Chương 26: The Weakest Battery

I called my mom in advance to warn her that we would have a guest in the evening. I did not want to put her on the spot. She needed time to prepare herself mentally and, knowing her, she would almost certainly start something in the kitchen. When I got home, the first thing I did was throw my salt-soaked clothes into the washing machine. The hum of the drum was calming, but it was too early to relax. Despite the heat, I stayed in a thick tracksuit.

The fabric clung unpleasantly to my body, but that was a small price to pay for privacy. I did not want to show off my new muscles in front of Danny. He was a guy who understood these things and would figure it out, but I did not need the extra attention. I had always preferred to stay in the shadows, and turning into a subject of study right in my own living room was a questionable kind of pleasure. I sank onto the couch, listening to the sounds from the kitchen.

Something was sizzling, clinking, and smelling like a proper homemade dinner. The wait dragged on. A thought kept circling in my head that I had acted a bit selfishly by pulling Danny away from his personal time. He probably had his own plans, maybe a family dinner, or maybe he just wanted to skate through the evening streets. But I had called him, and bound by his duties as a curator, he simply could not refuse. The realization left a faint taste of awkwardness in my mouth.

A sharp knock at the door made me flinch. I got up at once and went to open it, trying to keep a composed expression. Danny Kim stood on the doorstep. If I had seen him like this out on the street, I would never have recognized the polished playboy from the covers. A deep cap was pulled low over his face, and the high collar of his hoodie hid everything up to his nose. To complete the look, he wore dark glasses. Honestly, right now he looked more like a small-time street dealer than an elite superhero.

"Get in, quick," I whispered, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him inside. Before shutting the door, I carefully peeked into the hallway to check if any of the neighbors had come out at the noise.

"Ugh… I almost boiled alive in this gear!" Danny yanked off his cap and glasses with relief, then pulled off the heavy hoodie, leaving himself in a light tank top. His face was flushed from the heat.

"Tom, why go this far? Why make me cover every inch of skin? I get it, secrecy and all that… but it's summer out there! Wouldn't a regular baseball cap be enough?"

"After your last stunt, it's not!" a stern voice rang out. Mom stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron and crossing her arms over her chest. Danny, clearly not expecting this reception, froze and shrank guiltily.

"Hello, Mrs. Ross," he mumbled, suddenly turning from a superhero into a misbehaving schoolboy.

"What're you talking about?"

"What am I talking about? Your flashy exit through our window was seen by the neighbor!" she shot back, lightning flashing in her eyes.

"Now that mercenary girl has latched onto my son with a death grip. She's dreaming about using him to get into your closed club of the chosen!"

"Oh, damn…" Danny scratched the back of his head, glancing between Mom and me.

"Looks like I really messed up big time."

"That's putting it mildly!" she snapped. I watched the scene in silence. I had never kept secrets from my mother. I told her about my powers the very next day after awakening. I saw no point in that ridiculous comic book secrecy when it came to the closest person in my life. Naturally, she also knew all the details about the fiasco with Stephanie. At least now she was not expecting a wedding invitation.

"I really thought it was dark enough outside and no one would notice me," Danny tried to explain, backing toward an armchair.

"I just wanted to…"

"Show off!" Mom cut in, hitting the mark perfectly.

"And because of that urge to throw dust in people's eyes, my son now has real problems."

"Tom, I'm sorry. I… I really didn't think about the consequences," Danny looked at me with such sincere guilt that I almost felt sorry for him.

"I forgive you," I replied quickly, eager to shut down this uncomfortable conversation.

"Mom, could you bring us a couple of glasses of milk, please? My throat's dry." Mom narrowed her eyes in displeasure. She understood my maneuver perfectly. I was simply sending her out of the room to stop the scolding of the poor curator. Still, she only let out a heavy sigh and went back to the kitchen. We were left alone, sitting in armchairs facing each other.

"Tom, you're probably really mad at me, right?" Danny still looked like a beaten dog, avoiding eye contact.

"Actually, no," I admitted honestly, leaning back in my chair.

"Yeah, your little flight gave me a headache, but I already handled it. I told the neighbor you were just looking for Megan Rogers."

"Colonel Rogers?" Danny raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Right… I remember now, your file mentioned you were friends as kids." Something inside me twitched. Information about Megan, whom I had not spoken to in about twenty years, was important enough to be included in my file? But what struck me even more was the word colonel. We were the same age. That meant while I had been standing still, she had made a dizzying career in the Awakened military structure. If I had awakened alongside her, I might be wearing high rank insignia now as well.

