Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men or The Hunger Games.

Note: Thank you to So hard to choose usernames, santiago. poncini20, symphorophilia, and Greybeard mmmmmm3 for Kenji, Alannah, Evelyn, and Rick, respectively.

Legacy

Secretary Nicholas Wright, 64
March 15th, 07:45 CST

No one would remember how it had all started.

Nicholas glanced around as he made his way through the streets of Southaven. It was early on a Sunday morning, but the streets were already bustling. People were making their way this way and that, still largely oblivious to the threats around them. Safe in their little fantasy, content that everything would continue to be fine.

Not that he could really blame them for that. It had taken him a while to realize exactly how much of a threat mutants posed to humanity, and even longer to come to terms with what they would have to do in order to deal with that threat.

The Games weren't pretty, but they were necessary. They would pave the way for the government to step in and control the mutant population. Eventually, the public would come to accept what they were – an organized fight to the death – rather than the image they still had to maintain, that the Games had been an experiment gone wrong. They still had a long way to go before the public was ready for the truth, but once the Games were firmly in place, no one would care that they had started with a lie.

It was a lie with a grain of truth, after all. No, the mutants weren't volunteers. They hadn't been told beforehand exactly what they had been selected for. But once they had been told the rules of the Games, they were the ones who had made it possible. He and the others, after all, had no way to force the mutants to fight. If they had simply chosen not to comply, they would have had no choice but to call the whole thing off. The success of the Games had hinged on the contestants believing that they had no choice but to do as they were told, to fight until only one remained standing.

Well, two had remained standing, but that had been a necessary concession. Their deal with Diana had allowed them to proceed with the Games without the threat of an attack from the outside. And allowing for two of the mutants to survive would certainly change the dynamics this year. Lillian had all sorts of theories about how the contestants' interactions would change once they knew that two of them could survive.

There was no way to keep it a secret. Not like last year. Last year, the decision to allow two survivors hadn't been made until about halfway through the Games. Even the coaches hadn't known until both Penelope and Piper had been rescued safely. This year, everything was different.

But that wasn't always a bad thing. Nicholas glanced at the two Sentinels, one on either side of the street, following him. Ready to step in if anything happened. A year ago, a pair of Sentinels walking down the street would have attracted more attention. Now, people accepted them as a given, a part of everyday life. A part that was necessary in order to keep them safe.

It was amazing, sometimes, the things people would accept in the name of safety, of protection. They could accept the occasional mutant disappearing without a trace, if it meant they were safer. They could accept Sentinels patrolling down the street if it made them feel more secure.

They would even come to accept the Games, because they were a necessary reminder of what they were being protected from. A reminder that the threat was real, that there were mutants all around them. Mutants who looked just like them, their friends, and their neighbors. Mutants who wouldn't hesitate to kill them, given the right circumstances. In the Games, those circumstances were manufactured, but that didn't matter in the end. What mattered was that the public perceived a threat, that they felt unsafe.

Their fear would do the rest.

Kenji Rose, 12
Southaven, MS

07:58 CST

He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a normal weekend.

Kenji grumbled noncommittally at the sound of knocking on his bedroom door. "I'm up," he mumbled when the knocking continued. He wasn't. His alarm had been about to ring in two minutes anyway, but it was Sunday. Sundays were supposed to be for relaxing. But now it was all 'practice, practice, practice' this and 'you have to learn to control your power' that. He was pretty sure his father missed being able to send his kids off to school for training.

It was that thought that finally made him roll out of bed. It wasn't his father's fault. It wasn't his father's fault the school had been attacked by Sentinels. It wasn't his fault his older brother and sister, Isamu and Nami, had been there when it had happened. It wasn't his fault the rest of the family had no idea whether they were alive or not.

Kenji shook his head, stretching his arms a little as he stood up. None of that was his fault, either. But it was his fault his mother had been at the school. For months after Isamu and Nami had gone missing following the attack, he'd been restless, unable to sleep properly, always trying to figure out what he could have done differently. He would wake up exhausted, but never quite sure why. Then, one morning, he had woken up to find his mother gone. His little sister Emi had burst into tears when he'd asked where she was.

His father had been just as confused as the rest of them, but eventually, they pieced it together. With all his worrying about what he could have done to change the past, he'd inadvertently sent his consciousness back in time, and he had changed it. Some of the changes were little. They had a cat that Kenji didn't remember, a cat Nami had apparently given him.

