Pressure Points

This short story contains minor spoilers for The Apex Cycle: BETA.

“Even then I’d been so preoccupied with Andersen, I wouldn’t have noticed. I felt my jaw go slack. I could see all the pieces of the bigger picture coming together but couldn’t quite get them to fit in my mind.

‘Oh,’ I whispered, raising my own hand to my lips as if I’d feel Wesley’s cut there. ‘OH!’

Wesley was angry because I thought it had been Andersen at the docks. But it hadn’t been Andersen.”

-BETA, Chapter 10

Wesley’s freshman year, he had been hit by a bus.

Scratch that.

Wesley had on-purpose caught a runaway bus with his body before it could careen into the ocean. The brakes had failed on one of the island’s few hills but Wesley had luckily been nearby and in uniform running drills. There were no civilian injuries but Wesley learned the hard way that day that he was not unbreakable.

He had super strength, sure. In theory, it was a great Apex ability. Despite his lean frame, he was stronger than everyone on the team when it came to brawn. He knew it annoyed Andersen to no end that he’d never beat Wesley in any competition of strength and, in a pinch, Wesley could literally catch a bus. It may result in several joint dislocations and bone breaks, injuries that, though healed, plagued him to this day, but in a Wesley versus Public Transport situation, Wesley came out on top.

Unfortunately, while he was super strong, he was somewhat less than super durable and Samantha should not have been able to throw punches as well as she had the night before. 

Wesley cleared away the fog on the locker room mirror to assess the damage his project partner had delivered to his chin. A purple bruise marred the left side of his face and his lip had cut on his tooth. They were meeting after school to work on their project and Samantha was already suspicious the Apex she’d now met twice was a classmate. Sure, she was dumb enough to let Winnie drag her to the loading docks in the middle of the night, but if she saw the fist-sized bruise on Wesley’s chin, she just might put two and two together.

“That looks fresh,” Heather said when he passed her in the atrium. Her long, black hair was swept into its usual ribbon-adorned ponytail and she winced at the sight of Wesley’s bruise. “It wasn’t Winnie that gave it to you, was it? I heard Fleming had you tailing her and the new girl last night.”

Wesley rubbed his chin ruefully. 

“Not Winnie.”

“The new girl gave you that? Maybe she’s one of us if she’s leaving behind fat lips like that.” Heather laughed when Wesley scowled and she dug a hand into the front pocket of her backpack. “At least take this so no one sees it.”

“Andersen already did, but thanks.” Wesley took the small canister Heather offered him. “Make-up?”

“Foundation,” she shrugged. “Don’t get all prideful on me, Isaacs. Wearing make-up for a day is better than blowing your cover.”

She continued on her way to the gym, leaving Wesley with the bottle of foundation, sleep deprived and sore.

“Naomi!” Wesley hissed her name from his hiding spot behind the cafeteria door. He watched her head bob as she leaned over to say something to Jamie about forgetting her phone at the breakfast table and her friend waved her away.

“I already knew you were here, by the w—” Naomi cut off and grimaced at Wesley’s face. “So the docks went well, I see. Andersen mentioned you were in a fight.”

Wesley raised a hand to his lip and winced. 

“The new girl hit me when I tried to get her into the team car.”

“Shoe-barf did that?” 

“Don’t call her Shoe-barf.” Wesley shoved the make-up bottle into Naomi’s hand. “Just help me, please. If she sees my face, she’s going to know it was me last night.”

A group of students forced their way through the cafeteria doors, bumping the door into Wesley’s back.

“Fine, come here.” Naomi led him around the corner, unscrewing the make-up. “Oh, this is nice stuff. I didn’t know you had such impeccable taste in make-up.”

“It’s Heather’s.” Wesley grimaced as Naomi dabbed his cheek with the cool liquid.

“That makes more sense. I’ll have to ask—”

Thump-thump.

Wesley recoiled away from Naomi and pressed himself against the brick wall of the cafeteria exterior.

“What are—” Naomi’s eyes flitted towards the front cafeteria doors and a coy smile spread across her face. Wesley didn’t dare look, but after the night he’d had, he’d memorized the sound of Samantha’s hurried gait. That and he still couldn’t get the sound of her heartbeat out of his head. “Your hearing is getting better.”

“How’s she doing?” Wesley asked as Naomi returned to covering his bruise.

“Tired. Angry. Not worried about you. Why’s Fleming got you watching her, again?”

