More Than Imagined

Chapter 3

The boy ghosted through the yard like a cloud of smoke evaporating into midnight air, ducking behind shrubs and tucking around trees, hoping not to be seen. It was odd for someone to be out past curfew. The Apex would surely have his head if they caught him lurking around Site 3 after hours—that was if they had not been the ones that sent him.

The place was a mashup of wood and multi-colored vinyl. No doubt the brainchild of someone who had never had proper architectural training. It looked easy enough to destroy. To burn.

They have it all planned out. 

The boy crouched to grab a single match from the comfort of his too-high tube sock. He stood there, still as the night that surrounded him, match in hand. He was waiting for something. A signal, perhaps?

He held his position a few moments longer, fingers itching with anticipation. With a crackle as teeth-numbing as the rubbing of Styrofoam, an uncomfortable static blared in his ear.

"Sorry about all the noise, Flinch. You were just looking a little stiff out there. Thought I'd loosen you up." A voice filled with too little concern and too much glee filtered through his in-ear.

Flinch turned, eyes taking less than a second to the spot the conspicuously parked van a few feet behind him. He distinctly remembered being told the assignment was covert, yet Eli couldn't even bother to park the getaway vehicle behind cover. But who was he kidding? Eli never cared much about following orders. Flinch scowled at the vehicle's tinted windows and tried to redirect his focus to the mission at hand. 

"This isn't some trip to the amusement park. I don't see why you're enjoying it so much." Flinch huffed through the microphone attached to the in-ear. A full-bellied laugh rang back from the other end.

"The amusement park? You've never even been to one of those. Who's to say they're even any fun?"

"W-well," Flinch stuttered, feeling one-upped. "I read once that they are a genuine source of dopamine and dopamine means enjoyment. So there."

"Alright, alright. Fizzle out, kid." 

It was only Flinch's second initiation assignment. He wouldn't be able to see the cruel comedy of it so soon. But he imagined Eli had been on this ride way too long to see it any other way.

"But what's not to enjoy?" Eli asked, rhetorical. "If you had seen how ready this girl was to Depart in that application video, you wouldn't be acting like this was the end of the world."

Flinch could hear the obnoxious leather of Eli's combat boots rubbing up against the dashboard of the van.

It was the beginning of spring when the air was usually calm and clear, but the wind picked up so strongly overhead. Flinch thought it might blow some freckles off his face. Something about this initiation felt different. He twirled the match in his hand to pass the time, looking down at his watch every few seconds. 20:45. 20:55. 21:00.

With a swift motion, he lowered the mouth of his trench coat, revealing an uneasy expression and a skin-branded image of a flame beneath his right ear. A steel trinket hung from the lobe.

Reaching up, he unhooked the dangling aerosol-shaped earring. The weight of it so familiar in his palm, his nerves subsided a bit. But only a bit.

"It's about that time. Make our overlords proud. Okay, Flinch?"

"Don't say stuff like that." Flinch panicked, eyes frantically probing the area. "They could be listening."

"And they would be happy to know we're doing their dirty work just like they intended." 

A shrill ding sounded in both their in-ears, causing Flinch to live up to his nickname. There was the signal. He exhaled a shaky sigh.

"You have to carry her out when it's done. I don't think I'll be able to handle the smell," Flinch mumbled, striking the match between the small gap of his front teeth. With feet pressed sturdily into the dry earth, he held the aerosol canister in front of him, yanking at the trigger and placing the flame into the center of the clear vapor.

A blaring blaze blew forth, catching to the timber and spreading quickly along the perimeter of the house.

"Why even lug that junk around with you?" Eli whispered, a little too close to Flinch's ear. Flinch swung on reflex in his direction, as if shooing away a fly, but Eli caught his fist easily. Flinch didn't even notice him walk up. That was the skill of a true Imaginary.

"Why even ask questions you already know the answer to?" Flinch asked as he pried his fist from the pressure of Eli's grip.

Flinch had no other option than to take his fire-starters out on assignments. He wasn't a master in the art of manifesting like Eli was, and risking the loss of his natural flames during an initiation didn't sound like much fun.

Eli squatted beside him, the whimsical glint in his eye flickering from the blaze before them. "You've got to let go of your training wheels sometime or other." Eli puffed out his cheeks, mocking. "Must suck to be part dragon but not be able to actually breathe fire."

Flinch let out a frustrated noise and kicked some dry dirt into Eli's eye. A satisfied smile broke across his face as Eli sputtered and rubbed away the debris.

"As I've told you many times, I'm not some fire-breathing dragon from your little fairy-tale books."

Properly manifested, a volatile vapor pooled within the ducts of Flinch's cheeks and ignited with a click of his tongue. Blowing it forth like the breath of a dragon was the natural progression of his power, but he was still working out the kinks. One stray spark and he might melt his own head from his shoulders.

"They're your fairy-tale books. I just like reading them is all," Eli grumbled, wiping the remnants of dirt from his eyes with the back of his hand. "And watch where you're kicking. That's no way to treat your superior."

"The only thing you are superior at is being annoying."

"Annoyingly amazing? You're absolutely correct, kid." Eli winked and ruffled the fiery-red strands of Flinch's hair.

"Isn't it about time you went in? The Apex will murder us twice if we burn down this whole Site for one initiate."

"Look at you using outlawed words like 'murder.' Glad to see my influence is rubbing off," Eli teased, and Flinch slapped his hands against his mouth in a belated attempt to catch the word that had already slipped out.

"If I get my dust supply reduced, it's on you." 

"Well, we've already experienced death, kid. Getting a dust deduction can't be much worse than that, right?" Eli pulled out the assignment card from his trench coat pocket and checked his watch. "How about sucking some of this stuff up so I can retrieve our burn victim?"

With a loud inhale, Flinch opened his mouth and dragged in a surge of ferocious heat and smoke, sealing it off and extinguishing it behind his lips—letting streams of smoke billow lightly through his nose.

The building still burned, but more tamely, calm enough for Eli to enter unseared. Thick beams supporting the foundation bent beneath the steady onslaught of heat, and Eli took that as his cue.

"Wish me luck," he said. But there was no luck in their line of work, only what was planned.