General Hudson had some clout within the project, and he'd swung it so Theta would have their own little domain in a nearby base. They'd have access to project resources without having scientists and other staff underfoot, second-guessing Foster's every move.

It spoke of considerable freedom, but also felt like a lot of rope, should he choose to hang himself. One thing he couldn't afford was an escape, but the girls' conditioning wasn't his job.

The logs warned him that Savael had undergone reversion and erasure a dozen times before she was deemed stable enough to join the programme. God alone knew what she was like prior to that, because she was hardly the friendliest kid even now.

He assigned the girls a room each, in number order. Nikoli protested being next to the snakes, but he told her to suck it up.

'She's not gonna eat you, Four. Without your makeup she won't even notice you're there.'

It was interesting; when he'd first encountered Constellation, he'd assumed her starfield was some kind of disguise suit, and later learned it was a permanent "natural" effect. It hadn't occurred to him that she wasn't wearing clothes. It certainly hadn't occurred to him that her face and hair were makeup and a wig, respectively. Every morning she spent ten minutes blindly slathering her featureless face with foundation, and slipped in some contact lenses so she could pass for human. From the neck up, at least.

Sam appeared at his side, looking thoughtful.

'You know her,' she said, a note of accusation in her voice.

'She's on the team, of course I know her.'

'No, I mean, you know her from somewhere else. From before.'

Foster swore quietly. 'What do you mean "before"?'

'Before meeting her yesterday. Duh. Why, what do you think I meant. Foster?'

He walked away. That was a conversation he was keen to avoid.

'Foster?' she called after him. 'What did I say?'

= = =

He hid in his office for an hour, deciding on a course of action. He needed to keep them busy, so they wouldn't have time to think about things he couldn't mention.

A printed copy of the Green Book had been left him, complete with the official green binder, plastered in TOP SECRET DO NOT DISTRIBUTE markings and other dire warnings. Maybe that should be his approach - answer everything with 'classified' and 'need to know'. He doubted that would satisfy Sam for long, and the files stated that Savael could see through bullshit.

That didn't mean she could know things without being told, but nothing in the file gave any clear limits to her abilities, either.

That would be his first task, then. A short interview to see what they could all do. By getting them to talk in a group they could maybe synergise and support one another, find some cool applications of their powers. It would be like the old days, when he formed hero teams from an international roster of metahumans.

He wasn't just a matchmaker and manager for demigods - his organisation had grown out of a need to recruit specialists to aid his own crimefighting efforts. Brandon Foster once operated under the codename CounterStrike (and a few others, he never felt too attached to labels) and was a force to be reckoned with. No flashy superpowers - he didn't fly or throw plasma bolts - he was just a guy with access to funds and the bravery to keep on upgrading himself so he could make a difference.

So, his list of skills were mostly physical, normal stuff, easily understood. He could kick the crap out of people, he could use his laser pistol to cook a housefly from sixty paces, he could read a book from across a room and store it all in his internal database to be called up years later. He could hear a pin drop, fight ninjas in total silence, in pitch darkness, using the long blades that retracted into his right arm. He was a product of science, and in his day he fuckin' rocked.

There were downsides. Power obtained honestly always required sacrifices. His diet was expensive, custom gels and pastes that actually tasted pretty good but were designed to be easily digested. Any build-up of waste material was a bitch to clean out. If he got damaged, somehow, the repairs were not cheap. He knew a bunch of science types that owed him, so he could usually get the work done, but it was getting harder to find a good support team.

He had to admit that his superhero days were effectively over. It was time to pass on his skills, his wisdom, time to become a mentor to... a bunch of brainwashed kids.

He sighed.

= = =

He went back to the newly-christened "theta zone" and summoned the girls into a room for a chat.

'Chairs in a semicircle. Eyes on me. C'mon, let's go. Somebody help Fern and Meghan. Good. Okay.' He slapped his thighs. 'I'm Brandon Foster. I've used a few different codenames over the years, but all you need to know is that I'm good at this. I put teams together, I train them, co-ordinate them, make them into something special. That's where you come in.'

Savael didn't bother to raise her hand. 'Are we not already special?'

Foster took a breath. 'You are. Individually. Together, you're a bunch of strangers, and if somebody came in here now for a fight you'd all be tripping over one another. You're a team in name only at this point.'

'I do not require assistance.'

Sam raised her hand, smirking. 'Is it bad that I don't mind not assisting her?'

'Yes you do, and yes it is. Meghan, you just ate, what do you want now?'

Meghan lowered her hand. 'We are hungry,' she said in small, wavering voice.

Foster frowned. He had strict instructions to monitor her caloric intake - they were pretty sure the snakes would start to breed if they got enough food, and they didn't want the Visceroid replenishing itself.

'You're always hungry. I know. Deal with it.'

The alien made an unhappy sound and slumped a little.

'You've got my attention, so you get to go first.' She perked up a little, until he said 'What are your powers? What can you do?'

She blinked, slowly, appearing to consider the question. 'We are the Meghan. We... reach. And chew.'

'Telekinesis. Yes, we've seen it. What's the range?'

