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  Due to the rapid firing of the pod, Gus was not anchored. Nor was he familiar with any of the controls or layout of an escape pod. Henchmen never got the opportunity to use one, especially a good one like this. He could tell that Graviton did not want him using that particular pod, but his survival instincts kicked in before his rational thought of how this super could mash him to a pulp. Too late to worry about that now.

  Gus caught sight of two of what he assumed were space-suits across the pod from him. The tech looked conspicuously old in comparison with the bridge. Gus wondered if it had been cannibalized from some older space station. He began army-crawling to them amidst the debris that shuffled back and forth across the wobbling pod that bucked like an angry bull. He was only ten feet away from them when the pod started skipping off the atmosphere. One lucky shift, and Gus grabbed the security mesh by the two containment suits along the other side of the pod with one arm. It felt like it was almost yanked out of his shoulder socket as he dangled for a moment, scrambling to secure his grip with his other hand.

  The suits yawned open like a human-shaped clamshell, each side of the suit joining near the head. He pulled himself toward one of the suits, wishing he had more upper body strength as he felt the stress, both physically and mentally, to get in a suit before landfall.

  Another shift and he crashed into the bottom half of the suit. Luckily, gravity was now oriented below the lower half of the suit, so he scrambled to get in position and punched the engage button above him, situated on the inner chest. The top half of the suit lowered down over him like a clamshell, sealing him inside. The cacophony of sounds was muted, save the whirring and clicking sounds that were transmitted along the suit as the system came to life and finished sealing and creating the protective environment inside.

  The suit was locked in position and Gus felt a pang of panic, trapped inside the suit like it was a sarcophagus, unable to move. All he could do now was watch the viewscreen outside as the pod hurtled Earthward.

  The pod had stabilized somewhat, orienting itself instead of flipping around. Gus could see a background of blue through the blazing light of reentry that began to mask the view as an altimeter reading in the corner of the viewscreen shrunk at an impossibly fast rate. The inertial dampeners ramped up from a low hum to an ear-piercing shriek. A sudden feeling of compression, followed by another feeling of weightlessness were the last things he remembered before everything turned black.

  ###!###

  Gus awoke in a void. His arms hung limp as he floated face-down in the suit. He ached all over; almost every muscle felt ripped or strained. He also had a splitting headache. The pain brought back a memory, vivid and clear.

  Unknown to Gus, the suit had injected tiny robots into his system and they were already repairing his body of the damage he had received from the crash.

  Gus moaned in agony. He never was one to have headaches but this level of pain was worrisome. At least nothing was numb, so he wasn’t paralyzed. Still, Gus had never had to deal with pain on this scale.

  Neurons fired as robots repaired torn blood vessels in the brain, cauterizing them with tiny electric shocks that also served to activate memories long forgotten. The nanobots worked, and they learned of their new host as they repaired the damage. Neurons continued to fire, dredging up memories along the way.

  ###!###

  It was an autumn morning with the air just starting to get crisp and chill, when a female co-worker invited him to join her for one of her fitness classes. Gus was so painfully shy, and this girl was so cute. Don’t blow this.

  Since they were just regs, people without superpowers, they only had old-school gyms to exercise. These gyms had probably used the same weights and machines for the last forty years. The pungent smell of dried sweat and the discolored yellow sponge that peeked out of the cracked weight benches testified of their age and disrepair. Lots of things had changed once humans got superpowers, and regs had to make do with the scraps that were left.

  They were one of the first ones to arrive and as the class filled up he realized that he was the only male member of the class. Everyone began to put ten pounds on the barbells in preparation for the class. Feeling he’d need a little more of a workout, he had put fifty pounds on the bar as they started doing some squat exercises, followed by a fair number of lunges. Fifty seemed to be doing the trick, giving him a good burn as they began the class. Then the instructor stated, “Ok, now that warm-ups are over, let’s get into the routine!”

