After a mission goes horribly wrong, an elite Army sniper must deal with the consequences and what they mean for life and career. This story takes place in my Legacy Universe.

I had originally planned on writing a different Legacy story next, but my muse kept turning to this one so I wrote it out of the order I’d previously intended.

This is the twenty-first story in my Legacy Universe, but like the others, it can be read on its own. A complete list of the Legacy stories will be provided at the end of the story as well as the order in which they were written.

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The burning sun beat down on me, baking me alive and making me think that this is what it must feel like in hell. I was sweating so much that my uniform was soaked through, or at least it would have been if it the sweat didn’t evaporate almost instantly. Add that to the fact that I’d somehow gotten sand in my ass crack and I was extremely uncomfortable.

At the moment, I was in an undisclosed location in the Middle-East, being cooked alive under the desert sun and remaining absolutely still in spite of my discomfort. I was currently on top of a ridge, laying on the ground and staring through my scope at the terrorist compound below me.

The compound wasn’t much as far as terrorist bases went, being neither hidden in a cave or in the middle of a civilian populace. In fact, our intel suggested that this was just a temporary base that hadn’t been intended for long term use. It was out in the open and its security was a joke, consisting of a single watch tower and constantina wire that had been run around the buildings. However, I knew that this wasn’t going to be an easy location to take. After all, they didn’t need much security since some of those inside were classified as extremely dangerous.

My crosshairs were currently locked on a specific figure, a man who stood just under seven feet tall and who had muscles like a bodybuilder. He was dressed in a tan covered jumpsuit that looked more like my desert fatigues than what the other people in that compound wore. Of course, he wasn’t actually part of this particular group…at least not ideologically. This target was an Italian mercenary who’d been hired to help the terrorists out, probably from the unknown party who was using the terrorists as pawns in some game.

“Harbinger,” a voice said in my ear. I perked up at the sound of my call sign. “We’re in position.”

“Roger,” I responded over the radio, bracing myself for the attack.

My name is Roland Gettz and I was a Staff Sergeant in the US Army, assigned to the 3rd ADU…Anti-Developed Unit. We were a special unit that was specifically tasked with fighting developed threats...like the one in front of me.

Our current mission was to recover a container of an extremely dangerous mutagen that was capable of causing people to develop powers. From what my briefing said, you were far more likely to die from exposure than to become developed, but there were always people who were willing to take that kind of risk for the chance of gaining powers.

An unknown party had somehow acquired the mutagen and then gave it to these terrorists, perhaps so they could remain in the shadows while these terrorists took the blame for using it, or perhaps because they didn’t want to risk their own people. What I did know was that the mutagen was in the compound in front of me.

Intelligence said that these terrorists had exposed more than two dozen volunteers and that they’d gained two developed of their own as a result. Both of those developed were present, along with the Italian mercenary. That meant we would have to go through three developed in order to complete our mission.

“We are a go,” our unit leader, Captain Burke called over the radio, just a moment before the rest of my unit began their attack.

The 3rd ADU was relatively small, consisting of only eight highly trained members. Seven of them were attacking the compound directly while I stayed back in sniper position. Normally, I’d have my spotter Mike here to help me gauge wind speed and direction, but Captain Burke wanted the extra fire power up close for this operation. Fortunately, I was only about a hundred and fifty yards out and could handle this without help.

My unit launched several RPGs…rocket propelled grenades at the compound, taking out several people in the initial volley. The people in the compound returned fire, with one of them suddenly flying into the air and floating above the compound. I just kept my crosshairs locked on the big guy, though I didn’t pull the trigger. Intel said that he was bulletproof so I didn’t want to waste any shots. That would have been unprofessional at best.

The flying man fired blasts of green energy from his hands but my team took cover from that as they would any other attack. The third developed appeared at this time, running out of the compound at super speed and going straight towards several of my teammates. He was moving fast enough that he could probably slit their throats before they even realized he was there, except that he ran straight into the nest of claymores that we’d set up in preparation for him. Even moving at that speed, he couldn’t escape the explosions and shrapnel which came at him from every direction at once.

I was tempted to take out the flyer, but that wasn’t the plan. I kept my crosshairs on the big guy, waiting for my opportunity. He charged towards Mike, who only pointed towards me. The large man paused to look in my direction and I smiled, pulling the trigger and sending a depleted uranium round right through his eye. His skin might be bulletproof, but there were ways to get around that with either the right ammo or the right aim. I’d used both. The bulletproof developed collapsed to the ground dead.

To my surprise, the flying man was still active and firing blasts of energy. The plan had been for Splatterhouse and Chuckwagon to focus on him once he appeared and take him out. Then as I watched, one of his blasts destroyed the boulder that Chuckwagon had been using as cover, killing my teammate and friend in the process.

“Chuck,” Mike called out over the radio.

“What’s the situation on flyboy?” I asked over the radio, keeping my voice calm and professional.

“Some kind of force field we didn’t count on,” Mike responded. “Everything we throw at him bounces off.”

I turned my scope and my attention to the flying target, letting the rest of my team deal with the few remaining non-developed threats. As I watched him through my scope, I noticed a flicker in the air around him, a flicker that faded away whenever he was actually firing one of his energy blasts. That was his weakness, the moment when the energies were redirected away from his defense in order to power his offense. I waited until he fired another blast and then pulled my trigger. His head exploded and a moment later, his body fell from the air.

“The harbinger of death does it again,” Mike called out cheerfully over the radio.

“Keep a watch Harbinger,” I heard from my radio. “We’re going in to secure the site.”

I remained where I was, looking out for any remaining hostiles while the rest of my unit overtook the compound and secured it. It was only when they called out an all clear that I allowed myself to relax at all. But even then, I continued to keep a close watch for any threats that might jump up and bite us in the ass.

I thought about the mutagen that was the target of our mission, considering just how much damage it could cause in the wrong hands. I was just thankful that we were able to stop this group from being able to create their own army of developed soldiers. I’d lost friends to roadside bombs and could only imagine how much more damage they could have done with super powers.

Of course, as dangerous as developed could be, they could still be stopped…as I’d just proven. For the most part, I didn’t see much difference between some guy with a rifle and one who could shoot laser beams from his eyes, except perhaps for the fact that the laser beams are easier to conceal. Most developed could still be killed with a bullet to the head, and those who couldn’t merely needed better weapons or more careful planning. But in spite of that, I wouldn’t want to put developed powers into the hands of an enemy any more than I’d want to give them a 50 cal.

“We found the target,” Bugs announced on the radio, sounding a little worried. “It looks like they wired it in to some kind of bomb…”

“They’ve weaponized it,” Splatterhouse exclaimed, sounding eve more worried than Bugs. “There’s a timer… Fuck…”

Mike’s voice came next, yelling, “RUN. They set the damn thing to go off in case we took them…”

I stared through my scope, watching my team run from the shelters on the compound as fast as they could. Suddenly, the small building they’d just come out of exploded in a massive blast that caught Bugs and Splatterhouse. But as bad as that was, a thick ground cloud of green smoke was coming from the ruins and spreading out. I jumped to my feet, hearing my friends scream as the gas caught them.

“Eyes,” I called out Mike’s call sign. “Mike…”

The radio went dead though I continued calling out for the rest of my team, getting no response. They’d been caught in an explosion and then in the gas. If they were still alive, they weren’t in any condition to respond. It took me a few more seconds to realize that the green cloud was coming towards me. I’d positioned myself downwind from the compound in case they had any dogs or developed with an enhanced sense of smell, but now that very precaution put me directly in the path of the green cloud.

Even though I was worried about the rest of my team, I had to focus on saving my own ass. I covered my nose and mouth with a cloth, wishing that I’d had my gas mask and hoping that this would do the trick long enough for me to get away. I tried moving as fast as I could but the cloud had already surrounded me and I could feel the burning in my lungs and on my skin. I staggered, trying to keep going but after only a few yards, I fell face first into the sand and lost consciousness.

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I was in a dark haze, feeling a burning pain through my entire body yet a strange numbness at the same time. Images flashed through my mind, memories of Chuck getting hit by the flying developed, of the explosion that killed Frank and Leon…and of the green cloud enveloping me.

Flashes of scrambled memories continued to come in no particular order before eventually settling down. A part of me knew that I was dreaming, but I couldn’t quite remember how I got here or why.

I found myself stepping into a dive of a bar, one located just off base. For some reason, I couldn’t remember which base…not that it mattered. One dive bar was pretty much like another. There was the dingy feel, the smell of stale cigarettes and old beer, and of course the pool tables that had seen better days.

Leon, known as Bugs due to his fondness for snacking on carrots, was busy trying to hustle Chuck over a game of pool. Chuck usually acted a bit slow, but that was only because he liked to think about what he was going to say before he said it. Most people mistook that for his not being very bright, though the truth was quite the opposite. As I watched the game, I would have put down a twenty that Chuck was the one playing Leon.

Frank was sitting at the bar by himself, drinking a beer and not looking at anyone else. He was a skinny guy who’d earned the call sign of Splatterhouse due to his love of gory movies. The fact that he always rooted for the psycho killers…and that he just happened to be an asshole, often made it difficult for even his friends to tolerate him for very long.

Then I looked at Mike, my spotter and best friend, standing at the bar about halfway down from Frank. He was lean and wiry, with dark skin and the most diverse ethnic background of anyone I’d ever met. He proudly boasted that he had family roots on four continents. At the moment, he was deep in conversation to the new guy on our team.

The new guy was a kid named Kyle who’d only been on our team for one mission so far and had yet to be given a nickname or a call sign. But as I approached and overheard their conversation, I realized that this was what they were talking about.

“And that’s how Chuck learned the name Chuckwagon,” Mike told Kyle, taking a puff on one of those thin cigars he liked to smoke.

“Jack and Coke,” I told the bartender, then looked to my friend.

“And Roland here is Harbinger,” Mike told Kyle as he gestured to me.

“The harbinger of death,” Kyle said, giving me a respectful look. “I’d heard. They said you’ve killed more developed than anyone else in the unit.”

“Most of them never see it coming,” Mike agreed with a grin. “Roland here is death from on high.”

I just grunted at that, then took a sip from my drink as it was placed in front of me. It always annoyed me when Mike talked about me like that, which of course is one of the reasons he did it. Sure, I was good at killing…damn good. I wasn’t ashamed of that…but I wasn’t proud of it either. It was just something that sometimes had to be done…and something that I didn’t want to dwell on afterwards.

“So,” Kyle asked, gesturing to the tattoo of a wolf that was prominently shown on Mike’s upper arm. It was the unit tattoo that we each had. “When will I be able to earn the right to wear the tat?”

“Three missions,” Mike told him with a chuckle. He took a drag on his cigar and said, “Your ass has to survive three missions.”

“You did good on your first one,” I told Kyle approving.

He’d been assigned a support role, but when the mission turned south, he stepped up and went at the developed soldiers we were fighting as though he’d done that kind of thing before. He was fast, decisive, and almost seemed to act as though it was old hat. It was pretty impressive since most people had a natural fear of fighting anyone with developed powers.

“I think we need to get you a call sign,” I said to which Mike nodded agreement.

Kyle grinned at that, looking quite pleased. “If I have any choice in it…I’d like to be called Charger. It was a nickname from my…football team back in high school. I’m used to answering to it.”

“I was thinking more in the line of Pansyass,” Mike joked while I chuckled.

Kyle gave him a faint smile, saying, “As an old buddy of mine would say…you’re an asshat.”

Mike and I both chuckled at that. Then Mike looked to me and admitted, “Well, he definitely charged in…”

I just nodded at that and took a sip of my drink before responding, “That he did. Lucky he didn’t get his ass shot off.”

“We’ll have to run it by the others,” Mike told him, “but you just might be able to keep it…”

A few minutes later, the new kid was starting a pool game with Chuck, who’d soundly beaten Leon, while Mike and I remained at the bar. We drank in silence for a few minutes before Mike finally broke the silence.

“I’m gonna ask her,” Mike told me. “I’m gonna ask Sheila to marry me.”

I gave my friend a speculative look and raised an eyebrow. “Our line of work isn’t exactly good for relationships.”

Of course, that was actually something of an understatement. We were all on call and could be sent anywhere in the world without warning at any time. We usually didn’t know how long we’d be gone and weren’t allowed to say even if we did. Afterwards, we weren’t allowed to talk about where we were or what we’d done. That kind of thing was extremely hard on a relationship and most marriages couldn’t survive our line of work for more than a year or two.

“I know,” Mike agreed with a sigh. He took a drink of his beer and didn’t look at me as he added, “I’m thinking of dropping out…of taking a position as a trainer.” Then he finally looked at me and added, “I was hoping you’d be my best man.”

“Of course,” I responded with a grin. “I’d be honored.”

“All right,” Leon exclaimed with a grin of his own as he came over to join us. “That means a bachelor party…”

Just then, another voice called out, “That sounds fine and dandy…but right now, we have work to do.”

I looked at Captain Burke, our team leader, who’d come in without anyone noticing. He was a short and stocky black man who could burn with an intensity that drew all attention to him, or as he usually did in the field, he’d seem to fade into the background so that you didn’t notice him. He was so good at this that there was even a rumor among the unit that he had some low level developed ability.

“Okay men,” Captain Burke announced, looking at each of us with a steady look. “We have a mission. Dress for warm weather.”

With that, the dream began to fade away until I once again found myself in darkness. This time, there were no dreams or flashes of imagery, only the peaceful nothing.

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I awoke to a faint but steady beeping sound, one which had gotten into my dreams and had finally drawn me out of them. When I opened my eyes, I saw the white tiled ceiling and smelled the antiseptic scent that told me I was in a hospital. The fact that I was in a hospital bed and had some sort of medical equipment hooked up to me only confirmed that.

I closed my eyes again, taking several deep breaths as I tried to steady myself. I remembered the mission and the disastrous way it had ended. I was obviously still alive, which is more than I’d hoped for before I lost consciousness. However, I had no idea of my physical condition.

Taking inventory of myself, I noted that my eyes, ears, and sense of smell all seemed to be working fine. I could wiggle my fingers and toes without effort, which I took as a good sign. At the same time, my entire body ached, which could merely be an indication of massive bruising, though it could also be an indication of something worse. For now, I could only wait and try not to let my imagination get the best of me.

A nurse arrived a short time later and then almost immediately left to get a doctor. When the doctor came in a few minutes later, he stood back and looked me over for a moment before he actually approached me. I noticed how slow he was moving, how hesitant he seemed. He was afraid of me…or at least very nervous.

“Where am I?” I asked, my voice sounding rough and shaky.

“Landstuhl Germany,” he answered me with an obviously forced smile. “You arrived yesterday.”

“Did anyone else arrive with me?” I asked. The truth is, I wanted to know if anyone else in my unit survived, but I had to be careful not to give away any potentially classified information.

“No,” he admitted, losing the fake smile. “You were the only patient to arrive.”