“Something about her mom being an old friend.”

“Weird. Maybe Sam is an Apex then, if her mom knew Fleming.”

Wesley shrugged as Naomi handed the bottle of make-up back to him.

“Doubt it. She’s clueless about the team. If she was an Apex, you’d think she’d know about it.”

“If that’s the case, you better hope it stays that way. I don’t see Fleming being too pleased if she catches on.”

While Wesley was tired, it was nothing compared to how Samantha looked. He did his best not to look at her when she shuffled into Fleming’s class, but it was hard to ignore her haggard face and bruised wrist that she tried to hide beneath the sleeve of her jacket. She hurried past Wesley’s seat in the front row and he wrinkled his nose. She still smelt like the docks.

“You look like crap.” Andersen’s voice felt like it cut through Wesley’s skull and Wesley knew he was talking to Samantha. 

“Stuff it,” Winnie snapped back at him. Wesley bit his tongue. Sure, now Winnie had no problem defending her roommate. Where had that attitude been last night?

“Eyes forward, Andersen,” Fleming interrupted from the head of the classroom.

“Sorry, boss. Just making sure Samantha doesn’t fall asleep at her desk. I’d hate to see her have points docked.”

He said the word “docked” like he liked the way it tasted and Wesley knew what he was doing. He was taunting Samantha. Wesley bit on his tongue to keep from snapping at Andersen, but his leg bounced with nerves and anger.

As soon as class ended, Wesley bounded out into the hall after Andersen. 

“Hey!”

Andersen’s shoulders stiffened at the sound of Wesley’s call and he turned to his girlfriend to tell her to go on without him before slowly turning to face Wesley. A smug grin played on his face and Wesley hated that Andersen knew he’d gotten under his skin.

“Hey, champ,” he sneered. “The make-up is a good look on you.”

“Leave her alone.”

“She started it when she stuck her nose in things that don’t concern her,” Andersen laughed.

“She was shoved in a car trunk. I think she’s learned her lesson.”

Andersen’s face lit up under his heavy eyebrows.

“Maybe, but imagine if she figured out who it was that busted her out of that trunk? You don’t think that person would then get kicked off the team, do you?”

A passing group of students jostled against Wesley’s shoulder, but he hardly noticed. 

“Fleming wouldn’t—”

Andersen snorted and turned away.

“Maybe. Maybe not. And maybe we’ll find out if your project partner is any good at piecing things together.”

There was no need to panic. Samantha would forget about the whole ordeal in a few days and as long as no one tried to kidnap her anymore, Wesley wouldn’t have to risk any more encounters with her while in uniform.

He spent the rest of his classes worrying over whether or not Andersen might continue to drop hints. It shouldn’t be too much of a problem, since Samantha didn’t seem eager to spend any more time with Andersen than she had to, so it really was just a matter of Wesley making sure they stayed apart.

However, as he trudged into the library after school to meet Samantha to work on their project, Andersen’s voice drifted from between the shelves, hastening Wesley forward.

“Jamie says she saw you coming back into the dorm at four this morning. Is that why you look like crap today?”

He was the worst. The actual worst.

“If you don’t leave, I will.” 

“I mean, geez, you’re not that bad looking normally, but today? I’m just saying, you look like you slept in the trunk of a car.”

Wesley’s heart constricted. Andersen was actually trying to get him kicked off the team. Wesley took a corner, finding the table Samantha had picked out in the back corner. She already had their project notes and sketches from the field trip strewn across the table. Andersen sat in the chair opposite her with his back to Wesley.

“You’re in my seat.”

Samantha jumped, having been too focused on Andersen to notice Wesley approach. Andersen’s shoulders slumped and he rolled his eyes as he slipped from the chair.

“Yeah, whatever. I was just telling Samantha here that she looks like crap.”

“And you don’t?” Wesley grunted. Samantha had bags under her eyes but Wesley thought he saw her lips twitch into the briefest smile.

“Oh, come on!” Andersen gestured at Samantha and then whatever tiny smile might’ve existed there slipped away. “I was being nice! I even said she normally looks okay!”

“Somehow,” Samantha drawled, “I don’t think ‘Normally Looks Okay’ is going to win any awards for Best Compliment.”

“Fine, if you want to be stuck up about it.” Andersen ran his hand through Samantha’s carefully laid out papers and turned away. “I guess that’s why I get for being nice.”

