I was in I hated anyway, and I never really made that many friends here in the first place. The program feels like a much better fit for me."

"It's nice to hear that at least someone is getting something out of it."

"You'll come around. You haven't even been here for a week yet," she says to me, knowing that I don't believe it.

"So I know what you can do, but I still don’t completely understand your brother’s abilities.”

"What don’t you understand? I heard you already got a pretty close-up look at them."

"Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it makes any sense to me,” I say.

"Basically, he can control water."

"I figured that much out, but I still don’t really understand it. So like he can control the temperature of it? Freezing and stuff?"

"No. That's a pretty common misconception. A lot of people think those guys are Elementals, but they're not. Not in my opinion, for whatever that's worth at least."

"So what can he do with water then?"

"It's hard to describe. Maybe the most accurate way to put it is that he can control its movement, the way it flows and moves. He can also communicate through it, they think, but they’re still learning more about that."

"What, you mean like he can talk to fish?"

"It only works one way. They can talk to him. Kinda."

"What do you mean? What kind of things does a fish have to say?"

"Not much, really. They're pretty much as stupid as you'd imagine them."

I try to contain my laughter, but it's no use.

"It's not funny, you know. It sucks. The first time he found out he had it was at one of those Chinese food restaurants with a fish tank. An hour of eating with our family while trying to ignore two-dozen fish yelling, "More fish flakes, more fish flakes!"

Now I'm not even trying to hide my laughter. Clara finally smiles too.

"In retrospect, it was kinda funny, I guess. That doesn't mean he’s going to start eating fish again any time soon."

"Fair enough. No one likes their food talking back to them," I say. "So do you know anything about what they have in store for me today? The Physician just said that they'll be running more tests on me. He didn't really elaborate."

"That's fairly standard for noobs around here. They'll throw a whole bunch of tasks and tests at you, see which ones you can do, which ones you can't, how well you do them, etc. Then they'll rank you on the Matheson scale.

"Matheson scale?"

"It's what they use to rank how powerful you are based on a bunch of different criteria. Then they use that rank to decide what you can use more training on. Basically they're looking for any latent abilities you may have that they can further hone."

"But why go through all of this trouble?"

"Well, they say it's so they can figure out how we can help when there's a need, but they'll also admit that a lot of it has to do with learning more about how the metabands work in the first place and maybe getting closer to figuring out where they came from."

"And have they gotten any closer?"

"I wouldn't hold my breath."

T
he rest
of the school day is pretty standard. And by pretty standard, I mean me mostly being confused as the teachers go over a bunch of concepts and material that I missed during the time my school was leveled by two metas. For the most part, the teachers are understanding and eager to offer after-school tutoring. I thank each of them for their offers but politely decline, citing others subjects that I’m even further behind in and that I need to attend tutoring for after school. They all understand and accept the lies for excuses, but what they won't accept is me permanently trailing behind everyone else. That means there won't be a whole lot of free time for me in the upcoming weeks.

The final bell rings at 2:30 p.m. Most of the campus is smiling and in a great mood. Their day is over, after all, and they have the rest of the afternoon to themselves.

It's a different story for me and the handful of others that are making their way toward the far end of campus, heading to a fictional after-school activity, mindful that there's no one acting overly curious, seeing if they can tag along.

When I make my way to the classroom that Michelle showed me, room 143, the door is already locked. A locked door means that the elevator is currently in use. Standard protocol for this is to immediately walk away and avoid bringing any attention to it. Standard protocol also says that I'll either have to wait the four or five minutes it'll take for the elevator to come back up or make my way to the men's room and use one of the elevator stalls. It's a little more than slightly humiliating to have to travel via toilet after being used to flying wherever I wanted to go before.