224 Recruitment Offer [Phasecrash]
224 Recruitment Offer [Phasecrash]
The Box had always been divided cleanly into… A and B.
“A” were the visible ones, the monsters the world was allowed to know existed.
”B” were the rest of us. The inconvenient. The dangerous-to-study. The ones strapped into pods, sedated, plugged into simulations, and fed just enough reality to keep the mind from tearing itself apart.
As a B, I had been forced into a pod so tight I could barely feel my own body, drugged into a half-dream where days blurred into static. Sometimes the virtual world pretended things were normal. Sometimes it didn’t bother. Torture, routine, repetition… Eventually, you stopped asking which was worse.
If Eclipse hadn’t done this… If he hadn’t sunk the Box into the earth like a stone dropped into black water…
I would still be there.
Or worse, I would have forgotten there was ever anything else.
I stood far outside the perimeter now, boots planted on cracked ground, staring as the Box descended, like a ship with a mortal wound, slipping beneath an invisible ocean. Metal screamed. The ground folded inward. Dust billowed up in choking waves.
The Box was being crushed.
As an intangibility-class cape, I knew exactly how obscene the sight was. I knew how much force it took to phase that! It was overwhelming and utterly beyond normal scale.
I felt small watching it.
“Hey! Daphne! Stop gawking!”
The shout snapped me out of it.
I turned and saw Corinth running toward me, waving frantically. A face I hadn’t expected to ever see again.
“Don’t just stand there!” she hissed when she reached me. “You don’t want to mess with them!”
I glanced back at the sinking prison.
“They just freed us,” I said.
Corinth grabbed my arm. Her grip trembled. “That’s exactly why you should be scared.”
She spoke fast, words spilling out like she’d been holding them in for days.
“Eclipse has been active for barely two years and he’s already moving the world. He ended the Monarchy days ago. Days! You know what kind of organization that was?” Her voice dropped. “They’re insane. Powerful-insane.”
I said nothing.
“If they decide to recruit you,” Corinth continued, “it won’t be polite. And knowing you, knowing how much you value your freedom—” She shook her head. “You’ll fight. And if you fight, it’ll turn into a bloodbath.”
I clenched my jaw.
“Even with your mastery,” she added quietly, “you’ll lose.”
That one landed.
“I was transferred a week ago,” Corinth went on. “I saw things. Heard things. I know what I’m talking about.”
I looked back one last time at the Box as it vanished beneath the earth, the symbol of my captivity erased in real time. I didn’t want another cage, even a gilded one or one offered with open hands.
“…Alright,” I said at last.
Corinth didn’t wait for more.
“Let’s go.”
I followed her as we ran, boots pounding against fractured ground. Behind us, the earth groaned, and then shook violently, the aftershock of something colossal being crushed where it stood.
The Box was gone.
It had been a week since we ran from the Box.
A week since the Box sank into the earth and spat us out like something the world had tried very hard to forget. Long enough for the adrenaline to wear off. Long enough for the fear to settle into something quieter and more persistent.
Survival.
There were four of us now.
I hadn’t planned it that way. It just… happened. People gravitated toward whoever seemed like they knew what they were doing, and Corinth always seemed like she did even when she clearly didn’t. Somehow, that was part of her power.
The town we were hiding in sat south of the Box, forgettable by design. This place was too small to matter and too dull to draw capes. Corinth had leveraged “connections,” which could mean anything from favors owed to lies told convincingly enough to become truth. Either way, we had a roof.
The building used to be a tailor shop. Old mirrors. Racks of half-finished clothes. A lingering smell of fabric dye and dust.
“Change,” Corinth said, clapping her hands once. “Anything but the prisoner uniforms. If anyone sees those, we’re dead… or worse, reported.”
She had a way of speaking that made you want to obey without realizing you were doing it. I could feel it even knowing what she was. Her power wasn’t brute-force control; it was persuasion polished until it became instinct.
I nodded and reached for the racks.
As I changed, I thought about Corinth’s ability, biokinesis filtered through image and perception. She didn’t rewrite minds. She nudged them. Smoothed the edges. Made people want to agree. Even photographs carried her influence, which explained her old modeling career. Actress, too, from what I remembered, before her crimes were exposed and she was sent to the Box… or so she told me.
“I have a friend,” Corinth continued, already heading toward the changing area with an armful of clothes. “Ship heading east. If we can get on it, we’re gone.”
She paused, glancing back at me. “I’d like you to come. But I won’t force it.”
I peeled off the orange uniform and let it drop to the floor. The fabric felt heavier than it should have, like it was reluctant to let go. I pulled on something simple. It was dark pants, a loose shirt, and a jacket that didn’t scream former prisoner.
Behind me, the others finished changing.
“We should probably introduce ourselves,” the blond one said. “Seems polite, at least.”
Jose went first.