Instead, I was at the very bottom, not even a cadet, just a recruit. Mom returned to the living room. Silently, she placed two glasses of cool milk in front of us, giving Danny one last icy look that nearly made him choke on air. I gave her a subtle nod toward the door, a silent thank you and a sign that we would handle the rest. She left, and at last a calm, worklike atmosphere settled over the room.

"Tom, I know I'm at fault and, honestly, I have no right to ask you for anything…" Danny hesitated, nervously turning the glass in his hands.

"But please… don't report this incident to the Pentagon. If this screw-up shows up in the reports, I could be removed from my curator position. That would end my career."

"No problem," I replied without a second thought.

"You're serious?" He looked at me with suspicion, as if expecting a catch.

"Absolutely. I told you, nothing terrible happened, no one got hurt. I have no reason to ruin your life over one bad jump," I shrugged casually.

"Just learn from it. Less showmanship, more caution."

"Thanks, Tom. You have no idea how much this means to me," he finally relaxed, and his usual open smile returned.

"If only all my charges were as reasonable and understanding as you…"

"What, working with young people is that hard?" I smirked. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"You've got no idea. Sometimes it feels like I'm not a curator but a daycare supervisor for hyperactive monsters." I nodded, but made a mental note of that. In my plan to advance my career through a curator position, a large question mark appeared. Putting up with other people's whims, tantrums, and quirks for the sake of a line on my resume? I had always valued peace and the absence of unnecessary drama. It seemed I needed to reconsider my career path carefully.

"So, Tom," Danny took a solid sip of milk, leaving a faint white trace on his upper lip for a moment. He looked noticeably more relaxed, his usual cheerfulness returning.

"What was so important that you couldn't talk about it over the phone? Or did you just miss your favorite curator?" I ignored his joke. My gaze was fixed on the empty space above his head, where I was already preparing to bring up the interface.

"What do you know about S-Power?" I asked bluntly. Danny froze. The glass stopped halfway to the table. His entire carefree demeanor vanished in an instant, his face turning serious, his gaze sharp and focused.

"Where'd you hear that name?" his voice dropped lower.

"Have you already had some off-the-record contact with other Awakened?"

"No, I haven't talked to anyone," I cut him off calmly.

"My superpower just lets me see this stat. Right now. On myself and on others." Danny's mouth fell slightly open. He set the glass down and leaned forward, staring at my face as if trying to find a hidden camera.

"So you're an analyst? One of those whose power's tied to collecting and analyzing numerical data?" His voice carried a mix of excitement and relief.

"That's amazing! It's a very rare branch. We've got a couple of analysts with similar perception on staff, and they're worth their weight in gold at the Pentagon." I noted to myself that I was apparently not the only one with something resembling a game interface.

"So what's S-Power?" I repeated my question.

"Well, if you break it down, it's fuel," Danny began, gesturing.

"Energy that circulates in every Awakened. It's what we spend when we activate our abilities. Fire, telekinesis, enhanced senses, all of it consumes S-Power. You'll get a more detailed lecture with charts and formulas in training, it's a whole course there."

"That's what I figured," I nodded.

"The ordinary people I saw on the street had that bar at zero."

"Wait, so you can see other people's reserves?" Danny slapped his knee.

"Damn, Tom, that's a perfect detector! You can spot an Awakened in a crowd just by looking at them. That's awesome, seriously awesome. And me… can you check me? Right now?"

"That's exactly what I wanted to ask you," I focused, feeling the familiar power stir inside me.

"Give me a second."

"Go ahead!" He leaned back in the chair carefree, puffing out his chest as if to say, take a look, I don't mind. I mentally activated [Enemy Analysis]. An information panel unfolded right above Danny. [Enemy Status] S-Power: 19689 / 33456 Race: Human (Homo Sapiens) Attributes: Strength: 6 Endurance: 5 Agility: 7 Current Effects: Mild narcotic intoxication (cannabinoids/marijuana). Oh. I coughed involuntarily, trying to hide my surprise.

Apparently, our golden boy and the public face of superheroics did not mind relaxing with a joint in his free time. Still, his minor vice paled in comparison to the numbers in the top line.

"Thirty-three thousand?" I could not help voicing it. My voice betrayed me with a slight tremor.

"Where's that even come from?" Danny broke into a proud grin, clearly pleased with the effect.

"Regular training, buddy," he said smugly.

"Years of discipline and constant depletion of the reserve. What about you, how much've you got?"

"Twelve," I answered gloomily. The number now felt not just small, but almost mockingly insignificant.

"Oh…" Danny's smile faded a little. He was clearly searching for words that would not offend me too much.