She looked blank. Maybe she didn't know units, or how to express such a complex concept. 'Could you... chew some food, if I held it over here?'

She shook her head, and he took a step closer. Then another. She suddenly nodded, eagerly. 'Yes-yes. We can consume now.'

'Okay, noted.' He didn't have any food on his person, and when she realised the question was hypothetical she seemed shocked at the betrayal. 'Just so you know, Meghan, I am not made of meat.' He rapped on his chest, a solid sound. 'Metal and wires, nothing worth eating.'

She pouted, and he wondered where she'd learned it.

'The files say you can fly. Correct?'

'We can lift.'

'Show me.'

Meghan tilted her hair, and slowly rose out of her chair. She didn't assume any kind of flying pose, remaining in a vague sitting position that slowly relaxed and curled up. Her natural instinct was to curl into a sphere. 'Okay, good. I've seen enough. Back on your chair.'

He turned to Nikoli. 'Your file's pretty clear. Flight, strength, tough. Any other surprises?'

She shrugged. 'I can see through stuff.'

'What?'

'I can see. Through things. I can see all your machine-bits working, inside you.'

'What the?' That explained a few things, times Constellation had got the drop on his people in the past. It was hard to ambush somebody who could see through cover. They'd always assumed it was her psychic partner guiding her.

'Jesus,' he muttered. 'That's going to be useful. How did you know?'

She pointed to her eyes. 'These contact lenses,' she said. 'They're opaque. '

= = =

Foster turned to Sam and read out her profile. "Eagle. Flight. Empathic sense and projection. Superior physical specimen.'

She preened a little. 'You got that right.'

'Right.' He'd known Eagle for years, recruited her personally. Known her personally. Very personally. Seeing her as a precocious teen was giving him all kinds of thoughts he didn't want to dwell on, but at least he knew all her powers pretty well.

'Moving on?'

'I can scream,' she said.

He raised a brow. 'That's... not a superpower.'

'I think it might be.'

He waved his hand, 'Go on then?'

She took a breath and unleashed an ear-splitting shriek. Foster's bionic ears damped the sound, but reported the volume with some unhappy exclamation marks on his overlay. Nikoli grimaced, Savael and Meghan ignored it.

Fern leapt off her chair and scrambled into the corner of the room, eyes wide. She pressed herself against the wall, visibly shaking.

'Okay. You can scream. Noted.'

'I call it the Eagle's cry.'

'Fair enough.'

Foster filed the recording away as 'Sam's loud bird-noise'. He'd run some checks later.

= = =

Fern was temporarily incapacitated, so Foster skipped to Savael.

'You, angel. What can you do?'

'Do?' she sounded insulted by the question. She probably was.

'Yeah, your powers. Your abilities. Gifts. Whatever you call them.'

Savael stuck out her chin, as though she didn't want to answer, but after a moment she relented.

'I bear six gifts. Contempt, Authority, Promise, Love, Understanding and Grace.'

'That tells me exactly nothing. Contempt, I can see. What do you mean by Authority? Authority to do what, and from who?'

'Whom,' she corrected. 'You are a Fool. You will never comprehend my nature.'

'I'll never comprehend your answers, either. Can you just speak like a normal kid, for a minute?'

Her scowl deepened, and she clenched her fists at her sides. 'I am... strong.' It came out like an admission, as though she were embarrassed by a physical attribute. 'When I exert my Authority on the world, it may not resist me.'

'Okay, thank you. I can work with that. So you can lift, what? A car.'

'Yes.'

'A truck? A coach? A cruise liner? What's the limit?'

'My will.'

= = =

Foster went to Fern and offered her a hand. She stared at it for a moment, then grasped it and allowed him to help her up. 'You okay?'

She shook her head. 'Let me go,' she whispered.

'Sorry, no can do. Have a seat, we're not done talking.'

She sat, and he scanned her file. Simple in concept, with potential wrinkles that bore examination.

'Your file says you warp reality. How's that work?'

She shuddered. 'The chaos gem,' she placed a hand on her chest. 'I... unleash it. Things change.'

'And the gem is... in your chest?'

Sam sniggered. 'She shoots magic out of her tits?'

'Button it, Three. Fern, eyes on me, ignore her. The magic, can you control it? Can you decide what things change into?'

'Sometimes. Chaos... resists order.'

He grimaced. That made sense, he supposed. 'Part of the magic also lets you fly?'

'Yes.' She hesitated, as though afraid to admit it. 'I can fly.'

Foster wondered if she was afraid of heights, as well as seemingly everything else in the room.

'Top speed?'

Fern twitched. 'Best recorded speed is one-forty-two miles per hour, sir.'

Foster blinked, noting the instant of sudden lucidity, but the girl's gaze was vacant again.

'That's not bad,' he said. He narrowed his eyes. Meghan, Nikoli, Sam, Fern? 'Savael, I don't supposed you can fly?'

The girl bared her teeth in disgust.

'Fool. Gravity has no hold on me.'

'So that's a yes?'

A full squad of fliers. That was going to be great for deployment, and good PR too!

Chapters...