“Nosey,” he said, rubbing at his balding head. “Real name’s Jose. Ex-detective. My nose is… very sharp.” He gave an awkward smile. “Median and Damian Continent mostly. If you need information and we live through this, call me.”
Ridiculous alias. Accurate power.
I remembered him. Super smell so refined he could reconstruct events from lingering traces, from fear, sweat, ozone, and blood. Dangerous in the wrong hands, but mostly just inconvenient.
Ken went next.
“I’m Ken. Cape name’s Beam.” He grinned. “I glow and stuff.”
I suppressed a wince.
Beam. Fourteen years old when they threw him into the Box. Youngest I’d ever heard of. Serial killer. Blinded his victims first. Said it made the world quieter.
He looked older now. Still smiling.
Corinth stepped forward last. “Corinth. Eyecandy.”
Then all eyes turned to me.
“Daphne,” I said. “Phasecrash.”
Jose flinched like I’d struck him.
Corinth just smiled, unbothered.
Ken’s eyes lit up, faintly. “Whoa. No way. You’re that Phasecrash? The assassin?”
I didn’t correct him.
“Intangibility, right?” he continued eagerly. “Are you stronger than Eclipse?”
The room went quiet.
I thought of the Box sinking. Of steel folding like paper. Of a prison the world believed untouchable vanishing beneath the earth.
I met Ken’s gaze.
“No,” I said finally. “I’m not.”
He blinked, surprised.
“I’m different,” I added. “He’s… something else.”
Ken nodded slowly, as if filing that away. “Still cool, though.”
“Still, I won’t know my chances, unless I tried,” I said. “Ratings are not everything, after all…”
If I got close enough and caught him by surprise, I could probably kill Eclipse. Intangibility honed for violence was cruel like that. It made murder simple, almost trivial, if the target didn’t see it coming.
Corinth snorted. “No offense, but you’re definitely gonna die.”
I looked at her.
“I’ll explain,” she added calmly, “once we’re out of here.”
Jose nodded in agreement, which didn’t make me feel any better. Either she was exaggerating… or both of them believed we needed to leave this continent as fast as possible. It could be both.
We didn’t linger.
That night we rested in shifts, no fires, no lights. The next morning we trekked toward the river, hired a boat with cash Corinth somehow always had, crossed without incident, then kept moving north. By the time my legs started to ache, a ship was waiting for us. It was small, unassuming, and bobbing gently against the dock.
Jose sniffed the air and grimaced. “Gunpowder. Lots of it.”
A man stepped out from the ship, face hidden behind a white bonnet mask. Then another appeared beside us in a blink of distorted space, teleportation snapping shut like a wound.
Corinth raised a hand in greeting. “Relax. These are allies. Meet the Triplets.”
Ken frowned. “Triplets? There’s only two.”
Jose answered without looking away from the masked men. “Third’s probably hidden. Redundancy. Word is they’ve got replicator ratings.”
The teleporter’s head tilted slightly. “We’re not here to discuss our powers. Move.”
We moved.
The voyage took a few weeks.
The ship avoided major routes, skirted pirate territory, and dodged patrols with practiced ease. At night, the sea felt endless and watchful. During the day, we kept our heads down. The GDF search efforts were intense with drones, patrol craft, and rumors of cape-led sweeps.
Ken broke the silence one afternoon. “What even is GDF?”
Corinth didn’t look up from her laptop. Jose was doing the same in his corner, the two of them trading data and muttering occasionally, like a pair of overworked analysts.
“It’s a unification movement,” Corinth said. “Global Defense Force. Started by Chimera… well, Griffin. She changed her name.”
I stared at the ocean.
A lot had changed while I was locked away.
Corinth’s fingers paused on the keyboard. She frowned. “Huh. I just got an email. From the Company.”
Jose stiffened. “Same. Looks legit. My contacts say this guy’s no joke.”
Ken looked between us. “What’s the Company?”
Corinth finally closed the laptop. “Underworld group. People think it’s owned by Eclipse. Word is he’s uniting villains under him and purging anyone who resists.”
She glanced at me. “Times are changing, Daph.”
The ship creaked as it cut through the water.
“What are you going to do,” she asked quietly, “now that you’ve got your freedom back? Going back to the assassination game?”
I watched the horizon for a long moment before answering.
“I’m thinking about it.”
A week later, we made land.
I didn’t look back when I stepped off the ship.
I secured a new identification within two days, retrieved my hidden stash of wealth and quietly split from the others. Corinth didn’t stop me. She probably understood. Jose gave me a number I never intended to call. Ken looked disappointed, like a kid watching a hero walk away from the stage.
I received an invitation from the Company.
I ignored it.
I had decided to live a normal life. Or something close enough to pass as one.