That wasn't a big change, but his mother … she'd been worried about him, about his trances, about the way he seemed to know things he never could have known ahead of time. She'd dropped Isamu and Nami off at school, and had stayed to ask Xavier for advice. She'd been there when…

Kenji closed his eyes. He had no memory of any of it, just as he had no memory of the cat, which he'd apparently named Mr. Whiskers. His father and sisters had filled him in on the rest – how officials from the government had come to the house to inform them that her body had been recovered, and that they'd confiscated it for testing. His older siblings were missing; their bodies hadn't been recovered, but the family had no way of knowing whether that was because they'd escaped or simply because their bodies had been destroyed or unidentified.

He wanted to fix it. To go back and make everything right. But he couldn't control it. He could control what he did, of course, but he couldn't control the consequences. Trying to change it now might only make things worse. What if his whole family ended up going with his mother to Xavier's? He might end up killing them all.

No. No, as soon as he'd realized just how dangerous his power was, he'd sworn off using it to change the past. He'd wanted to swear off using it altogether, but his father had insisted that he learn to control it instead. And it was hard to argue with that. Dangerous mutations needed to be controlled – for everyone's safety. That was what the government was trying to do, after all. Keep ordinary people safe from mutants who posed a danger.

Mutants like him.

"Kenji!" His father's voice caught him off guard. The shout was loud. Sharp. This was more than him being impatient about Kenji being late for training. "Kenji, run!"

Run? Run where? Kenji raced out of his room, only to see a pair of Sentinels standing where the door should have been. Mika and Emi were already racing out the side door, and he quickly followed. His father might be able to hold them off for a while. He could control sound waves, and Kenji could already tell he was using it to mute the voice of the man who was standing with the Sentinels. If they couldn't hear his orders…

But he couldn't count on that. Kenji quickly caught up with Mika and Emi, signing to Mika to keep running while he scooped up Emi. He could keep up, despite the extra weight. All he had to do was speed up time a little around himself so that he could keep up with Mika. Emi was already crying, calling for their father. Kenji didn't look back. He didn't dare.

If the Sentinels were coming for any of them, after all, it was probably their father. Muting voices was one thing, but he could also use his power to amplify a sound enough to burst someone's eardrums if he really wanted to. Not that he would ever want to; even after his wife's death and his older children's disappearance, he still held out hope that mutants and humans could learn to coexist peacefully, that humans would eventually come around and realize that they weren't all dangerous, that they could work together to keep each other safe.

Kenji held Emi tightly as they ran. Suddenly, Mika grabbed his arm. Behind us, she signed quickly, and Kenji risked a glance behind. The Sentinels were gaining on them. Quickly. Their father was nowhere in sight. Maybe they weren't after him, after all. Maybe…

Without thinking, Kenji shoved Emi into Mika's arms. If he was right, he was the one the Sentinels wanted. He'd already lost his mother. He may have even lost Isamu and Nami. But he wasn't going to lose them, too.

Not when he could stop it.

Keep running, Kenji signed, breaking off from the two of them and racing in the opposite direction as quickly as he could – which was pretty quickly, now that he wasn't carrying Emi. Sure enough, the Sentinels followed him. Kenji breathed a sigh of relief. Emi and Mika were safe.

But he couldn't keep this up forever. He could feel his power fading already. Trying to use it for more than a minute or two at a time was draining, and soon the Sentinels were catching up. Kenji slowed to a stop. He had no way to fight them. His mother had tried to fight them, and she'd died, along with all the others. If he was still alive – if they weren't shooting at him yet – it was only because they wanted to take him alive.

The Sentinels stopped a few feet away and quickly lowered a man to the ground. "Glad you decided to be reasonable, Kenji," the older man said with a smile.

"My father—"

"—is alive and well, right where I left him," the man promised. "Your sisters will be returned to him without incident as soon as they're caught; there's no need to drag them into all of this."

"All of this?" Kenji asked.

"Come along quietly and I'll explain everything." The stranger held out a thin plastic collar, which Kenji obediently slid around his neck. It closed with a soft click. "Very good," the man nodded. "It's easier on all of us when things go smoothly. I wish everybody had your sense."

Everybody. 'Your mother' were the words he hadn't said. If his mother had surrendered quietly, like he had, she might still be alive. But there was no changing that. Not anymore. There was no changing any of it. He couldn't. He couldn't let himself.

No matter how much he wanted to.

