Chapter 41: Volume II: Chapter 8: The Experiment

Chleo stood next to the waterfall, letting its roar silence her racing thoughts.  She stole another glance at her clipboard, already knowing what it said.  After all, she wrote it.

Strength, agility, speed all increased exponentially.  Of course, she didn’t have readings from before… the incident, but she had an able bodied human to use as a control and a plethora of Neons to use for scale.  Although, she wasn’t sure if Will would be too keen on the idea if he knew.

The Man in Black said his life’s work was to replicate Neon physiology in humans, so it would stand to reason whatever they did could be measured against the villagers’ abilities.  Running the obstacle course with Pride recruits, showed her speed slightly slower than an adolescent Neon, but superior to a human.  Helping a local farmer move grain bags proved her strength equal to a child’s but her endurance lacking.  The adults could carry circles around her.

Sparring gave her the most favorable conclusions.  Waiting a few weeks to adjust to her new coordination, she lasted longer in the circle than she expected.  Her partner, young and trained, flurried around striking with abandon.  She expected the hits to hurt more after seeing Will leave his session one giant bruise.  Instead, they glanced off her skin, taking the wind from her but not lingering.  

Her reaction time improved, as well.  Able to dodge most of the kid’s attacks, she was able to last fifteen minutes.  In the end, she landed a few of her own clumsy punches before putting too much power behind a kick and throwing herself over the boundary. 

 She looked up ignoring the last section, balance.  Unlike the others, she used it to track improvement rather than comparison.  If her hypothesis was correct, her coordination would improve as she acclimated to her new abilities.  Twice weekly since they arrived, she snuck away from the others to complete a designated test designed to track her progress.

Today’s was the most advanced, by far.  With the hover board nearly ready, only a few last touches needed for the ghoster, their plan to… borrow the ship and scout Umbra coordinates was imminent.  The sooner, the better in her eyes.  Everyone denied it, but she knew, without a doubt, her mother would be there.

She snagged her pocket watch by the chain and flipped it into her hand.  Its owl stared up from the cover.  “Today’s the day,” she told it.

Her fingers threaded the rings with ease, the chain splitting apart as she went.  She flicked the cover open and clicked the nob.  The propellers melted into place.  She stared at their bladed edges remembering the day she’d sharpened them.

“Hey kiddo,” Mic said as he strolled into the workshop.  “What do you have for us today?”  He leaned over to get a better look as she held one of the small propellers to the bench grinder, small sparks shooting as the metal filed down.

She pulled it back, turning goggled eyes his way to glare.  He was too close without protection.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said putting his hands up in surrender.  “I always forget you’re such a stickler.” He reached up to pull his goggles down.  “Better?”

“Yes,” she said turning back to her work, “Rules are there for a reason you know.  I’d hate for you to get hurt by one of my projects.  There’s no need to be reckless.”

He was unusually silent long enough for her to pull the blade back again to check on him.  His furrowed brow morphed to a smile when he caught her looking.  “You mean like yesterday when you tried a corkscrew and fell?”  She rolled her eyes and turned back.  He was fine.

“I, unlike you, had the correct safety gear.  The leash caught me just fine.” She sniffed her displeasure, moving to the next propeller blade.  A smile snuck onto her face at the thought of her working hover board. “The thrusters are getting better, don’t you think, and my flying?”

“If by better you mean you aren’t falling after every death defying stunt then sure.” She heard the smirk in his voice.  “And yes, the thrusters have been working since the day we built them.  Why you insist on running them through so many tests, I’ll never understand.”

“There was an incident with Dad’s steam bike on Luna.”

“What?”

“Never mind, just a few more days of testing.  It’s not like we’re in a hurry.”

“Fine,” he dragged the word out.  Only a few years older than her, he could out-whine a toddler.  “What’s with the blades anyway?  I figured I’d find you working on the board when I got here.  Who needs a sharp propeller?”

“Just a new design I’m working on.”  She pulled the last blade away, checking the edge.  It pricked her finger a bubble of red gathering on her thumb.

Chleo shook herself back to the present.  She still needed to note the enhanced healing on the clipboard.  The cut had disappeared in less than an hour.

She stepped forward eyeing her targets, five grain bags she’d filled with grass that the farmer had let her take after a day’s help.  Swinging her watch’s kite piece by the chain, the sharpened propellers kickstarted.  As it came back around she used the momentum to throw it at the first target.  It cut clean through ripping grass and fabric from the bag as she guided it back out.

She focused on keeping her directions precise and not over correcting when she put too much force behind a whip of the chain.  The tendency caused her to fall short of the next two targets.  The kite piece continued to pull on the chain forever trying to break loose as she used her fingers to guide it.

Whipping it to the left, she rocked on her toes cheering at the hit.  The waterfall behind her roared over the noise ensuring no one heard.  Her coordination was improving.  With years of practice, the motions were familiar.  The amount of strength behind them needed adjustment.  Normally fluid maneuvers were loose and jerky, but they were getting better.

She walked forward drawing closer to the board hovering in front of the targets waiting for her.  Stepping up, she continued to batter them.  The control gloves wouldn’t allow her to fly the board and the watch at the same time, but she could still work on her balance.

It wobbled slightly when she whipped the watch a bit too hard, her foot slipping half a step forward.  She steadied, congratulating herself for not overcorrecting.  Her hands flung to her left, the watch following.  It razed the top of a bag.  She smiled in success.  Not perfect, but it was getting better.