  Realizing the error of over-exerting himself this early in the routine for his out of shape body, but still not wanting to look like a total wimp, the torture began. As the shoulder presses, barbell curls, and tricep extensions went on, his legs began to become more and more wobbly. By the end of the class, they were spontaneously collapsing and Gus had to cling to the armrail to make his way down the stairs and out of the gym. The pursed lips and judgmental eyes told Gus all he needed to know. She was not impressed with him and rolled her eyes as he apologetically descended the stairs like a marionette. By the time he made it down the stairs she was gone. Good thing we drove separately…

  ###!###

  Gus winced as he tried to move, bringing him back to his unfortunate present situation. So groggy. I can’t be dead… it hurts too much. The bulky suit made it difficult to move. What happened to the pod? Gus tried to raise his head and a sharp stab of pain in his neck froze him in a paroxysm of pain. It was too much; the pain combined with exhaustion from his ordeal overtook him again, leaving his question unanswered. Due to the memory taking the little attention he was able to muster, he did not notice the system diagnostics appear on a virtual screen on his visor.

  Analyzing… analyzing… additional injuries detected.

  Releasing nanobots.

  Neurogenic shock detected…

  Suit compression activated.

  Monitoring volumetric pressure…

  IV fluids administered to reestablish norms.

  Increasing oxygen filtration from the environment to raise blood oxygen levels.

  Optimization protocol engaged.

  Sedatives administered during the repair phase.

  Estimated time for repair: 3.8 days, longer sedation phase for recovery recommended.

  Gus’ eyes fluttered shut as the sedatives took effect. Time passed and the man-shaped suit bobbed on the water, slowly floating toward an island. The waves and wind slowly pushed it towards shore, where it encountered an unseen barrier. As the suit was passively pushed through the barrier, the body inside began to react. And as it did, the suit compensated.

  Analysis… sudden arrest of system.

  Nanobots reassigned to oxygen delivery and manual electric stimulation of cardiac muscle to maintain normal rhythms…

  Oxygen saturation increased to 40% to aid in respiration and transfer rates…

  Circulation stabilized but brain function has ceased.

  Insufficient life signs—will need to permanently integrate to sustain vitals.

  Nanobot specialization features enabled, pluripotentiality lost as nanobots are anchored to target tissues…

  Musculoskeletal embed… complete.

  Neural embed… complete.

  Cerebral embed… complete.

  Endocrine embed… complete.

  Remaining systems… complete.

  Cerebral framework established, enhanced cognitive functions online. Patient stabilized. Brain functions returning to normal.

  Integration with all major body systems complete.

  Nanobots will be permanently required to maintain life functions for this host.

  Supporting neural activity until external threat resolves…

  Evaluating…

  Preliminary scans show unique latent genetic and mental augments, commencing deep scan. Rudimentary maintenance functions until the scan is complete.

  To the outside observer, the small man-shaped form continued its slow voyage. Bobbing in the waves. Tiny solar panels on the outside
of the suit absorbed energy during the hot days and transferred the energy to the nanobots as they worked. As the nanobots became more specialized, eventually they all sacrificed this ability to recharge themselves from external sources to save their host.

  Chapter Three

  Riot Nrrrd

  The tiny robots continued to rush to relieve the pressure from internal bleeding on Gus’ brain. In doing so, they had to close off more bleeders and metabolize the fluids that were building up and putting pressure on the brain, making it hard for blood to flow freely and oxygenate the delicate organ.

  Electrical stimulation had to occur as the effects of the field suppressed the cells ability to work on their own. They fairly crackled as they worked, firing neurons along the way, plunging Gus deep into memories he forced himself to never revisit.

  ###!###

  8 years ago…

  Gus had pulled into the shopping center, scooting his little VW bug into a parking spot. He needed to get some parts for his car, to try to fix one of its myriad problems. Despite this, he still felt lucky Grandpa had given him the car on his fifteenth birthday. Most people used public transport these days, but Gus relished the freedom his own car offered.

