‘Thud. Thud. Thud.’

  Still misjudging her enhanced strength, Major Michelle Holland winced as her boots cracked the frozen track beneath her. Four days since the augmentation and she still couldn’t get used to it. Each stride carried her faster and further than her brain expected. The bitter winter air burned in her lungs as she maintained her brutal pace around the Paperclip’s ten-mile course. At 0430, the base lay silent except for her rhythmic breathing and the soft whine of surveillance drones tracking her progress.

  Her enhanced healing eliminated muscle fatigue almost instantly, though the specialized compression gear still squeezed her calves like a vise. Early testing had revealed a nasty tendency for her legs to literally tear themselves apart from the inside when she pushed too hard. Compartment syndrome, the doctors had called it. Pressure built in the muscle fascia until tissue death set in. The compression sleeves kept everything contained, letting her maintain speeds that would cripple an unaugmented runner.

  She flexed her palms, generating carefully controlled jets of pressurized air to provide extra forward thrust. The boost was minimal, just enough to shave a few seconds per mile without damaging the track surface. Since breaking through to Second Evolution last weekend, even these small bursts required intense focus to regulate. Raw power thrummed through her body, demanding release.

  Every second I waste is someone else’s advantage. Push the body, channel the arma, recover, repeat. This is why I’m ahead. This is why I’ll stay ahead.

  The classified intelligence reports on Joseph Pringle cycled through her mind as she ran, each detail registered and cross-referenced. A natural 2nd Evolution, just like her. The only other one in their command of 286 arma wielders. His ability to generate and manipulate crystalline structures had already been weaponized to devastating effect during a containment operation in Seattle. The crystals grew from any surface he touched, spreading like geometric viruses, perfect for immobilization or creating instant defensive barriers. Most concerning was his unpredictability—sometimes calculating and precise, other times recklessly aggressive.

  All that potential, and what were the rest doing? Playing at soldiers, treating this like some superhero training camp rather than the deadly serious business it was. It baffled her how so many awakened recruits wasted their gifts, treating evolution as something that would simply happen rather than a discipline to be mastered.

  Michelle remembered discovering the aftermath in Seattle. Twenty-seven civilians dead because some traumatized kid couldn’t handle a panic attack without accidentally liquefying everyone within fifty feet. The enhanced individual hadn’t meant to hurt anyone—they just didn’t understand what they were capable of. That’s why structure and regulation were essential. That’s why the USEC existed. That’s why she was here.

  She passed the five-mile marker, barely winded—running ten miles every morning for the past month had done that to her. Motion sensors followed her progress, documenting speed, gait analysis, power output. Everything measured. Everything controlled. A drone buzzed overhead, its thermal cameras tracking the heat signature from her air manipulation.

  The arma energy coursing through her system had only grown stronger since evolution. Sometimes she caught herself unconsciously generating micro-currents of air, making papers flutter or causing mild turbulence around her. The power wanted to be used. Keeping it contained was like trying to hold back a flood with nothing but willpower and discipline. Thank god for her military training.

  Michelle rounded the final turn, checking her watch. Right on schedule. She’d complete her ten miles with enough time for a shower before heading to the secure communications room. The morning’s evaluation reports wouldn’t write themselves.

  As she approached the finish line, she allowed herself a small indulgence—a perfectly calculated burst of air from both palms that lifted her into a graceful leap over the timing sensors. She landed in perfect form, boots touching down on the frosty lawn. The display of control pleased her. See? Enhanced abilities could be managed safely with proper training and oversight and…

  No pain in the shins anymore. Second Evolution took care of that weakness.

  But she still needed her daily ten miles—her Core Power demanded it. Each wind blast depleted her stamina reserves and arma in equal measure, and she needed to keep building her endurance. Now that she was completing her runs in half the time it had taken a month ago, with no lingering pain in her legs, perhaps tomorrow she’d push it to fifteen miles—no, twenty.

  The walk to her quarters gave her time to regulate her breathing and power levels back to baseline. Other recruits were making their way to the training complex—she could hear movement in the dorms, the soft murmur of voices. None of them knew her true role here. To them, she was just another enhanced soldier in training, albeit one who kept to herself.

  After a rapid field-wash, she donned her freshly pressed uniform and hastened to the secure communications room. The reinforced door required both biometric scanning and her security token to open. Inside, banks of monitors displayed surveillance feeds from across the base. She settled into her usual workstation, fingers flying across the keyboard as she compiled her latest observations.

  SUBJECT: Kilo Cell Evaluation

  STATUS: Ongoing surveillance

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  SUBMITTED BY: Holland, M. (SITE Designate)

  ASSESSMENT: Below standard

  NOTES: TD-002 assessment shows minimal progression among Kilo Cell recruits. Rivera continues to demonstrate inability to maintain consistent control of his hydrokinesis during high-stress scenarios. Peterson’s electrokinetic discharge remains erratic and potentially hazardous to team operations. Carter and Thompson show acceptable physical metrics but lack initiative in power development. Williams requires remedial training in basic combat protocols before specialized enhancement training can safely continue.