Alannah Cavan, 12
Kansas City, MO

12:03 CST

Sometimes she could barely remember what they had looked like.

Alannah glanced around the cafeteria as she made her way through the line. It was split pea soup again, for the third time this month. But she held her tongue as the lady behind the counter spooned some more of the green goop into her bowl. It wasn't much, but it was better than things could be.

And far better than she deserved.

A few of the other patients' parents had come today. It was Sunday, and that meant a little time spent with their families. But not her. And that was her fault. She'd had a family, and then…

She hadn't meant to. She'd been too young to understand what she was doing. Too young to realize what her power was. Her parents used to leave her at home with her older brother, which shouldn't have been a problem. He was responsible, and old enough to watch her. But she hadn't wanted him. She hadn't felt safe. She had been afraid.

Now, she understood. When she was afraid, she made others afraid, too. She didn't mean to; it just happened. Just like other things happened when she was around. Everyone started to lose their grip, to see things that weren't there, hear voices they couldn't possibly be hearing.

Her brother Finnegan had been the first, when he was only eighteen. He hadn't been able to handle the voices, the hallucinations, the insanity. He'd taken his own life, not realizing that she had been watching. Or maybe he had known, and simply hadn't cared. Maybe he'd realized it was her fault, and had wanted her to watch.

Her parents hadn't put it together – not really. They only knew that the fear was coming from somewhere. Somewhere close to them. They'd retreated inside their house, pulling her out of school, only venturing outside to get food. They'd taped up the doors, nailed boards over the windows, trying to shut out the madness. They didn't know – they couldn't have known – that the source had been trapped inside with them all along.

It had been a Sunday, much like this one, only two years ago, when her mother had lost it. She'd killed her own husband, and then tried to eat him. Then she'd come after Alannah with a steak knife, determined to silence the voices once and for all. But Alannah had been faster. She'd taken the knife and slit her own mother's throat. She'd run from the house, terrified, and found her aunt.

Her aunt must have understood, somehow, that it was her fault, because the next thing she knew, she was being checked into a mental institute. It had taken her a while to accept, but it was better for everyone this way. The drugs kept her calm. And when she was calm, she was less likely to hurt someone. Things were better with her in here. Maybe they weren't good, but they were better than they could be.

Better than they would be if she was loose.

Alannah took a seat in the corner with her friends, Travis, Patrick, and Norma. It had taken her months to realize it, but once she'd figured out her power couldn't harm them, the four of them had become thick as thieves. Maybe there was something about people who were already a bit off that protected them from her abilities. Whatever it was, she was grateful. They were a little hint of light in the darkness, a ray of sunshine that she certainly didn't deserve.

Just as she was sitting down, however, Alannah noticed that Patrick was staring at something behind her. No, not something. Someone, she realized as she turned. A man in a suit was making his way towards them. Towards her. "Do you know him?" Norma whispered, and Alannah shook her head. She'd never had a visitor – not since her Aunt Maeve had left her here. Who would be coming to see her?

The man met her gaze, an easy smile on his face. "Alannah Cavan?" She nodded. There was no point in denying it. One of the doctors had probably told her which one she was, anyway. The man held something out towards her – a thin plastic collar. "I need you to come with me, and I'm sure you'll understand if I ask you to put this on first."

Alannah took the collar and nodded. It was an inhibitor collar, to keep her power in check. The doctors sometimes used them when they needed to transport particularly uncooperative patients. She hadn't given them any trouble in quite a while, but it was probably just a precaution. She slipped the collar around her neck and heard a familiar click. "Where are we going?"

"Wyoming," the stranger answered vaguely.

Okay. "Why?" Was something going to happen here? Maybe she was being transferred to a different facility. Maybe they were all being moved.

"Yeah, why?" Norma interrupted before the stranger could answer. "She didn't do anything."

"Well, since she got here, that is," Travis mumbled, earning an elbow in the side from Norma. Patrick remained silent, watching the rest of them.

The man ignored the three of them, his attention focused on Alannah. "It's not because of anything you've done, Alannah. It's because of what you are. We're in need of mutants like you for a little experiment."

Experiment. That rang a bell. What had happened on the island last year – they'd called that an experiment. She remembered watching it on the television in the lounge. No one had ever bothered to turn it off. It was a reminder – a reminder of why they were all safer with people like her locked up in here.

