The large elevator brings us down to the ground floor. I press Greg's boss' ID card against the hidden compartment. It slides out of the way, revealing a fingerprint scanner and a new list of floors, all of which have negative numbers. Melanie is back to looking like a normal little girl and holding my leg like the mast of a ship in a storm. I have a daughter, and she's a Shifter. The pure elation that thought elicits makes me want to cry.

"My Chosen, I see that she completed her task and has destroyed the weakness festering inside her. She is stronger for having done that and will appreciate it in due time. I'm proud of your daughter."

"I understand," I said respectfully. "Melanie, God is pleased with you. You did a great job."

"He told you that? Really?" Melanie asked giddily.

"Yes, and He would know. He saw what you did, and He's proud of you," I told her.

"Then I am a good girl. I wish I could hear His voice like you do, Miss Ze- Sorry, Mother," Melanie said, correcting herself quickly.

"Watch over her, Zero. Children like her are the ones who will inherit the earth that you are helping me create. Maybe one day she will join the ranks of my Chosen if she continues to be pious and worthy."

"Thank you, Sir. Melanie, He said that maybe someday you'll be able to hear him if you get stronger," I relayed to Melanie.

"I will, I promise. I pinky promise," she responded cheerfully.

I extend my pinky, and we hook them together. A sacred, binding oath has just been created and overseen by the highest possible power. Melanie's a good girl and will only get better with time.

"George Dellinger, AKA Hero, is the lost one you are here to free. He possesses the soul of a young boy trapped within the body of a fierce warrior. He was imprisoned for killing a group of Capes he claimed were villains. Despite evidence corroborating the group's crimes, the BNA has chosen to bury his story. Free Hero and he will make for a fine addition to your flock."

"Your will shall be enacted," I said.

I fish through the pockets of the jacket to grab a handful of fingers. Testing them one by one to find the correct answer. It ends up being the thumb from her left hand. Pressing the severed finger against the scanner gives an affirmative beep, and I select the lowest floor possible. That's where they should be keeping him. The elevator lurches, the metal creaking as it begins its descent.

From the little information I was able to gather, there will be between thirty and forty armed BNA agents watching the cells. There will probably be five or more Special Agents in charge as leadership. Piecing together exact amounts was impossible, but by using footage featuring prisoner transport personnel and the overall strength of the Casper BNA HQ, I arrived at those numbers. I should be fine, but Melanie could get hurt.

"Sweetheart, there are some bad guys down here, so you should switch. I don't want you to get hurt," I suggested.

"Yes, Mother," Melanie responded.

The colors surrounding her seem to dilute, running like wet paint. The tips of her hair rapidly lighten as the color drains from her skin. Her eyes darken and become spheres blacker than deep space. Her dress and shoes turn as black as her eyes, and a white blood-splatter pattern appears on them. Her long white hair flutters like there's a gust of wind surrounding her.

Melanie's new form comes with several blessings: telekinesis, invisibility, and psychometry. An unfortunate side effect of the form is that she becomes detached and cold, with her emotions dampened. It's almost like she's numb to the rest of the world.

"Remember, when we get down there, you need to follow my instructions. I'm serious; there are bad guys down there, and they won't hesitate to hurt you if they get the chance," I warned.

"I will not forget, Mother. I know that we're here to save someone and that it's important," Melanie said robotically.

"Alright, then get ready and hide. Don't appear until I say so," I said as the elevator came to a stop.

The bottom floor opens up into a white hallway with metal grates for flooring. This is odd. An unsettling feeling is creeping up the back of my neck. I continue walking, my heels making a clunking noise when they come into contact with the metal floor. I activate my shielding ability, and a nearly translucent blue sheen coats my body. Beyond the fact that BNA cells are kept at the deepest level, I am going in effectively blind. The white metal gate at the end opens up. Revealing a large octagonal room with each side having a gate similar to the one I just came from. In the center of the room are sixteen BNA agents with guns pointed at me. Two eccentric people, who I can only assume are Special Agents, are standing behind the group of armed guards.

One is a woman wearing fluffy pajama bottoms with bunnies on them, a one-size-too-big black t-shirt with the anarchy symbol, and slippers that resemble crocodiles. Her blond curls contrast against her darker skin, and she looks sleep-deprived. She reminds me too much of the old me. Pathetic and weak. The other Special Agent is a man who could be the sole reason for big and tall being a size. He's at least two and a half feet taller than the next tallest person: broad shoulders, a large belly, and hands with too many rings on them. The man's face is clean-shaven, and his hair is cut short, making it easier to manage. He's wearing a black suit with a white undershirt, a bow tie, and suede shoes.