He sauntered away and Wesley slowly lowered himself into his chair. Maybe Samantha was too tired to have picked up on Andersen’s clues. Stray hairs fell in her face as she watched Andersen leave and she absentmindedly rubbed at her bruised wrist.

“He’s right, you know.” The words were out of Wesley’s mouth before he knew he was even thinking them.

“Excuse me?” Samantha’s face reddened and she leaned away from the table.

“I mean about how you look,” Wesley tried to cover. Samantha’s eyes widened. Crap. “No, not like that! I mean, you look tired.”

She slumped and crossed her arms, looking like she might fall over asleep then and there. Wesley knew the feeling. He hadn’t slept either.

“That’s just a nice way of saying I look like crap.”

“You don’t look like crap,” Wesley said, and he meant it. “It’s just, you don’t look very awake.”

“Yeah, well, didn’t sleep great.” She pushed the stray hairs from her face and glared. Wesley gulped. She couldn’t know. There was no way. Still, though. It wouldn’t hurt to try to shake her off his trail.

“Winnie keep you up?” Play dumb. Excellent plan.

“Actually, yeah, she did.” Samantha snorted and fixed the papers Andersen had messed up. “How’d you guess?”

“Her roommate last year only lasted a week.” Wesley scrambled for an excuse. It was true Winnie’s previous roommate hadn’t lasted long. He couldn’t remember her name, she’d transferred so fast. “She mentioned Winnie never slept and by that first Friday, she kinda looked like you do now.”

Samantha looked up from the papers to glare.

“Tired!” Wesley exclaimed. “She looked really tired. And then she suddenly transferred. She didn’t say it was because of Winnie, but we all figured.”

Because Winnie’s insane, he thought to himself, but didn’t dare say out loud. 

“Winnie can be…She can be a lot,” Samantha admitted.

“No kidding, I think you might be her only friend here.”

Samantha’s face fell further and the thump-thump of her heart sped up.

“I knew her growing up,” she said and Wesley looked at her in surprise. Winnie didn’t know about the secret teams, but she would know that her older sister Amanda was an Apex, which meant one of their parents likely was, too. And if Winnie and Samantha knew each other growing up and Fleming was friends with Samantha’s mom…

Did Samantha know her mother was an Apex?

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen her, but she wasn’t that bad back in the third grade.”

Wesley laughed as he pulled his notebook out, trying to cover his rising panic. What if Samantha didn’t know her own mom was an Apex? And now Wesley had figured it out and now he needed to keep both his secret and Mrs. Havardson’s secret?

He looked over the papers on the table. He’d have a lower chance of blowing his cover if he directed the conversation to their project on the city’s tidal lift system. The turbines. He’d start with the turbines.

But…where were the sketches they’d done at the museum?

“Hey, did you have the sketches we did for the lift system and the turbines?”

“Yeah, they should be here.” She shuffled through the papers and Wesley’s eye went back to the bruise on her wrist as he went back through his own notes. However, the sketches were gone.

He looked back at the note on the table and his stomach dropped. 

“You don’t think…” He turned to look towards the library entrance. Wesley couldn’t hear Andersen anymore, so he must’ve made quick work escaping.

“No,” Samantha asserted. “I would have noticed if he’d stolen my homework.”

But by the haggard look pulling at her face, Wesley would’ve been surprised if she was awake to notice anything, let alone homework thievery. Her eyes turned glossy as she stared at a far wall with a clenched jaw.

“What is it?” Wesley waved a hand in front of her and she startled out of her reverie. 

“Is there something weird about Andersen?”

Crap.

“You mean other than the obvious?”

“No.” She fell back in her chair, glaring at her notes. “Can you promise not to think I’m crazy?”

“Sure, but that sounds like something only a crazy person would ask.” Apprehension rose in Wesley’s chest and then burst when Samantha spoke again.

“I think Andersen might be a secret Apex.”

She what? 

“Okay, now you’re starting to sound like Winnie.” Wesley controlled his breathing, trying to look nonchalant. 

“It was Winnie’s fault this whole thing happened to begin with!” Samatha dropped her voice to a whisper. “She dragged me out to the docks last night after curfew and basically left me for dead when these, I don’t know, creeps showed up.”

She shouldn’t have been telling him this. Wesley tried to keep his face even but could feel the blood draining from his cheeks.

