EIGHTEEN

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The ceiling never looked more interesting.

The bed in my holding is where I've been the past few hours, staring my blankly up at the black ceiling.

I've accepted my fate. This will be my future. I'll be bound to this holding for the rest of my miserable life. Well, hopefully not. I'm sure Lombardi is planning to do something with all of us specials, I just don't know what.

But I most likely won't ever see my parents again. I haven't thought about them in a while. I still don't know if they're dead or alive; I still don't know if Lombardi has them trapped somewhere in this massive mansion. I pray that they're safe.

What I would do to see their faces again...

I turn my head to the side, staring at the Lombardi family portrait on the wall. No mother in the picture... I wonder what happened to her.

I wonder what happened to Damien.

He threw away his father's life's work by saving the three of us. I wish it paid off. I feel like Damien's sacrifice was for nothing.

But I know Lombardi is not going to handle it in a father-friendly way. I feel a little bit sad for Damien... he did help us after all.

The door to my holding opens with a loud creak, and I instantly sit up. Two agents are standing at the doorway.

I sigh, and stand up as one walks over to handcuff my hands behind my back.

I just go through the motions, and try not to get hurt. I haven't gotten experimented on since I arrived... so maybe my time is now. I'm sure that's why Lombardi has us here.

He needs to test us all on our skills and abilities. He also hinted that he might be trying to find a way to disable our powers. I could guess he wants to find a way to control when we can and can't use our power. So he can control us.

We'd become his slaves, doing whatever he demanded of us.

I can't let it come to that.

The agents walk me through the corridors of this massive mansion, and I study everything around me carefully. If I ever escape my holding, I'll want to know where I'm going.

One agent opens a door to a new room I've never been to. Inside, the walls are black, like the rest of the place, and there is a treadmill in the center. Monitors and cables of all sorts surround it.

I'm going to be doing some running, it looks like. Honestly I wouldn't mind if that's all I have to do, I love the feeling I get when I run. I haven't felt it in a long time.

The agents walk me inside, uncuff me, and stand guard at the closed door, their faces as stoic as always.

Lombardi is sitting on a comfortable looking chair in the corner, clipboard in hand. He smiles when he sees me.

"Ms. Hope." He gestures me closer. "Sorry to keep you waiting. You were last in the line of testing today."

I eye the monitors wearily and then look back to Lombardi, staying silent. I wonder what kinds of tests he ran on the others.

"Today's test is very simple," Lombardi explains lightly. "We are only going to see how fast you can run exactly, and for how long."

My response comes out hasty. "I already know both of those things."

He arches an eyebrow curiously, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Do you?"

I nod. "My top speed is 59 miles and hour and I can run... for a couple hours."

My parents drove the car along side me to test my speed, and I only know from running away from the agents that I can last a couple hours before collapsing.

"You can't run forever? A shame." Lombardi writes something on his clipboard. "Nevertheless, we will continue with today's testing to confirm that information."

I swallow. Will I have to run for hours? Probably. Of course I will. Honestly it's not the worst thing.

Lombardi gestures to the treadmill, and I walk over, unsteadily climbing on.

An agent emerges from the corner, ordering me to stand upright and stay still. I think that's the first I've heard one talk. And also the first female agent I've ever seen.

She starts connecting cables to the muscles of my legs: both calves, both hamstrings, and both quadriceps. Six cables all and all.

I feel very much like a lab rat.

I'll try not to think about it and just run. Running usually clears my head. It's what I do best.

When the agent is done, she retreats back to the corner in silence.

Lombardi stands up, turning one monitor towards him. "Run the fastest you possible can, Ms. Hope. Understood?"

I nod, facing forward and taking a deep breath.

"Whenever your ready."

I start at a jog, build up to a run, and then I feel it. The electrical feeling coursing through my veins and giving me the speed that allows me to keep up with cars on the highway.

I run even faster, the feeling of power euphoric under my skin. I push my legs to go faster and faster, trying to go the fastest I've ever gone. The treadmill moves with the speed of my legs, keeping up with me.

I push harder, ignoring the burning in my lungs. When I feel I've reached the highest speed I can possibly go, I gradually slow down.

Once I stop, I hunch over, hands on my knees as I gulp in air. I'm still working on the lungs part of my running. Lombardi noticed and nearly laughs.

"You alright there, Ms. Hope?" He continues marking up his clipboard

I ignore his question and stand upright. "How fast did I go?"

Lombardi grins. "You reached 82 miles an hour. A little faster than you suggested."

My eyes widen. I've gotten a lot faster.

"Now that we now how fast you can go, time to see how long you can last." He eyes me wearily. "I don't have high expectations."

I glare at him and straighten up on the treadmill. "Can I go?"

He hums a yes and I start running, not to my full speed, but still supernaturally fast.

I know it always feels like I could run with this powerful feeling forever, but I can't. With no warning, my legs will eventually give out. Let's see how long it takes.

— —

That is going to hurt tomorrow.

Two agents are already at my sides, helping me up.

I don't know how long I was running, but it felt like decades. Then suddenly my legs gave out and I fell hard onto the ground.

Lombardi walks inside— apparently he left.

The agents try to put me back on my feet, but I literally cannot use my legs. My lungs are on fire as well.

The agents give up on getting me to stand, and set me down in the comfortable seat in the corner. I close my eyes and lay back in exhaustion.

"You ran for five hours." Lombardi's voice echos in my ears. "Well done. You may return to your holding."

I don't move. I can't move.

Then a pair of arms slip around me and I'm lifted away from the chair. I don't open my eyes— my eyelids are way too heavy.

I want water. Food and sleep. Sleep and food. Water.

After a few minutes of walking I feel the velvet sheets of the bed in my holding and instantly pass out.

I turned out to be faster than I thought and I lasted longer than I thought.

Today wasn't so bad.

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