"It seems like we do, in fact, have an intruder," the man said, with a voice that had a hint of a southern twang to it.

"I told you so. I am Special Agent Ayame, and this giant is Special Agent Ferguson. Miss, we're going to have to take you into custody now," Special Agent Ayame said.

I wait for it, but my power doesn't activate. They aren't trying to harm me? How does imprisonment not count as harm? When I think about it, it weirdly makes sense. Being sent to prison wouldn't last long, and I'd be out soon. I'm going to have to force their hand to get them to attack me.

"You may call me Mother. I am here to free someone you have wrongfully detained," I announced.

"Ma'am, everyone that's down here belongs here. This is just a small stop on their way to one of them Omnimax security prisons. If your intention is to be vamoosing with one of these convicts, well, I'll be obliged to stop ya," Special Agent Ferguson warned.

His tone is still polite, but there's a reluctant edge to it. I pay no heed to his warning. I'm a Chosen of God. Mere mortal men cannot stop me. The regular agents tense as I approach, their faces betraying their feelings. An unknown Neuvohuman shows up; I can't blame them for their fear. I cross some invisible line, and all the agents relax. Their guns aren't aimed at me anymore; my power has been activated. They must have a protocol for engaging hostiles related to their proximity to the threat.

I reach their line, and no one moves to stop me. He provides. Walking up and down their formation, I stop when I find an agent who's a similar build to me. The charmed woman stands there as I strip her down to her underwear. The bloodied jacket of Greg's boss and the clothes I came in with are on the floor now. It takes me a few minutes to adjust the straps of the BNA body armor. The black shirt and pants are surprisingly comfortable. The gun is heavy but manageable, thanks to the strap that helps offset some of the weight. I look over the Special Agents and the rest of the guards. The mission takes precedence, I can consecrate the place if I have time after.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Melanie is obeying my instructions and hasn't shown herself. Good. There are too many entrances to check all of them without more forces coming. It's only a matter of time before a Neutralizer gets sent, and then I run the risk of failing. Unforgivable and unthinkable.

"Sweetheart? I need you to find out where they're holding our friend," I said, hoping Melanie was listening.

______________________________________________________________________

"Psst. I found him," Melanie whispered into my ear.

She's still invisible, so I make sure not to react. It's better if we can get out of here without anyone seeing her or her powers. Melanie found him fairly quickly, all things considered. It only took her a little while to figure out where they were holding our goal.

"He's down the second entrance from where we came," she informed me.

I don't waste time heading over to where Melanie said Hero is. The cameras have been watching and recording me since I got here. The BNA will undoubtedly go over all the footage, desperate to figure out how I did it. The white gate slides open, revealing yet another boring white hallway. My newly acquired boots are much quieter than my heels, not that I'm trying to sneak up on anyone. I am on a holy mission, and nothing will stop me. The confidence I exude as I walk down the hall is all thanks to knowing I am following His will.

The hall ends with another sliding door to a much smaller white room. At the center of the room is a set of stairs down to a command center of computers and BNA workers typing away. The room has six cells, each one behind a glass wall. It's probably not glass but some kind of Tinkertech creation. Each cell has two BNA agents, armed, standing to the left and right of it. At the center command area, I see two more Special Agents.

"I am here on a crusade from God Himself. He demands the release of Hero, and I am here to ensure that happens," I said fervently.

"We will do no such thing."

The person speaking is an older woman with long silver hair braided down her back. Her voice is throaty; she must be a smoker. She's wearing a proper suit and tie, holding herself with a poise that suggests she's in charge. A sheathed sword hangs off a double-loop belt on her hips. She isn't relaxed, but she's acting like my fate is decided. It doesn't matter how confident she feels; heaven mandated my goal. The second person is some kind of cyborg. Purple metal has replaced the majority of her head and neck; only her right eye and ear are living tissue. She doesn't have a mouth, just a flat metal surface with molded lips. Her metal legs are digitigrade with talons like a raptor's. She's wearing a white button-up shirt over her flesh and bone torso. What an abomination.

As I begin to retort to her, I see a new person appear. The new guy is a baby-faced man who looks young enough to be a high schooler. His diminutive size and flippant disrespect point to insecurities. He's wearing blue jeans, running shoes, a white undershirt, and a letterman jacket. His blonde hair is gelled back; he's wearing a jet black visor and over-the-ear noise-cancelling headphones. He's walking weirdly, taking stilted steps until he arrives in front of the hallway. Can he not see?