I scowled at that, feeling a surge of grief and anger at the loss of my friends, though I quickly compartmentalized the emotions as I’d been trained. It was premature to grieve for them when I didn’t know for certain that they were dead. And at the moment, I also had other things I needed to focus on.

“What’s my situation?” I asked the doctor grimly.

The doctor hesitated a moment and looked away from me. Then he took a break and carefully answered, “You were exposed to some kind of toxic chemical that is playing havoc with your systems. It doesn’t seem to be killing you, but…” He paused and shook his head. Then he sighed and told me, “I’m afraid that I can’t tell you anything more. I was given orders to contact someone else once you woke up.”

I stared at the doctor for a moment before nodding my understanding. The stuff my team had been sent after was classified so I could see how even the doctors would be kept out of the loop. However, I knew what that stuff did, which meant that I had plenty of fuel for my imagination.

After the doctor left, I sat up in bed, finding that in spite of the heavy aches in my body, I could still move without problem. I had a momentary impulse to look for some clothes so I could haul ass out of here, though I knew that wouldn’t be a good idea. I hated hospitals, having spent more than enough time in one after being shot nearly two years ago. In spite of my desire to leave, I forced myself to be patient and wait. Patience is a virtue that every sniper learned.

Eventually the door to my room opened again and this time the man in full service uniform who entered was someone I recognized. He was tall and solidly built, with dark hair that was starting to gray and eyes that looked as hard as iron. Captain Burke had been the team leader of my unit, but Colonel Ryley was our commander and the one whom Captain Burke took orders from.

“Sir,” I greeted him grimly.

“At ease, soldier,” Colonel Ryley said, staring at me with a dark look.

I braced myself and then asked, “How many others made it, sir?”

“Besides yourself?” he responded, his expression not revealing anything. “None.”

I winced at that, shaken by the news that my team was dead…that my best friend was dead. Of course, I’d known that they probably were the moment they were hit with the green cloud. I’d survived and had hoped that they had as well. I was disappointed by this confirmation but not surprised. I took several deep breaths, trying to control the emotions that burned inside me. This certainly wasn’t the first time I’d had friends die and I doubted it would be the last…not unless I went first.

“This isn’t my preferred place for a debriefing,” Colonel Ryley told me, sounding almost sympathetic. Almost. “But I need you to tell me everything that happened.”

In spite of what I was feeling, I kept my emotions locked as tightly as I could and tried to remain as calm and profession as possible. I described our mission and everything that had happened in as much detail as I could. The Colonel let me finish my story before he began asking questions.

Once Colonel Ryley finished questioning me, he said, “They weaponized it. Intelligence only now found out what they were really up to…” He paused at that, scowling intensely as he stared off to the side with a thoughtful look in his eyes. “We’d assumed they were going to use the mutagen to try creating an army of developed. They were, but not like we’d expected. They’d decided it was too dangerous to risk so many of their own.”

I considered this, realizing that the mutagen would make a very dangerous weapon, though normal chemical attacks would have been just as effective and far more efficient. The very fact that any survivors might develop powers and then come in search of revenge would be a good motivation not to use the mutagen in that fashion. But from what the Colonel said, they may have weaponized it, but they still intended to use it to create developed.

“They intended to disperse the stuff,” I thought aloud, considering why they would have used the mutagen with a bomb. “They wanted to expose as many people as they could without warning…”

Colonel Ryley nodded. “That’s what intelligence thinks. They believe the terrorists were going to foment a large anti-American protest, then release it. Hundreds would have died, perhaps thousands. Any survivors would blame us for the attack…for the deaths of their friends and family members. They would likely gain powers and have more than enough motive to turn that power against us.”

“And whoever was behind this?” I asked, hoping that we had more intel on whoever it was who’d given the mutagen to the terrorists.

“Nothing,” Colonel Ryley responded with a grim look. “We still haven’t found anything on who it could be. It could be a foreign power or even one of those so called super villains. The only thing we know for certain is that they were interested enough in how the terrorists used it that they sent a developed to guard the mutagen for them.”

Since we’d already covered all the business related to the actual mission, I decided that it was time to focus on the subject that was of immediate interest to me. “What about me? About my situation?”

It had been taking nearly all the willpower I possessed to remain as calm and professional as I have been. But with every minute, the mask was getting harder to keep in place. It was all I could do not to start yelling.

Colonel Ryley stared at me for a moment before answering. “You received a much smaller exposure to the mutagen than the rest of your team…which may be why you survived. According to the doctor, your body is in the process of changing, though we don’t know how. What we do know is that you’ve lost body mass…and were measured as being five foot eleven.”

“I shrunk two inches?” I asked in surprise, trying to clamp down on the worry and compartmentalize it.

“They don’t know what it’s doing to you yet,” he said carefully. “I want to fly you back to the States. There are some experts that will want to have a look at you. And if you see any signs of developing any powers, let me know immediately.”

Once Colonel Ryley left a few minutes later, I disconnected myself from the machines and climbed out of my hospital bed. My body hurt, but I saw absolutely no reason to remain stuck in the bed when I didn’t have to. Besides, I had to piss like a racehorse and wasn’t about to use a catheter or piss pan when I didn’t have to.

I went to the tiny bathroom and did my business, then I looked into the small mirror above the sink. I’ve been told I was decent looking, in a rough sort of way. My nose showed the signs of having once been broken and I had a two inch long scar along my jaw, but I’d never had much problem with the ladies. But at the moment, I also looked like crap.

My eyes were sunken in a little and had dark circles under them. Overall, I had the same look about me as I usually did when nursing a bad hangover. I can’t say that I actually felt much better either.

While I looked myself over, I was very aware of what Colonel Ryley had told me about the way my body was changing. I couldn’t really notice the height loss yet, but I did somehow look smaller at the same time. It was faint, but I was sure that I’d lost muscle mass. Of course, the Colonel had mentioned that I’d lost mass, but I’d just assumed it was just the height loss. After a moment, I did notice one other thing that struck me as odd. I hadn’t shaved in several days, yet there wasn’t a trace of stubble on my face.

“Damn,” I snarled, thinking of my lost team and my own traitorous body. I wished I could go to the gym and work out some of my frustrations, or better yet, the firing range. Instead, I tried choking down the worry and frustration again. After all, I had a long trip to make.

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I scowled in annoyance as I waited for the doctor to arrive, thinking that after all the traveling I did to get here, the doctor could at least be on time. But since this doctor was supposedly some kind of expert on developed physiology and might actually be able to help me, I didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot. I allowed my expression relax so that I would appear calm and in control.

Colonel Ryley and I had left Germany late last night, catching a flight out of Ramstein Air Force Base and spending most of the night crossing the Atlantic. Military aircraft weren’t known for luxury or comfort so it had been a very long and uncomfortable flight. I’d caught a little sleep, but not much.

Once we landed in the States, we were picked up by a car and were taken to some kind of research facility. I was a little surprised that Colonel Ryley had accompanied me, but he seemed to have taken a strong interest in my situation.

The doctor finally arrived and was revealed to be a woman who appeared to be in her fifties. She had hair that was brown but heavily streaked with gray and was tied back into a bun. She even wore a lab coat as though it was some kind of uniform. Maybe she considered it to be exactly that.

“I am Doctor Alvere,” she greeted me with a pleasant smile. “And you are Sergeant Gettz?”

“Yes ma’am,” I responded.

Dr. Alvere nodded at that and then asked me to come with her. When Colonel Ryley started to follow, she gently told him, “Just the patient please.”

A minute later, we were in a room that looked like it was half doctor’s office and half mad-scientist’s laboratory. Doctor Alvere asked me to sit down on a stool, then she stared at me for a moment with a thoughtful expression.

“I was told that you were exposed to a dangerous and unstable mutagen that is altering your body,” she finally said. At my nod, she asked, “What symptoms have you seen so far?”

“I’ve been shrinking,” I responded in a casual tone that concealed the real worry I felt. “I’ve lost three inches of height…and some muscle.”

Colonel Ryley was normally only an inch taller than me, but on the trip here I’d been very aware that he now seemed taller. My clothes had even become a little more loose on me as I wore them. It was more than a little disconcerting.

Dr. Alvere nodded and then went to a shelf and pulled out a syringe. I’d been through enough medical exams that I knew what she was after and rolled my sleeve up so she could take the blood sample.

After this, Dr. Alvere had me undress and then weight me, measured my height, and even had me stand inside some type of X-ray machine that looked a bit like an old fashioned phone booth.

When we were done with the exam and Doctor Alvere let me get dressed again, she told me, “We’ll need to do this all again, twice a day as long as you continue to change.”

“Do you think you can fix me?” I asked her grimly.

“I don’t know yet,” Dr. Alvere answered me honestly. Then she stared at me for a moment before letting out a sigh. “But honestly…probably not. Your body is changing in an unknown way. I can try to understand how it’s changing and perhaps halt the process, but biological mutations are notoriously difficult to reverse.”

I stared at her for a moment before nodding. “Thanks for being honest.”

“You seem the type to prefer honesty,” she admitted with a faint sigh. Then she added, “We do have guest rooms in the building so you can stay here. That will make it easier to study your changes and help you to either halt or understand them.”

After this, Dr. Alvere gave me a quick tour of the facility, which had only a few other people present. I was a bit surprised to find a very nice rec room as well as a fully stocked gym.

“And here is your room,” she told me when we stopped at one door. There was a tag on the door with the word ‘Splash’. Dr. Alvere removed the tag and said, “That belonged to the previous occupant. She and her friends moved to a more secure facility.”

Dr. Alvere excused herself at that, leaving me to check out my temporary quarters. It was a relatively small room, but damn near a luxury suite compared to some of the places I’ve stayed.

I plopped down on the edge of the bed and muttered, “Damn I could use a drink…” In fact, I could use a whole bottle of bourbon about now. Unfortunately, Dr. Alvere had warned me to stay away from alcohol while my body was in the process of changing. If she hadn’t, I’d be out looking for a bar.

My whole body shook slightly as my emotions finally began to burst forth, no longer needing to be contained for professionalisms sake. I’d lost my whole unit. My best friend had died. And now, my entire body was changing in ways that were freaking me out.

“Damn it,” I screamed, letting the grief turn to rage. That was much easier to deal with.

A few minutes later, I was back in the gym to burn of some of my anger. I didn’t trust myself the free weights or even any of the weight machines, not with my body shrinking the way it was. However, the punching back was about perfect.

I pounded on the punching bag until I couldn’t do it anymore. With my body already hurting like hell, that didn’t take nearly as long as I would have liked. Fortunately, there were other things to distract myself with until it was time for my next exam.

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I was once again sitting on the stool in Dr. Alvere’s examination room, watching her with quiet scrutiny. We’d just finished with my fourth examination since I’d come here yesterday, and I could tell from the look on her face that she had some news.

I kept my face a mask of calm, though that didn’t sooth the emotions I actually felt inside. After all, I was currently just under 5 foot 8. I’d lost five inches of height. I’d also lost most of my muscles, leaving me with a build that looked more like that of a teenage boy than of the soldier I was.

There were other changes to my body as well, ones that weren’t quite as drastic. I’d lost nearly all of my body hair, except for what was between my legs. Even my face was as smooth as a baby’s butt, even though I hadn’t shaved since before my last mission. And ironically, while I’d lost all that hair, the hair on top of my head had actually grown five inches. Dr. Alvere said that this was simply one of the ways my body was trying to expel the mass I was losing.

In spite of all the ways my body was changing, I still hadn’t seen any signs of developing powers. If all the mutagen did was shrink people, I would have been all in favor of letting those terrorists use it on themselves.

“I’m afraid that I have some good news and some bad news,” Dr. Alvere told me with a professional look. She paused for several seconds before adding, “The good news is that I’ve discovered more about how your body is changing. The bad news is that you’re not going to like it.”

“What do you mean?” I asked with a scowl.

“Your body has begun to develop new sexual organs,” Dr. Alvere explained patiently. “And your Y chromosomes are being changed into X chromosomes…”

“So I’m turning into a woman,” I said grimly, keeping my voice calm and steady.

Dr. Alvere looked at me in surprise, perhaps because she didn’t expect me to understand what that meant. It wasn’t the first time I’ve had people assume that because I was a soldier, that they had to spell things out to me before I’d understand.

“It looks that way,” Dr. Alvere said a moment later. “You wouldn’t be the first person to go through a sex change as part of being developed. I’ve seen several cases with my own eyes and have heard of several more.”

I was a little startled at that. “Is that common?”

“Not common,” Dr. Alvere said. “But certainly not unheard of either. Oddly enough, every case I’ve heard of involved a male becoming female. I have several theories on that…”

“Go on,” I encouraged her, more to buy time to absorb this than because I was really interested.

Dr. Alvere nodded, seeming pleased that I appeared interested. I’d noticed a long time ago that they best way to distract someone was to get them to talk about something they’re interested in. It didn’t usually take much to get people started.

“I have a theory that your body may be misinterpreting the Y chromosome as being a damaged X chromosome,” Dr. Alvere explained almost pleasantly. “As part of the process of becoming developed, your body may simply be trying to heal what it mistakenly sees as damage. Another possibility is that your body is trying to improve and evolve, and on some level, it may see the chromosomal redundancy of a double X chromosome as being more stable…”

I just sat there in silence, shaken by the idea that I seemed to be turning into a woman. On one hand, there was a faint sense of relief that I actually had an answer about what was happening to my body. But on the other hand, I did NOT want to become a chick.

“Can you reverse it?” I asked Dr. Alvere. “Or at least stop it?”

“Now that I know what’s happening,” Dr. Alvere said carefully. “I could probably halt your changes…but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Your body is currently in a state of flux,” she answered thoughtfully. “Your bones, muscle, internal organs, and hormones are all unstable and in the process of changing. I might be able to prevent them from changing any further, but that wouldn’t stabilize your body. Leaving you halfway changed would have serious repercussions to your health and might very well kill you in a short time. In fact, I suspect that you’d begin suffering rapid failure throughout your body within a month.”

I stared at Dr. Alvere, taking in what she’d just said. Either I finish changing, or I would get sick and probably die. I could only imagine what it would be like, but I didn’t think it would be pleasant.

I’d once served with a guy whose leg had been badly mangled, shattering the bone and severely damaging the nerves. The doctors had told him that they could save his leg, but it would be completely useless and he’d never be able to stand on it again. In the end, he’d chosen to let them amputate his leg so that he’d be able to use a prosthetic and eventually walk again. I suddenly felt like I was being forced to make the same decision.

“I…I need to think about this,” I finally said.

I wondered what Colonel Ryley would say about this, but he’d taken off yesterday while I was going through my first examination and I had no idea when he was going to be back. Truthfully, I wasn’t looking forward to seeing him or anyone else since this whole situation was humiliating.

--------------------

My body was in motion, running on the treadmill as I had been doing for the last fifteen minutes. Since my entire body hurt from the transformation I was undergoing, I was already pushing my limits.

Suddenly, my muscles all froze with cramps and I was thrown back off the treadmill. I hit the ground hard and just curled up in pain, waiting half a minute until it faded.