"You're part of the MAAB, aren't you." It wasn't really a question. He had to be. That had to be why they wanted her. They could call it an experiment all they wanted; the real purpose was to get rid of mutants. Mutants who were dangerous. Mutants who posed a threat to anyone they came in contact with. Mutants who couldn't be trusted to contain their own powers, because one little slip – just one – could mean death for anyone who happened to be nearby.

The stranger nodded. "Nicholas Wright, Secretary of Mutant Affairs and head of the MAAB."

"And you want me to come with you. To Wyoming."

"That's right."

"To take part in your little experiment and kill other mutants like me."

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "My, my, you're sharp. But we shouldn't talk here, I suppose. I'll explain everything on the way."

Alannah nodded and followed him out of the cafeteria. He didn't have to explain. He didn't even have to apologize. Whatever was coming, it couldn't be worse than what she'd already done. She'd killed. She'd forced others to kill. Whatever they wanted her to do – whatever they wanted her to be – it couldn't be worse than that. And whatever they planned to do to her in turn … well, whatever it was, it was better than she deserved. Maybe the rest of the world would be safer this way.

Maybe they would be safer if she was dead.

Evelyn Hong, 17
Manhattan, KS

15:19 CST

She couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun.

Evelyn rolled over, inadvertently wrapping one of her arms around the back of her neck and around to the front. As much as she didn't want to, she glanced over at the clock. It was after three. Three in the afternoon, on a Sunday no less. There would be hell to pay once she finally went home. Clarissa was lucky; she was nineteen and had her own place. So most of them had crashed at her apartment last night, but the rest of them had apparently gone home – all except Avery, who was watching Evelyn with a smile on her face. "Sleep well?"

Evelyn smirked. "Better than you. You were tossing and turning all night."

Avery chuckled. "Pretty sure that was Jaxx."

Evelyn squinted. Maybe it had been Jaxx. She'd been pretty high; they all had. There was still a ringing in her ears, and her mouth felt like it was full of cotton balls. But they'd had fun, and that was all she'd wanted. It was all she'd ever wanted.

Her parents had taken that away from her, as soon as they'd discovered she was a mutant. She'd been at a dance rehearsal when she was nine years old, and she'd fallen off the stage. She'd gotten back up, ready to go, until she'd realized that everyone was staring at her. Staring at her leg, twisted at an odd angle, everything out of place. But it hadn't hurt. She hadn't broken any bones. And she certainly hadn't hurt anyone else. Her power wasn't dangerous. She wasn't dangerous.

But that hadn't stopped her parents from whisking their whole family across the country and forbidding her from using her powers. They'd hushed it all up, and she'd kept quiet. She'd given up dancing, given up on having friends, on letting anyone get close.

Then she'd met Avery and the others, and none of that seemed to matter anymore. Avery loved her for who she was, mutant power and all. And she loved Avery, more fiercely than she'd ever loved anyone. The last few years had been a whirlwind, all building up to … something. Something still in the distance. For the first time in years, she was flying. With Avery and the others, she felt free.

And she wished she didn't have to go back.

Someday. Someday soon, she would run away for good. It wasn't as if Avery's folks would notice, and her own parents would probably be grateful to have her out of their hair. One less thing to worry about, one less threat to their reputation as esteemed scientists. They were good at what they did; she had to admit that. But that was never the life she'd wanted. She didn't want to be stuck behind a desk all day, fiddling with numbers and equations and paperwork. She wanted to live.

She wanted to fly.

Avery leaned over and pulled her a little closer. "Have a look at this." She pulled out her phone and scrolled through some of the pictures she'd taken the night before. "I think it's some of our best work yet."

Evelyn took the phone and held it a little closer. Avery was right; the old construction site had practically been inviting them to graffiti it. All those open surfaces, so bland, so blank. Now they were full of life, exploding with color. That was what they did – her and the others. They added a little color, a little spark, to everything they touched. Maybe they weren't the respectable, upstanding citizens her parents wanted her to be. But they were interesting.

That was better.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "Who is it?" Evelyn called, before realizing the knock wasn't coming from the bedroom door. It was coming from the front door to the apartment. "Think it's Clarissa?" she asked absently, rolling out of bed.

Avery chuckled. "Why would she knock?"

"Maybe she lost her keys again," Evelyn offered. She couldn't count the number of times she'd shimmied her way through the window to unlock the door because Clarissa had misplaced her keys. Not that it bothered her; it gave her a chance to show off. Sometimes, she was convinced Clarissa did it on purpose to make her feel useful. And maybe it was silly, but it felt good to be needed. At least her friends appreciated what she could do. They'd never once asked her to hide her powers.

