Tally woke with a start, shaking her head to clear her pulsing headache. She opened her eyes and blinked against the bright light. She sat up straight to look out the small window next to her, to see miles and miles of ocean in all directions. Suddenly the world spun and she was gently shoved against the window. Looking out again, Tally saw that she was in the air, and, judging by the insistent thumping coming from above, she was in a helicopter.
"What the..." she whispered, trailing off. She'd been trying to break her cursing habit since she was eight. She tried to stand up and walk to the cabin, but she quickly found that she was harnessed to the seat by a complex cross between a seat belt and a pair of handcuffs.
"We appear to be in some sort of helicopter," said a sudden voice from across the aisle. Tally looked up, startled, to see a tall girl in tight jeans and a t-shirt that said "BORN TO KICK ASS." She was about half Asian, with long black hair tied back into a low ponytail with dozens of multicolored streaks. Her sleeves were rolled up to expose very... dense-looking muscles.
"Do you know where we are?" Tally asked, hoping for some answers, any answers, and still tugging on the harness.
"I thought you might, but apparently that is not the case. And quit messing with that. It's not going to just magically come open," the girl said, gesturing to the contraption. But when Tally looked at the girl's, it was open. Closer inspection indicated that it was operated by a lock, which the girl must have bypassed.
Suddenly the girl whipped out of her seat, leaning over Tally to look out the left-side window. After some adjustment, Tally saw what she was looking at. A huge volcano, seemingly active, with black smoke billowing out of the cone. Tally heard the girl mutter to herself something that sounded like: "So this is it."
"This is the first land I've seen since I woke up almost two hours ago," She said excitedly, with a twinge of deviousness. She tuned to face Tally. "I'm Michelle, by the way. Michelle Fanchu." She sat down in her seat and the seat belt reconnected herself. She sighed and held her left hand across the aisle. Tally, unable to reach, used her right hand to awkwardly shake hers.. "You?" She asked.
"Malpense. Natalya Malpense."
The helicopter started to descend into the volcano. Tally started to get nervous. She got jitters sometimes, when she was in small spaces or if her brother started to experiment with one of his... projects. She started fiddling with the hood of her jacket, which covered her long, pure-white hair that would fly out in all directions unless she kept it tied back in their usual pigtails. Dexter, her bother, had the same problem with his hair. Okay, problem wasn't exactly the right word. His jaunt face made him look fifteen, and he caught the attention of more than one girl in London who loved the "flyaway look." Peering down, the volcano seemed to have a landing pad, with a little under a dozen aircraft already on the ground. Gathered with a group of about twenty or so teens was a telltale shock of fiery red hair. Dexter stood on his toes, his bright blue eyes searching the group for something, without avail. It took a moment for Tally to realize he was looking for her.
Suddenly both harnesses unlocked and the doors swung open. All caution to the wind, Tally bolted from the craft, trying to keep herself from puking. She hated small spaces. Michelle stepped down and helped Tally to the rest of the group.
"Claustrophobic," she whispered wheezily to Michelle, who nodded her understanding. She squeezed her deep green eyes shut for a moment, then stood up. Regaining her strength, she shouted "Dexter!" so that he could find her. He walked over, trailed by a small bald boy with thick glasses.
"Oh, there you are, Tally," he said, with worry and relief. "Where are we?"
"I dunno. I just woke up, with a bad headache, locked into a seat in a helicopter with Michelle," she replied. Michelle nodded her agreement.
"Me too," said the bald boy. "Well, the other person was Dexter, not Michelle."
"Oh, my God!" Michelle exclaimed. "Zach! You were taken too!" Apparently the two knew each other.
"Anyways," Zach continued, "There was another person that came up tome after we got off of the helicopter and introduced himself as Tahir Kahn the Fifth, and I haven't seen him since. Good riddance, in my opinion." He paused for a moment, and Dexter took the opportunity to speak.
"These people don't look too friendly." He gestured to the guards, and then to the huge statue of a fist crushing the globe, sitting atop a titanium stand etched with the words "DO UNTO OTHERS." Zach and Michelle looked at each other. Like they knew what it meant. Tally almost asked about it, but Michelle interrupted.
"So, Zach, this is Natalya Malpense." she said, raising an eyebrow on the last word. Zach inhaled suddenly.
"I go by Tally. And this is Dexter Malpense. My brother." Tally watched their reactions. Zach already knew Dexter's last name, but Michelle fought to keep her usual calm and friendly expression.
"Ah... do you guys happen to be... twins?" Michelle tried to look casual, but she kept frantically checking to see Zack's expression.
"Yeah. Fraternal. Obviously. Why?" Dexter asked simply.
"Oh, nothing. We just thought you guys looked like-"
"You were the same age! So we thought the possibility of you being twins was likely." Michelle finished what Zach was trying to say. Or covered what he was going to say. "Where are you guys from?" She asked, still acting calm and friendly. Sortof.
