Page 15 of Scion

“There are two main types. Cognitive and somatic. The somatics do pretty much what you would expect them to. The ones in my legs mean I can run longer and faster, jump higher. The ones in my upper body mean I can lift more, punch harder. They all have the effect of increasing dermal and bone density, too, when they’re active.”

“So you’re bulletproof?”

“No. Hell no. But I can take a lot more punishment than most people.” I start fording a small stream, moving with fastidious care through fast-running water that reaches my thighs. No splashes. Keeping my revs sharp for anything in the surrounding trees. Not a lot of water nearby, and even bios need to drink.

“Huh.” Old Woman sounds intrigued, albeit not necessarily impressed. “And your cognitive revisions?”

“Clearer thoughts. Shorter reaction times. Heightened perception. Pain management. That sort of thing.” I don’t mention the rest. As a rule, people don’t mind “really advanced human.” They understand “really advanced human.” But damn if they don’t get uncomfortable when you start throwing around concepts like being able to sense movement in a memorised location, no matter how far away you are. Or precognition, or retrocognition, or any of the other less… traditional instincts my cogs sometimes impart.

“Wow.” I think she’s impressed until she adds, “That bomb must have been all but invisible.”

“You can’t activate revs all at once. They take focus to use, and even one takes a toll after a while. I have to be judicious. Choose the exact right time to bring them into play.”

“Like when there might be a bomb?”

I reach the far bank, scanning the deepening shadows beyond as I extract myself from the chilly torrent. No movement.

“So tell me. What happens when whoever wants me dead sends three people just like you?”

“There’s no one just like me.” I mutter it back as an irritated reflex. Immediately regret it. Continue reluctantly as I carefully push my way through tangled undergrowth. “Most people aren’t compatible with even one rev. And when they are, it usually takes years of training before they get it under control.” Feels weird to be explaining this, but I get defensive when it comes to my revs. Prideful, I suppose. Not because I can have so many—that’s a fluke of nature. But because they genuinely make me better than anyone else out there. Better than any other person in my line of work. I want this annoying old bat to understand that I am at the absolute pinnacle of what I do.

“How long have you had yours?”

“Six years, give or take.”

“So you had them at Oceanus.”

Heart beating too fast. Blood hot. Lip curling. I stop, silent and still. Too distracted to continue in this state. Is Old Woman deliberately goading me? I swear she’s been trying to find a button to push since I got here.

If she keeps going, she’s going to find out pretty damned quickly that this isn’t the right one.

“Azure? Are you there?”

I push her irritating voice to the back of my mind. Calm. Run a quick gamut of rev checks to ensure my surroundings are still clear. All seems normal.

Except.

I close my eyes.

“Azuuuure,” Old Woman croons.

“Shut up.” Check. Check again. No mistake.

She tsks at me. The absolute nerve. “Now now, Azure, no need to be—”

“Someone’s coming. You need to get out.”

“What?”

“They just went through the intake for the fish tank. Aquarium. Whatever.” I carefully modulate my voice. Impart seriousness. Calmness. Urgency. Tone is more important in getting across a message than words, sometimes. “Don’t ask how I know. Someone is in your house right now and if you don’t run, they will kill you. So you need to listen to what I’m about to say very carefully.”

Silence and then, much to my relief, a quiet “Alright.”

“They’ll be cautious—won’t know you’re unprotected in there. If they’ve got enough air, they’ll probably pick a spot they can watch through the glass for a while without being seen. If not, they’ll be starting a slow sweep from the hatch. That’s the other side of the house to where you are. You’ve got seven, maybe eight minutes. Plenty of time as long as you don’t panic.”

“So I should run?” I can hear the scrape of a chair through the comms.

“Wait. I said don’t panic. We need to be calm and methodical here. You just need to OH YOU HAVE GOT TO BE—!”