"Sector Five," said Byron as they were walking towards their next destination, "Perhaps the most important Sector in the Nation."
"Electricity," said Stephen, "How is that more important than food or water?"
"Sector Five's electricity is what makes everything possible. Without it, we wouldn't be able to clean water or process food. We wouldn't be able to contact each other as easily, either."
"Oh."
"Do you know who we're looking for?" Mark asked Byron.
"I do," Byron said, "His name is Gabriel Ramsey."
"Byron," Mark said when Phoebe and Stephen had walked ahead of them, "Last night you said you discovered something when you found out about us. What was it?"
Byron was silent for a moment, thinking of the best way to word his finding, "There's…something out there," he said slowly, "Something outside of the Nation, watching us, waiting for something to happen. It's growing rapidly, and it seems threatening. I don't know if it's a single thing or a whole population, but, whatever it is, I doubt it'll be good." Now Mark was quiet, shocked by this revelation.
"Then why are we leaving?" he said, "If we leave, whatever it is will attack us, right? Wouldn't we be safer in here?"
"Not necessarily," Byron said, "I doubt it surrounds us, so we'll be able to head out in one direction away from it. And, no, I don't think we would be better off here. Besides, even if it does attack us, we'll be able to fight back. We could defeat it, and, in doing so, save the entire Nation."
"If it's strong enough to destroy everything here, how could we fight it?"
"Do you doubt that we, when all of our powers are combined, would be able to destroy the Nation? We're easily as strong, if not mightier, than whatever is out there."
Mark was silent, stunned. He had never considered the possibility before. That was probably a good thing, though. He didn't have any desire to destroy the Nation.
Not yet.

Thomas Garek approached Peyton Burton carefully. Peyton didn't appear to be much, but Thomas knew better. Peyton was not a friend to surprises. One sudden movement and Thomas would be in a coma for the rest of his career. Peyton didn't look like much, but Thomas had seen what the man could do as the Head of the Secret Service. He slowly followed behind Peyton, who planned every movement cautiously, planning it well before acting on it.
"What do you want, Thomas?" Peyton said, an agitated tone in his voice. Thomas jumped at his voice, surprised by the man's voice. Peyton didn't talk that much, preferring to think instead of speaking. He would sit through whole meetings without his mouth opening, his elbow rested on the arm of a chair, his finger curled around his chin in a thoughtful manner. Even when asked his opinion, Peyton usually only responded with a blunt "Yes" or "No", sometimes not even speaking, but glaring in such a way that his judgment was obvious.
"If you don't mind, sir," Thomas said, losing the rough manner he had acted during the Council, "I would ask you a question."
Peyton stopped and turned. "I'm all ears," he said, seemingly becoming friendlier. Thomas kept his distance, anyways.
"You mentioned today that you didn't want to kill the Unnatural," Thomas said slowly, "But in an earlier meeting you issued an order to kill one that had infiltrated the Secret Service. Why are you pardoning them now?"
Peyton's face fell. By his expression, Thomas could tell that he had hit upon a personal note. Thomas stood his ground, though, even though he knew that this would end badly for him. Peyton took a breath and looked up, studying Thomas. Thomas still stood, although he felt the urge to shake in fear.
"You're a bold man for asking such a question," said Peyton, smiling, "Your bravery saves you today, Garek, although, as war coordinator I would have thought that you would've known better than to ask me that. I guess, though, I admire courage more than intelligence, so I'll tell you what you want to know."
Thomas let out a nervous, quiet breath, but sucked in another when Peyton took a slow step towards him.
"I'm giving mercy to the Unnatural because," Peyton said, pausing for a moment, "One of them is my daughter."

The Unnatural were, at this moment, about a quarter of a mile away from the Sector Five boundary. They stopped suddenly when Byron held up his hand. "Get down," he said. All four of them immediately hit the ground and crawled behind a rock. "They've got the boundary guarded," Byron said, "Look." Phoebe looked over the rock and instantly looked back down, for, swarming around the boundary marker was about three dozen soldiers, all armed to the teeth. Three tanks wheeled around the site, as well as several vans and cars.
"Why do I feel like we're connected to this?" she said.
"Because we are," said Byron.
"I figured that," Phoebe responded.
"Then why'd you ask it?"
"Because…of reasons."
Byron nodded sarcastically.
"How're we going to get around them?" Stephen said, "I'm not sure I can teleport that far."
"I've got this," said Phoebe, jumping up and over the rock. She ran forward, getting the attention of the soldiers. They shouted and opened fire on her. Phoebe didn't stop, she just smiled. This was her chance to prove herself. She could fight, she was capable of doing things just as much as Mark or Stephen or Byron. She could be more useful than to just lift a shelf and bring a roof down.