  “It will need tons of work, Gus, but these Fuscas are designed so that they can be easily repaired. You’ll learn a lot, Gus, and being self-sufficient does a lot for a man.”

  Gus smiled at the memory and how his grandpa always called them that, ‘foo-skuhs’. Today’s project was changing the belts. He headed across the parking lot to the AutoMaxx. It must have been the first of the month, because the parking lot was crowded with people swarming the Grocertopia next door. It was always busy when allotments were distributed. Luckily for Gus, the allotments only accounted for food, so the AutoMaxx shouldn’t be crowded.

  After picking up what he needed, he headed back to his car. An elderly African-American lady was in the process of loading her groceries into her car which was parked next to his, and a teenager about Gus’ age was prowling around, speaking harshly to the woman while she silently tried to put her groceries in her car as fast as she could. Gus couldn’t make out what was being said, but assumed it was threatening with how the teen was waving his hands around, almost like he was going to slap the poor woman at any moment. She cringed away, shrinking in on herself as she tried to hurry.

  Gus noticed the punk’s friends standing in a circle about fifty feet away, laughing and watching the scene. Was this some kind of initiation ritual for a gang or something? One of the things that pissed Gus off in this district was the prevailing thought that might made right. Sure, you could call the enforcers, but they would calmly listen to your story and then politely tell you that they didn’t have the resources to chase after everyone who was a little aggressive. It was survival of the fittest at its worst. A tenet of the Purple Faction that tacitly-influenced local law enforcement, and the regs mirrored it, whether consciously or not.

  As he got closer, he could hear the teen saying how hungry he was in mock sarcasm.

  “C’mon, Grammy, can’t you see I’m too skinny? A growing boy needs food, and you don’t need all of that…”

  Gus passed them and opened his car door. He threw his bag into the front seat and looked amid the trash in the backseat for the tire iron he had left there from changing a tire recently. It had been raining, of course, so he hadn’t stowed everything back like he should. Still, Gus was a typical teenager, and papers, fast food cartons, and other trash covered the floor of the backseat.

  The woman let out a yelp, which brought Gus out of his search. “Ok, man, that’s enough. Why don’t you leave the woman alone?” As he stood up, he saw the teen had grabbed one of the bags the woman was holding, and was attempting to wrench it out of her hands.

  The woman cowered in fear, but still clung to the bag. Gus knew how much people on allotments needed the food. She probably was supporting people at home to have what seemed a larger than average allotment. Plus, it said something that she was out here alone getting the food, and not someone younger.

  In an instant, the teenager was next to Gus. He could see the puckered red acne scars and greasy skin. “Did you just say something?” he asked, leaning in, right into Gus’ face. He was so close, his wet lip touched Gus’ own, which grossed him out on a whole new level.

  Gus pushed the teen away, trying to establish a more comfortable personal space.

  “Oh, so now you trying to push me, man? Gonna regret that…” Gus could see the kid’s friends start moving toward him in his peripheral vision. He also saw the old woman, pulling out of her parking spot, giving him a glance that said, “I’m sorry,” as she sped away. Gus tried to bolt for his car, really wishing he had found that tire iron, but the teen pushed him against his car and gave him a sucker punch.

  Gus was winded as the blow hit him right in the solar plexus. He dropped to one knee gasping for breath. Then his buddies came in, kicking savagely. The only thing Gus managed to gasp out when he got some of his breath back was, “Don’t do this, you don’t know who I am, my father’s a super…”

  “Sure he is, and guess what? You don’t know who we are, so good luck trying to find us, superboy!” The kicking commenced again, and at some point Gus lost consciousness.

  When he came to, Gus not only felt terrible, his spirits dropped even more when he saw the state of his poor little Fusca. It had dents all over it where the gang took out their aggression on it after they had gotten tired of kicking him. Mirrors were ripped off, as well as the antenna. They even took his crappy cassette player, leaving a gaping maw of wires. Luckily, they hadn’t found the tire iron either, or he might not still be alive.