Evelyn made her way to the door and glanced out the peephole. There was definitely someone standing there, and it wasn't Clarissa. She couldn't quite make out who it was, though. The stranger knocked again. "Evelyn Hong?"

Shit. If someone knew she was here, it meant her parents must have figured out where she was. "Hurry," Avery whispered, shoving Evelyn towards the window. "I'll stall."

Evelyn blew Avery a kiss as she folded herself small enough to fit through the window. As she swung herself to the ground below, she heard the door open, and Avery's voice. "I'm afraid Evelyn isn't here right now. Can I help you?"

Evelyn didn't hear the rest of the conversation. She took off running. Or, at least, that was what she was trying to do when something clamped around her leg. Something hard and cold. Evelyn gave a yelp and instinctively compressed a little more, hoping to wriggle out of the Sentinel's grasp. But it simply closed its fist tighter around her leg as it lifted her into the air.

"There you are, Miss Hong," came a voice from below. "It seems your friend wasn't being entirely truthful."

"Screw you," Evelyn spat. "What do you want with me? Did my parents send you?"

The stranger shook his head. "Hardly. All they could tell me was that you'd been gone all night and they had no idea when you would be home. You're not an easy person to find, even in a town this size."

"Good. Why'd you want to find me, anyway?"

The Sentinel lowered her to the ground, and something clicked around her neck. Instantly, she could feel herself straighten out, growing back to full height. Evelyn's hand flew to the device around her neck. An inhibitor collar. This was more serious than she'd thought. "What do you want with me?" she repeated. "I'm not dangerous."

That much was certainly true. Sure, she and her friends had a tendency to get into trouble, but none of that had anything to do with her mutation. Well, okay, sometimes she used her abilities to get them into places they wouldn't have had access to, but they hadn't done anything dangerous while they were there. Graffiti, drugs, maybe a little shoplifting. But they'd never hurt anyone.

Well, they'd never hurt anyone that much.

The stranger shook his head. "Of course you're not." There was a hint of a smile on his face.

"Not yet."

Rick Clifton, 19
Maize, KS

16:03 CST

He couldn't remember the last time he'd picked up.

Rick glanced at his phone as it buzzed again. It was the second time his father had called today. For a while after Rick had moved out, he would call several times a day. Then a few times a week. Now, it was maybe once or twice a month, usually on the weekends. Maybe he was finally taking the hint.

He could always block the number, of course. But there was something that was almost satisfying about hearing that buzz and not answering. Making the choice not to pick up the phone, not to listen to the tirade that was certain to follow if he ever did press that button. It had been almost a year now since he'd spoken with his father, but he could still hear the rage in his voice. The disgust. The contempt.

It hadn't always been that way. They'd been close once – him, his mother, and his father. Then, one day, his mother was just gone. He'd only been seven at the time; he hadn't understood why. He still didn't know where his mother had gone. All he'd been able to get out of his father was that she was never coming home.

That was when everything had gone wrong. The yelling. The fighting. He'd lost track of the number of times they'd moved around Wichita and the nearby suburbs. Always a new apartment, a new school, a new life. It was as if his father had wanted to get away from something. But if he'd really wanted to get away, they could have moved to another city. Another state, even.

He'd thought about that – leaving entirely. There wasn't much for him in Kansas. He'd graduated high school almost a year ago, and he was still here, working shifts at the bowling alley and the gas station to pay the rent, trying to save up a little for … what? College? He'd thought about it, just like he'd thought about packing up and leaving Kansas. But he'd never quite gone through with it. Maybe once he saved up a little more, once he was sure he'd be able to make it, and wouldn't have to come crawling back here looking for help.

Because that was the one thing he certainly didn't want to do. Maybe he hadn't struck it rich, but he was surviving on his own. And he was doing it without any help from his father. He wasn't going to let that go. Whatever he was going to do, he could do it himself.

"Rick!" one of his coworkers called from up front. "Lane three's stuck again!"

"I told you not to put anyone on lane three!" Rick called back, tucking his phone back in his pocket. "That one always sticks. Once they're done with this game, just move them over to lane four." It wasn't as if they were busy. It was four in the afternoon on a Sunday. Sure, it was a rainy Sunday, so there wasn't a whole lot to do outside, but there were still plenty of other ways for people to spend their day.

