Chapter 21 (1/2)

Dan would later feel fairly proud of how he reacted to the situation. Flames swept outwards from the man's body, moving almost as if in slow motion. The brilliant orange-gold streamers that had scythed through the city were crawling through the air like they had been bogged down in molasses. It was less an explosion than a barrier, a shield, a cocoon of fire gradually expanding over the man's skin. It was slow, and steady, and oh so dangerous.

Dan moved on instinct, on reflex, on that primal setting of the brain which acted rather than reacted.

He tackled the nurse. The poor woman was frozen in surprise, gaping like a fish as the burning shell crawled towards her. Dan's action wasn't smooth, or graceful, or particularly gentle, but it got her away from the flames. They tumbled away from the man's body, rolling across the frozen concrete to the edge of the barrier.

Dan stumbled to his feet, half dragging the nurse up alongside him. She winced as she stood, her knees scuffed from the tumble. They both watched in something akin to horrified awe as the roiling flames grew brighter and wilder by the second.

”Run!” a strained voice pleaded.

Dan glanced at the man who spoke, the blue-skinned volunteer responsible for the icy field they inhabited. The frost over his body had become more visible, more solid. It flowed along his arms and legs, hardening over his clothing, slowing his movements to a crawl. Ice crystallized along the ground, blooming into a frozen wave that clashed against the heat. The air grew thick with fog, the cloudy air tinted crimson by the bonfire blazing at the center of the dome.

”I can't hold the fire back for long,” the frozen man continued through gritted teeth. ”You have to evacuate! Warn the authorities!”

The second half of his plea broke through Dan's shock. Moving robotically, he unclipped his radio and spoke in hurried tone, ”This is Bravo-one-seven, we've encountered an active villain in grid B-four. He's a pyrokinetic who has been shot in the stomach and is currently trying to incinerate us.”

Dan paused, still holding down the button. ”...I'm pretty sure he's the guy who caused the explosion earlier today. I'd suggest an evacuation. Bravo-one-seven out.”

An urgent voice replied to him, but he couldn't hear past the sound of boiling water and roaring flames.

Dan wasn't sure why he was so calm. Maybe it was because he could teleport out at almost any moment. Maybe it was because some tiny part of him remembered that this was only a simulation. Maybe he was back in that state of utter serenity that he had experienced weeks ago, when he'd first stumbled into a spaceship and flown through the stars.

Whatever the reason, he was calm, collected, centered on the obstacle before him. The situation was still salvageable. Things hadn't gone to shit quite yet. Dan had options aplenty. He could leave at any time. He could teleport away and save himself. The three volunteers beside him would almost certainly die if he did, but Dan would live to help another day.

It was the safe choice. It might even be the smart choice. It was certainly the choice that Marcus wanted Dan to make. This was the test, the cruel purpose of the simulation. It was nothing less than calculated trauma. The largest living thing that Dan had managed to teleport was a mouse a bit bigger than his thumb. Dan couldn't save his fellow volunteers, only himself. Not, at least, if the situation was as it appeared to be.

If this really was the villain who caused the fire.

If the man was even capable of throwing out another blast of that scale.

If there was no way to stop him from doing it.

If if if.

Dan's eyes fell on the nurse at his side. Her entire body was trembling, but her face was set in grim acceptance. She was young, he noticed; younger than he was. Unshed tears pooled in her eyes as she stared down what was essentially an explosion in slow-motion. She could run, but she wouldn't make it far without a movement upgrade. The heat outside of the icy barrier would sap away her strength in seconds. If the range of the previous blast was any indication, fleeing would accomplish nothing other than making her suffer before she died. There was something inspiring about her defiant poise.

The last volunteer, the dark-skinned giant named Samson, was less inclined to accept his fate. He punched repeatedly at the frozen ground, massive fists shaking the earth with each blow. The concrete yielded to his strength, fracturing beneath his fists. With a grunt, Samson pried loose a slab of concrete and rebar, hefting the watermelon-sized boulder like a baseball. His arm cocked back and, bellowing at the top of his lungs, he lobbed the missile directly towards the burning villain.

Samson had excellent form. The ball of concrete rocketed through the intervening space and crashed against a carapace carved out of fire. It penetrated, briefly, sinking past the shell and revealing the agonized, enraged face of the villain beneath. He roared, a sound barely audible over the crackling heat, and the shell rippled violently in place.

The projectile abruptly rebounded, repelled by an explosion of flame and reduced to a molten slag. Samson ducked under what was left of his weapon as it whizzed past his head, spraying white-hot chunks of steel across the floor. Dan's half-formed idea of dropping something heavy on the villain died in its womb.

The game was rigged. It had to be. The result was fixed in place by a bitter old man trying to share his cynical wisdom. Once again, Dan saw the choice that Marcus wanted him to make. The safe choice, the smart choice, the cold choice. Find the proper authorities, Daniel. Know what you're capable of, Daniel. Accept your limits, Daniel.

”Do the right thing, Daniel. They knew the risks. This is what they signed up for. This is what you signed up for,” an old man whispered into his ear.

Something inside Dan snapped.