“Damn,” I muttered, slowly sitting up and taking several deep breaths.

Ever since I’d woken up in that hospital in Landstuhl, my body has been hurting like one solid bruise. But as if that wasn’t bad enough, I kept getting odd cramps and seizures that would hit me out of nowhere and then fade away again less than a minute later.

I got back to my feet and then gave the treadmill a dirty look. With my body behaving like this, it seemed that I couldn’t trust myself with this kind of exercise.

With a sigh, I started back towards my room, wishing I’d taken Dr. Alvere up on the chance to halt my changes. Of course, when I’d gone back to her to get more information, her description on what would probably happen to my body had been enough to make me decide that it wasn’t worth it. I’d rather be turned into a chick than have my own body start melting apart from the inside out.

When I reached my room, I tugged at my clothes which were now hanging loosely from my body. They’d fit perfectly fine when Dr. Alvere had given them to me yesterday and were yet another reminder of how much my body was changing.

I removed my clothes and dropped them to the ground, thankful to be out of them. They were soaked through with sweat from my brief workout, and I’d even gotten a little vomit on my pants leg from an incident right before my workout.

I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to remain calm and steady. It was getting harder and harder to do this, to pretend to be calm and in control. Not when my very body was betraying me so drastically.

At the moment, I was only 5 foot 6. Even Dr. Alvere was taller than me now. I was becoming increasingly aware of how much everything around me seemed to be growing. My entire body was dwindling away and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Most of my muscles were gone and I looked like a teenage boy…or even a teenage girl now. My skin was becoming soft and smooth, with all of my scars having already faded away. Even my unit tattoo was fading and was barely even visible anymore. And then there was my hair. I’d cropped it all off last night and it was already past shoulder length again.

I reached up and grabbed a handful of my black hair and then gave it a gentle tug before releasing it. For someone who was used to being close cropped, suddenly having that much hair was almost as odd the soft puffiness that was starting to form on my chest. Almost.

Then I reached between my legs and winced. My balls had pulled up inside my body and vanished completely while my dick had obviously shrunk. I’d always thought of myself as being a little larger than average, and I still was…for a toddler.

“Not much longer,” I said, running my hands over my chest and then shaking my head in disgust. “Shit, at the rate I’m going, I’m going to be a damn midget.”

With that, I went and took a quick shower, then got dressed in another suit of clothes that Dr. Alvere had left for me. A smaller set that was actually a better fit for my current body. Of course, I wouldn’t be wearing them long since I had another examination coming up soon.

An hour later, I went to my next examination with Dr. Alvere. By now, I was more than a little familiar with the whole process, from getting my blood drawn to going through the fancy X-ray machine.

When we were finished, Dr. Alvere told me, “You are now five foot five… I wasn’t expecting you to reach that height for another few hours so it looks like your rate of transformation may be increasing.”

“Eight inches,” I said grimly, letting some of my frustration through. “I’ve lost eight inches.”

Dr. Alvere gave me a sympathetic look before adding, “If it’s any consolation, I believe your transformation should be finished sometime tomorrow.”

“It isn’t,” I told her honestly. “Not in the least.”

Dr. Alvere nodded at that. “Your eyes appear to be changing as well. Your irises have changed into a golden color and it appears that something is happening with your sclera…the whites.”

I felt a surge of worry at hearing that my eyes were changing. “What does that mean for my vision?” I demanded urgently.

I couldn’t help but feeling extremely concerned at the thought of losing my vision. Among other things, I was a shooter which meant that I was completely reliant on having good vision. If my vision began to fail, then what good was I?

“I don’t know yet,” Dr. Alvere admitted, giving me a curious look. “Have you noticed any difference in your vision?” When I shook my head, she told me, “Keep me updated if anything changes.”

After a little more discussion on how my changes were progressing, I left Dr. Alvere and went to go look for something to keep me occupied. Normally, I was very good at being patient and waiting, but for some reason this was different.

Of course, I was trained to face death, knowing that every fight could potentially be my last. This was a risk that I understood and was prepared to face. Unfortunately, nothing had prepared me for what I was dealing with now.

A short time later, Colonel Ryley returned to check up on me. When I saw him, I nearly gasped in surprise. He seemed huge, as if he’d grown a lot taller. It clearly showed just how much I’d shrunk.

“Sergeant Gettz,” he greeted me, staring down with a look of surprise at how much I’d changed. The attention made me very uncomfortable, though I did my best not to show it and to just act nonchalant.

“Any chance I can get back into the field soon?” I asked him.

“We’ll have to see,” Colonel Ryley told me, though from the tone of his voice I didn’t think he was expecting much. However, he did give me a sympathetic look which seemed completely out of character for the hardened soldier I knew. “I hope you get well soon, Harbinger.” Again, his tone didn’t contain much hope of that.

I carefully kept my expression calm as I told him, “Alvere doesn’t think that’s likely. She says my changes are permanent.”

“Any signs of developing a power yet?” he abruptly asked, giving me a speculative look.

“No sir,” I shook my head. If I was going to go through all of this, at the very least, I could get some kind of impressive power. Unfortunately, that didn’t appear to be happening.

Colonel Ryley didn’t stick around long, just long enough to see me and get a briefing on my status from Dr. Alvere. Once that was done, he was gone again.

Once Colonel Ryley was gone, I went back to my room to hit the sack a bit early. I removed my clothes, thinking that they were starting to feel a little loose now too.

I felt my chest, which was now soft, smooth, and a bit swollen on both sides. My nipples had gotten a little larger and were starting to feel a bit sensitive.

“I’ve got tits,” I spat out bitterly, even though they barely qualified as such. Still, that was more than enough.

After this, I went to piss, finding that I had to sit down to do the job. My dick had gotten so small that it was no longer up to the job of standing up. I tried not to think of what that mean, or how little I had left.

As I washed my hands in the sink, I looked up into the mirror and froze at the sight that met me. I no longer looked anything like myself. My features had softened and now looked not only younger, but female.

Then I saw my eyes. Dr. Alvere had pointed out that my irises had become golden, and I now saw that she was right. However, I was startled to see that the whites of my eyes were no longer white. They were black. My eyes now looked solid black, except for the golden rings of my irises.

I turned away from the mirror with a cold knot in my stomach. I wanted to rage or cry, to smash the mirror and scream out at what was happening to me. But I was determined to stay professional. I might not have any control over what was happening to my body, but that made it even more important than before that I remain in control of how I acted.

--------------------

When I woke up, I immediately realized that my body no longer hurt as it had been for the last few days. It still felt weird…wrong…but it didn’t hurt.

I climbed out of bed and began to look myself over. My chest had continued swelling so that I now had a pair of tits. Actually, I didn’t know if they were quite large enough to qualify as tits, though they were definitely breasts. They were relatively small and perky. I usually preferred my women with larger assets, but since they were on me, I’d be satisfied keeping these ones small.

Then I checked out my crotch, finding that there was no trace my cock or balls had even been there. Instead, I had a pair of feminine lips, just like every girlfriend I’d ever had. It was enough to send a cold chill down my spine.

After taking several deep breaths, I forced myself to slip into my mission mindset. I had to ignore unnecessary distractions and focus on getting the job done. Right now, the job was getting dressed and ready, then making it through my day without losing my cool.

I went to throw my clothes on, only to find that the clothes I’d been wearing last night were definitely too large for me. I tried not to think about what that meant as I dug through the other clothes Dr. Alvere had left in my room, and was soon dressed and ready for breakfast.

Every morning, Dr. Alvere and the few other people who were on her staff all gathered to have breakfast together. When I walked into the cafeteria this morning, they all stared at me, making me feel self-conscious and fully aware that I was now the shortest person in the room. However, I refused to show any sign of discomfort and instead grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down to eat.

While I sat at the table, I was suddenly aware of just how large the table was compared to normal. I was so small that I nearly needed a booster seat in order to eat. The cup and fork both felt too large in my hands, and I couldn’t escape the feeling that I was a little kid sitting at the adult table. From the way everyone was staring at me, I had a feeling that they probably had the same impression. This was especially annoying since a week ago, I would have been the tallest person in the room, not the shortest.

I took a sip of my coffee and looked to Dr. Alvere, commenting, “I think my changes have finally finished.”

“I don’t see how you can act so calm about this,” a woman blurted out.

“Who said I’m calm?” I responded almost pleasantly.

By the time I was finished with my breakfast, I’d discovered that the one thing that hadn’t gotten smaller was my appetite. I ate a plate with the same amount of food on it that would have satisfied me before my change, then I went back for seconds. Dr. Alvere said something about my possibly having an enhanced metabolism now.

A short time later, I was once again going through the familiar examination process, though this time Dr. Alvere was even more thorough. Some of the tests were pretty damn uncomfortable and even humiliating, but I refused to complain or even show my discomfort. I’ve come face to face with developed who had the power to melt the flesh from my bones, so I sure as hell wasn’t about to let some middle-aged doctor make me squirm.

“It’s official,” Dr. Alvere told me with a sympathetic look. “You are now one hundred percent female.”

“I’d guessed that much,” I responded wryly. And if my brief self-exploration this morning hadn’t already convinced me, the intrusive gynecology exam that she’d just put me through certain had.

“You are currently five foot two,” Dr. Alvere told me, nearly making me wince at that even though I’d been expecting it. I’d lost nearly a foot of height. “Fortunately, your system is now stable so you shouldn’t be changing any further.”

“At least there’s that,” I muttered.

Dr. Alvere acted as though she hadn’t heard me and continued on, talking about my weight and fast metabolism. “And your eyes have taken on a very interesting configuration.” I nodded at that, knowing exactly what she meant. My eyes still looked exactly as they had last night before bed, all black except for the golden irises. It had a somewhat odd looking effect. “I’d like to actually test your vision next…and the rest of your capabilities.”

Dr. Alvere had me look at an eye chart and then some other things to test my vision, and to my surprise, not only could I easily make out the smallest writing, I could also see in the dark. She quickly followed that up by testing the rest of my senses as well.

“It seems your concerns about losing your vision are unfounded,” Dr. Alvere told me afterwards, seeming almost amused “Your vision is now well beyond normal human standards and falls within developed levels. The rest of your senses appear to push the edge of what might be expected of a non-developed person.”

I stared at Dr. Alvere and shook my head, unable to help but feeling disappointed. “So I go through all this, and the only powers I develop are enhanced vision…”

“We haven’t tested everything yet,” Dr. Alvere pointed out. “And now that your body has stabilized, any special abilities you may have developed should start appearing. Trust me, we’ve only begun to test.” There was an almost evil glee in her eyes as she said that last, giving me the feeling that she was messing with me. Oddly enough, that actually made me relax.

After this, Dr. Alvere attached some sensors to my skin and ran me through a variety of different tests, starting off with having me stretch and bend to see how flexible I was, then to testing my reflexes. I was impressed by the results of both, finding that I was a lot more flexible than I’d ever been in my life and that my reflexes had really improved.

It was only after we were done with these light tests that we moved on to testing how strong as I was. After I’d lost so much size and mass, I was actually dreading this part since it would point out just how weak I’d now become. But to my surprise, the results were the exact opposite of what I’d expected. We started off light and just kept adding weight until I was bench pressing just a little over half a ton. I was absolutely stunned that a tiny little slip of a thing, like what I’d become, could lift so much.

Eventually, Dr. Alvere had me running on a treadmill at a full sprint, measuring my running speed and how I was handling it. I ran at a full sprint for nearly an hour and wasn’t even breathing hard when Dr. Alvere finally asked me to stop. I stepped off the treadmill, shaking my head in disbelief at how easily I’d handled that. I was used to a lot of physical training and running, but this was in a different category entirely.

“Impressive,” was all Dr. Alvere said.

Colonel Ryley had arrived just a short time after I’d begun running and he’d stood back watching me in silence the entire time. Now that I was done, he was giving me a strange look that was difficult to read. I carefully kept my expression blank as I looked up at him, feeling dwarfed by our comparative heights. I didn’t want him to see how awkward I found this.

“Sergeant Gettz,” he said carefully, revealing a look of sympathy before he quickly covered it back up. “Doctor Alvere says that you’ve finished changing…and that this is permanent.”

“Yes sir,” I responded, keeping my emotions from my face and voice. Then I hopefully asked, “Will I be allowed back into the field?”

Colonel Ryley stared at me for a moment before commenting, “That run was damn impressive, soldier.”

“Thank you,” I replied, feeling rather proud in spite of myself.

He looked to Dr. Alvere who nodded and then looked to me. “Roland…Sergeant Gettz has been undergoing testing all morning. He…she…” She paused at that, giving me a curious look as if unsure of which pronoun to use.

I knew intellectually that I now fell under the category of ‘she’, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit it aloud. Instead, I stood there, impassively waiting for her to continue.

“And the results?” Colonel Ryley asked with a deceptively calm tone.

“In spite of her drastic physical transformation and new appearance,” Dr. Alvere said carefully, keeping her own expression calm and professional, “her physical abilities have all been enhanced. Her senses are all at the peak of normal human levels, except for her vision which is far better. Her strength, speed, endurance, and reflexes are all heightened to above human standard for a woman of her size and build.” Then Dr. Alvere paused for a moment to glance at the computer tablet in her hand before adding, “It also appears that she has an enhanced healing ability.”

“How enhanced?” I asked calmly, a little surprised because I hadn’t seen anything to suggest I could heal faster.

“You won’t instantly recover from an injury,” Dr. Alvere told me with a faint smile, “but you should be able to heal broken bones within a few days at most. From what I can tell without further testing, anything that doesn’t kill you should be able to eventually heal without even leaving a scar.”

I was a little impressed by that, as well as the list of all my apparent enhancements. Since I’d lost so much of who I was, it was nice that I was able to at least get something out of the deal. The fact that I wasn’t nearly as weak and helpless as I looked was actually a huge relief.

Colonel Ryley scowled, not looking happy. “Then in your professional opinion,” he asked Dr. Alvere, “does Sergeant Gettz qualify as developed?”

“Her enhancements would be considered low level by most developed,” Dr. Alvere explained thoughtfully. “However, instead of having just one or two large scale enhancements, she has wide spread enhancement of nearly all her physical capabilities…” Then she paused, apparently realizing that she was starting to drift. “Yes. She is definitely developed.”

“Damn,” Colonel Ryley said, surprising me with his displeasure.

I stared at Colonel Ryley for a moment, realizing that there was something going on that I didn’t know. Of course, that wasn’t unusual since the higher ups usually kept a few facts close to the vest and only dished them out on a need to know basis.

“What does this mean for me, sir?” I asked grimly. “What happens next?”

For a long moment, Colonel Ryley just stood there with a grim look on his face. Then he finally said, “The third ADU is officially being disbanded. After the loss of my unit, I’m being reassigned.”

“Disbanded?” I asked in surprise.

