It hurt.

He didn't realize how much it hurt until it was almost over. He didn't know what it was until his parents' bodies were scattered along with the wreckage of their car across the last mile. And even then, he didn't know what to call it. An upgrade? Chase Collins, mark two?

"Pull over," he whispered. His parents didn't hear him. "Pull over," he insisted.

"We're almost home, honey." His mother's voice (foster mother) was trying to be reassuring, but the imminent sensation of needing to hork in the car was drowning her out.

"Chase," his father turned around to look at him. Then at his wife. "Maybe we should..."

He had been wrong. What came out of him wasn't vomit, wasn't bile or reconstituted chicken, wasn't anything. It was energy, pure energy that came rocketing out of his mouth and slammed through the dashboard. It was still vomiting. It still had that horrible feeling of his body out of control rejecting something, pushing it through his mouth. Only this time there was no foul aftertaste.

There was a taste of blood, sliding around inside his mouth. He thought he'd bitten his tongue, or maybe the inside of his cheek. But that wasn't really that bad.

He didn't know what had happened. He didn't even realize was crying until he felt his face for injuries and his hand came away wet and clear. And it wasn't as though he particularly felt like crying. Not for the death of his parents, whom he hadn't cared about in years. Not because he was hurt, because he wasn't. He felt better than he had in... ever.

Hands on the black pavement beneath him. Pushing himself up, at first to his knees, and then upright. One step at a time. Make sure everything works.

Something strange has happened to him when he was 13, and it was happening again now. The two events were connected as inextricably as his heartbeat and his utter failure to care about anything. He hadn't always been like that, he realized. He cared about things, once, even people. And once upon a time he had been just an ordinary boy.

Didn't matter, really. He rolled his head around on his neck, finished making sure everything worked, and stood.

Wreckage scattered all over the street and everything sang. Everything in his body hummed with power. He turned his palm up and floated into the air twenty feet before he realized he was flying. And then he started laughing. It was wonderful. It was all going to be okay.

Go to the top! For you have reached the bottom.