He points his hand at the room behind me, mimicking a gun. That won't work, ignorant scum. He presses his thumb down, and his index fingertip flares blue before the entire hallway is engulfed in the same color. I hear my shield break, and then everything is so cold. My body feels frozen, and I stumble before I fall to the ground. It's so cold—broken memories of winters from before I became Zero fill my mind. Faceless corpses growing still as the cold took them in the night. Stealing blankets from hungry children and the frail elderly to keep myself warm despite knowing I was dooming them to a frostbitten death. The chill that crept into my bones that made every breath painful. The fear of living through another snowstorm and the idea that death would be a blissful release.

"Rise, Zero. If you don't, you will fail me."

His voice in my head breaks me out of the memory spiral I trapped myself in. I can't fail Him. Forcing my eyes open, I see that every surface is covered in a layer of sharp ice and frost. The gates below my boots are white, and my teeth won't stop chattering. I need to use my gifts to come up with a plan. It takes a bit of focus to concentrate long enough to summon the shield back. It doesn't help me at all; the cold is still affecting me. Ahead of me is the command center, and none of the Special Agents or guards have moved to encircle me or follow up.

"H, h, how?" I barely managed to ask.

"Your power activates when people attempt to harm you. Somehow, they knew this and found a way to capitalize on it. It could be that your power doesn't activate unless the person is trying to harm you. The frost user can't see or hear you. He seems to be following previous instructions, but he probably doesn't know what he's doing. Even my gifts have limitations."

I should've thought of that. I need to be better and worthy of the power gifted to me. Melanie was tested and did what needed to be done. I can't be her Mother if I am weak. There's a way forward, a chance I can seize. Despite my fingers going numb, I scramble at the buckle, holding the gun strap until it falls to the ground. I throw my hands up in surrender and fall face-first onto the ground. The metal is so cold against my skin that it feels like my face is being burned. The pain is excruciating, but I stay silent.

"Melanie, if you can hear me, stay hidden," I whispered.

The temperature is so low that my breath is visible. I focus on the feeling of hatred I have for the Special Agents denying God's plan and for the weakness that still lingers within me. My faith in Him burns beautifully inside my chest even as my limbs start to become unresponsive. I lay still, waiting to see if my trap will work. The cyborg walks over to the man with the frost power and taps him on the head. He rips the headphones and visor off, looking at me.

"Wait, who the fuck did I just ice?" The male Special Agent asked.

"Be careful, Charles. She's a very, very potent Mentalist. Keep your mind clear and your intentions peaceful," said the older woman.

"I know the protocol for a Mentalist. For fucks' sake, Iris, does everyone think I'm a fresh fucking recruit? I know what the hell I'm doing," Charles bit back at her.

So Charles is his name, and the old one is Iris.

"You may not be a recruit, Charles, but you lack the seniority and maturity that Iris and I possess. I've got your back, advance," a third robotic voice, the cyborg, commanded.

I hear crunching footsteps as the cyborg and Charles get closer. Wait for it. My eyes are shut tightly, and thankfully so, as an incredibly bright, warm object blinks into existence near me. What is that? I can't open my eyes to check; I'll only have one shot at this. The two Special Agents are right next to me, and the pleasant warmth from whatever the unknown object is helps return some feeling to my limbs. Wait for it. I feel a boot nudging my stomach. Now.

"Even for such a powerful Mentalist, how did she get down here?" Charles asked, his leg still next to me.

My arm lashes out, moving faster than they thought I could. My hand grips his ankle, and a portion of my pinky touches his skin. I got you, heretic. I pump my drug into him while transferring all of the damage the cold did, and the bitter chill I feel. I tilt my head up to get my bearings. The warmth I've been feeling is from a translucent red orb the size of a baseball that's hovering from the fingertip of Charles. His eyes are muddy, and despite the pain he must be feeling, he isn't moving.

"Charles. Charles. Are you okay?" The cyborg asked concernedly.

I release his ankle and stand up, facing off against the cyborg. She's large; her legs add a lot of bulk to her. I jab my left arm into the red orb still hovering and instantly burn away my sleeve, glove, skin, muscles, and nerves. I rip it out instantly, but the damage is done—less than a second. My arm was inside the flaming orb for less than a second. And all that remains is my burned, dried, blackened husk of a forearm. Chunks of muscle and bits of bubbling, shrunken skin survived, but the majority is nothing but blackened bone.

"What the fuck?" The cyborg asked, her one human eye wide in surprise.

She came closer to me when she went to check on Charles. Close enough that she can't get away before I successfully tag her with my good arm. The transfer power is instant, and my arm is back to perfect condition. She can't say the same as her left arm is incinerated instantaneously. She screams out in pain, a droning, staticky shriek. Good. This is just the beginning of what I will do to His enemies. I will make a funeral pyre out of the non-believers' corpses.

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