“She what? Hold on, why—”

“Because she’s Winnie. What other reason does there need to be? Yeah, I shouldn’t have gone with her, obviously I figured that much out after I was shoved in a car trunk!”

“You were what!?” Wesley injected as much surprise as he could into his voice as his mind whirred for an escape. But even as his horror at being in this position mounted, he couldn’t help but feel a little flattered that Samantha trusted him enough to tell him about last night.

“Quiet! That part doesn’t matter! What does matter is how I got out.” She leaned in. “An Apex showed up and I’ve got this gut feeling that it was Andersen.”

She couldn’t be more wrong.

“I take back what I said. I definitely think you’re crazy.” Yes, Andersen was an Apex, but he’d never do what Wesley had done last night to save a classmate. 

“I’m serious!”

“Me, too! First off, think about who you’re talking about here. Andersen? Help someone? Not to mention we aren’t allowed out of the dorms after eight on school nights.”

“Didn’t stop me and Winnie.”

“Doesn’t matter! Andersen might not care about rules or people, but he definitely isn’t about to go break rules for other people.”

“Unless he wasn’t breaking any rules.”

There it was.

“Now you really do sound like Winnie. Is this the secret school squad theory she has?” 

Samantha blushed and looked away.

“No. Kind of. Fleming was acting real weird about it today, though! He even said the words ‘Apex Team’! He’s gotta be in on it. And if teachers are in on it, then maybe the students involved have special privileges!”

Wesley scowled. Now he also had to cover for Fleming? He pushed away from the desk.

“You need to stop listening to your roommate.”

“I’m telling you, it was Andersen!” At least Andersen’s harebrained scheme to drop hints to Samantha until she realized the Apex had been Wesley was backfiring. Sure, Samantha was wrong about who had been at the docks last night, but she wasn’t entirely off base, either. Andersen was an Apex. “And trust me, I wish it wasn’t because now he gets to hold it over me for however long he likes.”

Wesley laughed. He couldn’t help it. Maybe Andersen would get himself kicked off the team in his efforts to do away with Wesley.

“You wouldn’t be laughing if you’d been there,” Samantha lowered her voice. “He was insane. He ripped the trunk door off of the car!”

Andersen wished he could do what Wesley could.

“I really doubt Andersen is able to—”

“And he beat the crap out of a guy twice his size. I hate that it was him, but it was incredible.”

Retorts built in Wesley’s throat but he was forced to swallow them. Andersen hadn’t done any of that. Wesley had.

“Okay, I get it!” Wesley didn’t mean to sound so angry and Samantha’s mouth snapped shut. “Andersen’s amazing and powerful and can do anything. Whatever. You know, I really thought you were smarter than to fall for Winnie’s nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense.” Samantha shrank in on herself glaring. “Do you hear what I’m saying? I saw it, it was him.”

Wesley was ready to admit to everything and he grabbed his backpack to keep Samantha from noticing his shaking hands. Andersen? Andersen? Andersen could never.

“Hey, where are you going? We haven’t even started working yet.”

Wesley glanced down, unsure of when he had stood up, but seized the opportunity to make an escape. Even if Andersen had done those things instead of Wesley, he wasn’t keen on sitting around and listening to Samantha praise him. Wesley slung his backpack over his shoulder.

“How are we supposed to work without those sketches? Besides, you aren’t making any sense so maybe we should just reschedule. It isn’t even due until next week.”

Samantha looked at the notes left on the table in defeat.

“Fine, you can go. I’ll just work on it on my own.”

“What you should do is go take a nap.”

Whoops. Wesley gulped, knowing immediately that was the exact wrong thing to say. Samantha’s eyes turned hard and she sneered up at him.

“And maybe what you should do is mind your business.”

“Yeah.” He tried to sound angrier but the fight had left him as soon as he’d seen Samantha turn stormy. “Maybe I should.”

He whisked away from the table before either of them could apologize and prolong this miserable conversation. He listened to the rapid, angry thumping of her heart and the crinkling of papers as she shoved them into her backpack. They’d have to go back to the museum for sure if they wanted to finish the assignment. 

Wesley was fine keeping his secret. He could’ve kept it from anyone, even Anthony if Anthony didn’t already know everything since his grandma was a famous hero and his cousin was on the team. Wesley kept his secret from most the school, letting them think he was some scrawny nerd in glasses. And, yes, he was a scrawny nerd in glasses but he was a scrawny nerd in glasses who could  bench press a smart car. Probably. He hadn’t ever tried but he felt confident, if given a smart car, he could bench it. 