  Getting to his feet, Gus was in more pain than he had ever been in his life. His back was killing him, and he was covered in bruises. He had to lean against his car as a wave of nausea hit him from standing too quickly. Getting inside, Gus put his thumb on the ignition scan, the only modern thing in the old car. It rumbled to life, and Gus slowly made his way home. It hurt to turn his head too much to the left, so he took his time, waiting at more lights than he normally would since he didn’t want to chance going through an intersection at the last minute. He had to crouch awkwardly to see through the only part of the windshield that wasn’t cracked from the damage, so it was slow going.

  When he got home, Tempest was there in the kitchen and barely looked up when Gus entered. Gus threw his keys in a bowl and went to the sink to splash some cold water on himself and clean up.

  “What happened to you?” Tempest asked, still reading his newspaper.

  “I got jumped helping an old lady with her food.”

  “By how many people?”

  “Well, it was the one guy, but he had a bunch of his cronies watching the whole thing. They all jumped me.”

  “Well, it sounds like you learned a valuable lesson, then. Never engage a superior force, especially without the resources to defend your position. I’ll bet you don’t make that mistake again.” He said all this without even making eye contact. Whatever is in that newspaper must be damn interesting, Gus thought angrily.

  “Yeah, sure. How dumb of me, trying to help someone…”

  “It was stupid. I’m glad you see that. You’re lucky they didn’t hurt you more. Sometimes I think your common sense was burned out when your mother left…”

  Left? That was new. That part of the conversation had never occurred to Gus. The memory faded as Gus thought about this new information. He must have been so angry and in pain that his brain didn’t register it. From what Gus had remembered after his illness, he always got the impression that Mom had died in some battle with other supers, not that she left. Did they get a divorce? Gus couldn’t blame her for divorcing Tempest. He was cold and only had time for his job. Did they get a divorce because of him? The more he thought about it, he did get the feeling Tempest blamed him for his mom’s absence. Were his medical bills a strain on their relationship? Was it something else lost in the amnesia that surr
ounded his illness?

  The nanobots finished repairing the area in Gus’ brain and moved on, and the memory winked out, and Gus drowsily sunk back into unconsciousness.

  Chapter Four

  Island in the Sun

  Day 1 11:24 AM

  14:01:12 remaining

  Gus raised his head wearily and blinked at the bright sun above. He tried in vain to wipe away the sand that clung to the outside of his visor and succeeded only in smearing the grains around a bit and leaving dirty streaks across the glass. He tried to stand but staggered as an unexpected wave tripped him, and he fell face-first into the foamy water. This washed away the sandy grit and Gus could see clearly again.

  Coming to his knees, he arched his back and looked at the scene before him. He appeared to be on a crescent-shaped swath of beach, with a short rise from the beach to a ridgeline twenty-five feet above him.

  “Where the hell am I?!” Gus gasped in surprise, trying to recall anything between the crash and now. All that came were hazy in and out memories of floating, but he found he could not remember anything besides a bright flash and loud, body-shaking whine as the pod crashed. How long was I out?

  Grateful that he wasn’t bobbing alone in the middle of the ocean anymore, Gus began to stem the flow of panic that threatened to overtake him. Looking in the distance, he could see what appeared to be a dense jungle and a large mountain towering above the canopy. The island looked pretty large, and there had to be food here somewhere. He could survive. Hopefully.

  A slight ache mingled with a combination of itchiness, and the constant feeling that he needed a good stretch permeated his muscles. Most of all, he felt hungry, hungrier than he could ever remember. Now if he could only get out of this clunky suit. After standing and wading to the shore, he could more fully feel the weight of the spacesuit on his shoulders, but the ache quickly faded as he began moving. The suit pulled on his muscles as if he were lugging a fully-outfitted backpack of some sort, filled with cannonballs.