Do We Have a Deal?

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Although Reginald made many attempts to force you to use your power, you failed every one of them.

"If you don't use your power, the fire will reach you in approximately two minutes," he said, watching as you pressed your back against the far end of the wall, watching the fire wind its way almost leisurely toward you along the path he had created for it with twigs and branches. You stood atop a pile of chopped wood, the only section of the floor that wasn't composed of spikes.

"I don't know how, Dad!" you screamed, your breaths coming in frantic, terrified bursts. No matter how many times he told you that you possessed powers, something inside of you still denied it. Your fingertips and behind your eyelids tingled lightly, but nothing ever happened. No bursting pressure, like he said there would be.

"Well, you must learn to adapt."

He walked away, leaving you desperately trying to protect yourself from the fire. You closed your eyes, concentrating on the tingling feeling, but nothing happened.

Exactly like it had been the past two years, after Reginald found you, abandoned and alone, on a park bench in the middle of a bustling city. He told you that he knew, from the moment he met you, that you were special. That you had powers. But, like Vanya, you believed that you didn't. Also like Vanya, you were kept separated most of the time. You only saw the other children at meal times, and occasionally during training.

On the first day, your new mother, Grace, had asked if you wanted a new name.

"No! I already have one!"

"Well, that's all right, dear. Would you like us to call you by that name?" she asked kindly, a smile stretched across her face.

"No. I want to be called Eight."

Your name was the only thing you remembered about your past. Other than that, you just remembered shivering, alone, on that horrible little bench, awaiting help.

Your parents had likely abandoned you.

Giving up, you backed up as close as you could get to the spiky wall.

"Help!" you screamed, desperately glancing toward the glass window set into the metal. A small device placed in the upper corner of the room was the only way you could hear people from the outside, and they could hear you. You were in the basement, so there was no way anyone would hear you.

"Eight?"

You sagged with relief as Five appeared on the other side of the glass, his eyes scanning the scene before him with horror.

"What the heck is happening here?"

"Five, please let me out," you begged, pressing your palms against the glass. "I'm scared. I don't want to die!"

He swallowed hard, glancing fearfully at the security camera set into the wall above him.

"Please," you whimpered, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Dad wouldn't do this," he said before opening them again. "Oh, screw it."

He appeared by your side, jumping you outside of the room just as the fire reached the wooden floor, erupting into dancing red flames. Your chest heaved, and you cling to his shirt desperately.

"Thank you," was all you could manage to say as he pressed a hand against the glass, narrowing his eyes. A moment later he disappeared, reappearing inside the burning room.

You shouted, before realizing he was fine. He stood in the middle of the blazing fire, sighing tiredly.

"An illusion."

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