T8

Chapter 1.

Zeke

"As most of you may know," Bill Radford, my adopted father, starts. "My company has made a major break through, with the opening of inter-dimensional portals, or worm holes." He states. My father is the CEO and creator of Radfords Weapons. He was asked personally, by the Prime minister, to do research on inter-dimensional travel, and this is what he found. The only problem is...

"Sadly, we have discovered that we have no way of ensuring that these portals close properly." He says. "So, I and the Prime Minister have decided to create a group of inter-dimensional and galactic beings. I know many have you were against the idea, but they may have insight or abilities that we do not have. The group is called the T8 project, and the leader of the group and what they do, will be my son, Zeke." The old man points to me with his hand, I stand and bow, a small applause. I roll my eyes. This whole project is a waste of time.

"I will allow my son to give you the rest of the details."

I walk up to the front. I adjust the microphone, "This team, will be made of con artist, and inter-dimensionals that have no where else to go. I will be the director of the team, but the leader, who will follow through with my orders is a seventeen year old, trained mercenary, known only by his alias, Aspen. " I say, monotonously. I'm feeding them a lie. But it's for the best, if they knew who I was my Bill would be put to shame.

I turn to the screen behind me, and it turns on, showing a picture of a female, about five foot three inches, with red hair in a bun. "On the screen behind me, is the inter-dimensional Sara-Fynx. She is was born in the Congo, but her family was raped and murder in front of her eyes. She was the only survivor, she was then thrown in and out of foster care and now she lives in Johannesburg, South Africa." I explain. I look back at the picture. She doesn't look African to me. She looks whiter than paper.

"Sara has a criminal record the size of Texas, but I'm sure we can control her." I say, swallowing hard. I continue on with my speech, moving on from Sara, to the psychic con-artist, to the zombie grave digger, then to the boy who can mysteriously teleport and shapeshift, then the angle, and the wasp like alien, and finally I end with the boy who can manipulate water. I don't want to get into details here, cause frankly, I don't care.

After my big speech, I stick around for a drink and fuck off.

I walk into my top floor, penthouse, graciously given to me by the old man. It's very modern but this is the last night I'll be here. I know I'm going to miss the white empty walls and the living room that only held a sofa and a small TV. I'm not going to miss the floor to ceiling windows in my bedroom. I'm pretty sure the lawyers in the building across from me like to watch me undress. Bill insisted that the whole team live together in a broke down, ten floor, abandoned hotel, so all my shit is already there in the lobby. everything except for the bed, who needs those anyways?

My suit is even in a box in the lobby. No vigilantism for me tonight, I guess. I wonder around the penthouse. There's nothing to do here. I go through my mental checklist of things for tomorrow.

1. Awaken at 4am, eat and get ready.

2. Catch flight to South Africa at 6am.

3. Convince the Ginger one to come with me and leave her life of poverty.

4. most likely get my ass handed to me by the small ginger one because I flirt a lot.

5. take her back to the hotel.

6. go back to sleep.

Sadly, my flight is going to take twenty-three fucking hours. Whatever, I have a small travel bag packed and I feel confident. I lay down on the couch with a blanket and I let my eyelids shut. I take a deep breath, and just like that I'm past the fuck out.