In some bitter twist of irony, I had to learn how to walk again, whilst flying was the part that came pretty naturally. I know I shouldn't be up in the sky right now, and neither should I be going this fast, but for all my huffing, grunting, clenching and swearing, I was, at the very least, now moving fast enough to throw a violent gust of wind against the forest underneath me. Miles of it stretched as far as my eyes could see. A lake not too far away sparkled in the soft, white sunlight. One arm was pressed to my body, trapped in a sling. The other was a fist in front of me, punching through the sky and almost splitting apart my knuckles. Cool wind cut across my eyes. Flocks of birds shrieked when I got close and darted out of my way. It felt good. So fucking good. That hospital room was a freaking prison.

Mom would probably be losing her mind right about now, because apparently I shouldn't be going out all on my own. You might pass out, and then what, Ry? We'd never find you in all that forest, at least not until the next day. But for once in her life, she just had to trust me. Besides, leaving a giant open window right beside my bed and telling me not to leap out of it and explore the surrounding woodlands would be madness, almost insulting to me.

Olympia does what Olympia wants, and just now, Olympia threw up in her mouth because of the burst of nausea and brief panic of nearly falling out of the sky. I glanced at the watch I'd stolen off one of the nurses that usually came by to check on me at night. Thirty minutes. Not bad. Not great (terrible, actually), but it was better than being stuck in a wheelchair. I spotted a piece of jagged rocky outcrop poking out of the trees, overlooking a large glade of trees and overgrowth that was just about ready to bloom. I chose to land there, stumbling because my legs weren't quite ready yet, and my spine was still in the process of healing itself. I fell to the ground in a heap of sweat and leaves and tree barbs, soaking through the gray sweater and sweatpants I'd been forced into this morning.

That was another thing I kinda hated—other people had to wash me, put clothes on me. I was this close to almost being fed, too. I know they meant well, but fuck me, I went to hell last year and I fought the devil—you'd think a girl could get a little more respect around here. Let me struggle. Let me drop the spoon and cry about it.

I want to run away from this feeling that's inside of me. It's sickly and hot, but sometimes so cold it feels like it's scolding the back of my throat every time I swallow and stare at that pale white ceiling above my bed.

It is hatred. Hatred so deep that it makes me itch at night. There's spite, there's anger—and hatred.

A part of me hates everything right now.

But I wanted to show mom that I was doing fine, that I was being more positive. How? Look up into the sky and those planet-destroyers are somewhere there, watching me fall, watching me breathe in soil and dust as I lie here on the ground, struggling to push myself off of it. My teeth chattered, my stomach tightened. I winced and got up, floating myself off the ground and keeping my limp feet inches above the rocky soil. I shaded my eyes and looked at the pale blue, and the strings of clouds laced along the horizon. You'd think I would be more afraid of the sky after what happened. But their attack only showed me cowardice. A blindsided attack? Really? That was the best the Mighty Arkathian Empire could throw at me? And they had the fucking nerve to keep me alive as well?

I'd thrust my middle finger toward the sky if I was vain enough. I'd spit if I had enough saliva.

Instead, I ignored the sky and flew closer to the edge of the cliff, then gently sat down, letting my legs sway off the edge, and let the breeze wipe sweat off my face. I leaned back on my one good arm and shut my eyes.

And breathed. I smelt flowers. I smelt soil. I smelt the animals stalking through the woods, and the faint stink of soap still in my hair. New Olympus was so filthy in comparison. I might've been all over this country, but it was always for Lucas and his war against evil. I've seen Dallas, but I was inside of a mutated Kaiju. I've been to the Midwest and its endless empty planes, but I was too busy wiping the gore off my shoulders to worry about that.

Maybe it was naive for me to say this, but the humans really didn't use this planet to its fullest.

New Olympus, it's got this stench. This grime that gets under your nails and crusts around your eyes, and no matter how hard you scrub your hands and wash your face, you'll never get it off. But a part of you likes it. A part of you is so used to it that you don't even know what you'd look like without it. Right now…I kinda liked it.

My fingernails were short, they were clean, and most importantly, they weren't chipped. Do you know how long it's been since my fingernails weren't broken or missing? Years. Clawing for your life daily does that to a gal.

A gust of cold wins throws my hair across my face. I know someone is standing behind me, and I also know that this sunlight is way too warm for me to turn away from it just to glance over my shoulder. My gut would've told me if it was a threat. My skin would've flared up with a rash if someone like Adam was standing over me. This was someone else, someone new. They smelt like sweat and gasoline, and when they got closer, I put up my hand.

"Give me one second, please?" I said quietly. "Just stand there, or leave. I really don't care which one."

"Four-hundred miles per hour," she says. There's an accent there, or maybe none. Someone who's been everywhere and nowhere at once. "That's how fast I clocked you going at your peak. Baseline was one-hundred."