It didn't take him long to get everything unstuck. Sure enough, there were only two lanes in use, and of course Jake had put one of the families on lane three. Rick sighed as he made his way back to the counter. Next time, he would just do it himself; Jake was just learning the ropes, after all.

Just as he made his way back to the counter, however, the door opened, and a man in a suit entered. "What size shoes?" Rick asked automatically.

The man raised an eyebrow. "Eight and a half, if you must know. But I'm not here for a game."

"If you're here for a pizza, it'll be a bit of a wait." Most people liked to call in beforehand, but there was always that one person who would order a pizza and then sit there for fifteen minutes, just waiting for it. People who had nothing better to do with their day than sit around waiting for crispy, paper-thin pizza that they could probably buy frozen in a store and just bake themselves for half the price.

"I'll have to pass on the pizza, as well. I'm on a bit of a schedule."

Rick turned that over in his head for a moment. "You do know this is a bowling alley, right?" It was right there on the sign.

"Yes."

Okay. "So … What can I help you with, then?"

"Actually, I'm looking for you."

"For me?"

"You are Rick Clifton, yes?"

"Yes." His phone was buzzing again. Did his father really want to talk to him that badly? Could he have sent someone to find him? But why not simply come himself, if he wanted to talk?

"I need you to come with me."

"Why?"

"Because of your mutation."

Rick saw Jake take a step back. There it was. He'd always known something was different, and he'd suspected for a while, but he'd never been certain – not totally certain. Weather was unpredictable, after all. Sometimes snow days happened when he'd hoped for them, but who was to say they wouldn't have happened anyway? Sure, there had been that time last year when a few tornadoes had touched down near his father's house. But this was Kansas. Tornadoes weren't exactly an oddity, especially in May.

And every time he'd tried to make something out of the ordinary happen, it hadn't worked. He couldn't create clouds out of nowhere. He couldn't make a storm die down into nothing. So he'd tried to dismiss it, to ignore it, to pretend that it must be a coincidence.

But the man in front of him sounded so certain. And the rain outside did seem to be growing a little louder. "What is it you want?" Rick asked.

"Like I said, I need you to come with me. And if you could put this on before that rain gets any worse…" He held out a thin plastic collar.

Rick took a step back. "I'm not going anywhere with you." The two families who had been bowling were watching him now. Jake was beginning to step away. Thunder rumbled in the distance. His phone was buzzing again. Was this what his father had been trying to warn him about?

Maybe he should have picked up sooner.

The stranger took a step closer. "Let's not cause a scene, Rick. For everyone's sake."

Rick's gaze flew to the emergency exit. He could try to run. But there was probably someone watching that exit. The only other way out was through the front doors. Now that he was looking for it, he could see the Sentinel standing outside, getting pummeled by the rain, which was quickly turning to hail. Shit. Calm down. He had to calm down.

Rick turned to Jake. "Call Mitch. Tell him to come cover my shift if he can."

"I … I think I can handle it myself."

Rick rolled his eyes as he took the collar. "Call Mitch. He knows what he's doing. And move that group off lane three so you don't have to run out there every other frame." The collar clicked shut around his neck.

The stranger glanced outside as if he'd expected the storm to subside immediately. He pressed a button on some sort of remote. "Francine promised they were all working," he mumbled.

Rick shook his head as he followed the stranger outside. Sure enough, there was a Sentinel at the other entrance. The man was still fiddling with his remote as they climbed into a car. The collar was probably working just fine. But a storm this big wasn't just going to stop once it got going. That wasn't how weather worked.

That wasn't how anything worked.

Secretary Nicholas Wright, 64
Airport in Maize, KS

17:49 CST

He would have to remember this for next time.

Nicholas sighed as he slid into a seat beside their pilot. "Are you sure we can't take off now?" he ventured. "The storm's cleared up a bit."

The pilot shook her head. "Sorry, sir. We'll have to wait a bit longer if you want to be sure we'll get off the ground safely. That's one hell of a storm out there."

"It didn't look that bad earlier."

The pilot shrugged. "Weather's funny like that sometimes. It's best just to wait it out. But don't worry, sir; I'll still be able to get you to Calpet tonight."

"Not so loud," Nicholas muttered, irritated. The mutants were safely locked in the back of the plane, but they were probably listening. Not that they'd be able to hear much over the storm, of course. And not that any of them would be able to do anything even if they knew where they were headed. He'd be surprised if any of them knew where Calpet was. Hell, he hadn't known where it was until they'd chosen it as their base for the pre-Games training.