"Scotland," Dexter said at the same time as Tally said "London." Shoot.
"Sorry... I mean we were in Scotland when we were taken but we're actually from London." Dexter looked at me with a clear message of WHY ON EARTH DID YOU TELL THEM WHERE WE'RE FROM? But Tally had no reason not to trust them. Not yet.
"So," Michelle gave Zach a meaningful look, "were you in Scotland with your parents?"
"No," Tally said. "Dex just wants to be a movie star and go to faraway places. He also likes to practice for his future career. We've never left England." This seemed to faze them a bit.
"You don't go anywhere? Ever? Why?" Zach looked a bit concerned. He hesitated a moment before asking: "Don't your parents ever take you anywhere?"
Tally was about to explain that they had no parents, that they had lived in St. Sebastian's Orphanage since the day they were found on its doorstep thirteen years ago, only a few months old. Mrs. McReedy, the sixtyish woman who had run the place for the past forty years, always told them that their birthday, the day they were found, was a special day. But she never told them why September twenty-ninth was so significant. Or why she always choked over the name "Malpense."
All of a sudden an enormous boy with a thick German accent came in and butted into the conversation.
"Nic!" Michelle exclaimed. "You too?" Zach just walked over and stood by him and they started chatting quietly.
"Who's he?" Tally asked. She felt left out, like she was brought here by accident in place of another person.
"Niclas Argentblum. My parents, his dad, and Zach's dad... and my godparents all went to school together."
"Oh," Tally said. "And what's his last name?" She gestured to Zach.
"Darkdoom," Michelle said. Dex succeeded in concealing his laughter, but Tally didn't. She let out a long snort, like the little geek she really was. Such a short boy, with no hair and thick glasses, had the last name Darkdoom.
"Stop it!" Michelle scolded. "His father is Nigel Darkdoom." As if that meant anything to the twins. Whoever Nigel Darkdoom was, they had never heard of him.
Nic joined the conversation again. "It is not being uncommon for one to not know Zach's father." Michelle inhaled shakily, the friendly calmness gone from her face.
"I just thought..." She trailed off. Zach made her point for her.
"Their last name is Malpense, Nic."
Maximilian Nero prepared for his third speech of the day. He did not need to review it in his head, it was the same speech he had given four times per year for the past sixty years. He straightened his customary black jacket and red cravat. He turned to the couple in their thirties standing behind him.
"So here we are. The Alpha stream." He smiled. The woman was wearing a long green dress that contrasted sharply with her red hair, but matched her green eyes perfectly. It barely covered the long scar that ran down the length of her back from that fateful mission fourteen years ago.
Shortly after her graduation from H.I.V.E., the woman, Laura, had gone on a short recon mission that turned out to be a trap. She had barely escaped with her life, after being shot in the stomach, then nearly crushed. Even though she was rushed immediately to a G.L.O.V.E. hospital, she was rendered childless and lost the twins she had been carrying. She spent the next part of her life helping to run the technological empire she and her husband had established. Now a major world power, the couple had returned to H.I.V.E. to see the incoming Alpha class, partly because their goddaughter was part of it, but Nero knew that the other part was that the twins would have been just the right age to attend this year.
"Twenty-three years ago today," said the man. He had piercing blue eyes and snow-white hair that stuck out in all directions. What he said was true. Twenty-three years ago the two had stood in the launch bay, along with Shelby Trinity, Wing Fanchu, Nigel Darkdoom, and Franz Argentblum. And yet little about the school had changed.
They had a new AI, Butler, but he had been "affectionately" renamed by the students as "The Snob." Interestingly enough, Butler had actually responded to it. With a twinge Nero remembered the previous AI, H.I.V., who had gone sometimes by "Big Blue." He'd only been active for a little over two years before he gave his life for the man in front of him, Otto Malpense, once an Alpha student who had been in grave danger from Overlord, the first G.L.O.V.E. AI, a complete and utter failure.
"It's time. I will return in a moment." Nero turned and gave his customary speech, filled with exaggerated gesticulations and flashy special effects in the background. He finished with explaining to the students that they would be given a tour of H.I.V.E. by one of its staff. He walked off.
Suddenly, he got a message that Professor Kahn had fallen ill, and he could no longer give the Alphas the introduction. Laura smiled for a moment before regaining her composure. Everything was going as planned. She walked forward and whispered something in Nero's ear.
"Of course, are you sure you remember the way?" Nero was kidding. There was no doubt that Otto and Laura were still fully capable of navigating the school with twenty-four teenagers in tow. Otto still probably had the tour memorized.
They led the new recruits the briefing room four, discreetly waving to the three shadows that peeled themselves from the cavern wall. The shadows walked over to Nero and began the annual student recount.