Wesley stomped down all four flights of the school hall to the basement, stewing over Samantha’s stubborn nature and Andersen’s callous crusade to get Wesley in trouble. Wesley’s mood took another hit as he walked into the secret Apex basement facility and saw Andersen lurking by the Call Desk. 

“Done with your project already?” Andersen called to him.

“Would you stop what you’re doing?” Wesley marched up to Andersen. “She doesn’t think it was me at the docks, she thinks it was you!”

Andersen grinned.

“Oh? I bet that just drives you nuts.”

“So you can give up your dumb mission, because you aren’t going to get me kicked off the team by telling Samantha who I am!”

“I’m not going to tell her,” Andersen said in mock indignation. “You are. It must kill you that your new friend thinks I’m her secret savior.”

Wesley’s skin boiled at Andersen’s words. He’d thought his plan was stupid before, but this? Wesley would never fall for this.

“I’m not— I wouldn’t—”

“Everyone thinks you’re so perfect all because you got yourself run over by a bus last year,” Andersen scoffed. “Big deal. Anyone can be a speed bump. You pretend like you did it because it was the right thing to do, but admit it. You did it because you like to be the hero.”

“That’s not true!” And it wasn’t. Wesley wanted to help. Andersen was the one with the ego.

“So be my guest and let Samantha think that I’m the hero. Prove me wrong.” Andersen flashed him a grin. “But we both know where I’m betting my money.”

Andersen was wrong. But he was also right, and that was what bugged Wesley. Of course Wesley didn’t help people just to get the credit and admiration of those he saved. So why did it bug him so much that Samantha thought Andersen had been the one who busted her out of the car trunk and thwarted her kidnappers?

He didn’t want to take it out on Samantha, but he couldn’t stand to be near her, either, especially not after he caught her in the cafeteria at breakfast arguing with Andersen over their missing sketches. 

Of course, the missing sketches meant they had to go back to the museum with the small group of students who needed more time working on their projects and Wesley couldn’t avoid Samantha if they had to work together. He took a small bit of comfort knowing Anthony and Naomi were also at the museum, though they went off to different exhibits with their project partners.

“Thank you for visiting the Schrader Enterprises Museum.” Wesley winced at the sound of the cool voice over the museum intercom. “The exhibits will close in five minutes.”

Fleming had dropped them off twenty minutes ago and so far, Wesley had done an excellent job of not looking Samantha directly in the eye. His cold demeanor didn’t seem to dampen her spirits and she marched around the city infrastructure exhibit with a determined optimism.

“Should I include this bit here about the filters?” she asked. Wes could feel her eyes boring into the back of his neck, daring him to look at her, but he didn’t give in. “I don’t know if it really applies, but it might be good anyway.”

“Yeah, looks good.”

Her notebook slapped against glass and Wesley watched her in his periphery. She crossed her arms as she stared him down.

“Is there a problem?” she snapped. “Like, did I do something? Say something? Is this about what I said in the library? Because it’s not fair for you to call me crazy and then go on to act super weird.”

“I think you’re imagining things.” Wesley hyper-focused on the display he was hunched over and scribbled notes into his notebook. If he ignored her, she’d go away, right?

“Really? You’re doing it right now. Look! You’re rewriting the same sentence over and over just to avoid looking at me!” 

He slammed his notebook down and spun to face her.

“Is this better?” He wasn’t sure where his patience had gone, but he had none. Samantha was stubborn. Annoyingly stubborn. 

“See? You’re being weird! What did I do?” Her gray eyes pleaded with him, though her jaw was set with determination. 

“You didn’t do anything. It’s fine, I’m fine.”

“Obviously you’re angry at me.”

“I’m not angry.”

“Then why are you upset?”

“I’m not.”

“Then stop ignoring me!” 

She. Was. Infuriating.

Wesley picked his notebook back up.

“I’m going to go trace the schematics.” When he turned to march across the exhibit, Samantha followed.

“Please, just tell me what’s wrong?”

“How about you drop it?” He ripped a paper out of the notebook and held it over glass-covered schematics. He drew his pencil over the paper, tracing the lines below.

“How about you just help me understand and maybe I can fix it.” 

That struck a nerve. Wesley whirled to face her.

“If help is what you need, why don’t you ask Andersen?”

