TFS: Burnt Earth

Molly

By the time I return to confirm the timetable presented by Aella, the team has all been untethered and are organized in three divisions: sky-fliers led by me, land-walkers led by Connor, and water-gliders led by Seán. Sheyla sits on a fallen tree, watching us like some creepy peeper. Apparently, she assigned leaders in my wake. I’m surprised by her choice of Seán for a leader, only because he’s so new, but clearly, she’s seen something in him making him worthy of the ladder jump. Connor’s an obvious choice. He’s proven his worth. I’m not sure about myself as a candidate either. I don’t have powers like they do.

“Was there a vote while I was gone?” I snipe.

“No vote was needed,” she remarks.

“So, you’re the boss of who gets to be boss now?”

“Yeah, no. Not fresh news I have no desire to control anybody,” she retorts. “The only reason you’re questioning the decision is you don’t feel like you deserve the position.”

It annoys the fuck out of me she can sense my feelings. Along with all the other horseshit she can do, her empathy makes it nearly impossible to lie to her. Of course, her sensing my feelings isn’t the biggest annoyance of all. When she untethered me from Tyler and the team, it was a huge laxative for my emotional constipation. The fact I’m feeling anything is merely the tree trunk of my discomfort. Everything else is a gangly ass branch stemming from that. I’ve never been paralyzed by foolish feelings like doubt and insecurity before. Guess what? Not a fucking fan, I’ll tell you that.

“They want to follow you,” Sheyla assures me.

“What if I want to fuck all the way off?” I deflect.

“Too bad,” she replies curtly. “They don’t have the capacity for leadership at this point. They’re too driven by orders. We need people in these positions having the flexibility to make enhancement changes without their choices funnelling down from a higher channel. You’re the highest channel.”

“No,” I volley. “You’re the highest channel.”

“You get complete autonomy with your team,” she notes. “I trust your judgment implicitly.”

“That might be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” I crow.

“You just haven’t spent enough time with me,” she informs me. “I’ve said way stupider stuff than that.”

“I have fuck all for powers,” I remind her.

Connor’s new gift allows him to cause earthquakes. I’m a jealous bitch. In fact, they’ve all been given something elementally exceptional, except for me. The strange part of the unshackling is the element doesn’t tie as much into their Earth Solathair creator as to the designation they’ve been given. The land-walkers still use the earth element as a base, but the sky-fliers have abilities more closely resembling the air element. The water-gliders exhibit abilities more closely resembling the water element. Brody was transformed into a water-glider, and his ability was electricity, so I hadn’t caught onto the elemental morph at that time. Water and electricity don’t mix, however there are water creatures utilizing electricity as a defence mechanism. Fucker was a prodigal water baby after all. Point to the Scholars for not being totally useless fucks, I reckon.

“I think that makes you better qualified to lead them,” she explains. “You won’t be distracted by what you can do. Plus, you’ll always see what you’re getting your team into.”

“Fair enough.” The eagle eyes are a nice bonus.

The familiar hierarchal approach is beneficial. The Sentry is used to working on teams with a leader. Our quick training, rush job notwithstanding, is no different than what we’re used to. The teams take straight to the task of showing off their new gifts. We allow them the freedom to explore their powers since we need to see what they’re capable of, and we need to see it yesterday kind of soon. Sure, there are fuck ups. A few severed limbs, pants shits, things like that. Worth it all. If even one of them gets a basic handle on their ability, it’ll benefit us greatly. Ryan’s running around playing military medic, working on the fallen when accidents occur.

I have four members on my team displaying sky-flier characteristics: Chayton, Debhlainn, Rowtag, and Randy. None of them can fly like me, but each has an ability relating to the air element, in theory.

Chayton can suck the air out of things. He calls it Vac Attack. “If you take my breath away one more time, it’ll be the last fucking breath you take,” I scold him.

“Practise makes perfect,” Chayton tuts.

“Does it?” I thwack him on the back of the head.

He glares at me. “What was that for?”

“Practise makes perfect.”

Debhlainn’s ability isn’t technically painful, so long as you keep your eyes closed. It’s a focused air burst, similar to a tonometry test during an eye exam, where they calculate intraocular pressure to see how much is building up behind the eye. He calls it Air Burst.

In a sparring round, Debhlainn coordinates his offensive attack to be released just as Chayton’s using his vacuum. The result is a retraction more forceful than Chayton’s prepared for, propelling him backward into a tree with force enough to crack it up the middle. It doesn’t fall over though.

“What the hell?” Chayton complains.

“You have to use your brains too,” I offer.

“Good job, Debhlainn,” Connor compliments him. “Using his own power against him was smart.”

Rowtag’s quite impressed with his new ability. It works directly with sound waves moving through the air. Like Seán’s Brain Bleed, Rowtag’s gift comes with the same deafening effect. Only, it isn’t a scream. It’s more of a gunshot at close range. He calls it Thunderboom.

I cup my sore ears. “What?”

“Do you want me to try again?” he asks for the fifth time. I still can’t hear fuck all.

“I’m not sure if we’ll win,” I hedge.

“No,” he contends. “I asked if you want me to try again.”

“Yes, it’s nice you got grouped with your friends.”

He just shakes his head and walks away.

“Try working on your volume control,” Connor cautions. He gives him two thumbs up.

Randy, the last of my group, has a fun little trick of his own. He calls it Smother. Fuck, these punks of mine really have a thing about breathing manipulation. Great big giant loathe on a personal level, but it’ll absolutely come in handy in our fight.

“You’re right,” I agree. “It’s infinitely worse than having your breath sucked out.”

Randy smiles proudly. “What did it feel like?”

“Come here, and I’ll show you,” Chayton quips.

Right away, I earmark Chayton for second. With his quick wit and general immersion into everyone’s business, he’ll make a perfect number two. Fuck, you know what? This leadership jam isn’t terrible. Not hating it. Maybe Sheyla was right. I mean, I’m never telling the bitch that, but it doesn’t negate her rightness.