I had money. More than enough. I could disappear into a city, rent a clean apartment, drink bad coffee in the morning, and never phase through another human being again. The Box had cured me of any illusions I still held about powers. It didn’t matter whether someone called themselves a hero or a villain. Power rotted people all the same.
I moved into a cozy apartment just off a busy plaza. Too many people, too much noise. Safe.
That night, I sat crosslegged on the floor, tablet glowing in my lap, scrolling through files I probably shouldn’t have had.
Eclipse.
Nicholas Caldwell.
The track record was obscene. The Monarchy. The Box. Various infamous gangs. The SRC itself. And even more classified information about his fights. The way analysts spoke about him, you’d think they were describing a natural disaster that learned how to talk.
What unsettled me most wasn’t the scale of his violence… Instead, it was the technique.
External manipulation of intangibility alone was terrifying. Most intangibles couldn’t even manage that. But partial external intangibility? Selective phasing? Turning only parts of a target tangible while the rest stayed phased?
That was new and horrifying.
It was the first recorded use of intangibility applied like a scalpel instead of a shield.
No wonder records of his past battles involved a lot of maiming.
I couldn’t do that. I had never been able to. And I was considered exceptional. I’d done business with Crow in the past. I knew exactly how dangerous men like Eclipse were when they stopped pretending to be human.
There was a knock on the door.
I frowned.
I had just come back from the landlord.
My instincts screamed.
I opened the door and slammed it shut as I warped sideways.
The door exploded inward, ripped from its hinges by telekinesis. I phased into the wall as armed men flooded the hallway, suits crisp, lapels marked with a blue bird insignia.
Azure.
“Come back to the organization, Daphne,” an old man said calmly as he followed me.
Thomas.
Bullets tore through the apartment, passing harmlessly through my phased body and embedding into concrete. A telekinetic grip seized me midphase and slammed me against the wall, rattling the building.
“Stop,” Thomas said.
“Just leave me alone, Thomas,” I snapped.
He shook his head slowly. “Come back. Become the blade that will save Azure. Take your place among our ranks again.” His eyes hardened. “Think about your little brother. The orphanage has been taking care—”
“Shut up!”
I warped.
Space folded. Motion collapsed.
I reappeared beside one of the gunmen, my hand already inside his chest. I made it tangible.
His body burst.
Blood and bone painted the room as I warped again, screaming, rage finally tearing loose.
“You lied to me!” I shouted. “My little brother is dead! Did you really think I wouldn’t find out you sent a shapeshifter to pretend to be him?!”
The men hesitated now. Fear finally catching up.
“I will kill you,” I snarled at Thomas, “and everyone in Azure if I have to!”
“There’s no need,” a soft voice said.
The sound didn’t come from Thomas. It came from behind him.
A man stepped out from the opposite side of the ruined apartment, shoes crunching lightly over glass and bone as if he owned the place. Porcelain mask. Black suit untouched by dust or blood.
Eclipse.
The Azure thugs went rigid the moment they saw him. They were mundane and powerless men, so of course they would react that way. Their guns lowered without being told to. One of them dropped his weapon outright, fingers shaking too badly to hold it.
“W–What are you doing here?” Thomas demanded, his voice cracking for the first time. “How are you here?”
Eclipse didn’t even look at him at first. His masked gaze was on me.
“I just ended Azure on my way here,” he said casually. “As for what I’m doing here… well, isn’t it obvious?”
He turned his head slightly, porcelain catching the apartment lights.
“I came bearing a recruitment offer.”
My blood felt cold.
“Phasecrash,” he continued, saying my alias like it had always belonged to him. “Work for me. There is someone I want you to protect. Someone very precious to me.”
“No!” Thomas shouted. “Don’t listen to him! He’s a liar! Your little brother is still alive… we secretly—”
I warped.
The space between us folded, and I reappeared beside Thomas, grabbing his head and smashing it into the wall with enough force to crack concrete. He slumped, unconscious but breathing.
I didn’t even look down at him.
“I know my little brother is dead,” I said, my voice shaking despite myself. “I saw his bones. I had a forensic analyst confirm it.”
I turned back to Eclipse.
“I’m done with this life. If you’re here to kill me,” I said flatly, “then do it.”
Eclipse tilted his head, just slightly.
“I can’t offer resurrection,” he replied. “Even with my means, that’s impossible.”
For a moment, I thought that was it.
Then he continued.
“But I can offer hope.”
I frowned. “Hope?”
“Are you not curious?” he asked. “What your little brother would have been like if he had grown up. Who he might have become if he hadn’t died the way he did.”
My throat tightened. “What are you talking about?”
He stepped closer, neither threatening nor rushed.
“Your salary,” Eclipse said, “will be paid in hope.”
I laughed bitterly. “And how exactly are you planning to pay me… in hope?”
Eclipse asked, plainly, but full of meaning. “Ever heard of the multiverse?”