Then again, I realized that there wasn’t really anything left to disband. Other then Colonel Ryley, I was the only survivor of the unit. Two people didn’t make a unit, especially when one of them was a desk jockey and the other was… The truth was, I didn’t know where I stood anymore.

Colonel Ryley nodded and then let out a sigh. “Unfortunately, you’re to be discharged from the Army.”

“What?” Dr. Alvere asked in surprise, giving Colonel Ryley an almost dirty look. “Is this because she’d been turned into a woman?”

“No,” I said in suddenly realization. “Because I’m developed.” At her questioning look, I added, “The Averton Accords.”

Dr. Alvere’s eyes widened slightly in understanding while Colonel Ryley nodded agreement. The Averton Accords meant that there was no choice but to discharge me.

The Averton Accords was an international arms treaty that had been put into place nearly three decades ago and which strictly banned countries from having developed in the military. This was the reaction to a growing fear that a new arms race was about to start where the developed would be the weapon of choice.

Of course, most so called super-heroes were openly in favor of the treaty, not wanting to risk the chance that they’d be drafted into the military for the rest of their lives. A lot of people simply didn’t like the idea of relying on people we couldn’t control for our national defense. And of course, everyone was concerned about what would happen to the world if large scale armies of developed went at each other.

Ironically, one of the biggest proponents of the treaty in the United States had actually been the Pentagon itself. This was largely a matter of pride as they insisted that they didn’t need developed powers to protect the country, and then there was the fear that allowing developed into the military would make normal soldiers obsolete.

In the end, most developed countries signed the Averton Accords and enforced them even more strictly than they did the Geneva Conventions. And to deal with those who didn’t, there was advanced weaponry and units like the third ADU.

“I hate to lose you,” Colonel Ryley told me with a shake of his head. “You were a damn good soldier.” I noticed that he used the past tense.

“That’s it?” Dr. Alvere asked, looking offended. “She goes through all this and you just kick her out?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have a choice in the matter,” Colonel Ryley pointed out with a scowl. “You’ll get a medical discharge with full disability.”

There was a certain irony in getting disability payments because I had abilities that were too good. However, I knew that this was the way that the military had chosen to deal with people who developed powers while serving. It got them out quietly, without making a big deal of it, and it gave a bit of a payoff so that there wouldn’t be as many hurt feelings.

I felt as though the rug had just been yanked out from under me, knocking me flat on my tight little ass. First I lost my team, then my own body, and now I was losing my foundation. I was a soldier in the US Army…a sniper. Without that, what was I?

“Soldier,” Colonel Ryley said in a gentle voice, putting a hand on my shoulder and shocking me as he did so. I’d never seem him act this familiar with anyone. He’d always been hard and professional. “Roland... The Army is going to miss you and your skills, and if it was up to me, I’d find a way to keep you. Unfortunately, I can’t do anything about that, but I still might be able to help you. I’ll have to make a few calls to see.”

Colonel Ryley left a minute later and I was left trying to make sense of his behavior. I wasn’t sure whether to feel touched that he’d actually tried being comforting, or offended that he was treating me like some helpless girl instead of like the professional soldier I was.

“Are you okay?” Dr. Alvere asked me with a look of concern.

I took a deep breath and put my emotions on lockdown. “Of course,” I responded in a calm and even voice, even giving her a faint smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

--------------------

I was sitting on a bar stool, holding my drink in hand and marveling at just how large the glass felt. It almost made me feel like I was getting twice as much booze as what I was actually paying for. Then I looked up, staring into the mirror behind the bar and at my still unfamiliar reflection. I startled every time I happened to see that girl reflected back at me from some mirror. She was very cute in a petite sort of way. I hated that.

After I got the bad news yesterday that I was being unceremoniously drop-kicked from the Army, I’d thrown myself into testing my new abilities in an effort to distract myself. I spent the rest of the day in the gym, but it hadn’t been enough to take my mind off of everything I’d lost. Now that my changes were finished and I knew what my developed abilities were, I wasn’t sure why I was still sticking around that facility, other than the fact that I had absolutely nowhere else to go.

A short time ago, I’d gone in search of the nearest bar so I could get a stiff drink, only to find another problem with my new body. I looked like I was a nineteen year old girl, and with very little effort, I could pass for sixteen. Between my youthful looks and my lack of any kind of ID, I had a hard time being let through the door. Fortunately, a hundred dollar bill can make people forget about pesky questions involving age.

I finished my drink and ordered a third. “Jack and Coke,” I told the bartender, who gave me an odd look. “Hold the Jack.”

When I got my new drink, I took a long sip and then let out a sigh. With my smaller size and body mass, I’d assumed that I’d be able to get drunk faster and for cheaper. Unfortunately, it was looking like my metabolism was really slowing things down. I was expecting to be half plastered by this point, but I was barely beginning to feel a buzz.

“Damn,” I muttered, realizing that my new bladder definitely couldn’t hold as much as I was used to. I had to piss like a racehorse. Unfortunately, I reminded myself with a bitter snort, from now on I’d be pissing like a male rather than a stallion.

I left my seat and started for the bathroom, fully aware of the way that several guys were watching me. I gave no indication that I noticed them at all, knowing that even glancing in their direction would be misconstrued as an invitation to approach me. These men had been watching me almost from the moment that I’d entered the bar, and I imagined that they were all wondering what a cute little thing like me was doing all alone in a place like this.

I carefully made sure that I used the women’s bathroom, not wanting to accidentally walk into the men’s room and then have to deal with the awkwardness. I’d long ago learned that paying attention to your surroundings and what you were doing was the best way to avoid potential trouble. Of course, I was kind of in the mood for trouble at the moment, but I didn’t want to deal that particular kind.

When I came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, one of the men who’d been watching me had decided to make his move. He’d moved to a different spot where he could ‘accidentally’ bump into me. I saw what he was planning and began to take a different route instead. Unfortunately, he didn’t give up quite that easily.

“What’s a cute little thing like you doing in a place like this?” he asked me.

I let out a faint sigh, wondering if I might have developed some kind of telepathic power as well. However, Dr. Alvere had tested for that kind of thing and verified that all my abilities were physical. This was merely the fact that I’d spent more than enough time being the guy with the bad pickup lines.

I looked up at the man who seemed enormous to me, even though he was only an inch or two taller than my old height. Thanks to my new height, nearly every guy was huge in comparison and even most women were taller. Still, in spite of the height difference, I didn’t feel the least bit intimidated. Instead, I merely felt annoyed.

“Not interested,” I told him flatly as I started back to my seat.

The man moved to block my path again, giving me a big fake grin. “Hey cute thing, I just wanted to talk.”

I gave him a cold look and stated, “Leave me alone, Romeo.”

Romeo didn’t seem to understand English because he reached out to put a hand on my shoulder. Before he even touched me, I grabbed his wrist and then kicked his ankle, knocking his foot out from under him and using his own weight to slam him into the floor. He hit hard, twisting his wrist since I still had a firm grip on it. Then I let go and stepped back.

When Romeo got back to his feet, he looked angry and for a brief moment, I thought he was going to attack me. But then he paused and looked down at me before shaking his head.

“I must have slipped,” he said, turning to leave me alone.

Apparently, his pride wouldn’t let him actually fight someone who looked like me…or even admit that I’d gotten the best of him. That kind of attitude might come in useful someday, but at the moment I merely found it insulting.

I returned to my seat and downed the rest of my drink before ordering another one. It was then that a woman sat down in the seat beside mine, not even looking at me as she ordered a beer. I used the mirror behind the bar to look her over without seeming to do so.

The woman was only a couple inches taller than me, which made like her just a little simply for the fact that she didn’t tower over me completely. She was dressed in a nice suit and had shoulder length black hair. She was also watching me through the mirror as well.

“Rough day?” the woman asked, finally turning to look at me directly.

“You have no idea,” I responded.

“You might be surprised,” she told me with a faint smile, holding out her hand. “I’m Elizabeth.”

I hesitated a moment, realizing that I couldn’t tell her that my name was Roland, but I hadn’t even considered what new name I might use. “Roselyn,” I said, grabbing the first name that came to me. It sounded vaguely similar to my real name.

“I saw your little…encounter,” Elizabeth said, gesturing to the direction of the would be Romeo. “It was actually pretty funny.”

“Glad to amuse,” I responded flatly, watching her as she looked around the room. There was something about the way she was sitting and the way she was watching everyone intently. It took me a moment to realize what it was. “You’ve served.”

Elizabeth gave me a surprised look and then smiled. “The Marines. But that was a long time ago and a whole other life.”

I just nodded at that and took another drink, wondering just how many of these I’d have to have before I was well and truly drunk. I suspected that I’d have to buy a few bottles and go test that out on my own. Maybe Dr. Alvere would have a few glasses with me. After all, she had been interested in testing my other limits.

“You know,” Elizabeth said carefully, “I don’t think you’re the kind of person who just gives up when things get bad and goes to hide in a bottle.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” I snapped at her.

“Roland Gettz,” she said, immediately catching my full and undivided attention. “Twenty-eight years old, born in Colorado, and your father was a former Marine who owned a shooting range…though he died of a heart attack four years ago.” She gave me a flat look as she continued, “At the age of sixteen, you came in second place at a national sharpshooting competition. After joining the Army, you became a Ranger and earned distinction as a sniper. You were eventually assigned to the third ADU, which led to your current situation.”

“Who are you?” I asked her in a deceptively calm tone. I had my glass in hand, looking as though I was about to take another drink though the truth was that I was now prepared to use it as a weapon if necessary.

“Elizabeth Briggs,” she answered me pleasantly. “I’m with the Developed Affairs Department.”

I stared at her for a moment as I absorbed that, wondering what the Developed Affairs Department wanted with me. They were the national agency that dealt with monitoring and policing the developed. The third ADU had even performed a few missions in partnership with them. Then it dawned on me why they might be interested in me. I was a trained killer who also happened to now be developed. I was exactly the kind of potential threat that they were formed to deal with.

“And what does DAD want with me?” I asked her, keeping my expression calm. I wanted to see how she answered as well as buy time to consider my next move.

“Actually,” she said, giving me a thoughtful look. “I’m here to offer you a job.”

“What?” I asked in surprise, losing my mask of calm.

Elizabeth nodded and said, “From what I understand, a friend of yours gave a copy of your resume to my boss, along with a strong recommendation. My boss agreed that your skills and experience would be a great asset.”

I continued to stare at her, wondering who this ‘friend’ could possibly be. Just about everyone I would have called a friend had died out in the desert last week. But then I realized it had to be Colonel Ryley. He’d said something about trying to help me out, so this must be what he’d meant.

“To be honest,” Elizabeth told me with a frown. “There is another reason as well. You see, we’d rather give you something productive to do than find you on top of a tower in a couple years, trying to take down the Protectorate, just to prove you could.”

I wanted to protest and deny that I’d ever do such a thing, but I couldn’t. I was a professional, trained by Uncle Sam and a nasty instructor named Bill Thudwater, to take down dangerous developed. As a professional, I’d always studied powerful developed and looked for weaknesses I might be able to use against them in case they ever entered my crosshairs. I’d often wondered how I could take down someone like Vigil or Ms. Miracle. Of course, I’d never had any intention of actually doing so…at least not without direct orders. But under the right circumstances, I could definitely see myself doing what Elizabeth suggested.

“I take it that Colonel Ryley gave you a copy of my last psyche eval,” I commented wryly. Then I pointed out, “In case you’re forgetting, technically, I’m developed. The Averton Accords…”

“There is no technically about it,” Elizabeth said with a chuckle. “You are developed, but that isn’t a problem. You see, the reason the Averton Accords have lasted so long is that there are enough loopholes in them that most countries can follow the letter of the agreement and still have developed working for them. The accords only ban developed from the military…and we don’t answer to the military.”

I leaned back at that, taking a sip from my drink and then setting it back on the bar. Elizabeth had talked about why they wanted me, but she hadn’t said anything about why I should consider taking her offer. Then again, she didn’t really have to.

I had a very specialized skillset that would be difficult to make use of outside of the military. Sure, I could go to work on a SWAT team somewhere, but most police departments would hesitate to hire a SWAT member who looked as small and helpless as I now did. And even if I could get past that, my status as developed would be considered a problem, not an asset. Of course, I could go freelance, but that could lead to some very bad places.

Elizabeth looked me in the eyes and let out a sigh. “Look, there is a reason I was the one who was asked to talk to you. You and I have a lot in common.”

“Doubtful,” I responded. Other than a vague physical resemblance, with us both being short women with black hair, I couldn’t imagine that we had very much in common.

Elizabeth stared at me with a strange expression, then she carefully looked around to make sure no one was within hearing range. “This is classified,” she said carefully, keeping her voice low. “But I didn’t always look like this.” She gesture down at herself. “Like you, I was once a man.”

My calm mask slipped again and I blinked in surprise. “Really?” I looked her over and had a hard time believing that claim.

“I was…injured in the line of duty,” Elizabeth told me with a dark look on her face that told me this wasn’t a pleasant memory. In fact, that very expression made me think that maybe she wasn’t making this up after all. “My body and life were destroyed. I thought that it was the end… But then someone offered me a second chance…a fresh start.” She paused at that and shook her head before looking me in the eyes again. “This isn’t the life I’d ever imagined for myself, but I haven’t once regretted it.”

I stared at Elizabeth for several very long seconds before quietly asking, “A fresh start?”

Elizabeth nodded at that. Then she held up her beer, as if to offer a toast and said, “To a fresh start?”

I took a deep breath, having already made my decision. It wasn’t like I had many other opportunities knocking on my door. I held up my glass and agreed, “To a fresh start.”

--------------------

The sound of helicopter blades roaring was one that I’d always found oddly soothing, something that could easily lull me to sleep. I’d often had to fight that urge to nod off while traveling to and from various missions. And though I’ve ridden in helicopters countless times before now, I had to admit that this was the quietest one I’d ever been on. Of course, this was a model that I’d never seen before. It was sleek, smooth, and faster than a cheetah with a rocket strapped to its ass.

Just a few hours ago, I’d said goodbye to Dr. Alvere and had thanked her for all her help. I might have been disappointed that she couldn’t stop or reverse my changes, but I appreciated all that she had been able to do for me. I didn’t know if I’d ever see her again, but I kind of hoped I did. She reminded me just a little of my mom, back before she’d passed away.

Elizabeth Briggs and I rode in the back of the helicopter, not really talking much during the trip. I was busy thinking about what I’d gotten myself into, especially since she hadn’t been extremely forthcoming as of yet. She said that she wanted to show me, not just tell me, so that I’d have a better understanding.

When the helicopter began to descend, I looked out the window and saw that we were landing on the roof of a large building. There were three helicopter pads build on the roof with one of the other ones already being occupied by a helicopter that appeared identical to the one we were in.

Elizabeth and I went to a secure elevator and began to descend. She looked at me and began saying, “DAD primarily deals with hostile developed using tactics similar to your old unit. We rely on skills, tactics, and advanced weaponry. When a threat is beyond our usual methods, we bring in developed groups such as the Protectorate or Faction Zero. This has worked well in the past, but there are several problems.”

