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very few times when I felt that sort of power, very few times when I experienced the type of adrenaline rush that allowed my extremely dense muscles to contract so drastically that I could not only lift well over 20,000 pounds but also reach speeds of up to Mach 5 on foot. The tightness in my chest returned as the walls around us caved in, disintegrating into nothing as a blinding wave of white and yellow light slowly emerged and threatened to consume us. I knew it was all actually happening in the blink of an eye, but my adrenaline levels were so high at that point that, to me, the ensuing explosion seemed to occur in super slow motion.
    I reached back and grabbed the boy’s shirt as he and his parents seemed to stand there, frozen in time, while the sweltering walls of death expanded all around us. The boy and his father were still holding hands as the fire spread and turned his parents into nothing. I yanked him away with a fraction of a second to spare and rocketed across the room, as the fire swelled behind each supersonic bound that I made. I finally leapt through the window just as the entire building was consumed by the blast.
    As we zipped through the air like a missile, I knew that my actions had led to the liberation of hundreds of lives on that day, but for some reason I could only focus on the thousands of lives that I couldn’t save. I couldn’t save any of the hostages that were still trapped on floors 41 through 103 when the building exploded, nor could I save the parents of the little boy that I held in my arms. At the end of the day, it all suddenly seemed utterly pointless. I shed a tear beneath my mask as I realized that even the boy would not survive our descent back to the earth, which at that point was miles beneath my feet. No matter how securely I held him, I knew that he would be dead as soon as we hit the ground.

4. THE CHALLENGE
    AREA 51
    (SOUTHERN NEVEDA)
    - SIX HOURS LATER
     
    “WAS IT WORTH IT?! WAS ANY OF IT WORTH IT?!” WELLS fumed as Howie, Ace, and I sat quietly in front of his desk looking like kids who had just gotten caught with our hands in the cookie jar.
    I was seated in the middle wearing dark grey jeans, black sneakers and a black and white graphic T-shirt with a picture of a human skull printed on the front of it. Ace was seated to my right wearing a stylish long sleeved red and black button up shirt along with a pair of designer jeans and matching shoes. Even without trying, he always seemed to look like some kind of celebrity fashion icon fresh off of a photo shoot. Seated to my left was the much smaller, curly haired Howie, whose mop top had now grown well past his ears. He was wearing a pair of the hyper-advanced smart glasses that he had designed, but aside from the wearable tech he was dressed a lot more conservatively: dark slacks and loafers for pants and shoes and a pale blue polo for a shirt. Wells sat across from us at his desk wearing his typical dark grey suit, which perfectly matched the monotone color scheme of his unremarkable office. He was a six-foot tall, somewhat chubby man who appeared to be somewhere around fifty to sixty years of age. He had one of those faces that instantly let you know he meant business, even before he opened his mouth.
    He continued to burn daggers into us with his stern grey eyes as we sat there in silence and avoided making eye contact. None of us responded to him because we all knew better than to answer Wells’ rhetorical questions. The three of us had been working for Director Wells for a little over two years by that point, and in that time we had long discovered that it was much better to simply shut up and take it once he started one of his rants. He had recruited us under the false pretense of him being a Special Agent with the FBI, but once we agreed to join his crusade against The Righteous, the proverbial curtain was pulled back and we finally got a good look at the true scope of his operation. Instead of a lowly FBI