The soldier's attempts were futile. Their bullets just fell to the ground around them, as if hitting an impassable wall. Phoebe could feel them all, as if they were her. She drove herself into the ground; let those extensions of her body go as soon as they hit the earth. She extended her willpower to one of the tanks, which, seconds later, blew apart in an inferno. Cars flipped and flew into the air, spiraling and cartwheeling into the atmosphere. Guns were ripped out of the soldiers' hands, orbiting Phoebe body. Phoebe stopped running in the middle of the chaos. Soldiers came at her with knives now. Phoebe almost laughed at their idiocy. They should just retreat. She let one of the guns fire at a soldier, but, instead of a typical explosion that came from the gun's barrel, all Phoebe heard was a snapping sound. The soldier she had aimed at fell over, but not with the gaping wound of a bullet, nor the smoking hole of a laser, rather, a long syringe sticking out of his shoulder. Phoebe looked down at the gun for a moment, confused. She saw why, then. These guns weren't actual guns; they were tranquilizers.
That moment almost killed her, though, for a soldier noticed her distraction and ran at her, a knife in his hand. Phoebe looked up, but it was too late. However, as she braced herself for the excruciating sting the knife would bring, she saw someone appear in front of her. The soldier brought his knife down, burying it into the person's shoulder while the person delivered a fatal chop to the small exposure the soldier's armor gave in the neck. The two crumpled down next to each other.
Phoebe knelt down next to her savior, pulling the knife out of his shoulder. She saw the contorted face of Stephen.
"That hurt," he mumbled before going unconscious.
Phoebe let the surrounding guns and other assorted weapons that were orbiting her drop and looked up from Stephen's body, hearing a loud crash and explosion. One of the tanks had exploded again, but Phoebe had not done it this time. She couldn't see through the smoke, but she thought she saw a metal arm reach and grabs one of the soldiers, dragging him, screaming. The soldier came back around, flying at one of his own. The metal arm came out again, grabbing another soldier, throwing him, too. The soldiers began circling the thing, their knives poised, ready to fight. The remaining tank fired at the mysterious newcomer and hit dead on. However, after the smoke settled a little, Phoebe saw the outline of a man, standing. He leaped forward, colliding with two soldiers, send them flying. He kicked another who had rushed on him. One soldier jumped, but the man hit the ground and came back up when the soldier was just above him, his fist colliding with the soldier's stomach, sending the soldier up and backwards. The tank managed to fire again, but the man caught the missile this time. The smoke had just settled enough for Phoebe to see who the man was. He was very tall, around six and a half feet, it looked like. His long, disheveled hair covered his shoulders, from which thick, muscular arms sprouted, ending in the monstrously large hands that had grabbed ahold of the tank's projectile. However, the man's skin was what was strange. It seemed to be metal. As soon as he touched the missile, his skin had begun to transform into a similar metal, starting at his hands and working its way up and down his body. Soon that same kind of shiny, hard metal covered his skin, head to toe, as if he were made out of it.
He lifted the missile and threw it back and the tank with just as much force as the tank had. The tank went up in flames, exploding with a crash that could be heard for miles. Soldiers went flying, screaming for help, yet receiving none. Only now did soldiers try to retreat. Phoebe let them, and so did the new arrival, apparently.
Suddenly, Mark was at her side, inspecting Stephen. The knife had cut deep, but, hopefully, not fatally. Byron had gone to talk to the man.
"Byron Peters," he said, "And, yes, I was the one 'in your head'."
The newcomer stared at him. His skin had returned to normal. "Gabe Ramsey," he said.
"Yes, I know," said Byron.
"How?"
"I'm a telepath. I can read your thoughts and see your memories. And, by your previous acts, I can determine that you are like me."
"I can read other people's minds?"
"No. You are like us in that we have a different chemical makeup than other humans, however, that's where the similarities stop. You have the unique ability of Absorption. You are able to, by touching something solid, transform your skin into that material."
"How do I do that?" Gabe said, obviously perplexed.
"I believe that the molecules in your skin can rip molecules from a material and duplicate them on top of your skin, making a sort of shell for you to move in. However, this is just my speculation, not necessarily fact."
"Let me ask you a question, Gabe," Byron continued.
"What?"
"What did you get on your Results Test? Where were you supposed to go?"
"I was supposed to stay in Sector Five."
Byron nodded, "That's what I thought," he said thoughtfully.
"What is it?" asked Mark.
"All of us have received the Sector of our origin on our Results Test. I doubt that it's coincidental."
"They're trying to keep us in our Sectors."
"Trying to keep us apart."
Mark nodded, seeing Byron's point. If they were allowed to come together, there's no telling what they would do. Of course the government was trying to keep them separate. Byron looked back up at Gabe.
"Well, Gabriel," he said, "welcome to our party,"