"Well, listen, you probably don't need that much, right? Your analysis is more of an informational thing. It's not like you're summoning firestorms. My flames eat up a ridiculous amount of energy. By the time I got here, I'd burned almost half my reserve just maintaining thrust." I nodded, but his words brought little comfort. Yes, my analysis cost only one unit. With my current limit, I could scan twelve people and then I would need to recharge. Danny could do it thirty-three thousand times.

The gap was not just in power, it was an abyss.

"You mentioned training," I reminded him, clinging to the thought like a last chance.

"Can S-Power be increased?"

"It can," Danny grew serious.

"Same principle as the gym. You burn your energy to zero, completely empty, then wait for it to recover naturally. With each cycle, the bottom of your vessel drops a little, letting it hold more. Simple. But…" He trailed off, turning the empty glass in his hands. His expression made it clear that something unpleasant was coming.

"Tom, don't expect any explosive growth. The efficiency of this method… well, it's proportional to your starting capital. It all depends on how much S-Power you had at the moment of Awakening. If you woke up with a full tank, you'll grow like crazy. If the tank was barely filled… well, you get it."

"Not exactly," I felt a cold unease rising in my chest. My analytical mind was already plugging numbers into a formula.

"How much energy did you have on that first day, eight years ago?"

"About a hundred times more than you've got now," he spread his hands apologetically, looking at me with genuine sympathy. A heavy silence settled in the living room. I frowned, looking out the window at the city falling asleep, and began to calculate.

"So," I said slowly.

"In eight years of intensive training, you increased your reserve roughly thirty times. Correct?"

"Well, rounding it, yeah. Something like that."

"Then if I push myself for the next eight years, I'll also increase my limit thirtyfold. And I'll have… three hundred sixty units. Against your thirty-three thousand." Danny said nothing. His silence spoke louder than any words.

"That's not fair," I felt a bitter taste of disappointment.

"What does the initial amount even depend on? Why does someone get everything, and someone else gets twelve units?"

"There're many factors, but two main ones," Danny held up two fingers.

"First, the nature of your ability. You get exactly as much as you need for the minimum functioning of your gift." He raised his hand, and a bright, dancing flame flared up at the tip of his index finger. He held it for about ten seconds, casting orange flickers across the room, then extinguished it with a snap.

"I just burned your entire daily limit, Tom. You see? My ability's energy-intensive by definition, so my battery's bigger from the start. Your analysis is subtle and efficient."

"I see. And the second factor?" Danny hesitated. He clearly did not want to say it, but there was no point hiding the obvious.

"Age, Tom. The earlier the Awakening happens, the more potential energy is built into a person. A teenager's body is flexible, it absorbs changes like a sponge." I turned back to the window, fighting the wave of frustration. I was thirty-two. I had awakened at an age when most Awakened were already retiring or holding high command positions. Most likely, I really did have the smallest energy reserve in history. A late bloom with dried petals.

"Does S-Power get spent on anything else? Besides activating personal tricks?"

"On a ton of things!" Danny perked up again.

"Over thirty years, the military's developed hundreds of technologies. Armor enhancement, specialized gadgets, communication systems, even transport modules that run on the user's personal resource…" He suddenly stopped and coughed awkwardly.

"But honestly, Tom… you probably won't need any of that. With your reserve, you wouldn't even power a flashlight with S-Power."

"Tell me more," I insisted.

"I'll decide for myself what I need and what I don't."

"Sorry, can't," he gave an apologetic smile and tapped an imaginary set of shoulder boards.

"Half of that info's tied to classified tech, and I'm under NDA. If I break it, I'll end up in prison myself. Don't worry. They'll show you everything in training, there'll be demo stands. How long till you ship out?"

"Three weeks." The conversation faded on its own, like the flame on Danny's finger. We sat in silence for a while longer, finishing our milk. I walked him to the door.

"And Danny," I said when he had already reached for the handle.

"Leave my neighborhood on foot or take a cab. Like a normal person. Don't go storming the clouds right outside my building."

"Got it, loud and clear," he gave me a playful two-finger salute.

"Sorry again about the neighbor. See you, Tom!" When the door closed behind him, I returned to the living room and sat down on the couch. Numbers pounded in my head like a drum. Twelve. Three hundred sixty. Thirty-three thousand. The peak of human capability in attributes was good. But what was I supposed to do with this pathetic battery? I recalled my main class [Trainer]. It had already helped me develop my body in record time. Had its bonuses contributed to muscle growth? Without a doubt.

But what if [Trainer] did not work only on muscles, but also on this mysterious fuel? If I could break this unfair growth system, then the next time I met Danny, he would be very surprised by my numbers.