"Gonna write me a ticket or something? I thought this was a free country."

"You think that's fast, kid? I've seen thunderstorms move quicker than you."

Who the hell?

I open my eyes and glance over my shoulder. A woman is standing behind me, pulling off a blue visor that hangs around her neck, freeing curly blonde hair and bright, sparkling green eyes. She's so picture perfect, I almost ask her what the hell she's doing wearing a tight, light blue spandex costume with gold trim on it. Superhumans tend to be good-looking, it's something to do with that Divergent Virus, but she's gorgeous in the wild way that fighter jets are awesome. The old airforce jacket she's wearing has a silver patch on its shoulder, an A with wings spreading either side of it. On her heart is a patch, stitched deep into the fabric in gold lettering: Blue Angel. I look her over, because I know almost every superhero in the book because of Dennie—I have never seen her in my life.

"What's the matter?" she asks as a smile slides onto her lips. She walks closer, hands in her jacket pockets. "No one ever told you the truth before?" She crouches beside me, almost so close I can count the freckles on her rosy cheeks. "See, the neat thing about flying is that speed doesn't mean anything if you're like a wedge of meat shooting through the sky. That's…slow. Fighter jets are designed the way they are to be fast, and right now, kid…"

I look at her for a moment, then say, "Do…do you know who you're talking to? I'm slow?"

"Very," she said, standing up again. The visor around her neck caught sunlight, almost blinding me. "I've seen people who fly like you before. Heck, I used to fly like you. And then I figured the gauge doesn't top at four."

"I've broken the sound barrier several times," I said. "I haven't flown in a while. That was a warm up."

"Yeah?" she said, her eyes sparkling. "Then how about it, hotshot? First to mach three?"

I've only ever reached two before, and almost immediately passed out. Way back in that other reality, when I was flying with Suits. I vaguely remembered how violent the air had gotten, how turbulent and chaotic it had become, pushing and shoving and feeling like it was trying to strangle me and make me stop flying so quickly.

Injured or not, though, being spoken down on was an easy enough way to get me onto my feet.

But first.

"What does the winner get?" I asked. "Oh, I know. You leave me alone and admit I'm faster than you."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Well, I wasn't gonna wager, but sure. When I win, I want you to hold how fast you're going for at least ten seconds. That's all I'm asking. If you can keep up in my wake, then I'll get you home."

I scoffed. "What the hell kind of wager is that? 'When?' You'd be lucky to keep up with me."

She waved her hand toward the sky. "Then let's have at it, hotshot."

I floated off my rear, dusted myself down with my one hand, and burst into the sky. She was right on my tail by the time I reached the clouds, and I was already feeling woozy. My stomach growled, and she looked at me funny as she adjusted her visor onto her eyes. I never get myself into these kinds of situations, but what I needed right now was a win. Something that would feed this thing clawing up my throat. A year was nothing when it concerned the Empire. If I survived to see this time next year, two things would have to happen: one, the Empire would have made it here, I'd be dead, and the Earth would be in flames, or two, the Empire was just a bad memory.

I couldn't waste time lying in a hospital bed as a nurse massaged my feet for an hour.

If I wanted to get myself back up to speed, this was how—no matter how dizzy I felt.

Besides, I've hit the ground harder than I ever have when Atalla nearly killed me. Dropping out of the sky in a race and plowing through the woods would only rattle my brain just enough to wake me up to cold reality.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Olympia didn't lose, not in a fair fight. Fuck that.

She signaled for me to move forward, throwing her hand outward. She took off in a gust of wind, and I thrust my fist out and followed in her quiet wake until I was beside her. We weren't moving fast, but fast enough to make the wind loud in my ears and the noise of the world get so quiet that nothing else mattered, not up here.

"We're cruising at one-fifty right now!" she yelled over the wind. Her hands were outstretched, like Older Me had said I should be flying. "I like to call this a rolling start! On my mark, I'll count down, ready? One, two—"

We both jumped the start.

I was a bullet from the go. The world almost stretched and streaked across my vision as I split the clouds apart and carved through the sky. Wind rushed into my lungs and stung my eyes. Air filled my lungs and dried my throat. My gut turned. Vomit rushed into my mouth. I swallowed bile and clenched my teeth through the ebbing pain and darkness pulsing through my skull. And then I felt it, this surge, this energy that crackled at my fingertips. I slowed, just for a fraction, and stared at the golden sparks that had burst from my hands. That was the first time, the first proper time they'd come back. And then she was past me, and gone. The force of her wake threw me into a wild, spiralling circle, until I got my bearings, spat out a swear words, and thrust myself even harder into the open skies.

She glanced over her shoulder and winked at me, then shattered the first sound barrier.

I faltered. My heart crashed against my ribs. I tasted metal and blinked through shadows.