She continued to practice until the bags were destroyed, recording her notes after.  

~*~*~

“There you are,” Will said looking up from behind a book as she walked in.  Chleo smiled at his wind tossed hair.  It really was adorable.  He must have come straight from training.  “What’s with the clipboard?”

Her smile fled as she hugged her notes tighter. “Nothing,” she said hurrying over to a workbench and busying herself with the closest manual.  “Just notes.” 

“Mmhm,” he hummed, snapping his book closed and walking toward her.  She opened a drawer and slipped the clipboard inside sliding it closed.  Out of sight, out of mind.  “Chleo?” Maybe not.

“Hm?” she asked, pretending to focus on the manual.

“You’re acting weird.”  

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“Am I?”  She refused to look away from the book in front of her. From the corner of her eye, she watched him reach for the drawer.  It opened a couple of centimeters before her hand slammed it shut again. 

“Chleo?” He sounded hurt and it pulled at her chest.  She met his eye.

Her mouth opened to explain, falling short.  He watched her struggle a few seconds before putting a warm hand atop hers, pulling it away from the drawer.  Watching her as he slid it open, he grabbed the clipboard from inside.

Her eyes fell in shame as he started to read.  She didn’t want him to know.  She wanted to talk through her findings, wanted to work through the problem with him like all the others, but she didn’t want him to know.

“Chleo what is this?” he asked reaching the bottom.  Surely, he already knew. “Are these effects from what my uncle did?”

“The Man in Black,” she mumbled to the floor.

“What?”  She looked up, her gaze meeting his.

“It was the Man in Black, not your uncle.” He looked so earnest, his mouth twisted into a frown, eyes crinkled in worry, all for her.  She wanted to tell him everything.  Head Point of the Star, King of Terra, Maker and Enforcer of Law, Liaison to Neon, her best friend, she didn’t want him to know, but she wanted to tell him everything… so she did.

The experiment, the Man in Black, even her guilt over stealing their research, she told him everything and he listened.  She waited for the look of disgust, the slight lean in the opposite direction from whatever she’d become.  It never happened.  Instead, he took her hand and refused to let go.

He let her finish, understanding that the words had been building for a while, and now that she’d started she couldn’t stop. The situation was familiar despite the topic.  Will always listened.  When she was finally done, he took a breath and let it out slowly.  

“So,” he started, “you’re telling me, this Man in Black injected you with some kind of magical blue liquid gas, and it gave you… super powers?”  

“Well, the doctor injected me under his orders but essentially… yes.”

“And you’ve been running similar experiments on yourself as the ones you stole?”

“Not to the extent they would have, but yes.  I didn’t much like the idea of lifting weights until one pulled my arm out of socket.”

“And you never told me?”  A mixture of hurt and excitement danced in his eyes.  She felt horrible.

“I,” she said, “I didn’t want you to know that I…” She tried to find the right word.  “Changed.”

“Changed?” he asked as if it were absurd. “I’m afraid I’m not following.”

“Yes, Will, changed.” She lifted the clipboard to emphasize her point the comparisons glaring out into the room.  Her fury suddenly spiked. “Whatever they did, whatever that drug was, it changed me.  I’m…” she realized she was yelling at him.  Swallowing, she tried to calm herself.  He was just trying to help and didn’t deserve her anger.  Her throat clamped around her fear.  “Will, what if I’m not human anymore.”

His mouth fell open at the thought.  She watched as he worked through the facts expecting his hand to drop hers, for him to pull away.  He didn’t.  His eyes sparked with excitement as he came to the same conclusion she did.  His foot started tapping, nearly vibrating with energy.  He squeezed her hand tighter.

“Chleo,” he said as if it were the most marvelous thing in the ‘verse, “what if you’re not?”

She stared at the wonder dancing across his face.  It softened his features making her heart swoon. “But.” She paused afraid of the answer afraid she presumed something that wasn’t there. “What about us?”

If anything his smile widened. “Us?” he asked.  “We can be whatever you want.  I have my own aspirations of course.”  He gave a teasing glance at their hands.

She faltered.  Hope whispering through her. “Even if—”

He interrupted, not letting her voice the thought.  “Chleo, you’re my best friend.  Nothing’s changed,” he said, his words heavy.  He stared into her eyes willing her to understand.

Her mind flew back to Timekeeper’s cellar where she’d said the same.  She wanted to sob in relief.  Leaning her forehead against his shoulder, she settled for a suspiciously wet laugh.

“Nothing’s changed,” she murmured into his sleeve.

~*~*~

Mic simmered as he watched Will comfort Chleo on the monitor.  At a moment’s notice, he could go back to boiling.  Johnson, Chleo’s Man in Black had to be Johnson.

His fist pressed into the control panel.  Johnson, who found him.  Johnson, who tricked him.  He stared at his fist.  The same one that fired the shot… on Johnson’s order.  He punched the metal dashboard.

A memory beat at his temple. 

He turned back to the monitor.  Will looked down at Chleo’s head.  Mic’s anger cooled a little.  It was the same look Jack gave Melody.  He watched as Will said something to make her laugh.  She looked up.  Her look was familiar, too.  He watched them drift closer.

“No,” he said as they continued toward each other. “Oh Hades, no.” He stood, spinning and stomping out the door, the two on the monitor centimeters apart.  “Not on my ship.”

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