I nodded at that, well aware of the issue. In my old unit, we used to have a lot of discussions about super heroes and the potential problems they represented. Sure, they often took down developed villains and saved lives, but they operated solely on their own, acting on their own whim without having any accountability.

“They’re independents,” I said carefully. “They can’t be relied on to be willing or available to accept missions.”

“Exactly,” Elizabeth agreed. “Because of that and a few other reasons, DAD has started our own unit of developed operatives.”

We reached the floor Elizabeth wanted and left the elevator. Our conversation appeared to be on hold as we walked down a hallway briefly and stepped into a large room that was obviously some kind of training facility. There were four people present who were wearing costumes and appeared to be practicing with their powers.

“We call this unit Sanction,” Elizabeth told me, gesturing to the costumed people. “You can think of this as the DAD version of a SWAT team.”

“A SWAT team that wears yellow spandex?” I asked skeptically, staring at a man in a yellow and black costume.

“Don’t let the costumes fool you,” a new voice said from behind me.

I turned and saw that the speaker was a Hispanic man who seemed tall to me, though I doubt he’d seem so to most others. I estimated him to be about 5 foot 8 and in his forties, though he looked like he was in pretty good shape. And unlike the people in costume, he was actually wearing a suit that made me think ‘spook’.

“You must be the one Agent Briggs was asked to recruit,” the man said, looking at me with a thoughtful look. “Gettz.”

I nodded at that, noting that he’d avoided using my first name or my rank…former rank. “Yes,” I responded.

“Roselyn Gettz,” Elizabeth said with a faint look of amusement, using the name I’d made up in the bar. I gave her a quick glare which she didn’t seem to notice.

“Roselyn,” the man mused. “Good choice. Colonel Ryley had good things to say about you.” Then he held out his hand and introduced himself, “I’m Richard Martinez…the agent in charge of Sanction. You can think of me as the commanding officer.”

“What exactly is Sanction?” I asked him, wanting to hear his explanation as well as get some more information. After seeing the spandex, I was beginning to fear that I’d made a bad decision in agreeing to come, but I wasn’t ready to call it just yet.

“Agent Briggs called us a SWAT team,” Martinez said carefully, “which is accurate in a way. We were formed to provide a way to meet developed threats on their own terms. Specifically, we usually deal with threats that are too delicate, time sensitive or classified to trust to freelance super hero teams. Our secondary purpose is to provide backup to the military should a foreign power use a developed force against us. In those situations, we would not be under military authority and would be classified as civilian contractors providing specialized support.”

I nodded at that, thinking that it made sense. As Elizabeth had said, there were plenty of loopholes to work around the Averton Accords and this was obviously one of them. I’d always suspected the government would have some type of developed forces, in spite of the treaty, though I didn’t know the details until now.

“There is another purpose for Sanction as well,” Martinez told me with a scowl. “The super heroes.”

I nodded again, not at all surprised by that. “I see.”

“By definition, these super heroes are vigilantes,” Martinez explained, though he didn’t need to as I already knew where he was going. “They are self-appointed enforcers of the law, though they have no authority, accountability, and in most cases, training. Many seem to think that just putting on a costume makes them above the law, and they often cause nearly as much damage as the villains they fight. However, we could spend all of our time, budget, and resources going after just the super heroes alone and barely make a dent in them. Trying to do so would just start a war that we couldn’t possibly win. So instead, we overlook most of their activities and try to make use of them instead. We let them deal with the bulk of the developed criminals for us. We even provide information to some of them and try to direct their activities when possible.”

“Most of them are good people who just want to make a difference,” Elizabeth added. “But in spite of their powers, they are human.”

“Fortunately, the hero community has a form of peer pressure that usually keeps most of their own from going too far,” Martinez continued with a scowl. “We give them a lot of leeway, but occasionally they cross the line and need to be stopped. This is the other reason Sanction was formed…to stop rogue heroes.”

“I’d guessed as much,” I responded.

Martinez gave me a careful look as he asked, “Would you have a problem fighting against someone like Vigil or Doctor Power if they became a threat?”

“No, sir,” I responded without hesitation. That seemed to surprise Elizabeth just a little.

In my old unit, we used to have conversations about developed heroes and whether or not we’d ever be sent after one of them. We always knew that it was a possibility, that one of them might get compromised somehow or just change sides. There was an old saying that power corrupts and some of those heroes had a hell of a lot of power.

“Then the only thing I’m really concerned about is your…situation,” Martinez told me. “You’ve just gone through a very drastic change and haven’t had time to fully adjust. I don’t want to put you into the field before you’re ready.”

“I’m fine,” I told him, keeping my expression calm and controlled. “I’m a professional.”

Martinez nodded at that. “Regardless, we do have a counselor on staff if you need someone to talk to. In fact, you’ll be required to talk to her before you’re cleared for duty. She and I are the only ones here who know about your past and it will remain that way unless you tell people yourself. I thought that this would be easier for you.”

“Thank you, sir,” I responded, grateful that I wouldn’t have everyone laughing at me behind my back. Of course, that meant they’d all just assume I was a woman which wasn’t much better. “But what about her?” I looked to Elizabeth, having noticed that he’d neglected to mention her as one of the people who knew.

“I’m not part of Sanction,” Elizabeth told me with a faintly amused look. “I just work as a liaison with them on occasion. I came to talk to you as a favor.”

“I’m still not sure why Rice recommended that you be the one to make contact,” Martinez told Elizabeth. “But I do appreciate it.” Then he turned to me and said, “Let’s introduce you to the rest of the team.”

Martinez made a call and a short time later, more people began to arrive in costumes. There were nearly a dozen costumed people in total before Martinez indicated that everyone was present. I looked them over in silence, noting that most of them wore costumes of the same style, a very sleek and lightweight body armor, just with a different color scheme. That made the costumes look at least a little more like uniforms.

Appearing to guess my thoughts, Martinez told me, “The costumes are largely for public relations, to make us appear less like a military unit and more like a hero group. Having people perceive Sanction as a hero group makes us appear less threatening and reduces certain problems.”

“Like reducing questions about whether or not the Averton Accords are being violated?” I asked. Martinez merely nodded at that.

“You aren’t the first person to be discharged from the military due to developing powers,” Martinez told me a few seconds later. “There are several others present on the team as well, which makes it even more important that people don’t associate us with being part of the military.”

I perked up at that and looked over the group in front of me, trying to determine which ones might have been former military. One of them was pretty easy to guess while I had suspicions about a few others based on how they carried themselves. While I was at it, I also tried guessing what powers these people might possess.

While I was lost in thought, Martinez continued, saying, “Sanction is split into two teams. Team one is the primary team. Team two consists of the people with abilities that are too specialized for most missions. They back team one up on an as needed basis, but are otherwise given solo assignments or loaned out to assist other DAD groups.”

I nodded at that, suspecting that I’d end up being assigned to team two. After all, I had a very specialized skill set that wouldn’t be needed for every mission. Then again, most SWAT teams had a sniper so I couldn’t be sure. I’d just have to wait and see where they wanted me.

Martinez gestured to the man that I’d previously noted for wearing yellow spandex. His costume wasn’t actually spandex, nor strictly speaking was it yellow. It was the same lightweight and very sleek armor that the others were wearing and it was about two thirds a golden yellow color and a third black.

“This is Michael Bloom,” Martinez introduced me to the man, who looked to be about my old height and build. “He goes by the code name Discharge and is Sanction’s field leader and my second in command. You’ll be answering to him in the field and for most daily operations.”

“Pleased to meet you,” I said politely.

“This is Roselyn Gettz,” Martinez introduced me, making me wince internally as he used that name. I should have corrected Elizabeth when she’d told him that name. Now it looked like it was too late. “She’ll be joining the team.”

Discharge, since he was in costume, looked down at me with a moment and his expression held a faint look of disappointment, followed by dismissal. He was obviously unimpressed by what he saw, which didn’t surprise me much because I wasn’t very impressive looking anymore, other than perhaps my eyes.

“What are her powers?” Discharge asked Martinez, not even bothering to ask me directly.

“Overall physical enhancement,” Martinez told him. “Strength, speed, agility, and endurance. And of course, her vision is equally enhanced.”

“Enhanced strength and speed can always be useful,” Discharge mused to himself.

“Why don’t you give her a demonstration of what you can do,” Martinez suggested.

Discharge nodded and looked at me again. “I can disintegrate matter, store the energy in my body, and then discharge it again.” With that, he began walking towards what looked like some kind of training dummy.

“Michael was already a DAD agent before he developed his powers,” Martinez commented. “An accident while trying to acquire an alien device.”

Then Martinez gestured to Discharge, who touched the training dummy. It glowed red for a moment and crumbled to dust while his skin and hair turned into a gold metal color.

“His body forms a protective shell when he’s storing energy,” Martinez explained. “It gives him additional armor in the process, making him more difficult to injure.”

Discharge held his hand out and a blast of red energy shot out of his palm, hitting another training dummy and blowing a hole through its chest. The gold color faded from his skin and hair.

“Impressive,” I commented, noting that if I ever had to fight him I’d probably have to make sure he’d already discharged all of his energy before I took my shot. Of course, that depended on just how tough that golden metal shell of his actually was.

“He can store a lot more energy than that,” Elizabeth commented. “I’ve seen him disintegrate several cars, then have enough energy to keep blasting for the rest of the fight.”

Martinez gestured to a slender young man in a red and black costume who couldn’t have more than twenty at most. “This is Platoon…formerly of the US Army.” He gave me a faint smile. “His ability is to create copies of himself…”

Platoon took the hint and then gave a goofy grin before there were suddenly six of him standing there, all looking identical. Then one of the Platoons came towards me, saying, “I can do a lot more… Want to see?”

“That should be enough for now,” Martinez told him.

Just then, all of the Platoons vanished, except for one. I wasn’t even sure if it was the original one.

“They aren’t just copies,” Martinez told me. “They all share a single mind, and when they vanish, he chooses which body becomes the primary body that remains. If even one of his bodies survives, he does. It makes him very difficult to kill, which is a major asset. Unfortunately, he can only do this for fifteen minutes at most.”

“Give him a weapon and you suddenly have a whole platoon,” I said, definitely impressed by the ability. “You can outnumber an enemy and overwhelm them with expendable soldiers.”

Martinez nodded at that, then explained, “Other than the time limit, the only other weakness to his powers is that he can’t copy anything besides himself…and his specially made costume. In order to arm him, we’d need to bring the weapons separately.”

“Team one, I assume,” I said, knowing that even with those limits, his power would still be extremely useful in terms of extra manpower and numerical advantage.

“This is Malcolm…code named Jarhead,” Martinez said as he introduced the next person.

Jarhead was tall and muscular, standing at least a head taller than my old height. He wore a green and black costume, and between his codename and the fact that his hair was cut into a high and tight, there was little doubt that he was a Marine.

“You’re a cute little thing,” Jarhead said, staring down at me with a leer on his face. I immediately disliked the man. “Damn, you’re barely bigger than my dick…” Now I disliked him with an intensity I usually reserved for people who kicked dogs.

“I’d watch what I said next, if I were you,” Elizabeth said with a cold look in her eyes.

“Jarhead is the muscle of team one,” Martinez quickly said, sending Jarhead back without even having him demonstrate his powers. However, I’d seen enough to guess that he was a typical brick, strong and tough.

“Armor piercing,” I mused to myself quietly. “Eye or mouth.”

“Did you say something?” Martinez asked me.

“No sir,” I responded, carefully keeping my expression calm and professional. “Please continue.”

Next, Martinez introduced me to an Asian woman called Meridian who was wearing a purple and black costume. Without saying a word to me, she gestured to a training dummy which suddenly floated up into the air about four feet off the ground, then went flying across the room where it smashed into a wall.

“My gift is telekinesis,” Meridian told me, being polite but a little distant. “I look forward to working with you.”

“She can levitate herself as well,” Martinez pointed out as Meridian turned to leave. “But her speed while levitating is pretty limited.”

“I’m Jessica,” a pretty blonde exclaimed, coming towards me without waiting for Martinez to introduce her. She was about five foot six and wore a gray and black costume. I couldn’t help but noticing that she had a handgun holstered on her belt. “My code name is Stealth.”

“Roselyn,” I said, keeping my expression and voice calm and even as I used that name. Since I seemed to be stuck with it, I might as well own it. “What is it you do?”

“Flight and invisibility,” she answered with an easy grin. “I’m the team scout.”

With that, Stealth flew up into the air and then vanished from view. Or at least she became transparent and barely visible at all. I could still see her a little, and as I focused on her it became easier to make her out. Since she was supposed to be invisible, I suspected that my odd eyes were responsible for my still being able to see her.

“And this is Ambush,” Martinez said, gesturing to a brown haired man with a blue and gray costume that had a little white trim. He had a pair of what looked to be energy pistols strapped to his side. “He’s recently been switching from team two to team one.”

Ambush nodded in our direction and then he suddenly vanished, or at least, he vanished about as much as Stealth had. I could see a very faint image of him there in what looked to be a soap bubble just a little larger than his body. A moment later, the bubble seemed to pop and he reappeared fully.

“Ambush can create a bubble that’s out of phase with reality,” Martinez explained. “For all practical purposes, he becomes invisible and intangible. He can see out but no one else can see in, which means he can use it to gather information, or as his name suggests, ambush people.”

I stared at Ambush for a moment, considering his power and how it could be used. All I could think of was about how useful something like that would be for a sniper. I’d be able to take position and not have to worry about being found before I’d completed my mission. And afterwards, I’d be able to slip back into that bubble in order to avoid detection and escape. It was the perfect power for a sniper. I was actually jealous for him.

“We’ve found that he can use his power in the middle of a fight as well,” Martinez told me with a smile. “He can use his power to avoid enemy attacks, then come back out to return fire.”

“Very impressive,” I agreed, still keeping my expression controlled.

After this, I was given a brief introduction to the team two members who were present, though I noticed that these introductions were shorter, less descriptive, and didn’t really include as much showing off. I was definitely getting a feel for the fact that there were the popular kids…and the others.

When the introductions were over, Discharge looked me over again and said, “We’re going to have to come up with a code name for you.”

“Harbinger,” I stated flatly, earning several looks of surprise at that. I could see a few curious looks as well as they wondered why I’d chosen that code name. However, I wasn’t inclined to explain myself right now. “Call me Harbinger.”

--------------------

I awoke from a nightmare and immediately bolted upright in bed, shaking and sweating. I couldn’t remember the dream, only a few glimpses and impressions. An image of Mike flashed through my mind, an image of him being surrounded by a green cloud and then melting into a puddle of goo, screaming the entire time. I shook my head to clear these images from it.

When I swung my feet over the edge of my bed, I winced slightly at how high up I seemed. I turned on the light and then held my hands up in front of me. They seemed so small and dainty. My entire body did. I absolutely hated it.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, steadying myself again. As much as I hated this, I couldn’t afford to whine about it or sink into self-pity. I was a professional and I was damn well going to act like it. I just had to keep my mind off of my situation as much as possible and focus on the job instead.

