My first thought was to grab this girl, carry her out of the house, and soar into the sky. At a few kilometers up, everyone becomes docile, realizing that flying isn't for humans. But, pushing aside inappropriate and aggressive thoughts, I started analyzing the situation and looking at it more impartially. I needed to calm down.
There was no army or special forces around our house. My gaze didn't spot any armed or even any people at all within a few kilometers. Only this girl, who definitely remembered me and clearly knew where she was going. A quick search of her clothes didn't provide answers; it only raised more questions. There was a military bearing about her, but more like that of a staff officer than someone used to hold a weapon.
No documents, no identification—nothing. Just a stack of blank A4 sheets and a small piece of paper I picked up. One word on it: "Briers." My family's surname—in the hands of someone with military bearing who knows me by sight. A coincidence? No, but the question is different: how did she find me? A search of her car yielded nothing either—just a new car with no leads. In the glove compartment, there were only some papers from a university: tests with my name, supporting documents, and the like. As if they belonged to an employee of a prestigious institution. The smell inside suggested she'd been driving for a long time, eating a lot of roadside food, and hadn't washed much. Like she was in a hurry.
Alright, I can't read minds, so I'd better find out everything myself. A conversation would provide more answers, and if she doesn't dodge, I won't have to burn her on the Sun.
Having made my decision, I returned to the front door, dropped out of speed mode, and, as usual, opened the door, shouting:
"Mom, I'm home! There's a car in the yard, do we have guests?"
Entering the living room, which doubled as a kitchen, I asked this aloud. My nose caught a fleeting smell, but I didn't pay attention to it, focusing on our guest.
Her eyes gave her away immediately, and the nervousness in them provided at least some answer. She came in peace and is afraid of me.
"Oh, Brandon, you're back already. Yes, meet Jane. She's from MIT. Says you applied for testing. Why didn't you tell me?" Mom smiled reproachfully, putting the kettle away, and hugged me.
"Yeah, yeah, forgot to mention," I said, patting Tori on the back and looking at Jane. MIT, huh? A convenient cover story.
"Hello, Brandon. Your results are impressive, nice to meet you," she said nervously, extending her hand as if expecting me to bite it. She stood up from the chair and nearly knocked over her cup. Yeah, girl, you definitely know who you came to see.
"Likewise, Jane, likewise. Did you come to discuss the results?" Judging by the dishes, she'd already eaten and was just waiting for me. Mom sat down, also looking at her with interest.
"Yes, yes," she said, flinching at my smile. "MIT loves young talent, and your results so impressed the reviewing professors that they wanted me to come personally to talk about grants."
"Grants?" Mom echoed.
"Exactly. And if Brandon passes the checks, we'll decide your son's future soon. It's such an opportunity, Mrs. Brier." Tori nodded, understanding what full support during studies and a scholarship from such a university meant. Though she was a farmer now, she herself had studied on a grant at a fairly expensive college back in the day.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to speak with Brandon privately to verify all the tests."
"Is that necessary?" Mom didn't want to leave me alone, which was wise, but I was curious myself about what this girl wanted.
"Mom, let's get this over with quickly, and Miss Jane will leave," I said, not letting Jane respond. I stood up, whispered to Mom that everything was fine, and, convinced of my seriousness, she nodded and left us alone, saying she'd go check on the animals. After Kyle's death, she quickly realized that early maturity has its perks, and I could be trusted—as well as the fact that I could already assess situations adequately. This only worked in my favor.
"So?" I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms. "What do you want to say, Jane?"
She tensed, her heartbeat quickening. Her heart pounded faster, and adrenaline began coursing through her body.
"Calm down, Jane, or your heart will explode from all that emotion," I said, sounding threatening, but honestly, I didn't want to deal with a girl's corpse after a heart attack.
After a few seconds of silence, she spoke, taking a deep breath. Her heart slowed down.
"I'm sorry for disturbing you in your own home, but, Brandon… no, Superman, I need your help. Please," she blurted out in one breath, like a verdict, and squeezed her eyes shut, trembling. What happened to you, poor thing?