Samantha’s mouth dropped open in surprise and Wesley felt his cheeks warm. He bent back over his notes before Samantha noticed the heat in his face.

“I don’t— I can’t stand Andersen! Why would I ask him for anything ever?” she blurted. Wesley closed his eyes, his back to Samantha, wishing he could take back the words. “I don’t know what Andersen has to do with anything, alright? But if it makes you feel better, I think you’re way cooler than him.”

Wesley’s face grew warmer still as shame and embarrassment chased blood into his cheeks. He hadn’t had the nerve to admit it to himself all week, but truth was, he was jealous of Andersen. Jealous that Andersen had somehow won Samantha’s praise for something Wesley had done. 

But that was just it. This was all for Samantha, so why take it out on her?

He finally turned to face her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I promise to be less of a jerk.”

Her face softened and Wesley thought they could finally put Andersen and the docks behind them, but then her eye flickered down, grazing his mouth and chin. Her lips parted in surprise and her eyes widened as she lifted a hand to her mouth.

“Oh,” she whispered. Wesley rushed to cover the cut on his lip with a hand, but it was too late and he could see the pieces clicking together in Samantha’s head. “OH!”

Crap. CRAP.

For the first time all week, she’d noticed the remnant of the punch she’d dealt him at the loading docks.

“Forget it.” The words fell from Wesley’s mouth in a desperate last-ditch effort to undo the damage. “It doesn’t mean anything, I’m sorry.”

But Samantha just stared at him open-mouthed and speechless.

This was exactly what Andersen had hoped for.

“Samantha,” Wesley begged. “I’ll get in so much trouble.”

Fleming would put him on probation at the very least. Worst case scenario, Wesley might be kicked off the team, maybe even expelled. If that happened, he’d make sure to bring Andersen down with—

The distinct sound of a body hitting the floor interrupted Wesley’s spiral. Him and Samantha spun around to see a security guard just out the exhibit doors, slumped over himself and immobile.

“Hey!” Samantha hurried to help the man but every nerve in Wesley’s body stood on alert.

“Don’t!” he shouted and Samantha skidded to a stop as the exhibit doors slammed shut in her face.

The overhead lights sputtered out and emergency floor LEDs sparked to life, casting Samantha in deep shadow as she wrestled with the locked doors.

Wesley strained his ears and far away, somewhere in the museum, voices shouted.

“Sam, get back.” He tugged on Samantha’s arm, but she wiggled away, brandishing the keycard the curator had given them all on arrival. However, when she held it up to the pass-scanner, the doors remained locked. “It isn’t working. You try yours.”

“Something isn’t right. I think we need to stay put. At least the doors are locked so no one can get in.”

Screams rang out beyond the door and Samantha paled.

“Never mind,” she whispered. “You’re right. We can stay here.”

Wesley pressed his ear up against the door, trying to discern the sounds on the other side. A woman’s voice called out.

“The Havardson girl is on the second floor, Hackjob. Make quick work of it.”

Wesley’s stomach clenched. He recognized that voice and his mind flashed to the way his whole body had locked up when the white-haired owner of it had grabbed him by his throat.

They were back for Samantha.

“We’re leaving,” Wesley announced. There was no point hiding his powers now. She’d already figured it out, anyway. “Stand back.”

“No, it’s fine! We can stay!” 

Wesley backed all the way up to the model of the city in the center of the room and dropped one shoulder, bracing for impact. He charged the door and felt it bend and crumple under his force.

Dull pain rocked his shoulder but he ignored it, ushering Samantha out of the exhibit as the metal doors rang out against the floor tiles.

“We need to move! They’ll have heard that!”

Lumbering footsteps echoed down the hall, though Samantha didn’t seem to notice them.

“Who’s they?” she demanded, keeping pace with him as they ran through darkened exhibits.

A roar issued behind them. Wesley saw Samantha twist to look over her shoulder but he already knew who was there. Hackjob had found them and by the sound of his boots on the tile, he was gaining fast.

Wesley skidded to a stop and got between Hackjob and Samantha. He’d hoped she’d keep running, but she stumbled and immediately fell to the floor. 

Hackjob stopped, too, grinning from behind a filthy curtain of wiry, blond hair. Wesley squared his shoulders. As far as he’d been able to tell the other night, Hackjob wasn’t an Apex. Wesley had beat him easily. He could do so again.

“I’m just here for the girl,” Hackjob snarled. “No reason for you to get hurt, too.”