My thoughts drifted back to the dream I’d just woken up from, especially to the image of Mike dying so horribly. I hadn’t actually seen his death with my own eyes, but that only made it worse since it left room for my imagination to work.

“Damn,” I muttered, suddenly thinking of Mike’s girlfriend and would be fiancé Sheila. I hadn’t even thought about her and how she was doing with Mike gone. I’d been so caught up in my own problems that it hadn’t even occurred to me. I couldn’t help but feeling a little guilty for that, though admittedly, I couldn’t very well just show up at her door now and tell her that I was a friend of Mike’s.

After a minute, I shook my head and finished climbing out of bed. I walked around my quarters, which were similar to the ones I’d been given at Dr. Alvere’s facility, just larger and more luxurious. This was actually a small suite of rooms with my own private bathroom that even included a large tub. Or at least, it was a large tub from my new perspective.

I took a quick shower, trying not to dwell on how different my body was or how sensitive my nipples were. I kept myself emotionally detached and imagined that I was just washing someone else up. That made it a little easier to avoid being distracted.

A short time later, I was dressed in my new uniform which had been custom made for me last night. I was still impressed by just how quickly the unit’s quartermaster had been able to take my measurements and then get this made for me. It was just like the uniform that most of the team wore, a costume that seemed to be something of a cross between spandex and lightweight body armor. It was light, flexible, surprisingly comfortable, and mine was dark blue and back.

My hair had been cut to shoulder length and I pulled it into a pony tail. I’d never liked girls with hair that was too short, but I was seriously considering the idea of going for a pixie cut or something equally short. I’d never had my hair this long before in my life and it was a bit distracting, hence the pony tail.

This was my second day here as part of Sanction and I still had no idea what to really think of the place. I’d gotten a brief introduction to most of the other team members yesterday, except for a few team two people who were currently off on assignment. After that, I’d spent the rest of the day getting a tour, doing paperwork, and getting set-up.

I was a little disappointed that Elizabeth was gone since she was the only one around here who I could connect with. She hadn’t given me a lot of details on her own history, but I was looking forward to talking about it someday over a beer or two. I was really curious about how she’d been able to adjust. Unfortunately, she wasn’t part of the Sanction unit and had to go back to her normal job, which apparently didn’t have anything to do with recruiting.

Martinez had been called away yesterday on some kind of business trip as well, so he’d taken off just a short time after introducing me to the others. That meant Discharge was the top guy and he didn’t seem all that impressed with me. Of course, I was confident that I’d change his tune once I got a chance to show what I could do.

I went to the cafeteria and found three other people from Sanction already sitting at a table. I grabbed my food and then sat with them, deciding that I had better get to know my new teammates. I might need them to save my ass someday so I’d better make sure they thought it was worth saving.

As I sat there, I noticed that everyone present was from team two. “Where’s team one?” I asked curiously.

“They got called out in the middle of the night to back up a prisoner transport,” a cute redhead told me.

“Prisoner transport?” I asked with a faint scowl. “Is that common?”

“Not really,” the redhead responded with a shrug. “But I guess this is a pretty powerful guy and the Protectorate only barely managed to defeat him. The higher ups just wanted to make sure that there was no chance he’d escape before making it to Mount Prometheus.”

I nodded faintly at that, looking at the redhead who’d been talking to me. She was wearing a red and white costume with just a little gold trim, and I remembered from the brief introduction yesterday that she was called Micra.

“I don’t think Martinez ever told me what your power was,” I commented.

“I shrink,” Micra responded with a self-conscious shrug. “Not exactly an impressive power.”

“How small?” I asked her.

Micra shrugged again before answering. “The smallest I can get is about an inch. Good for infiltration and sabotage missions.”

“I’d imagine,” I said, nodding at that. Then I looked to the woman sitting next to her, a slender black woman who was wearing a pair of glasses. I remembered her as being introduced as Reader. “What about you? What can you do?”

“Tactile telepathy,” she answered, giving me a curious look. “If I touch someone, I can read their minds. As you might guess, my specialty is interrogation.”

“Just don’t let her touch you,” the only other guy…the only guy at the table said. “She’ll know every secret you have.”

I gave Reader a wary look, making a mental note not to let her touch me. This wasn’t just a matter of how embarrassed I’d be if everyone found out about my recent sex change, but also due to some of the things in my head. I’d been involved in some highly classified missions, things that Uncle Sam wouldn’t want to get out.

I turned my attention to the young man who was more than a foot taller than me. He had spikey blonde hair and a solid build that indicated that he spent a lot of time in the gym. He radiated an air of ‘fratboy’, but his code name was almost the opposite of what I’d guess based off his appearance.

“Hacker,” I said as I looked at him. He grinned at that, whether from the attention or the fact that I remembered his code name, I didn’t know. “I can guess your specialty, but what exactly do you do?”

“I talk to computers,” he replied with a smug look. “They call it technopathy. You ought to see what I can do with robots…”

Micra laughed, then explained, “The last time he went out with team one, they were going after some guy with a giant robot.” She gestured to Hacker and said, “By the time Rob here was done, he actually had it dancing the robot…”

“I wanted to call myself Doctor Hackenstein,” Hacker said with a grin. “But Martinez shot that down.”

“You’re not quite what I’d expect of someone called Hacker,” I said carefully, trying not to offend him.

“I know, right,” he responded with a chuckle. “Have you ever seen a hacker with guns like these?” He flexed his muscular arms to show off his biceps.

Micra giggled while Reader shook her head slightly and said, “Please don’t encourage him.”

“I used to think that only dweebs worked with computers,” Hacker admitted, looking embarrassed. “Then I got this power and damn… Now I make hacking look cool.”

Reader gave me a curious look and said, “I understand that you have some form of enhanced strength and senses.” Her tone made that statement into a question.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Most of my physical abilities are enhanced. I’m just a little beyond what an Olympic athlete would be able to do, but not much. And as for my senses, that’s mostly just my eyes.” I pointed to them and added, “I’ve got built in binoculars and night vision.”

“How much can you bench?” Hacker abruptly asked me, giving me a curious look.

“About eleven hundred,” I answered nonchalantly.

“Damn,” Hacker exclaimed, looking impressed. “You sure don’t look it…”

Micra nodded at that. “I think the only ones here who are stronger than you are Jarhead and Nocturnal.”

“I don’t think I’ve met Nocturnal” I said, assuming that he must be one of the team members that had been sent out on assignment.

“She’s sort of like a cross between a ninja and a vampire,” Micra explained with a shake of her head. “Really dangerous at night…but kind of useless during the day.”

“She’s a total babe,” Hacker added. “Real kickass too. I can’t wait till she gets back.”

“So she can turn down your advances again?” Reader asked with a faintly amused look.

At this point, the three of them talked about Nocturnal while I listened in and took mental notes. She definitely sounded like someone I’d be interested in meeting, as well as someone that I’d have to be very careful around. While this conversation was going on, I noticed another member of team two coming into the cafeteria, though he made no move to come towards us.

The newcomer wore a costume that was unlike that of anyone else on the team. It was a black outfit that covered his entire body and which looked a little organic, almost like it had grown over him. There was even an odd dark gray facemask that covered his entire face and which seemed to melt into the rest of his costume as though it was all one piece.

The black figure, who had been briefly introduced to me yesterday as Barracuda, went to the cook who handed him a coffee thermos instead of a plate. Then Barracuda turned and left the cafeteria again, barely even looking in our direction.

“What’s his story?” I asked, trying to get more information.

“He ain’t exactly friendly,” Hacker commented. “Kind of freaky if you ask me.”

“Barracuda used to be a Navy SEAL,” Micra explained. “I don’t know all the details, but I guess he was testing some kind of experimental diving gear when it bonded to his skin. Now he can’t take it off.”

“The dude can’t even take off his mask,” Hacker added. “He’s stuck with some kind of liquid diet. Nasty. It’s no wonder he’s always in a bad mood.”

I frowned as I considered this, having heard other stories of power suits and physical enhancement weapons being tested by the military. That kind of thing would normally fall under the category of being a weapon system, which meant that the Averton Accords wouldn’t apply. I couldn’t help but wondering why Barracuda’s system would be any different, except perhaps that it was permanently bonded to him.

“His armor lets him breath underwater,” Micra continued, not seeming to notice that I was distracted. “And something about being bonded to it activated some kind of powers they didn’t even count on…” I looked at her, realizing that this must be the answer to my unspoken question. “He’s got some kind of aquakinesis and can control water around him. I mean, you should see how he can move underwater… He’s like a torpedo or something…”

“Yeah,” Hacker agreed. “Put him under water and he’s a total badass...but take him and he’s just a guy in a suit.”

“If he’s really a SEAL,” I said, giving Hacker a flat look, “then he’s never JUST a guy in a suit.”

After this, I continued eating while Micra gave me a lot of the gossip on various members of Sanction. Hacker and Reader occasionally added a little, but Micra was the talkative one and the one who I assumed was the team gossip monger. I just listened and nodded, occasionally offering a word or two of encouragement so that I could pick up more intel on my new team.

An hour later, every Sanction member who was currently at headquarters had reported to one of the training rooms for practice. This meant myself, the three people who’d been at the table with me for breakfast, and even Barracuda. Barracuda didn’t say a word to me or the others and merely went to work.

The training room was enormous and looked like the elementary school playground from hell. The room was set up with various obstacles and exercise units, and if you made a loop around the entire room, it made a nice obstacle course.

I started for the nearest obstacle, finding it far easier to get through than I would have before my change. I scrambled up a rope at incredible speed and then ran across a thin wooden beam as easily as if it had been the width of a hallway. It soon became obvious to me that I could now include an improved sense of balance as one of my developed abilities.

I went from one obstacle to another, testing my new abilities and becoming more familiar with them. While I did this, I kept an eye on the others and watched how well they did. Thanks to my new endurance, by the time even Barracuda had stopped for a breather, I was still going strong and not even feeling winded.

“Look at her go,” Micra called out while she stood back watching me. “She doesn’t even look tired…”

“She looks damn fine too,” Hacker added, watching me with an appreciative look that I did my best to ignore.

All four of them were watching me, even Barracuda, though he didn’t say a word. In fact, I hadn’t heard him utter a single syllable so his armor might very well be making him mute along with providing the other difficulties.

I turned my attention away from the others in order to focus entirely on what I was doing. I went for something that looked like a jungle gym on steroids and jumped at it, slipping through bars with ease. I marveled at my own body and what I was capable of, actually feeling just a little excited. However, my budding excitement crashed when I remembered the cost of these abilities.

As impressive as these abilities were, I reminded myself that they wouldn’t really do me a lot of good. Extra strength, agility, and endurance might be great…but they were of limited use to a sniper. Giving a sniper enhanced strength was about as practical as giving laser vision to a desk jockey. It might be a cool ability, but it was out of place for someone in that position.

I finally came to a stop, only to realize that my audience had changed. While I’d been focused on testing my abilities, I hadn’t noticed that that Hacker, Reader, and Barracuda had left or that Discharge, Jarhead, and Stealth had come in. Those three weren’t doing any training themselves and merely stood back watching me.

“That was kind of intense,” Stealth commented when I came over.

“She went at that pace the entire time too,” Micra added with a grin.

I felt a little self-conscious at being watched like that, though I was careful not to show it. I just said, “I’ve only had these abilities for a few days so I’m still testing my limits.”

Jarhead stared down at me with a leer on his face, looking as though he was mentally undressing me. I felt more than a little annoyed but refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing any discomfort. Instead, I did my best to ignore him and looked to Discharge, who actually seemed impressed rather than dismissive like he’d been yesterday.

“Having that kind of maneuverability and speed could be very useful,” Discharge said, giving me a thoughtful look. “Exactly how strong are you?”

I gave Discharge another description of my physical abilities, and this time he seemed to pay a little more attention. “If you’ll excuse me,” I told him when I was finished. “I’ve got an appointment with the quartermaster and I’d like to clean up first.”

“Why don’t I come with you?” Jarhead offered. “I can keep you company…”

“I think she’s fine,” Stealth told him with a glare.

“Come on,” Discharge told him. “We’ve got a few things to do as well.”

I left the training room and found that Stealth was leaving with me. “I’m sorry about Malcolm,” she told me. “Not only is he a macho asshole, but he also has a thing for petite women.”

“Great,” I responded with a scowl. “So what you’re saying is that I’m that asshole’s wet dream.”

“I wouldn’t exactly phrase it like that,” she said with a chuckle. “And he does have a thick head, so if you aren’t interested, you might need to hit him in the head a few times with a baseball bat before he gets the clue.”

“I’ve worked with Marines before,” I commented with a wry smile, thinking of my own dad who’d gotten out of the Marines on a medical discharge after getting a bullet through his knee. “Nearly every one I’ve ever met has a hard head. Damn good in a fight…but stubborn as hell.”

“You were in the military?” Stealth asked, giving me a faint look of surprise. Of course, I looked like I was only nineteen…or younger, so that kind of reaction wasn’t unexpected.

“Army,” I answered with a faint smile. “I’m older than I look.”

“Gotcha,” she replied with a nod of her head. “I was in the Air Force. Second Lieutenant and in line for my promotion when I got my powers.”

“A butter bar,” I mused, giving her a curious look and then a chuckle. “I would have had to solute you.” Then I abruptly asked, “What happened? I mean, how did you get your powers, if you don’t mind?”

“I was part of a project testing an experimental cloaking device,” she explained pleasantly. “Long story short, it exploded and I was too close. I absorbed a lot of the energy, and afterwards, I found I could generate the same cloaking field we were trying to make. The field not only lets me bend light around me, but I can also use it to fly.” Then she gave me a questioning look and asked, “And you?”

After she’d been so forthcoming, I couldn’t just claim that it was classified. “Accidental exposure to a chemical weapon,” I said, deciding that it was close enough to the truth while still being acceptably vague. “It was a miracle I survived. My friends weren’t as lucky.”

“Oh,” she said, giving me a sympathetic look.

Stealth and I went our separate ways at that, with me going to my quarters so that I could clean up. While I did that, I made a mental note to ask the quartermaster about getting spare uniforms.

A short time later, I walked into the quartermaster’s office. He was a slender man in his late twenties, and even after I’d spent an hour with him yesterday, I still didn’t even know his name.

The quartermaster looked at me and brightened a little. “You’re three minutes late,” he said, though he didn’t really look bothered by that. “Come on in.”

“I’m already in,” I pointed out, feeling vaguely amused.

He looked at me for a moment as though I’d caught him by surprise, then he responded, “Why so you are.”

“Look,” I said carefully. “Do you have a name? No one told me and I didn’t want to keep calling you quartermaster…unless that’s your code name.”

“Of course I have a name,” he said, pausing to look over his desk. After several seconds, he seemed to remember what we’d been talking about because he said, “My name is Garrett.” He didn’t say if that was his first name or last. “But most people here call me Q since I’m the one who issues the toys.”

