Chapter 10

My dreams were tumultuous. They passed like daydreams, washed in yellow light and slightly fuzzy. I heard them slightly, moving around me, whispering words like 'healing', 'how' and  'Chameleon'. Must be the team. Wondering how I'm healing. I got hurt? It must have been the fall. What fall? Oh well, time to dream a sweet dream now.

"Mama," the little girl said, her voice a hushed whisper. They were sitting on the roof, wrapped together in a blanket. "What are stars?"

"Do you want the real answer or my answer?" The young woman said, rubbing her pregnant belly gently.

"Your answer," the little girl giggled as if it were the funniest joke she'd ever heard. 

"They're all your futures," the mother whispered to her little girl, burning as bright as the fire you were named after."

"Tell me the story again," the little girl pleaded. Her mother laughed, smiling wide and happy. 

"There once was a titan named Kronos, who feared the power his children were prophesied to gain, so he ate them up, one by one." The mother pretended to munch on her little girl, making sound effects that were barely heard over the little girls laughter. 

"Zeus, the youngest, was hidden by his mother, Rhea," at this name the little girl turned to her mother, excitement apparent on her face. "The same Rhea I was named after." She said nodding. "Zeus outwitted his father, and he barfed up all of his siblings."

At this part both the little girl and the mother made a face and yelled EW!, bursting into laughter afterwards. "The last one was Hestia, the first to be eaten, and last to be saved. But Hestia was incredibly important. She is the oldest god, and she is the goddess of the home, of the hearth. That's why your dad and I named you after her. You're our home." They clasped hands tightly, smiling at each other, slowly melting into another scene. 

. . .

He sat in a cold room in the police station, bundled in his blanket to ward off the chill. Two men sat opposite of him. To the untrained eye, it would look like two detectives interviewing a little boy. Except you couldn't miss the spark of rage in the little boy's eyes, his face screwed up with fury. 

"What do you mean an experiment!" He yelled, stumbling over the last word, showing his young age. 

"Please kid," The thinner man said, holding his hands in a placating manner. "No need to yell."

His chin lifted in defiance, and then he was a she, and she was no longer a little boy, but an old woman, standing up in anger, cheat heaving. "What," she bit out, "do you mean an experiment?" This time there was no stumbling over words. She said it properly. 

The two men stared in shock, not really able to process the fact that now they were interviewing an old woman. "Your experiment ruined my life!" She yelled, spit flying. She shifted again, now a non-binary teenager with orange hair. "Explain." They barked.

The bigger man stuttered a bit then finally found his words. "We were doing an experiment with the weather, seeing if we could create certain conditions, we didn't mean for it to get loose and hurt anyone." His words were calming but his tone wavered, showing his uncertainty. Or something else.

"Well it did," the angry teen heaved. "You killed my family and nearly killed me too. You'll pay for this, Mr. Director and Mr. Scientist. You'll pay off their life debts and then you'll die"

. . . 

She was crouched in the corner, staring unblinkingly at the people gathered around the coffee table. She knew they knew someone was in the cave. They had noticed whatever messes they left, if any, were quickly cleared away. Fresh fruit and vegetables would be cut up to go with their breakfast. There were three of them. Aella, Waya and Swallow. Civilian names Martha Gibson, Tom James and Matthew Neves. They were all laughing, something Tom had said. 

She started moving forward, keeping low to the ground, slinking over to them. She had been watching them for a few months now, and knew everything about them. Perks of having a high tech computer in the cave to tell her everything. 

She was a few feet away when Martha noticed her. "Hey there, little one," she said, crouching down and holding out her hand. The girl was startled at the wording and the action for a second, before remembering that she was, in fact, a cat. Not for much longer, if the rumbling of her stomach was trying to say anything. 

She inched forward, sniffing lightly. Martha smelled like strawberries and fresh air, grass and cleanness. Tom knelt down beside her, and he smelled like aftershave, freshness and something else she couldn't quiet place. (Coffee beans, her unconscious mind supplied, now looking back and recognising it.) Matthew sat down a foot away, just staring at her. He smelled like bird, like prey. The girl shook herself quickly, reminding herself that she was human, she didn't eat birds. Not even the fancy ones in french dishes.

She butted her head against Martha's outstretched hand, and was immediately attached to her. She never wanted to leave her side. 