The first shadow, Natalya, code-named Raven had been working for G.L.O.V.E. since she was a young teenager, thirty-five years before. But the same technology that kept Nero looking healthy at ninety kept her fit and identical to the state she was in when twenty years ago she had guarded students Malpense, Brand, Fanchu, and Trinity. She and Nero had been close friends for a long time.
The next shadow was a tall, blonde woman named Shelby. She had been under Raven's protection while she had been in the Alpha Stream. Actually, she and Laura had been roommates. She had one child, Michelle Fanchu.
The last shadow was an even taller Asian man named Wing Fanchu. He had, years ago, been Otto Malpense's roommate. The four, Otto, Laura, Wing, and Shelby, had been an inseparable team during their stay at the school. Together, they had accomplished seemingly impossible tasks, and still often kept in touch. Wing was the father of Michelle Fanchu.
Nero brought up the screen that showed the picture, taken minutes before, of all of the students gathered in the launch bay. He asked the trio to identify each student, occasionally asking questions.
"Tahir Kahn V."
"Niclas Argentblum."
"Zachary Darkdoom."
"Hey, look! There's Michelle!" Shelby exclaimed. Nero looked skeptical.
"I didn't know she was accepted into the Alpha stream. What did she do?" He asked. Wing and Shelby looked at each other, silently conversing in a matter of moments.
"We do not actually know what she did to even be considered, let alone accepted," Wing said.
"Which is... come to think of it, quite scary. We were simply informed about three weeks ago that she had been accepted, and not to be alarmed when she disappeared," Shelby added. Nero looked at Raven, who looked at Shelby and Wing. She started a bit shakily.
"You two were a bit... sloppy."
TWO MONTHS AGO
Mrs. Lafayette stood at the front of the class. She was a history teacher, and her class was now in to the Jackson unit. She had just finished explaining that they would be putting on a mock trial regarding whether or not President Jackson was guilty of genocide.
"I need volunteers for prosecution attorney!" She called out to her class, who had already taken the five seconds she had used to retrieve her notebook to start talking loudly amongst themselves.
"Anyone? Or should I assign random people?" She knew they weren't listening, and took the opportunity to scribble down the names of her worst students. "Defense attorney!" Michelle's hand shot up, along with that of Zach... Darkdoom. What an awful name. Of course, saying that out loud would get her fired. She scribbled down those names, too. The role of Andrew Jackson went to Niclas Argentblum.
Bing!
The bell rang. A nice, melodic sound that signified the end of the last period of the week. A time when she could finally get away from the little imbeciles. Speaking of imbeciles...
"You! You! And you too!" She shouted, pointing at Michelle, Nic, and Zach. She never referred to her students by their first names; that brought on raised self-esteem. "Come see me once you've finished packing!" The trio reluctantly made their way over to her desk.
"You there," she said to Michelle. "Your shirt is entirely inappropriate for school. You will come to school on Monday wearing a shirt that conforms to regulation. You will also have this signed by your parents. Both of them," she spat handing the girl a slip of paper that only required one signature.
"And you." She turned to Nic. "If I catch you eating in my class again I will have you SUSPENDED!" She had sounded almost... calm until the last word. Nic, startled, took the paper thrust at him.
"And now... you." She looked at Zach. She hated him the most. His goofy glasses, his idiotic surname, his habit of doubting her recount of historical events. "I could have you expelled for what you did." He looked confused. She walked over to the space between his and Michelle's seat. She picked up a drawing from the floor. It was a caricature of Mrs. Lafayette herself, writing on the front of the chalkboard the words YOU ARE ALL INSOLENT LITTLE ANIMALS. It may be what she thought, but she had never written it down nor spoken it.
" And how do you know that he drew it?" asked Michelle, with a defiant expression on her face. She did not even let Mrs. Lafayette answer. "You found it on the floor. Any of the other... 'insolent little animals' could have drawn this and left it. You're just blaming Zach because you're an idiot." Michelle easily hid the fact that she herself had drawn the picture.
"Give me that referral I just handed you," said the teacher. She took the paper, and rewrote it to further inform her parents that she had called a teacher an idiot. The trio promptly turned and left.
When Michelle got home, her mother was cooking dinner.
"Mom! I'm home!" She walked into the kitchen. "Hello."
"Japanese," said her mother.
"Konichiwa."
"Spanish."
"Hola."
"Hungarian."
"Szia."
The routine continued for several minutes, cycling through Frech, Czech, Chinese, Russian, Italian, Latin, Portuguese, and twenty-three others. Once they were finished, Michelle's mother put the casserole she had been preparing into the oven.
"Your father and I have a business trip this weekend. We're leaving in a few minutes. Take the casserole out in an hour and a half, and do not, repeat, DO NOT invite ANY friends over, male or female. We will return on Tuesday. Try to stay here for as much as possible. Any visits to friend's houses must be strictly school-related. If any trouble comes up, call Laura and she will be here within the hour. Understood?"