“Wesley!” Anthony’s voice cried out from the lower levels of the museum, too far away for Samantha to hear, but clear as day to Wesley. “Wesley, get out!”

“Sam, find the others and get to the exit.”

“I said move, boy!” Hackjob lurched forward, his arm raised and ready to backhand Wesley out of the way. Wesley caught him by the wrist and swung him into the wall.

Hackjob sneered up at him from where he slid to the floor and his eyes narrowed. Wesley had used a very similar move on him just the other night.

“You wouldn’t be the Helmet from the other night, would you?” Hackjob grinned, rising to his feet. First Samantha, now Hackjob. At this rate, the whole island would know Wesley’s secret by the end of night. Samantha’s heart quickened behind him.

“Sam, I’m serious!”

The steady thumping in her ribcage filled the half-second of silent indecision, and then the sound receded, accompanying the slap of her sneakers against the tiles. 

She was smart. She would find Anthony and the others. They would get out. Wesley would take care of Hackjob and—

The sole of Hackjob’s boot met Wesley’s stomach, throwing him a surprising distance across the hall. Wesley slammed into a display case and the shelves inside collapsed. Pain mingled with surprise in Wesley’s naval. Hackjob had not been that strong two nights ago.

“Wesley!” Samantha cried out down the hall, but she’d already turned a corner.

“Keep going!” he shouted back, blinking the stars out of his vision and climbing back to his feet. 

“Then again, maybe we haven’t met before?” Hackjob towered over Wesley, still grinning. “The kid who fought me wasn’t nearly as weak as you. Now be a good boy and stay.”

He cocked a fist and let his punch loose, but Wesley was ready this time. The slap of Hackjob’s knuckles stung against the skin of Wesley’s palm, but he blocked the punch. The force of the hit reverberated through Wesley’s shoulder and he curled his fingers over Hackjob’s fist.

“Nah, I knew it.” And Hackjob reached forward, grabbing Wesley by the collar and throwing him into the opposite wall. Pain erupted in his side and he fell to the floor.

“Samantha, run!” Naomi’s distant shout gave Wesley the energy he needed to claw his way back to his feet. Hackjob chuckled darkly.

“There’s been some changes, boy,” he said. Wesley leaned against the wall. He’d never lost a physical fight before. He was the strongest person he knew. He was supposed to be stronger than Hackjob. Why wasn’t he stronger than Hackjob?! 

Hackjob lunged and Wesley darted out of the way. Cracks spiderwebbed out from the spot in the wall where Hackjob struck. He growled in irritation as he tried to extricate his hand out of the hole he’d just punched and Wesley took the opportunity to run back towards the infrastructure exhibit.

It didn’t make sense. Hackjob shouldn’t be this strong. He hadn’t been this strong. He’d crumpled like a rag doll the other night and now he was punching holes through walls.

For the first time in his life, Wesley didn’t think this was a fight he could win and it just happened to be the one time it mattered most. If he couldn’t beat Hackjob, then he could at least lead him away until the others were able to escape.

He’d been hit by a bus before. Hackjob couldn’t hurt him that bad. 

Hackjob took the bait, chasing after Wesley. Wesley believed he could outrun Hackjob, but if he wanted to keep Hackjob invested in the chase, he’d have to stay within his grasp.

He did know how many exhibits he’d led Hackjob through or how long they’d been running, but the pain in his side was getting more difficult to ignore and he knew he couldn’t run from Hackjob forever.

Wesley pretended to be winded, slowing down enough for Hackjob to get close and then, when he was just behind him—

Wesley spun around to deliver a round kick powerful enough to break concrete. Hackjob moved with incredible speed to block him, catching him by the ankle.

“Whoops,” he grinned. He wrapped both hands around Wesley’s leg and hurled him across the exhibit and into a case. The stomach-curdling crack that rang out had nothing to do with the breaking shelves. 

Wesley cried out through gritted teeth and reached for his leg. It was broken. Definitely broken. And dislocated at the hip. He was all too familiar with the feeling. Hackjob’s boot steps reverberated through the floor and Wesley pulled himself through the shadows, trying to escape. His left leg dragged behind him and every movement sent pain firing along its length.

He hoped Samantha found Anthony. He hoped they were Naomi. He hoped they’d gotten free.

“That’s it, then?” Hackjob’s boot pressed into Wesley’s back. “The rematch goes to me?”