If before she looked like a confident university girl, now, hunched over with closed eyes, expecting something bad, she resembled an abandoned kitten.
In a flash, moving at speed, I was beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. She flinched, even more frightened, but my calm voice eased the tension.
"Tell me everything, starting with how you found me."
---
"Jane Stevenson, Colonel in the U.S. Army," she said when the conversation began. "And also a member of Helios."
"Helios? What, the ancient Greek god?" I asked, recalling mythology.
"Correct," she nodded. "Helios is an ancient organization uniting people to protect humanity from supernatural threats. An international structure created to combat alien, magical, occult, and anomalous phenomena. Using advanced technology, intelligence, and counter-strategies, we operate worldwide to ensure safety from dark forces. You must understand that I'm here unofficially, and what you've learned must not become public. Even your mother shouldn't know. But I don't want to talk about that…"
"Freemasons?" I suggested, raising an eyebrow.
"It's a Helios project, but they…" she waved her hand, "are an empty shell, distracting the public from the horrors of our planet and cosmos. It's far more interesting to discuss rich idiots playing at cults than those who actually kill monsters, right?"
"Monsters? Is there anyone scarier than me on this planet?" I asked skeptically. In all my time, I'd only seen one "monster"—Atlas. Ugly on the outside, but his strength was negligible.
"There are, actually," she said, her face darkening as she nodded. "Many threats on our planet require control. Only the initiated and knowledgeable protect it from these creatures. Too many dangers for such a seemingly ordinary planet. You've been classified as a threat too. That you look human is a great relief for everyone. Your classification is the highest, which seems dangerous at first glance, but it's not the limit. There are far scarier creatures that Helios keeps under lock and key. Though, we don't always manage to contain them all. There are about a hundred high-level threats like you, but the fact that you fly around the planet saving people gives you a quiet life. Otherwise…"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm terrified and all that," I brushed it off. "Better tell me, how ancient is Helios? And what threats has it prevented, for example?"
I tilted my head, intrigued. Tea no longer seemed as interesting—secrets and covert organizations clearly outweighed it.
"One of the most notable threats Helios prevented is probably familiar to you. Our operations usually require secrecy and quick results, but not in this case. The Black Death, 14th century. Officially—50 million victims, unofficially and truthfully—about a hundred million. In Latin, it's called Atra Mors, but in Helios, we call it Santio Mort. It was an alien virus brought to Earth to 'cleanse' the population before colonization. For decades, our supreme commanders fought the Je-ar-m race—those who wanted to exterminate humanity. In the end, we won and saved the planet from extinction. The virus has been kept under lock and key for centuries, as has the key to the prison of those alien invaders. It's a long and bloody story. We're taught about it in history lessons, and those events still influence Helios's policies and the entire planet. The fact that they've been looking for you all these years is proof of that. Though not as actively as in the first year of your heroic activities. They fear you but don't take you as seriously as they should."
"And you're the one who found me," I concluded, mulling over her words. This is all strange.
"Yes, I found you. But only because of your overconfidence," she said, calming down and apparently realizing I wasn't going to eat her. She spoke openly now. "I'm grateful for that rescue, but not hiding your face was a mistake," she shook her head.
"Yeah, I've been told that before," I nodded sourly, remembering Bruce. How are they doing? But I didn't dwell on it—there were other things to think about.
"That's how I found you," she smiled, as if she'd won a prize.
"By my face?" I asked skeptically.
"Yes. It took a lot of time and searching through all the kids in the U.S. over ten years old, but I managed. The age of technology and cameras gave me a chance."
"How did you know I live in the U.S.?" Local Sherlock Holmes, just in a skirt?
"By your hoodie," she pointed at my chest. Looking down, I noticed a small image of two white mountains on a black circular background. "That brand is only made in the U.S., in four states near Kansas. And then—store cameras and so on."
"Ugh," I put a hand to my face, making Jane smile even wider. Alright, next time I'll be smarter and pick clothes without brands. But they're so soft… "Fine, I get it," I said, pushing thoughts of fabric aside. "What does a secret agent of a secret organization with a cool name need?"
"I…" she hesitated. "I'm asking you to save my father. Only you on this planet can help him."