Michelle's parents were lawyers.
"I said, is that understood?" Her mother switched from fun to control freak at the drop of a hat.
"Yes, Mom."
"Spanish."
"Si."
"Hungarian."
"Igen."
And so the process started all over again. When they were finished, Michelle told her mother about how they were starting mock trials in history, and how her team was already considering the insanity plea.
"An excellent idea," commented her mother. "That is used in 26% of all court cases, and succeeds in 54% of those."
After Michelle finished her homework, she started researching the insanity plea, and how it was usually done. She came to a page that discussed the statistics, and was about to close it when she noticed an interesting bit of text.
It said that the insanity plea was used in less that one percent of all court cases, and only succeeded in 24% of those. She checked the sources. Double checked with Harvard Law.
Mom had used the insanity plea just last month. And won. How on earth could she have possibly gotten such information wrong?
Michelle walked to the kitchen, but her mother was not there. She searched the whole house before realizing that her parents must have already left. Without signing her referral.
She noticed something on the floor. A picture. She was in the master bathroom, standing right in front of her parent's closet. Looking at the slip of paper, she recognized the card her father carried around in his pocket. It was of her parents, and her godparents, when they were in their teens. Her father said it had been taken when they were in school together. But this version was different, and it showed not only their faces but also the tops of what they were wearing. Black jumpsuits with silver embroidery on the breast pocket, a symbol of a fist crashing down on a wireframe globe.
Michelle noticed that the door to her parent's closet was open, and poking out from behind one of her mother's dresses was a safe. Alarm bells rang in her head as she recognized the same fist and globe symbol on one side. She ran over, all caution to the wind, and grazed a finger over the strange insignia.
Suddenly, a keyboard and tiny screen popped out of nowhere. It asked for a password. She keyed in: michelle. That was every password in the house, from the silent alarm to the garage door opener. It wasn't long enough. She tried her full name, xiumeimichellefanchu, and it worked. The clothes on one side of the closet disappeared, as if they had been only holograms. A door slid open on the back wall.
She walked into a dimly lit room, with four huge filing cabinets, and along the walls there were lighted compartments with various equipment and body suits inside. Walking to the compartment on the far left, she recognized one of the black jumpsuits like the ones from the picture. A patch on the shoulder identified its owner as SHELBY TRINITY.
Michelle carefully removed it from its hanger. She visually inspected the room, to find no hidden cameras, and tried it on out of sheer curiosity. It fit like a glove. She returned it to its place and moved to the first filing cabinet. In the front of the first file was a disk, an old-fashioned CD. She inserted it into a slot on the wall beneath a large TV, and the fist and globe symbol appeared over the words DO UNTO OTHERS. The picture changed to that of a huge volcano on an island, billowing smoke. A male narrator began speaking.
The screen cycled through pictures of waterfalls, kids in variously colored uniforms shooting lasers, and older teenagers being handed diplomas by a strange man in a pressed suit. But the sound broke off after about two seconds, and Michelle was forced to just watch in utter confusion.
One thing she noticed, though, was that a small number of teens were wearing black jumpsuits identical to the one she had just tried on. Wherever this place was, her parents, and her godparents, had gone there.
She returned to the filing cabinet and placed the antique CD back in its case. The next file was a single sheet of paper.
STUDENT NAME: SHELBY TRINITY
DATE OF BIRTH: 11/14/95
PLACE OF BIRTH: LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
CHILD OF G..E. MEMBER?: NO
SCHOLARSHIP STUDENT?: NO
STREAM: ALPHA
REASON FOR INVITATION: STUDENT IS "THE WRAITH."
SKILLS: STEALTH AND INFILTRATION
That was it. That was all it said. Thinking back, the only place Michelle had ever heard the term "the Wraith" was in math class once, when her teacher had mentioned a diamond thief who had never left any trace of their visit except the obvious absence of the jewel, and a four word thank-you note in its place. Of course, the possibility of her mother being this person was absurd. The Wraith had been active almost twenty-three years ago, and had been active for five years, which would mean that her mother would have been eight years old when she started. The idea was laughable. This paper must have been referring to something else.
Skipping forward a few pages, Michelle came across a laminated certificate.
Congratulations, Shelby Trinity, you have been granted the rank of G.L.O.V.E. Operative !
Attached to the certificate was another, official-looking paper.
NAME: TRINITY, SHELBY MICHELLE
CONSIDERED FOR RANK OF: G.L.O.V.E. OPERATIVE
RECCOMENDED BY: OPERATIVE RAVEN
CLEARANCE OF RECCOMENDER: BETA BLACK
The next part made Michelle choke on the Red Bull she had been drinking.
CONSIDERED FOR OPERATIONS TYPE: ASSASSIN