  No candidates currently display pre-evolution markers. Cell cohesion remains fragmented, with three distinct social groupings emerging, potentially compromising unit effectiveness. Recommend targeted psychological intervention to address underlying competitiveness that hinders cooperative training exercises.

  As the only 2nd Evolution individual in the unit, my cover remains intact. Will continue daily 20-mile conditioning regimen while monitoring for signs of progress among recruits. Request permission to implement additional pressure testing scenarios to identify candidates worth salvaging versus those requiring reassignment to support roles.

  These individuals must understand that enhanced capabilities demand enhanced responsibility. My assessment is that 60% of current Kilo Cell membership is unsuitable for field deployment without significant remedial intervention.

  She ran through similar evaluations for each recruit under her observation. The vast majority showed normal progression—clumsy first steps with their abilities, gradual improvement through structured training. A few demonstrated concerning patterns that warranted closer monitoring. But not a single one showed the potential for Second Evolution. None of her charges in Kilo Cell had the discipline or raw potential needed to break through that threshold. It was frustrating to watch their satisfied smiles when they achieved the barest minimum requirements, celebrating mediocrity as if it were excellence. Even Volkov, for all his power, lacked the methodical self-improvement that genuine mastery required. The stakes were too high for such complacency—arma users without proper control were walking catastrophes waiting to happen.

  The mess hall was starting to fill when she arrived for breakfast. She collected her tray—eggs, toast, coffee, all carefully portioned to fuel her enhanced metabolism—and joined her assigned cellmates at their usual table. The cover identity felt natural now after three days of practice. Just another recruit, sharing meals and trading stories.

  “... and then Roberts actually made his whole cup shake off the table!” Huan was saying as Michelle sat down. “I mean, I know we’re all still learning control, but come on!”

  Roberts flushed, absently stirring his coffee. Small ripples radiated from the spoon, quickly amplifying until the liquid sloshed over the rim and splashed over his tray. “Hey, at least I’m not the one who keeps teleporting into the hallway during bed checks.”

  Huan’s cheeks darkened. Her teleportation was still unpredictable, especially when she got emotional. “That was one time!”

  “Three times,” Henderson corrected with a grin. “I’ve been counting.”

  Michelle consumed her meal systematically, while studying their interactions. Roberts: Vibration manipulator, can create and control oscillations, poor fine control, but strong natural ability. Huan: Mystic, teleportation ability, technical proficiency, but emotional instability affects performance. Henderson: Enhancer, accelerated healing factor, good control, but overconfident. Threat levels moderate to low, assuming continued compliance with training protocols.

  “Hey Major, how’d you get those scars?” Henderson asked suddenly, gesturing to her throat. “Looking pretty badass.”

  She touched the raised white lines automatically, remembering the searing pain as her Second Evolution had nearly ripped her body to shreds. The cover story came easily: “Training accident a few years back. Learned the hard way not to push too hard too fast.”

  They nodded sympathetically, accepting the lie without question. The truth would only frighten them—how her body had revolted as raw arma reshaped her cellular structure, how she’d nearly died before learning to contain and direct the energy properly. Better they focus on their training, on learning control through proper channels.

  Her eyes drifted to where Papa Cell’s top performers sat with their cellmates. The two civilians from Durham had outperformed every single recruit in Kilo Cell during TD-000’s baseline testing. Still, if the gap between Papa Cell and Kilo Cell was a puddle, the difference between them and herself would be an ocean. They sprinted impressively fast, while she could intercept trains. It wasn’t their fault, really. First Evolution simply couldn’t comprehend what came next. Or what lay beyond.

  The morning formation provided another opportunity for evaluation. Michelle stood perfectly still in her position while her hearing picked up fragments of conversation from across the formation.

  “... heard Williams hit another evolution threshold yesterday...”

  “... these PT standards are insane...”

  “... bet Sergeant Steele could take Sergeant Jacobson in a fight...”

  None of them understood what was really at stake. None of them had seen entire city blocks reduced to rubble because someone lost control. None of them had helped dig bodies out of collapsed buildings, wondering if better training could have prevented the carnage.

  During Dr. Nazari’s classroom lecture on evolution thresholds, Michelle took detailed notes while carefully observing the other recruits’ reactions. Most showed appropriate confusion or concern at the classified information. Good.

  Maybe they’re salvageable after all, she thought.

  She wasn’t cruel. She took no pleasure in what her role might require. But this month alone, she’d counted too many bodies, written too many reports detailing preventable disasters. The USEC’s strict protocols existed for a reason. And she would do whatever necessary to ensure compliance.

  As the lecture concluded, she reviewed her orders for the afternoon’s hand-to-hand combat training. Today she would test the recruits’ reactions under pressure, evaluate their ability to maintain control in stressful situations. Her own powers would serve as the perfect catalyst—precise, scalable, easily documented.

  She squared her uniform and headed to the training area, mind already gaming out scenarios and response protocols. It wasn’t personal. Just necessary evaluation and containment of potential threats. For the greater good.