Kinetics: In Search of Willow by Arbor Winter Barrow

marker
of a red X still stained the skin announcing me as a Vunjika. "What
am I?"
    He considered it for a moment. "Not
sure. You switched between a few when you were younger, I don't
think..." He paused and I saw a thought pass over his eyes but not
manifest. "Either way, they will test you for your power when you
receive training."
    "Oh." I covered the marking with my
other hand and looked out the window. Another thought occurred to
me. Flashes of memory from just an hour ago made me shudder. "What
about Jacob?"
    At first I thought Dad wasn't going to
say anything. He was silent for so long I began to think he hadn't
heard me. He adjusted his shoulders and glanced at me. "Your
brother has a rare power, rare enough that it doesn't really have a
proper name. You will learn this when you train, but each power has
a proper name and then a common name. It's listed in textbooks as
Hutor's Will. But its common name is just...Fission."
    I didn't ask any more questions after
that. I let it all sink in and let myself ponder what my power
might be. I didn't know what all of them were, or what I had seen
before Willow got kidnapped. I could only really understand the
ones that were common in regular movies and games. Like
telekinesis, and Willow's healing ability. Jacob’s powers… the
images from the conference where he straight up made a woman
explode… Jacob's power was frightening. I couldn't imagine having a
power like that. What could you do with a power that destroys and
kills except destroy and kill?
    We drove all the way through town
until we reached an office park near the airport. The office park
was labeled only with a sign for Intent Securities. This was the
work I had thought Dad did. "I thought you worked for a corporate
security contractor?"
    "It's a front for the intelligence
sector of the Alliance." Dad replied.
    "Oh, what do you do then?"
    "We have agents everywhere in the
world who feed us reports and intel on the activities of the
Isiroans. I lead and manage their activities." Dad parked the car
and we got out. The Intent Securities building was made of some
weird brown concrete with a straight line of glass wrapping around
the whole complex. The majority of the doors and windows were
unmarked and darkly tinted. There wasn't really any way to tell
which of the dozen or so doors I could see would give entrance into
the building.
    We entered through one of the doors,
and I'm not sure how Dad knew which to pick. They all looked the
same to me. What little stenciling there was on the door gave no
hours--only a cramped "Intent Securities" over the door
handle.
    The reception area was clean and
bland. A single desk and a couple fake plants decorated the room.
Two fold-out chairs sat along the wall.
    The woman at the desk was unfazed by
us entering. She greeted Dad like she had done it every day of her
life. She pushed a button on the desk and a door along the back
wall clicked open. Her brightly colored fingernails waved us
along.
    We passed through the door which
locked behind us firmly and entered a hallway filled with endless
doors. Dad knew the route through the featureless halls, with only
numbers to indicate a change in location. I tried keeping track of
the twists and turns but after a while I lost where we
were.
    Finally, after going down two flights
of stairs and going around blank walls and through unmarked doors
we reached a set of doors made out of some kind of dark, expensive
looking wood. Dad pushed open the door and inside was no average
office but a huge auditorium-sized room with rows of monitors going
down tiered platforms. At the very back of the room was an enormous
screen taking up a whole wall. On it was projected a map of the
world with little multi-colored dots freckled
everywhere.
    Dad didn't let me stare at the whole
thing for long, before dragging me off toward the side of the room
where we pushed through another set of doors into a conference
room. The room was adorned with a long table and