I nodded at that, then asked, “You have something for me?”

“Of course,” he responded, handing me a manila envelope.

I looked in the envelope and was surprised to find a driver’s license with my new picture on it and the name Roselyn Gettz. Thankfully, it listed me as being twenty-one rather than nineteen so at least I’d be able to buy booze. There were other papers as well, such as a high school diploma and a social security card. As far as this paperwork was concerned, I was now my own kid sister.

“That was fast,” I said, impressed by the speed and how legitimate these all looked.

“Now, for the other reason you came to see me,” Garrett told me.

With that, he led me down the hall to where he entered a code into the key pad beside a thick metal door. When the door opened, we went inside and I stopped and stared in delight, suddenly feeling like a kid in a candy store.

“The armory,” Garrett said unnecessarily.

I looked over the racks of weapons, seeing handguns, rifles, explosives, and even a few things that I didn’t recognize. I picked up a metal canister that looked like it might be a cannon shell of some sort.

“That’s my thermos,” Garrett said, snatching it out of my hand and then unscrewing the top. He looked down into it and let out a disappointed sigh. “Empty.”

“A nice selection,” I commented as I casually walked around checking the selection. “I noticed a few of the others packing.”

In fact, about half of Sanction seemed to be carrying weapons of one sort or another. Even Reader and Hacker had holsters on their side, though they’d both been empty at the time.

The only people in Sanction that didn’t seem to be armed where those like Discharge or Meridian who had powers that could be used for offense, or ones like Platoon and Micra who had powers that didn’t work well with weapons.

I decided to start with the hand guns, picking them up one by one and feeling them in my hands. The guns felt much larger to me now which made them more awkward to hold. It was yet another reminder of my changes, as if I needed another.

Once I’d settled on a weapon that I’d be able to use, Garrett showed me the firing range. It was an indoor range, perfectly fine for practicing with this kind of gun, but nowhere near the distance I’d need to practice with a rifle, much less a sniper rifle.

I wasn’t the only one at the range though as Stealth was already there practicing, as was Discharge. His powers meant that he didn’t need a gun, but I remembered that he’d started off as a standard DAD agent before gaining his powers. It looked like he wanted to stay in practice.

I didn’t stop to talk to either of them and instead took a firing position. I loaded the clip and then fired a shot down range at the target. To my surprise, I missed badly. I fired a second shot and didn’t do very well either.

“You’ll need a lot more practice before you can use that in the field,” Discharge said, giving me a disapproving look again before he left the firing range.

“It seems I’m out of practice,” I told Stealth with a scowl.

“Well, this is the place to fix that,” she said.

I stared at the gun in my hand, knowing what the problem was. Between my altered body and the way that this gun still felt too large for my hand, everything was off balance and wrong. However, I’d spent countless hours on a firing range and wasn’t about to let a setback like this deter me.

After taking a deep breath to steady myself, I slipped into my shooting mindset and took aim. My shot came closer to target. I adjusted my stance and after several more shots, I was hitting dead center.

I stared at the gun in my hand and grinned, feeling much more like my old self. “Now this is more like it.”

--------------------

I was sitting in a comfortable chair across from a middle-aged woman with dark blonde hair. She was dressed in a professional manner and was giving me her full attention. I’d put this meeting off as much as I could, but unfortunately, I still had to talk to the Sanction counselor if I wanted to be cleared for duty.

Dr. Voight and I had been talking for half an hour already, and she’d already made it perfectly clear that she knew who I really was and had access to my last psyche evaluation. However, she’d been polite and encouraging, trying to get me to talk about my feelings. I found her efforts to be obvious as well as insulting. I had absolutely no intention of talking about my most personal thoughts and feelings with a complete stranger.

“You’ve been through a very traumatic ordeal,” Dr. Voight told me. “You’ve lost your friends, your career, and even went through a drastic physical transformation. Everything in your life has changed at once and you can’t be expected to just shrug it off and go on as though nothing has changed.”

“I’m a professional,” I told her, keeping my calm and professional face in place. “I just want to get back to work and don’t see why this should stop me.” I gestured down at myself.

Dr. Voight smiled pleasantly and said, “I know that if I went through such a drastic change, I wouldn’t be able to accept it so easily.”

“Soldiers get killed or injured every day in the line of duty,” I pointed out. “I always knew that there were risks to my line of work, that I might end up missing in arm or in a wheelchair. I went into this knowing the risks so I’m not about to go crying about it now.”

She gave me a thoughtful look, then calmly asked, “Are you comparing being a woman to being handicapped?” Oddly enough, she didn’t sound offended, just curious.

I shook my head slightly and weakly joked, “Well, I did lose a vital body part and the Army is giving me disability for it.”

“You’ve only just changed,” Dr. Voight told me. “You probably haven’t had time to fully absorb it yet or to realize exactly how much this is going to change your life. You are still the same person inside, but between becoming a woman and developing powers, it is going to change how other people see you and how you interact with the world.” She shook her head slightly and added, “I fear that at the moment, you might still be in denial.”

“Denial?” I asked in surprise. I grabbed my perky tits and said, “I can’t exactly deny these are here, no matter how much I try. Trust me, I’m fully aware that I’ve changed.”

Dr. Voight just gave me a knowing smile and responded, “That isn’t quite what I meant.” Then she abruptly changed tactics and asked, “How have you been sleeping?”

“All right,” I responded, giving her a suspicious look.

Then she asked, “Have you been having any dreams that you can remember?”

“A few,” I answered, then admitted, “A few nightmares. I can’t really remember the details though.”

“That’s to be expected,” she told me. “You’ve been through a very traumatic experience and your subconscious is still trying to deal with that. Honestly, I would have been more worried if you weren’t having bad dreams. There is a possibility you may have some PTSD.”

I scowled at that, not saying a thing. I would have liked to deny it but I had to admit the possibility. After all, I’d seen soldiers with PTSD before and knew that even the best and toughest could sometimes get it.

We continued talking for a little longer before Dr. Voight told me, “I’m going to clear you for duty for now, but I would like you to continue visiting me so I can see how you’re adjusting. Consider me as a friendly ear, someone you can come talk to when you’re having problems or just want to blow off steam.”

“Thank you,” I told her politely, though I was mostly glad that this little session was over.

I left Dr. Voight’s office and went to floor that served as the living areas on base. It was currently considered downtime so nearly everyone was in civilian clothes and relaxing. Of course, everyone was still on call in case of an emergency as well.

When I stepped into the main common area, which was like a rec center, I saw Platoon sitting at a table playing checkers with himself. Platoon, or Aaron since that was his real name, was obviously just trying to show off a little. A third version of Aaron was at another table, playing a card game with Malcolm and Ambush. I still didn’t know Ambush’s real name.

“Hey, you want to come over and join us?” another version of Aaron asked from near me. “With one more we can start playing teams.”

“No thanks,” I told him.

Malcolm looked over and gave me an appreciative look with his less than subtle way. “Hey little lady,” he called out, waving for me to come over. “I’ll even let you sit on my lap if you want.”

“Fuck off,” I told him with a scowl. “I’m not interested.”

“I don’t think she likes you,” Ambush told him, barely even looking at me.

“She doesn’t even know me yet,” Malcolm responded smugly.

“Sorry about him,” Aaron told me apologetically, giving me a goofy grin. “He’s not usually this bad. I think he’s just trying to show off for you.”

“You can tell him that if he even thinks of pointing his dick in my direction,” I said loud enough for Malcolm to hear. “I’ll cut it off and shove it down the garbage disposal.”

Malcolm acted as though he hadn’t heard me but everyone else was laughing. “That, I’d like to see,” Micra exclaimed with a grin as she came into the room with Stealth and Meridian.

“Hey Roselyn,” Stealth…Jessica greeted me. It was still easier to think of her and the others by their code names. “We were just going out to see that new romantic comedy that came out last week. You want to come along?”

“No thank you,” I said pleasantly, trying to keep the distaste out of my voice.

It was actually kind of weird that the women all thought of me as one of them and tried to include me in this kind of thing, but in a way, I kind of wished they wouldn’t. It made me feel…awkward. Sure, it was nice that they were being friendly, but I wasn’t really sure how to behave in a social setting. As Dr. Voight had pointed out a short time ago, I was still the same guy inside that I’d always been.

“We were going to go shopping afterwards,” Micra…Penny exclaimed with a grin.

I forced a smile at that, knowing that I really did need to get more clothes and other things, but I certainly didn’t want to go out with a group of women when I did. In my experience, women liked to make shopping into some kind of an event, taking half the day to do it. I just wanted to get in, get what I wanted, and get back out. I had better things to do with my time.

“I appreciate the offer,” I responded carefully. “But I have other things I need to take care of.”

“Perhaps another time,” Meridian told me with a faint smile.

I looked to Meridian, still not knowing her real name. This was only the second time she’d spoken to me since we met a couple days ago so I was still trying to get a feel for her. My impression was that she was very professional but distant, but Penny said that she was just slow to open up.

Just then, I noticed Meridian’s eyes shifting to Malcolm, who’d stood up from his seat for some reason. Then as Malcolm went to sit back down, his chair suddenly moved back and he ended up falling on the ground. Meridian quickly looked away and acted as though she hadn’t noticed, though she did have a faint smile on her lips. I suddenly liked her more already.

“We should ask Janine,” Penny said, referring to Reader.

Jessica shook her head. “She said she was heading out to spend time with her boyfriend.” Then she looked at me again and asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“I’ll take a rain check,” I told her.

A few minutes later, I was on my way to take care of the business that I’d been looking forward to all day. I went to see the quartermaster, finding Garrett already waiting in the armory. He wasn’t the only one as Barracuda was there, sitting in front of a small table with a weapon disassembled and spread out in front of him. I watched him for a moment as he cleaned the parts and began reassembling them, then I turned my attention to Garrett.

“I’m here for the gear we talked about yesterday,” I told Garrett. “And of course, a weapon.”

Garrett gestured around the armory and said, “Help yourself. Let me know if you don’t find what you’re looking for. Martinez said you might request something special, and that if you did, I should get it for you.”

I’d looked around the armory yesterday, but at the time I was focusing mostly on the hand guns. This time, I was looking for something with a lot more distance and power to it. I started looking at the energy rifles, which definitely had some power. However, as impressive as those might be, energy blasts quickly dissipated the further they traveled and were only good for medium range at most. Anything capable of reaching the distances I was aiming for would require a LOT more power than these things could produce. After looking over the rest of the rifles, I decided that there was nothing that suited my purposes.

“You don’t have what I need,” I told Garrett, who was sitting back and eating a bowl of microwave spaghetti…with chopsticks.

I described what I was looking for to Garrett, naming my preferred model and even providing an acceptable substitute. He nodded along as I did this, though I wasn’t sure how much he was really paying attention because he continued to eat. Barracuda had turned and was watching me, though I couldn’t see his expression through the mask that covered his face.

When I was finished, Garrett gave me a thoughtful look and said, “You’re looking for a sniper rifle…something with a lot of range, accuracy, and power.” Then he abruptly asked, “How strong are you?”

I blinked in surprise, then answered, “I’m stronger than I look. Trust me, I can handle the weapon.” It annoyed me that he’d just assumed I was too small and weak to handle that kind of equipment.

“I heard that,” Garrett responded with a grin. “If you’re strong enough…I just might have something you can use.”

Garrett took me to the back of the armory, in a section that seemed to be the heavy weapons area. There was something that looked like a miniature missile battery, a hand held energy cannon that was so large that Jarhead was probably the only one on the team capable of using it, and there was even some sort of personal gatling gun. However, Garrett ignored that and instead put his hand onto a strange looking weapon that was sitting on a desk.

If an M60 machine gun and an energy rifle had a baby, this weapon would probably be it. It was shaped like a large and bulky rifle with a barrel and stock, but it looked high tech and the body resembled some of the energy rifles I’d seen.

“What the hell is this?” I asked as I looked it over. The thing was nearly as long as I was tall and looked heavy as hell. It would have to be a pain in the ass to haul around.

“It’s a rail gun,” Garrett responded with a grin. “Instead of a chemical reaction, it uses an electromagnetic field to fire projectiles. If you want range, accuracy, and firepower…this is it.”

I stared at stared at the rail gun for a few more seconds as I considered what Garrett had said. “I’ve heard of rail guns before…but I thought they were massive.”

“This one is designed to be vehicle mounted and computer controlled via a servo system,” Garrett explained. “It fires armor piercing rounds with a high level of accuracy over a great distance.” Then he paused to grin at me before adding, “Officially, it was meant as a high precision tank buster, but personally, I suspect it was really designed to take out some of the tougher developed.”

“I’ve never heard of this,” I said, touching the weapon and feeling impressed. Garrett really knew how to get my attention.

“The military scrapped the project,” Garrett explained. “It only fires one round at a time and isn’t full auto. In the end, they decided this level of precision wasn’t necessary so traded out some accuracy for more explosive power and went with a new anti-tank missile system instead.”

I bent down and looked even more closely at the rail gun, licking my lips as I thought about firing this thing. If I’d still been a guy, it probably would have given me a hard on. As it was, I guess nipping out was as close as I was going to get.

“It’s made with high density materials that make it more durable but also heavier,” Garrett said. “It’s too heavy for most people to use without a mount, but if you’re strong enough…” He gave me a knowing grin. I found myself grinning back.

Then Garrett flipped a switch on the site of the rail gun and there was a faint humming sound that came from it. He pushed another switch and then barrel began to retract, becoming a foot shorter. Once that that was done, he folded the stock in, making the gun a bit shorter and more portable.

Garrett dug into a box and then said, “Here are the rounds…”

The round was four inches long and shaped like a standard bullet, but it was one solid piece without a shell. There were also faint spiraling grooves around it that would probably work with the rifling to add even greater stability and distance.

“There are several types of rounds available,” Garrett added cheerfully. “You have standard rounds for maximum range as well as the high explosive and incendiary armor piercing rounds.”

Without saying a word, I picked the rail gun up and was relieved to find that it didn’t feel that heavy to me. I extended the barrel and stock so that it was a little more awkward due to its size, but I was pretty sure I could handle it.

“I’ve had this thing for several months,” Garret told me with an excited grin, almost looking as excited about this as I was. “I didn’t think I’d ever find someone who could actually use it.”

“That still remains to be seen,” I responded. “First, I need to find some place with enough space to test this out.”

“I know just the place,” Garrett said with a smug look. “It’s where the team goes for full scale training.”

After Garrett told me how to get there and gave me keys to one of the ‘company’ cars, I was on my way. I arrived at the destination an hour later, finding that it was an abandoned stone quarry and a lot of empty land around it. This would be perfect.

I used the car to drive out and set up targets at various distances, then went back to the ridge that I’d picked as my shooting spot. I aimed at the nearest target and took my shot. As with the hand gun, it took me a few shots to familiarize myself with the new weapon and get it sighted in. Once I began hitting the target, I shifted to the next one out, slowly working my way back to the furthest one.