C'mon, c'mon. Just a little more, Ry.

But she was getting further. And further. The soles of her blue boots were a dot by the time the vomit I couldn't keep down rushed out of my mouth. I coughed and spluttered and slowed almost to a crawl. I dragged my hand across my mouth, and listened to the explosive sound of three more sound barriers shattering in the distance. Mach four? I spat saliva and panted so hard my chest ached. I shielded my eyes from the harsh sunlight above me, and watched as she tore through the sky, almost glowing with heat. It took her several minutes to come back around, taking a wide circle and progressively slowing down until she was smoking and sizzling and the air around her was so hot that vapors of heat spilled from her flight suit. She grinned and patted my good shoulder, and the worst part was that her breathing wasn't any harder than mine, but the difference was she'd broken four barriers.

I hadn't even grazed the first one.

I shrugged off her hand and said, "Whatever. Congrats, you can fly in a straight line. Woopty-doo."

"Why, thank you," she said cheerfully. "What was that part about admitting you're better than me?"

"I can't even walk," I said. "You wanna be happy about beating someone who can't even stand up?"

She folded her arms. "A win is a win, kiddo. You know that. I know that. And we both know that you're not in fighting shape, definitely not in the kind of shape that you should be picking races with the fastest flyer the US has ever seen." She thrusted her hand out and spread that grin onto her face. "Lucy Hayes. Or Blue Angel to the men and women and supes who scream it and point in the sky. I know, I know, meeting me is your honor. I'm blushing."

I looked at her hand, and then at her. "I'm sorry, who are you again?"

"Ah, well, I'm not surprised," she said with a shrug. "You were probably too young to remember when the Soviets started getting feisty with us, or when Cleopatra marched through the desert with her gilded golden army. In short, I served in both those deployments, and I'm happy to confirm that I'll be gracing you with my intelligence."

I made a face that reflected in her reflective blue visor. "You don't seem all that smart to me."

"I'm smart enough to know your heart is beating too fast for someone who, on average, the government knows can fly at mach two." Before I could talk, because of course the government knew, she said, "I've gone over your files once, because they've got so much on you that anybody would be crazy to read it through more than once. You fly expressively. It's dirty and it's fast and it's violent, but you know that nobody can keep up with you, so you've never refined it. Hey, why fix what's broken, right? But I've watched your film countless times, and I've got dossiers full of everything wrong with your form." I was about to speak again, because now she was just getting rude, but she put up her hand. "I didn't come here to spite you. I came here because I wanted to figure out what you were actually made of. You can read all about someone's grit and heart, but you've gotta see it to believe it. You're not a quitter, and you're not soft—but you knew you couldn't break mach one, and yet you tried. Why was that?"

"Because you mocked me and called me slow!" I said. "Of course I was gonna try to beat you."

She gently elbows me in the ribs. "I was busting you a little, that's all. And good on you for trying your best, but unfortunately, Rylee, the world doesn't need you to try your best." Her voice, like the wind, was suddenly cool and flat. She pulled off her visor and looked me dead in the eyes. "I was sent here by parties within the US government and Alfred Kincaid. This is a joint venture between Taskforce Starview and yourself. There aren't any contracts, but there are obligations—one being myself to you. I have to teach you to fly, and fly faster, fly better, and fly like you've never flown before. You've never had competition. Now you do. You need to lift more. You need to punch harder. And you need to take damage like you never have. I hate seeing young people go to war, but you've been in one for years now, and I don't think it's time for sympathy. You, like the rest of us, need to get our shit together. The world is going to end soon, and we can't tell each other we tried our best when it all goes up in flames and blood. Kincaid was going to give you this speech, and then Warhammer and Valor thought they'd do it. I wasn't even meant to meet you here, Rylee, but I wanted to. I had to. I have to make sure you understand what—"

"—is being asked of me," I said, chewing on the edge of my tongue. "I know. If there's anyone you don't have to give a speech about responsibility to, it's me. I know what's at stake, and I know I can't just 'try,' either."

"Good," Blue Angel said. "Because we made a wager, and you didn't keep that wager."

"You won, what else do you want from me? Should I spit shine that visor of yours?"

"That would be nice," she said, "but I'd prefer it if you kept up with me for ten seconds."

"I can't in this state, you literally just said that."

"So if those people from the stars came back right now, right-fucking-now, you'd tell them you can't do it as well?" she asked me, then poked me in the chest. "Are you going to ask them for some kind of brief time-out?"

I swiped her hand away. "Of course I'm not. But they're gonna be here in a year."

"And that's not enough time to get you ready."

"All due respect, but what the fuck do you or the government know about getting me ready? You've been on my ass for the majority of the time I've been wearing a costume. For all I know, this is some kind of weird trick to get me to give up more of my blood and bone samples. The last thing I need is another clone running around, too."

