The sun rose from the seemingly endless blue horizon as Karen stood on the small island beach. Her recollections of the previous day were hazy at best, fractured images flickering at the edge of her consciousness. She remembered the hard hit to the head and the broken limb from her confrontation with Jamie and her mother—a searing pain that had blurred everything after. How she had managed to get from New Rome to wherever the hell she was now remained a mystery shrouded in fog.

  The cabin where she awoke offered only the smallest comforts of the modern world. She had come to on a tattered brown couch, her broken arm set in a poorly fitting splint. The interior was a chaotic testament to a hermit's life: empty pizza boxes stacked in four precarious rows, nearly touching the rusted tin roof held up by mismatched wooden boards. In the corners of the shack lay enough plastic bottles to build a sizable raft. After searching for nearly twenty minutes, Karen couldn’t find anything identifying its owner. There was only trash and a lingering scent of ozone.

  Karen couldn’t fathom how anyone could live in such a desolate, unkempt place, but upon closer inspection of the stacked cardboard, she saw a curious pattern. All the pizza boxes were from various places around the world—from the familiar New Rome to the distant Jungle City, and even some from as far away as Italy and England.

  Seeing no indications of drugs or illicit substances, she figured they had to be a stable one at that. Only someone with flight or teleportation could manage such a diverse takeout habit.

  Karen felt the ache in her arm and focused her power on it. Healing was one of the benefits of her gift. If she focused enough on the affected area in a positive manner, her green glow seemed to excite the cells into overdrive. She could do this fastest with herself; with others, the process was much slower. After a few minutes, the pain vanished. She discarded the bad-smelling sling.

  “Still got it,” she affirmed to herself.

  Not far into her trek to explore the island, she came across a strange, hardened square block of sand with tiny holes scattered throughout its surface. It reminded her of a box with airholes—the kind one might put a puppy in for a child’s birthday. She began to approach it, her curiosity piqued, leaning in to peer inside.

  A deep voice called her to stop.

  “I wouldn’t do that just yet. Jamie is in an aggravated state right now,” Simon said from behind her, his voice a low rumble carried on the sea breeze.

  Karen whirled around, immediately recognizing the man: Simon Hurricane, Jamie’s father. He looked much older than he did in the old pictures she had seen from before he became a fugitive. Lines of weariness fanned out from his eyes, and his shoulders, though still broad, seemed to carry a heavy burden. Living constantly on the run had taken its toll—a grim observation that made Karen briefly rethink her own life choices.

  “Hurricane? Well, this is starting to make sense now. I take it you’re the one who pulled me out of that fight with Jamie and Jane?” Karen asked, the wind whipping her long hair around her face.

  “I did.” Simon nodded, his gaze sweeping over the endless ocean. “I usually don’t interfere where those two are concerned, but I couldn’t watch my daughter make a mistake of that magnitude.”

  “Mistake? They were in the right, you know. According to the laws of men, we’re wanted criminals. We’re the bad guys.” Karen crossed her arms, her stance defiant.

  “I don’t think you believe that.” Simon took a step closer, his voice laced with weary wisdom. “Let me share something with you, Karen. In all my years of service, I learned that there are no good guys and there are no bad people. Just people who do things according to their own codes.”

  “I don’t know, I’ve met some bad people,” she countered, her gaze drifting back to the sandy mound.

  “No, not bad people. Bad codes. People can change if they adopt better codes. Only the ones who cling to horrific codes stubbornly should be dealt with.”

  “I take it you’re trying to change her code, then.” Karen gestured vaguely toward the sand box.

  Simon’s eyes softened with painful resignation. “She will come around, eventually. Though I may be dead or in prison when she does.” He kicked at a loose patch of sand. “We’re about sixty miles from New Rome, off the coast in international waters. This is a safe place for now, but not for long.”

  “You’ve managed to evade the Division for this long; do you think it’s compromised now?”

  “They will track me when Jane gets back to the Division. I usually keep this place under constant cloud cover to obscure it from the satellites, but the engagement left me somewhat drained. If we’re lucky, we will have a week at the most.” He rubbed his jaw, a muscle twitching in his cheek.

  “That’s fine, I can’t stay here anyway. I have business to attend to back in New Rome.”

  Simon’s brows arched. “Business? Oh, you mean your gallery and drug operations. The Division will have all that under lock and key by now. You did well staying off the radar for this long, but those days are at an end. They know what you look like now, and they won’t stop until they catch you.”

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  “My men are resourceful; they will move my supplies to places Slayer doesn’t know about.” Karen’s voice was confident, but she avoided his gaze.

  “Yes, juicers are going to move the 'monster' and put pounds of it under lock and key when you’re not there to pay them.” Simon’s tone was skeptical, bordering on dismissive.

  “How do you know all this? Have you been following me?” Karen demanded, her eyes narrowing.

  “That’s all I have left to do—watch over you, Jamie, and even Morgan’s kid, Nick. Though granted, not as closely. Something I'm starting to regret, I think.” Simon’s gaze drifted to the horizon. “It’s the last thing I can do for the fallen members of the Guild: watch over their children. You children, are the last hope left for the freedom of our kind.”

  “HA!” Karen couldn’t help but laugh, a harsh, humorless sound. “Yes, a drug dealer, an arms dealer, and an angry Slayer Division agent who would rather see us locked up or dead—that's the hope for the future. I don’t know, Hurricane, that’s a shit future if you ask me.”