It was a few months later that the girl finally revealed herself. She was in her cat form, purring quietly while Martha and Tom watched TV. She slowly uncurled herself and jumped down to the floor, stretching out her paws. She mewed once, just to gain their attention, and when she had it, she shifted. Fur receded backwards and faded to a light brown, eyes changed into dark brown human ones, and paws became fingers and toes, hands and feet. Her tail snaked back into her spine, and she stood on two feet, staring at the two shocked heroes.

Swallow walked in, holding a bowl of cut up fruit. "What t-" His voice melted away into another memory. 

. . . 

"Give it up for your newest additions to the team: Legion, Geronimo and Starbright!"  Waya shouted from in front of city hall. The girl was disguised as a street cat, watching from a perched position on a fence as the crowd in front of the building. She didn't understand why she wasn't up there. It was something the Director had said. Anger washed over her at the thought of the Director.

He still owed her four life debts, and he did nothing. She practically ran the Agency. He hadn't even noticed that she had stripped him of all his power and given it to herself. She groomed a paw smugly, wondering when or if he would notice. 

The memories started to pass even faster now, lasting no longer than a few minutes.

. . . 

"Welcome our newest members: Chameleon! Ace! Folly! Jacks! And Purrrrrrrge!" Swallow cried out. I grinned wide underneath my mask. I had finally made it. I came out of hiding and was now a public member of the team. Behind us stood Rebel, Ang, Arctic, Rellik, Artisto and the rest of the gang, cheering loud. After the loss of Swallow, the team too a hard hit. Which is why Waya thought it would be a good idea to add some more members. 

We needed them too. A new villain, Mime, had popped up. She was vicious, leaving no survivors. Paired with the fact that Genocide was now underground again, it wasn't a good sign. 

She revelled in the moment, hands clasped with Ace and Folly's, hovering above the ground in excitement. Now she could show the world who she is.

. . . 

"FOLLY!" She yelled out, looking around. "JACKS? PURGE. ACE!" She turned around and around, until she spotted something fall to the ground just behind the building. She flew over, moving so fast her cape snapped behind her.

She rounded the building and stumbled back a few steps in horror. Mime had her arms wrapped tight around Ace, Jacks and Purge were laying on the ground in puddles of blood. And Folly, Folly was hanging from Genocide's great big gloved hand. The blades on the back of his forearms were covered with red. (Red. Always that colour, her unconscious mind thought.)

"AHHHHHH!" She screamed, tears forming. This was her team, her responsibility, and she didn't listen to them. Why didn't she listen to them?

Mime looked up and snickered, while Genocide stoically turned his covered head. "Poor little Chameleon, no more friends for you!" Mime sang. 

"GO!" She yelled, buffeting them back with her wings. Genocide let Folly crumple to the ground into a pile, and the two of them took off. She didn't bother going after them. She raced over to her two friends laying in their own blood. She forced her suit back from her hands, hoping she could help them. Her hands, covered in the thick red substance felt nothing. Nothing but red and hate and anger and emptiness. She hurried over to Folly, hoping he was still alive. 

He was. 

"Folly, Folly please stay awake." She was close to hysteria now. Her hands fluttered over his neck, itching to heal. His hands came up to grab hers. 

"Jacks.... Alive...." He muttered. Then his hands dropped.

She felt his pulse and deemed Folly strong enough to last while she healed Jacks. She rushed over, not having any time to waste. She pressed her hands onto his chest and shoved her magic into him. She felt spring and dew drops and smelled freshly cut grass and lilacs and his chest started to move. She was so weak, that was all she could do. Barely heal one of her friends. Her teammate. 

"Help!" She screamed into the comms, hoping someone, anyone, was listening. 

"Where?" A voice asked back.

"The storage units by the woods," she rasped out, her body wavering. 

"Coming now," the voice said, sounding fainter and fainter. "Just hold on Chameleon."

"Folly, Folly, Foll..." she chanted. She slowly tipped to the side, noticing at the last second before passing out a figure leaning against Ace's frozen form. Oh good, she thought. Help is here.

. . .

I was woken by a blinding light. Someone had lifted my eyelid up and was shining a small flashlight into it, checking my pupil dilation. I groaned in protest, trying to move back from the light. 

"What's with the ancient technology," I rasped out, my throat parched. I was still caught up in my dreams, and I couldn't quite see yet. "Just get Mo to fix me."

"Who's Mo?" A high cold voice asked.

Three things happened then in quick succession. 

One, my eyes adjusted.

Two, I recognised that voice, and the face. 

And three, I wasn't in the cave.

Standing in front of me in a tight semicircle was Genocide, Peculiar, Heathen and Martha, and Mime's face was almost pressed right up against mine.