"Because we're desperate, Rylee," she said, words so straight-cut they almost stung. "Our entire planet relies on you. You're a teenager. You can't legally drink. You're also the most powerful person in the world. When war comes around, we need all hands on deck, and your hands are going to keep this whole fucking thing afloat, and you better get ready to ride it until the goddamned wheels fall off, because everyone in this taskforce, and almost everyone in the White House is going to do the exact same thing. We. Need. You." She put her hand on my shoulder and gently squeezed. "And we need you at more than your best, at more than you've ever been before. I cannot stress how scared I am, more scared than I was flying over the Atlantic at almost your age into the jaws of war that spat out so many of my friends I wake up screaming in the night sometimes. And when they came to me and said, Lucy, we've got one more objective for you, I didn't think it would be saving the world. But here I am, here you are, and it's my job to make sure that from now, to the day you meet those killers again, you'll fly faster, and faster, and so fast that you'll even make me look slow. But we need to make you learn how to maintain speed first."

Were these people seriously going to help me, or is this one of those things like before? Here's a fancy contract, a juicy little side-deal with a brand new costume, and oh, look at that, we kinda don't need you anymore.

Her eyes were so intense, her grip on my shoulder so hard, that I almost tasted the fear in her voice.

Because I might be full of hate, and spite, and all these other things—but I was also terrified.

At my best, I'd nearly died to that worm-creature, to Lucian—Witchling could rip me apart.

And here she is, representing the entire country, telling me I had to get better. Not later, like I always said. Not some other day, like I always dreamed of doing. Right now. Because right now was the only time we had left.

The government had given up on Cassie and her little projects if they were finally helping me.

I didn't know how desperate the president was if he'd finally looked at me and said, Fuck it.

I breathed in shakily and nodded slowly, then said, "Best to mach three, that's what you said?"

Blue Angel blinked, then smiled at me. "Yeah. Yes. But we need to get you to base first."

"What?" I said. "You gave me that whole speech just to tell me I need to go back home?"

"We need baselines for what we're working with, and with those, we'll be able to work upward. Getting your ability to walk again is one of our top priorities, and also making sure that shoulder of yours is still good."

I tentatively massaged it, trying not to wince. "My mom's the best in the world. It'll be fine."

"It better be. We can't have you throwing out your shoulder in the heat of the fight."

I scoffed and said, "Look, you might've read up on me, but—"

"Rylee, I'm being so fucking serious right now—I need you to be perfect. We all need you to be. I know we've been unfair to you, I get that. But the world has one chance at this before things get desperate, and we both know what happens when Normals get desperate. By the end of the next six months, you will be perfect. So perfect you'll make your dad look like he was still learning the ropes." That thought, that simple thought, tightened my stomach so much it hurt. That much power was almost being handed to me. The government would've probably had a stroke if any sane person trained me before this year, but now they were actually willing to make sure I was strong enough to make dad look like a chump? Oh, wow, she wasn't kidding—they really are desperate. "Well?"

"Well," I whispered, laughing dryly, then swallowing hard. "Sure. No, Ok. Let's do this shit."

"There's a reason I came here to tell you all of this," Blue said. "But you'll find out soon enough why. I'll keep the cruising speed around two hundred miles per hour. That way, we can force some stamina back inside you."

"Pfft," I said, then nudged her ribs. She winced, but kept up that smile. "Keep up, hotshot."

She took off before I properly finished my sentence.

And for a good while, I let her almost vanish into the distance.

I let myself breathe, I let my heart quake in my chest and my lungs constrict painfully. For whatever reason, my eyes stung. Suddenly, quickly, they stung. I pressed them with my thumb and forefinger, then looked at the sky.

"Ok," I said shakily, swallowing. "Ok, you can do this. You were built for this. You're a superhero, Ry."

It's what I was, it's what I do—I save people. Things. The world.

I just…

Fuck.

I used the heel of my palm to massage my chest, then took a deep breath.

No more fucking up. I could almost get away with it in New Olympus.

Not anymore. For once in my life, I actually had to be better.

Olympia had to be what she always pictured herself to be: perfect.

Except the sun stung my neck, the air dried my lips, and bile was on my tongue, thick and sour. My arm was sore, and so was my back. My shoulders ached. I pissed blood this morning and didn't tell anyone, not even when I'd slipped off the toilet and collapsed onto the floor. My arms had shaken so violently I'd dented the tiles.

The world over my shoulder was expansive, green—gorgeous and silent, whispering in the wind.

But it didn't matter if I ran away, because the Empire would find me one way or another.

Saving the world, Ry, I thought to myself, slowly moving forward. Just like you always wanted.

The golden necklace around my throat was frigid as I exploded through the sky, chasing after Blue Angel, chasing after my destiny and Earth's future.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.