A soft buzz issued overhead and Wesley lay helpless as Hackjob answered his phone.

“Where are you?” a woman’s voice snapped. “We’ve got them cornered in that statue hall and Mira’s already left. At least one of them can fight and we need backup.” 

No. 

Wesley squirmed, fighting against eye-watering pain and the pressure of Hackjob’s boot, but it was futile. He’d failed. 

“I ran into the Helmet from the other night, would you believe?” Hackjob laughed. “I’m happy to report the new powers are perfectly functional.”

“Great,” the woman drawled. “Now get down here and prove it. Use one of the stickers if you have to.”

The woman hung up and Wesley tried to wiggle free in a last ditch effort to escape. Hackjob’s tangled hair brushed against Wesley’s cheek as he bent over.

“If you even look at my friends—”

Hackjob pressed something against Wesley’s arm and his warning was cut off as the muscles in his face locked up. It felt just as it had when that woman with the white hair had grabbed him. Every nerve was on high alert but they weren’t under his control anymore.

He was paralyzed. 

Hackjob scooped Wesley off the ground and hot pain erupted from his broken leg and bruised side, but he was unable to cry out. He hung limp over Hackjob’s shoulder with his arms dangling uselessly. A white patch adhered to the skin of his bicep where Hackjob had touched him.

“Paralytic patch,” Hackjob gloated, carrying Wesley back through darkened exhibits. “I suppose I could’ve used it earlier, but what kind of rematch would that have been?”

The pain was too much and numb darkness tugged at Wesley’s consciousness. Black washed over him and he was lost to his surroundings until Hackjob dropped out from under him and he met a tiled floor.

Pain dragged him back, though he was still unable to move, and his surroundings were confusing din of crashing and yelling and the familiar thumping of Samantha’s heart. Hackjob stood over him along with the ginger woman Wesley had seen at the docks and across the statue-lined exhibit—

Crap.

Samantha stood at the foot of the Scourge Queen statue, brandishing a sword she’d plucked from one of the exhibits and looking as ready for blood as the stone edifice behind her. Naomi stood with her and Wesley had a queasy feeling that both of their Apex secrets were out. Their mouths moved but his hearing, usually so sharp, distorted the conversation as he fought through the pain that was trying to drag him back into unconsciousness and then—

Ear splitting ringing burst overhead. A security alarm had been triggered and the high pitched squeal was hell to Wesley’s enhanced senses. His vision popped and burst as the splitting pain in his head worked with the pain in his leg and side to overwhelm him and when it cleared, Naomi was lying in a pile of broken glass at the foot of a shattered display case.

“I’m not leaving you guys!” Samantha cried. 

“Put that down,” Hackjob growled. “You’ll only hurt yourself.”

From Wesley’s vantage on the floor, he could see Hackjob rip the stone arm from George Washington’s statue. A bit of rebar stuck out from the stone shoulder and he brandished it at Samantha.

Wesley wanted to yell at her to give it up. To run. But he was helpless and she was, as he’d noted earlier, frighteningly stubborn. 

“You don’t stand a chance, little bird.”

Samantha’s eyes flickered to Wesley and he hoped he could see the warning in his eyes. 

Run. You can’t beat him. I couldn’t beat him…

But Samantha’s face hardened in resolve and  Hackjob swung the statue’s arm. Wesley braced to see Samantha crumple but then—

Stone arm met metal sword. Hackjob hadn’t used his full strength against her. He couldn’t, not as long as his mysterious master wanted Samantha.

And Samantha…

She was a natural swordsman. Hackjob’s first swing was the only attack he got in because after that, Samantha came out in a flurry of swipes and lunges, keeping him on the defense, until he stumbled back and she held the sword point at his throat.

“How—” Hackjob gasped.

The alarm cut and in Samantha’s moment of distraction, Hackjob made his escape. Wesley could hear the distant thundering of footsteps. Help had finally arrived and Samantha dropped her sword.

In the absence of the alarm, the silence buzzed, interlaced with Samantha’s racing heartbeat. Maybe Andersen was right. Maybe part of Wesley liked playing the hero, and while he’d done his part leading Hackjob away from his friends, it was Samantha who’d pulled through for him in the end. 

He’d spent the near-decade since discovering he was an Apex pushing himself to be good enough, to help the people around him, to be a hero. Now, maybe, just maybe, someone had finally come along to be a hero for him.