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I have to be honest, Roman, I don’t know if I should be annoyed by you, or intrigued with the mysteriousness that surrounds your life. And what’s with Coma, exactly? She looks like one of those sex dolls I’ve seen in some of the red-light districts. But she’s human. Is she a super?
Roman sat on the trolley aimed at the Lottery Commission. The training facility was accessed through a different street, so he could bypass the mayhem at the front completely, and this allowed him to focus on Harper’s message.
He wasn’t really sure of the best way to respond, or where their relationship would go from here.
It had been a fun night, that was for sure, but his life was about to seriously change, and he didn’t know how long it would take him to get full approval to be an exemplar. But just by the fact that he could now modify documents, he was becoming more and more of an asset to the state.
He needed a little time to process all this, to sort it all out and figure out what his next step would be. And while Roman was never one to turn away from carnal desires, now just didn’t seem like the time.
He also didn’t know how long Ava’s training would take. The fiery Type II had never indicated an end date to him, and after she approved him, there would still be a whole other round of paperwork.
Paperwork that I can modify, he thought as a wicked grin spread across his face.
He needed to go to the hospital. Now that he knew he had this ability, maybe there was something else he could do, some document he could modify to speed things up.
Maybe it was best if he kept this ability close to his chest—maybe he shouldn’t tell Ava about it as he’d originally planned.
“Yeah,” he whispered, as a middle-aged man got on the trolley and sat across from him. Roman looked him up and down, noticing that they both shared orange eyes. Roman’s weren’t as orange as this man’s, but there was an orange tint to them that was striking with his white hair.
White hair wasn’t a sign of age in Centralia, and years ago, when the non-exemplars had been more divided by class, those with white hair had usually held better positions. They’d migrated long ago from the wealthy Southern Alliance, and because of this, they’d been considered privileged.
In the end, and no matter what era, it seemed that every group had its hierarchy, just like in the animal kingdom, and a person’s place on this hierarchy dictated their future. At least in Centralia—or so they led immigrants and non-exemplars to believe—there was always a way to move up to the next rung. But the truth of the matter was a little more sobering: the ladder to the top was booby trapped.
Once Roman got to the facility, he changed into gym clothing that had been provided to him the previous day. He checked the time on the wall and stretched for a moment, then made his way to the gym, where he found Ava waiting for him.
Hit teacher actually looked excited to see him, which threw him off a little bit.
He still didn’t know what to make of the rail-thin yet busty woman with red hair and black eyes. He’d already sensed there was something more that could happen between them; other times, he felt like this was just another day at the office for her, which it very well may have been.
“You ready to get started?” she asked him.
“Born ready.”
“I figured it would be easier if we brought her here.”
“Her?”
A teleporter wearing Centralian-government-issued clothing appeared, causing Roman to gasp.
“Coma?”
The teleporter disappeared in a flash and a fizzle of green energy.
Coma was in her gothic Lolita outfit and mask, a shocked look on her face. “Where are we?”
“You should’ve asked me before you brought her here—before you went into my home.”
Ava laughed. “You, of all people, should know we don’t ask questions as much as we give answers. Besides, would you have said no?”
“I may have.”
“I was rearranging the living room when the teleporter appeared,” said Coma. “She told me that you called me here. And I went with her. Was I not supposed to go with her?” Worry spread across the animated doll’s face.
“No, it’s fine. You were supposed to go with her.” Roman looked intensely at Ava. “So what are we supposed to do now?”
“Test her out.”
“He already kind of did,” said Coma.
The color drained from Roman’s face.
“Sorry if that came out wrong.”
Roman looked away from Ava, not able to mask the shame of something that hadn’t fully occurred—yet.
“It’s important for you to test the limits of your abilities, I’ll give you that.” Ava started to chuckle. “I advise against those kind of experiments, but you are the sailor of your own ship.”
“It’s not what it seems, and duly noted.”
Ava stopped in front of Coma and reached for her arm. “It really is remarkable,” she said as she pinched Coma’s shoulder.
“Hey!” Roman shouted as Coma’s body caught fire, the flames licking off her form. He raced over to her and tore his shirt off. The heat practically singed his eyebrows as he began beating the flames off her body.
“What’s happening?” Coma asked as the flames continued to spread.
“Fucking put it out!” Roman shouted to Ava, and for a moment—a very brief moment—the floor beneath her feet rippled.
“Just a test.” Ava lifted her hands and the flames jumped from Coma’s body back to her palm, where they quickly dissipated.
The floor directly beneath her also settled.
Coma was burnt pretty badly, and as Roman cradled her in his arms, he noticed that her flesh was just like his. He wasn’t met with charred plastic—this was actual skin, burnt skin yet with little to no scent. As he held her and as she looked up at him curiously, her body began to reform.
It began with her skin and was followed by the side of her head, where her hair grew back despite the fact that her mask was gone. She was whole again in a matter of moments, partially nude, but whole.