  Simon offered a faint, almost sad smile. “Admittedly, it’s not ideal. You all have bad codes at this moment, but that doesn’t mean you can’t change. I can teach you; I can train you. The Guild could be reborn.”

  “I have no interest in any of that. I’m only after one thing: to find my mother. She’s alive, and I have to save her.”

  “Karen, even if that were true, she would be in Monticello. No one gets out of there. Not even me.”

  “No, Nick found her. Those bastards have her feeding power to New Rome; she’s been in my city the whole time.” Karen’s fists clenched at her sides.

  Simon’s expression became guarded. “Are you sure? All reports I’ve been able to get my hands on say she’s dead.”

  “Nick Morgan is a lot of things, but a liar is rarely one of them. At least not to me. I have the readings back at the gallery. She’s alive, and once I knew Nick was out of the city, I was going to free her.”

  Hurricane looked concerned, his brow furrowing as he processed the information. Karen wasn’t buying his "New Guild" pitch, but she knew she couldn’t free her mother alone.

  “Maybe, if he’s as good with tech as his father was, there is a possibility,” Simon mused. “Where is Nick, by the way? Why did he leave the city?”

  “I don’t know where he is, but he had to leave because of that massacre on Green a couple of nights ago. He sold bad guns to the Legion Gang; they blew up in Alexander’s face and crippled that snake and his gang.”

  Simon’s face darkened. “Then he’s out of our reach. If he didn't show up to meet you, it means either the Division has him or, even worse, the Legion Gang does.”

  “Well, Jane and Jamie were looking for him when they came after me, so I say it’s the latter. Shit… we have to go after him.” Karen took a step toward Simon, urgency in her voice.

  “Impossible. The moment we set foot on the mainland, they will be on us like flies on a boar’s ass. If the gangs have him, he’s as good as dead.”

  “So much for that hero's code,” Karen spat. “I thought the Guild was supposed to save the innocent no matter the cost.”

  “Nick is hardly innocent if he’s dealing with the Legion Gang. I won’t sacrifice you to possibly save a powerless boy who’s probably already dead.”

  Karen looked at the old hero, a fierce resolve hardening her features. Her body warmed intensely. A faint green aura began to shimmer around her hands, then spread, bathing her skin in a soft, ethereal glow. The air crackled; the sand under her feet vibrated.

  “Listen here, old man. I appreciate you saving me, truly. But we’re going after Nick. I’m not giving you a choice.” She raised a glowing green hand toward the sand mound containing Jamie.

  “Karen, think about what you’re doing.” Simon held his hands up. “You gain nothing by freeing her; she’ll just try to kill us.”

  “I gain nothing, but you lose something.” Karen’s eyes burned with cold determination. “I know you’re keeping her in that box to convince her you’re not a piece of shit dad. If I let her out now, you lose that chance. If I’m losing Nick and my mother, you’re losing her.”

  Simon moved like a blur—faster than Karen could track. He dashed at her with enhanced speed, grabbing her arms and holding them above her head in a vice-like grip. Karen fired two dark green arcs of raw radiation toward the sky in an uncontrolled burst. The energy sizzled, illuminating the sky like a chaotic aurora.

  He flung her across the beach, sending her sprawling, before positioning himself between her and the mound. His hands were charred and smoking from the contact.

  She picked herself up, a grunt of pain escaping her lips, and charged again. The green aura pulsed with an erratic, volatile rhythm. “You’re spry for an old man. I figured you had one foot in the grave.”

  “Youth is overrated…” Simon muttered, flexing his smoking fingers. “I don’t want to fight you, Karen. We can work this out. I’m not your enemy!”

  Karen felt the internal fire threatening to consume her. She couldn't match his speed. Her only option—one that promised agonizing pain—was to unleash everything through her pores. To hit him when he got close.

  “Last chance, Hurricane. Help me find Nick, or I’m destroying your last chance with Jamie.”

  Simon looked down at the sand, lost in thought. When he looked up, his expression was grim. “I won’t let you do this. It’s insanity.”

  Lightning began to crackle around Hurricane’s body—true, miniature bolts snapping over his skin. His eyes turned a stormy grey; his hair stood on end.

  Hurricane moved first, a living projectile of raw power. Karen was ready. She released it all.

  A blinding, radiant emerald light burst from her skin, a wave of pure radiation slamming into Simon’s lightning field. The clash was cataclysmic. A blinding flash turned the world green, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. A portion of the beach was instantly vaporized, leaving a gaping, steaming hole. Both were thrown backward.

  Karen was the first to her feet, though her legs shook and her body screamed in agony. Hurricane was smoking, gasping for air, but he didn't move to stand.

  “Stubborn old fool! How did that dose of radiation treat you?” Karen gasped.

  “Not… too well.” Simon pushed himself up onto one elbow, wincing. “You’re strong, Karen. But finding Nick will be the death of us.”

  “That’s something worth dying for,” she said, walking past him toward Jamie’s prison. She tried to summon more power, focusing on her anger, but she felt nothing. She was drained. “Dammit,” she whispered, banging a weak fist against the earth.

  “That’s different,” she heard Simon rasp.

  She turned. Above the gaping hole where their powers had clashed, an erratic swirl of deep blue electricity was coalescing. It pulsed with unstable energy, warping the air. The vortex had a darker humanoid shape in its center. A guttural, primal roar vibrated through the ground. The blue shifted to red, then to a sickly tan.

  With a violent shudder, the electrical chaos collapsed, and out of that raging power, Nick tumbled like a doll, falling straight into the hole of churning seawater.