Just as he was about to suggest that maybe driving would be faster, his phone rang. Alvin. Of course it would be Alvin who was having difficulties. Nicholas let it ring a few more times for good measure and then picked up. "Having trouble?"

"What?" Alvin sounded genuinely surprised at the question.

"Are you calling because you're having trouble?"

"No. Well, yes. Not trouble, exactly. One of them ran away."

Nicholas closed his eyes impatiently. "Let me guess – the one with enhanced speed."

"Manaka, yes."

"So find him."

"I'm planning to. It's just … are you certain we're right about his mutation?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you sure it's just enhanced speed?"

"What else would it be?"

"I think…" There was an uneasy pause. He could practically hear Alvin fiddling with the phone, trying to avoid saying whatever it was he was about to say. Finally, though, it came out. "I think he might be another chronokinetic."

Nicholas let that sink in. "What makes you think that?"

"Just a hunch."

Nicholas shook his head. Even over the phone, Alvin had no poker face. "You don't do hunches. Something tipped you off. What was it?"

"Were you ever around Piper when she used her power?"

"Can't say I was."

"Well, I was. Happened to get close one time, and there was this … feeling. Something in the pit of your stomach, like things were just a little bit off. Like when you stand up too fast and everything's all blurry, just for a moment. Like that … sort of. It's hard to describe."

"Get to the point."

"Well, like I said, he ran right by me. And for just a moment, there was that feeling again – just a little. Not enough to be sure, but … I don't know. I think we may be in over our heads here, Nicholas."

"That's what you said about the two weather manipulators."

"And I stand by that. From the sound of that storm, I'd say things aren't going exactly as you planned, either."

Damn. He was hoping Alvin wouldn't be able to hear the rain. He just couldn't help rubbing it in. But that only meant they would have to be careful. "What's your point, Alvin?"

"We already have one chronokinetic … sort of. I mean, from what we can tell, all Marcus can do is slow time. Which is a very specific type of time manipulation. That we can handle, but this … I don't know, Nicholas."

"Find him, Alvin. Get him here. We'll deal with it."

For a moment, there was silence. "Okay. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"Fair enough. This one's on me if it goes wrong."

"When."

"Pardon?"

"When it goes wrong. I guarantee it. And Nicholas?"

"Yes?"

"This one is just a hunch, but … well, if we were wrong about one of our contestants … There were two who we picked because of their enhanced speed. If we were wrong about Manaka, then maybe you should double-check yours."

"Mine?"

"Yeah. The twelve-year-old you just picked up. What was his name? Kenzo? Kenny?"

"Kenji."

"Right. Maybe double-check just to make sure his power is what we think it is."

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

Alvin chuckled. "Well, you could start by asking him."

Nicholas sighed. "Anything else?"

"No, I'm good. Just a bit tired. And I've still got one more stop after I find this kid." He sighed. "Sure you don't just want me to let him go?"

"Alvin."

"All right, all right. I'll get him. See you later, Nicholas."

Nicholas shook his head as he hung up. Okay. Okay, they could still handle this. Even if Alvin was right, it certainly wasn't more than they could deal with. Last year, they'd dealt with an exploding island, after all. Once they got where they were going, it wouldn't matter if there was a storm, or if more than one of their contestants could manipulate time. It was still manageable.

"I think we're good, sir," the pilot decided at last. "This would probably be a good time to tell the others to buckle in."

Nicholas nodded and headed for the back of the plane, just as his phone began to ring again. Nicholas glanced at the number. Judah this time. Now that was odd. He'd assigned Judah some of the mutants they'd anticipated being more difficult, but it was nothing he wouldn't be able to handle. Still, might as well be sure…

"Everything all right, Judah?" he asked, trying not to sound concerned.

"Perfectly all right. A little better than expected, which is why I called. Figured I'd better run this by you first. I've got an extra mutant here who wants to join our little party."

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. Sometimes he couldn't tell if Judah was kidding or not. "It never rains but it pours," he muttered.

"What's that?"

"Nothing." Nicholas settled back into his seat and simply pressed the 'fasten seat belts' sign, hoping the mutants in the back would take a hint. "I think you'd better fill me in."

It was going to be a long night.

"When all your scheming's done, what will be your legacy?"