The PulseTeam, Book Two: Evolution

Chapter One: The New Kids In Town

Part One: "Her?! Why HER?!"

Allen Manor | Cleveland, Ohio
Sunday, January 9, 2033 | 17:38 EST

It has been nine years since I caught my older sister, Jessica, let a hot pink flame dance around her fingertips, eight years since I found out that I could generate blue fire and ice from my bare hands with no possibility of injury to myself, and that very same night, both Jessica and I were told by our father that he and Mom are The Pulse and Pulsate. It makes a lot of sense in retrospect, and I'm kicking myself in the butt for not seeing it sooner.

But that's a subject matter for a later time.

In any event, I desperately want to follow in the footsteps of Mom and Dad. It's all that I think about now that I've got the powers I'm aware of under my complete and total control. So, I bring it up over this evening's dinner.

After we bless the food and begin eating, I say, "Mom, Dad, I want to prevent crime."

They stop eating and look up at me with an expression of pure shock plastered on their faces, and I see a faint trace of a smile slowly build on Dad's face, while Mom's face just drops. I've never seen my parents shocked before. Especially Dad.

"What do you mean by, 'prevent crime'?" asks Mom.

I respond, "I want to be that phantom, that shadow in the night that nobody knows what hit them. I want the very threat of a thwarted criminal operation to discourage people from ever trying to go through with it to begin with. And I need a team to assist me in this endeavor."

Almost immediately after I say this, Dad's shocked expression drops and he says, plainly and simply, "Okay."

"Wha--no!" exclaims Mom. "He could get hurt or worse, and--"

Dad cuts her off, saying, "Whoa, whoa, whoa: Slow down, calm down, and let him finish. There is more to David's request. Right, bud?"

"Yes, sir," I say. "I was thinking that we, as a subsidiary of the PulseTeam, would operate in the night, and that there would be only a few of us. You know, so we can execute missions in small groups with extremely deadly accuracy. They would answer to me, just as I can agree to answer to you."

"No," says Mom. "I will not allow it. There are too many things on your plate as it is. You have school, kendo, and a bunch of other extracurriculars. Your day starts early and ends late. Where would you possibly find the time you need to carry out night missions and still be able to get enough sleep to get up as early as you do every day?

"And even that was on the assumption that your father and I would actually let you go out and do this. There's simply too much at stake to let you go out in a uniform and do what we do. You are too inexperienced, and you could get hurt, or worse. I can't allow this, and I won't."

While Mom gives me her lecture about her not allowing me to go out and do what they do, Dad throws her a look of pure agitated annoyance that shouts, "You've got some nerve."

When she finishes, Dad says, "Are you done, Alitia? Because I have two things to say that will completely destroy your argument: We did it, and we did it. Remind me, just how old were we when we got our powers, made our uniforms, and went on our very first mission?"

Silence.

"Uh-huh," says Dad. "And just how much experience did we have at their age? How much death-level danger did we put ourselves in for the sake of everyone else?"

Silence again.

"And if you would be a dear and remind me also just how much stuff we had to do on top of our hero work?"