When I got to the furthest target, I stood up and stared at it, being able to see it quite well without even having to use my scope. I smiled faintly as I considered the advantages of my new eyes. Then I positioned myself and began using my scope again in order to get the target in my crosshairs. Once I took my shot, I verified the results and grinned. I still had it.

“Very nice,” I said as I got back to my feed, holding my new weapon tightly and thinking that I may have just found a new best friend. “Mama likes.”

--------------------

The entire Sanction team that was present at headquarters was gathered together in this training room. We’d all set our weapons aside because we didn’t need them for this particular training exercise. Discharge wanted us to spar with each other in order to practice unarmed hand to hand combat.

“This isn’t a power training exercise,” Discharge said. “So no powers.”

“Then how does that affect Jarhead and Harbinger?” Meridian asked, gesturing to us both. “Their powers are enhanced physical abilities which can’t be turned off.”

“I’d rather not fight Jarhead if I’m not armed and can’t use my powers,” Ambush commented.

“You’ve got that right,” Platoon agreed.

I noticed that they didn’t mention having any of those reservations about fighting me. Of course, I didn’t look nearly as big and intimidating as Jarhead. Even knowing my abilities, they probably thought that I’d be easy to take in a fight.

“I’ll spar with Jarhead,” I volunteered.

Jarhead grinned at that and said, “I don’t want to hurt you little lady.”

“You won’t,” I responded flatly, earning odd looks from the others.

“This should be interesting,” Stealth mused.

Micra gave me a worried look. “Are you sure? I mean, he is pretty big…”

I just gave Micra a faint smile and said, “I would have thought that you above anyone here would know that you shouldn’t judge a person by their size.”

“But he’s also a lot stronger than you,” Reader pointed out with a worried look of her own. “And he definitely has the advantage with reach.”

Discharge stared at me for a few seconds before nodding. Then he looked to Jarhead and said, “Just be careful not to hurt her.”

After that, we paired off to practice. Some of the pairings looked pretty unbalanced, such as with Reader and Ambush or Stealth and Barracuda. However, after awhile we were supposed to switch partners.

Jarhead smirked down at me and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on you.”

I didn’t respond to that and decided to let my skills do the talking for me. Jarhead circled me at first, hesitant to actually get physical with me. I couldn’t help but feel simultaneously insulted and amused.

Since he wasn’t going to make the first move, I did. I lunched forward, punching him in the stomach and then pulling back. He let out a loud gasp, obviously surprised that I’d hit him, though he wasn’t hurt. Then to prove that it hadn’t been a fluke, I did it again.

‘You’re fast,” Jarhead admitted after I’d gotten past his defenses.

He swung at me, obviously holding back so that he didn’t hurt me. I avoided his swing with ease. Then when he tried it again, I grabbed his wrist and used his own momentum and lack of balance to send him to the ground.

“I thought you would have learned how to fight in the Marines,” I taunted him, guessing that he was so used to relying on his strength that he might have forgotten any skills he actually possessed.

Jarhead got more serious about our fight after that, though he couldn’t lay a finger on me. He was bigger and stronger but he was also slow and clumsy compared to me. And though I couldn’t hurt him, I was able to take his feet out from under him and knock him to the ground several more time.

By the time we were done sparring, Jarhead was looking at me with a new expression. There was something in it that might very well have been a bit of respect. But then, he gave me another of those leers.

“Cute looking and can fight,” Jarhead told me. “How about we spar again tonight…” The tone of his voice and the look he gave me made it pretty clear what kind of sparring he meant.

I sparred with Hacker next, though this time I had to really hold back to keep from injuring him. He was in good shape and fairly strong, but his fighting style was a lot like Jarhead’s, using brute force instead of skill. With Meridian, I had to hold back even more.

When we were done with the sparring, Discharge gave me a thoughtful look and said, “You’re a lot better at hand to hand than I would have guessed. Then again, you do have the enhanced strength and reflexes.”

“I learned to fight long before I got those,” I pointed out.

“I was thinking about how to use your abilities in the field,” Discharge said. “Jarhead used to carry heavy ordinance but he kept destroying the weapons by accident so now we he doesn’t bother. But with your strength, speed, and endurance, you should be able to carry some of the heavier weapons without being too encumbered.”

“What do you mean?” I asked in a flat voice, definitely not liking the sound of that.

“We have a gatling gun that you might be able to handle,” Discharge told me, sounding rather proud of that. “You don’t even need to aim…just point it in the general direction and you hit everything in its path.”

“That’s probably too much gun for the little lady,” Jarhead said.

I gave Discharge a cold glare, feeling insulted by the very suggestion that I should use a gatling gun. As a sniper, I was all about stealth, precision, and efficiency. My goal was one shot…one kill. Something like a gatling gun went against everything I was as a sniper.

“Forget it,” I snapped. “You can keep your damn gatling gun… I’ve got my own way of doing things and that isn’t it.”

Discharge glared at me, obviously not happy with me for refusing to go with his plan. I was used to following orders, but I was also used to having a unit commander who knew what he was doing. Discharge had been trained as a DAD agent, but he’d never been in the military and seemed to lack a certain level of experience in this kind of thing.

Just then, Martinez came into the room and looked us over. He’d returned from his business trip this morning but we hadn’t yet had a chance to talk about where I was to fit in. From the expression on his face, that was going to have to wait a little longer.

“You have a mission,” Martinez announced, going straight to Discharge and handing him a computer tablet. “An armored figure and some monsters just arrived at a train yard and appear to be looking for something.”

“Looking for what?” Platoon asked.

“I assume something in one of the train cars,” Martinez answered flatly, giving Platoon a faint look of annoyance. “And apparently, they have no problem killing anyone they see.”

“How does this relate to Sanction business?” Discharge asked, his tone and expression going completely professional.

“Normally, it might not,” Martinez admitted. “But this is occurring close to us so we can get there before anyone else.”

Stealth nodded and pointed out, “And it makes good public relations for people to see us behaving like heroes.”

“I’m just glad for a chance to kick some ass,” Jarhead said.

“Do we know anything about them?” Ambush asked with a thoughtful look.

Martinez shook his head. “That’s the problem. We have no pictures or clear intelligence yet.” He looked to Discharge and said, “You’ll have to find out what you can when you arrive. Be careful though. These are unidentified hostiles.”

Discharge was staring at the computer tablet and finally said, “There doesn’t seem to be much here.”

“But that’s all we have now,” Martinez told him. “I’ll send you more as we get it. Good luck.”

Martinez turned and left while Discharge looked us over. “Team one will handle this. Team two can stay back…and that includes you Harbinger.”

I kept my expression controlled, not showing my annoyance at being singled out that way. Just a few minutes ago, Discharge had been suggesting that my powers made me suitable for team one, as long as I carried the heavy weapons. But now that I’d been ‘difficult’, he had decided to move me to team two instead.

I could have argued with Discharge about my placement, but there was no time for that right before a mission. Nor would it have been professional at this time. However, there was something else that caught my attention and that I felt forced to point out.

“You’re going into a probable combat zone,” I said carefully. “Why aren’t you taking Barracuda?”

I got several looks of surprise but it was Discharge who responded in an almost patronizing tone. “Because there won’t be any water nearby and his powers would be useless.”

“I thought that was obvious,” Jarhead said while several others shook their heads, apparently thinking that I had to be stupid.

“You have SEAL on your team,” I pointed out calmly. “A highly trained combat specialist, and you’re leaving him behind because you don’t like his power.” I gave Discharge a flat look and asked, “Are you a fucking moron?”

Hacker burst out laughing at that while Stealth covered her mouth to hide her laugh. Barracuda stared at me but his mask and silence made it impossible to guess his thoughts. Discharge just turned red and glared at me.

“We’re going to talk about this when we get back,” Discharge told me with an angry look. “I’m beginning to have doubts whether or not you’ll be of any use to this team.”

With that, Discharge left the training room while the rest of team one followed him. I scowled in annoyance, thinking that Discharge was likely to get the rest of the team killed if he wasn’t careful.

Just as they were leaving, I heard Platoon ask, “What does Harbinger even mean anyway?”

“I don’t think Discharge likes you very much,” Micra told me with a chuckle.

Reader gave me a worried look and said, “That wasn’t very smart. Discharge might kick you off the team.”

“Maybe not,” Hacker added. “But man she has balls of steel…” Then he paused, suddenly looking embarrassed. “I mean, if she had balls and all…”

I didn’t say a word and just walked out, fully aware that they were all staring at me, including Barracuda. I went back to my quarters, wondering if I’d made a mistake in coming to Sanction. I’d thought it was an opportunity, a chance for me to continue doing what I did best. Now, that was starting to look like it wasn’t going to happen.

There was a half-empty bottle of Southern Comfort on my counter that I’d bought last night to celebrate after testing out my new weapon. I picked it up and took a long drink, then set it back down.

“Damn it guys,” I muttered with my eyes closed. “Why the hell did you have to get yourselves killed. If I ever find out what asshole gave that mutagen to those terrorists…”

I took another drink from the bottle at that and then wondered if I was starting to drink too much. I’d never been one to drink on duty before, but then again, Discharge didn’t seem to think that I’d ever be on duty.

“You’re a professional,” I told myself firmly. “Put your big girl panties on and deal with it.”

It suddenly struck me as ludicrous that I was actually wearing girl panties and even a bra, even if it wasn’t a big one. Whether I liked it or not, I was now a petite young woman and that was exactly how everyone else saw me. It was no wonder that Discharge and Jarhead had such a hard time taking me seriously. I wouldn’t have taken me seriously either.

“At least I didn’t turn into sexy miss big tits,” I muttered. If I’d turned into a busty blonde or something similar, then I probably would have had to deal with everyone trying to get into my panties, which was bound to be even worse.

With that, I put the bottle away and left my room to get back to training. Even if Discharge did have me kicked off Sanction before my first mission, I was damn well going to take advantage of these training facilities while I could.

I hadn’t gone very far down the hall when I saw Martinez, who gave me a look of surprise and asked, “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be out with the team?”

“Discharge didn’t want me to come,” I answered, keeping the emotions from my voice. “He doesn’t seem to think that I’m a good fit for the team.”

Martinez scowled at that, not looking happy. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this threat,” he finally said. “We don’t know anything about them so I want you to go back the team up.”

“Yes, sir,” I responded, not even bothering to hold back my grin.

My first stop was the armory where I picked up my sidearm and slipped it into the holster on my belt. The rest of my belt contained spare clips for it as well as ammo for my new rail gun. Between that, the combat knife that was strapped to my leg, and the rail gun, I was fully armed and ready.

Once I was armed, I went to the garage and acquired a vehicle since my destination was close enough to actually drive. Martinez had given me the address of where I needed to go, but I didn’t go there directly. Instead, I looked for something a little more appropriate, such as a tall building that was nearly a mile away. That would be perfect.

I ran up the stairs as fast as I could and made my way to the top of the building where I looked over the distant train yard. My eyes were sharp enough to make out a little, though I still needed my scope to really see what was going on.

A single good look was enough to show that my team was in a very bad position. In fact, they’d all been caught. I scowled as the sight, feeling worried though I put pushed the emotions aside to focus on what I needed to do.

I extended the barrel and stock of my new rail gun, smiling faintly as I moved it into position. It was large and a little awkward, but it still felt like it belonged with me

I’d known guys who actually named their guns, though I’d always avoided that practice. After all, even my favorite rifle was just a tool, one that was ultimately expendable and which might have to be discarded or disposed of. It had always struck me as foolish to get emotionally attached to something like that. Still, if I was the kind of person to name their weapons, I would probably end up calling this one Monster.

I pointed not-Monster at the train yard, using the scope to take in every detail of the situation. I saw the monsters that had been reported, five of them. One was a huge minotaur with reddish fur, one was a scaled woman with a snake tail instead of legs, and the others were scaled and furry creatures that looked only vaguely human.

Then I spotted the man in armor. It was a full body suit of red and gold armor that even covered his entire head. He had a red cape which billowed behind him, and he even held a golden metal staff in his hand.

“Shit,” I muttered, recognizing the armor and the identity of the man within even though I’d never seen him before in my life.

Back in the 3rd ADU, we had a list of developed who were considered targets of opportunity. These were dangerous developed who the Pentagon had decided were threats to our country and which we had been ordered to kill if we ever had the opportunity. The armored man below me had been on the list.

“The Alchemist,” I stated, trying to remember everything I could about him. I’d always made a habit of reading all the available reports and information about these targets of opportunity.

The Alchemist claimed to be over four hundred years old and was reported to have extended his life using some sort of alchemy. As his name indicated, he was an expert in alchemy and was considered to be powerful and dangerous. He’d fought the Protectorate a few times, had conquered his own island nation, and had created a small army of monstrous slaves.

From what I remembered, he had some kind of bath of chemicals that he would soak people in, turning them into powerful monsters and making them absolutely obedient to him. And of course, he had the armor itself. It was supposed to be completely indestructible, and it was also loaded up with alchemical potions that the Alchemist could use as weapons.

After a moment, I turned my attention to my own team, all of whom had been captured. Stealth was entangled in some sort of net which was being held by one of the monstrous creatures, one with a head like a dog. I suspected that they’d found her using smell rather than vision.

There were seven versions of Platoon present, one of whom was being held by the snake woman, three of which were entangled in metal tentacles that sprouted from the ground, and the remaining ones appeared to be stuck in the ground up to their knees, as though they’d stepped in quicksand.

Ambush was in one of his bubbles that kept him out of phase with reality. I doubt anyone else would be able to see him where he was, kept nice and safe, though the enemy apparently knew where he was and what his powers were. One of the monsters was standing right in the same place he was. If Ambush tried reappearing, he’d end up occupying the same space as the monster and would die.

Meridian was on the ground, appearing to be either unconscious or dead. I couldn’t tell from where I was at. Discharge was floating in the air nearby, held there by a swirling mass of smoke that seemed to somehow be levitating him and tying him up at the same time.

Jarhead just stood there, holding a huge piece of metal over his head and looking as though he had been frozen in position. I could see him screaming something that looked like profanities, but he didn’t seem able to move anything besides his mouth.

I locked my crosshairs directly on the Alchemist, scowling as I did so. At the moment, my options were limited. If I did anything to the monsters, the Alchemist would be able to immediately kill his prisoners. Unfortunately, the Alchemist was the key to this whole situation.

I struggled to remember every detail I cold about the Alchemist. His armor was created from some alchemical formula that made it nearly invulnerable. The report said that his armor was reputed to have a single flaw but hadn’t said what that flaw was.

I could attempt to hit him with armor piercing rounds, but if that didn’t work, I’d only give away my presence and get my team killed. There were his eye slits, but I wasn’t confident enough with my new weapon to aim for something quite that precise in this situation. If I missed by even half an inch, or if the lenses for his eyes were treated with the same stuff as his armor, my team would be dead.

“Patience,” I reminded my