And Roman was seething.
“So you can heal your creations,” Ava said, oblivious to his anger. “Good to know.”
“You lit her on fire!”
“Please relax, and notice your power dial while you’re at it.”
Roman took one look at his dial and saw that the red and green indicators had increased. He started breathing deeply, mentally trying to relax himself, and they eventually went back to their normal levels.
“I’m okay, Roman,” Coma said as she ran her hand through his white hair.
He sat her down on her feet.
“This is part of the process,” Ava told him. “I’m sorry if that threw you off, but the researcher working with me indicated that people with your ability in the past were able to heal their creations—but only if they had given their creations cognizance. Meaning you couldn’t animate a bat, send it off to blindly fight, and keep reanimating it. Although you could animate the shards.”
“I can think of a million better ways to test this out aside from lighting her on fire.”
“I’m fine, Roman.”
“I know you’re okay,” he told Coma, “but that was just very... abrupt.”
“Are you ready for today’s lesson?” Ava asked.
“You mean that wasn’t it?”
Ava stepped aside and Roman could see there was a bowl of rice on the table behind her. There was also a human-sized doll made of leather, something resembling an artist’s mannequin.
The faceless doll was held erect by two metal stands at its feet.
“There are going to be two components to your training today. The first component will be this bowl of rice.”
Ava took the bowl of rice and emptied it onto the ground, the white grains spilling out on the gymnasium floor.
“The task you are going to give the rice is relatively simple. You are going to have them construct a small city that mirrors Centralia. Pick any district you like, or that you’re most familiar with.”
She set a small saucer of water in the middle of the scattered grains.
“Your rice minions can use the water any way they see fit. You see, that’s another thing, I want the city to still be standing when you relinquish control of the rice. So it has to be structurally sound for you to do this, and as you may know, you can use powdered rice as a binding agent.”
Roman considered this for a moment. He would have to give at least a few of the grains intelligence for them to instruct the others to build.
“But there is more to today’s exercise than just a little construction. While this is taking place, you are going to animate the leather dummy.” Ava threw her thumb over her shoulder, directing it at the dummy. “And you are going to have Coma battle the dummy.”
“Fight?” Coma asked.
“That’s right. Since you are part of Roman, you have his normal, non-exemplar fighting instincts and experiences, and from our records, Roman has an extensive background in fighting.”
“Thanks,” Roman grumbled, not loving being called out as a non-exemplar. “And I stopped fighting years ago.”
“We’ve seen this before with strongmen. The fighter may be out of the ring, but some part of the dance is always with them. Let’s get started, and don’t make the dummy too weak. This is supposed to be a challenge.”
Roman sat down on the floor so he didn’t have to focus on standing. Even though it didn’t take much power to stand, he knew it was going to take a lot of energy to have a fight going on one side of the gymnasium while building a rice city on the other.
He also decided not to look at his power dial this time; he wanted to feel when he was getting to his breaking point, rather than being prompted.
Roman first animated the rice, giving more of his power to a few of the grains on the outer rim. He had to close his eyes to do this at first, but once he opened them, the rice had already started to form several lines, a few of them stretching to the saucer of water while the others waited for instructions.
Next up was the dummy. He focused on the dummy and the leather creation came to life, prying its legs free from the metal that held it upright.
The dummy lifted its fists, and Roman purposefully did not give it a lot of intelligence. This was for two reasons: One, he obviously wanted Coma to win. Two, his power dial wasn’t looking so great.
(Of course he’d ended up looking.)
He could feel his heart thumping in his chest and the veins pulsing in his body. He was glad he’d sat down, because until he got better at this, controlling so many things would take a lot of willpower.
As the rice went to work constructing the model city, he focused on Coma.
The petite woman lifted her fists as she approached the leather dummy.
“You can do it,” he whispered, his hands clenching up as the leather dummy took its first swipe.
Coma ducked under the punch and gracefully slipped around the dummy’s body, bringing her fist into the small of its back. She was much faster than Roman thought she would be, evident in the fact that she was now standing on the other side of the dummy, avoiding another swipe, and then knocking the leather creation to the ground with a kick that swept its legs from beneath it.
Fury in her red eyes, she dropped onto the dummy, her knees suppressing the movement of its shoulders. She began brutally punching the dummy in the face, left and right, the sounds of her striking fists ricocheting into the far corners of the gymnasium.
“Destroy,” Roman mouthed, as Coma tore the dummy apart, ripping its limbs from its body, its fluffy white innards floating to the floor.
The fight was over in a matter of moments, and sure, Roman could have animated the stuffing or worked to reform the leather dummy. But his point had been made, his power proven, and Ava saw this.
Had Roman been paying better attention to his teacher, he would have noticed the light flickering of flames at the tips of her fingers, a precautionary gesture, just in case Coma or Roman turned on her.
But he didn’t notice, after all, so focused was he on overseeing the construction of Rice Centralia.
