Red Skies | The Prime Archives #1 ✓

twenty-eight

Upon arriving back at The Acropolis two days prior, they informed Director Shaw of their findings. He immediately did a scan over Adak Island see if Kismet was set up there. Unfortunately, his satellites failed to pick up a signal. The agents theorized a signal jam, which only strengthened the notion that Kane and his crew were hiding out there.

If true, then they'd been meeting again very soon.

They had two days left. Two days to defeat Kane. Two days to save the world.

The group of young superhumans trained harder than ever before. They pushed their abilities and bodies to the limits—Chase in particular. He woke up earlier than the rest. He was determined to advance his skillset in the short amount of time they had left. If they had any real shot of taking down Kismet, they needed to be stronger. Faster. Sharper. They needed to be ready for any challenge that came their way.

Chase knew he should've been optimistic; Stella had been trying her best to keep everyone's spirits up, but there was only so much she could do on her own. Admittedly, they did have a chance of winning—albeit, a small one. They'd gotten a huge lead on Kismet's base. That had to have been a plus.

But while they may have known the location of their headquarters, that was where their intel ran dry. They knew nothing else. If they did carry out an assault on the Alaskan island, they'd be walking in blinder than bats. An ambush was almost certain. They did have homefield advantage.

He cringed, the vivid, painful memory of getting beaten to a bloody pulp terrorizing his psyche. He'd never felt so helpless; it made him want to curl into a ball in his mother's lap like how used to do when he was smaller.

He couldn't shake the feeling that another defeat was on the horizon. They'd come up against Kismet a total of three times now and won once—those weren't favorable odds. Frost and Apex were dangerous Primes who not only had powerful abilities, but they were more than capable fighters as well.

Chase and his friends weren't soldiers, not in the slightest. No amount of training sessions would change that. Even with the help of the remaining Atlas agents who were healthy enough to aid on the assault in the coming days, there was no guarantee they'd come out victorious.

It was a longshot for sure.

But it was a shot that needed to be taken.

The six teenagers were currently standing outside of Archie's laboratory. He'd messaged them earlier to let them know he had a surprise for them. The boy interrupted a sparring session between himself and Andre; they'd just been getting into it when the call came. It was safe to say he was fairly agitated.

Chase pounded his fist against the door. The thick metal crumpled under his hand.

''Lay off my door before you break it!''

''Oops.''

The locking mechanism disengaged with a series of whirs and beeps. Seconds later, the door slid open. A red-eyed, messy-haired Archie glared up at Chase.

''What?''

''My door!'' He gesticulated at the blatant dent. I spent weeks designing the lock and you've just ruined— '' Archie shook his head disapprovingly. ''You're fixing that.''

He shrugged and brushed past the kid. ''Guess I don't know my own strength.''

''Guess I don't know my own strength,'' Archie mocked, lowering his voice to sound like the older boy. ''Give me a break.''

So far, Chase wasn't impressed with this Archie guy. He seemed like a whiny kid, not a genius.

Upon stepping into the workshop, the first thing he saw were huge tarps covering multiple tables. As he went to go lift one up, Archie slapped his hand away.