By the time we staggered back to our room, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. 

Avon tugged at my shoulder after I tumbled onto one of our beds, saying something I couldn’t make out. I swatted his hands away — I didn’t even care if I slept in my post-patrol fatigues instead of the softer pants I preferred. My world faded to black and all was quiet.

It was still quiet when I woke. Too quiet. The familiar, steady exhalations next to me… weren’t. I rolled over, frantically patting the bed next to mine before I even pried my eyes open. My hand fell on empty air as I tumbled to speckled, off-white tiles. The scratchy brown blanket trailed after me, half on and half off the cot’s thin pad. Rows of identical, empty bunks stretched in all directions until they reached the dingy, yellowed walls. The sterile barracks swallowed the harsh rasp of my breath.

My body ached, bone deep, with sharper accents from my ribs, my forearms, and my gut. I pushed back a loose, brown sleeve to reveal neat stitches crisscrossing my arms and shuddered. A sob caught in my throat, almost drowning out the distant whoosh of a door.

I scrambled for the blanket, tugging it clear and wrapping it around me while I rolled beneath the cot’s shelter.

“Where do you think you’re going, maggot?”

I rolled off the bed, fist balled, and yanked at the blocked bond. A sharp, stabbing pain through my head rewarded me and I blinked to clear the sleep from my eyes. Grey walls and tiles came into focus. A rough, grey blanket pooled at my feet. Swallowing hard, I let my fist fall limply to my side. The walls were closer. The beds larger, fewer. This wasn’t the training barracks I’d grown up in. My eyes darted around again. 

It had been a dream — meaningless nonsense. 

But like in the dream, I was alone. A tap on my wrist comp proved it was well past the curfew they enforced when they chose. 

So where was Avon? My heart rate, which had started to slow when I’d recognized the room I shared with my brother, spiked. I dragged a hand across the stubble of my hair. The smooth, pain-free movement provided a sliver of comfort, but I shuddered. I’d never been bruised and stitched, not like that. When the humans wanted you functioning, they’d flog your back. If they didn’t, they focused on more sensitive areas than arms. So why had the dream-injuries felt so real?

The door whooshed open, and Avon stumbled to a halt, grasping the frame for support and panting. Above each shoulder, a red-haired head gawked. 

My teeth clenched at the sight. 

“What the hell, Nova?” Avon smoothed his shirt. Was it disheveled from his haste to return? Or something else? “You’re supposed to be resting, not fighting your collar!”

So much for keeping an eye on the son of a bitch with flux burn. I dragged my eyes across the three faces stuck in the door. My breath caught in my lungs and my stomach clenched. He left me alone, just like…

Rage bubbled in my throat. That, or the dinner I hadn’t eaten. As the three bodies in the door shoved into the room — bringing shifters into my space — the air departed, forced out.

“Why aren’t you resting?” one of the redheads asked. “Avon said—hey!”

Abruptly, I moved to the left, dodging the bodies and heading for the door. Fingers wrapped around my arm — a hand pulled me back.

Letting the grip spin me around, I faced my attacker, fist poised to strike back. Avon flinched, releasing me while his eyes first widened ever so slightly, then narrowed. I’d scared him, but now he was angry.

That was fair, because I was scared and angry, too.

I gasped, chest tight, and stumbled backward into the wall. My eyes darted between Avon and the twin shifters and my knees gave out, leaving me to slide down the icy wall.

“We should…” one of the shifters began.

“Go,” the other said, gesturing past me toward the door. “We’ll talk more later.” They slipped out the door and, when it whooshed shut behind them, my eyes lingered on the stoic metal as if it held the answers.

“Nova.” Avon crouched down and I studied his face. Greyish undertones to the skin, with heavy bruising beneath the onyx eyes, spoke to his exhaustion — he’d been burning the candle at both ends.

So why was he off with the shifters after curfew?

Stubbornly, I set my lips and pulled my knees tight to my chest, pillowing my icy cheek against the bony flesh. It wasn’t worth the fight it would take to leave, especially with the immediate problems gone. That didn’t mean I was ready to listen.

Except I was. Whatever madness was tearing us apart — if Avon would just talk to me, I knew it would be alright. Our sighs filled the silent room together, and my lips twisted in a smirk. 

“I can’t deal with this tonight.” I dragged myself up the wall and collected the scratchy blanket. “Bed. Whatever that was about, we can deal with it tomorrow.” My stomach growled. “After breakfast.”

Avon rose with a laugh and stretched.

“Don’t stand between you and food. Got it.” Avon half-turned toward our bunks, but hesitated. “Nova, you—”

I threw the blanket and it caught him in the face.

“Sleep. You look like a zombie.”

***

The hall outside the mess made me want to scream at the ass-crack of dawn when we queued up for breakfast. Bland grey walls, bland grey uniforms, and bland grey oatmeal on the menu.

“Why do we have to get up so early on our off-day?” I rested my head on Avon’s shoulder, trudging forward when he did.

“Because we like to eat?” He tapped his comp. “Have you found anything else about—” He darted a glance at the mix of shifters and mages around us, moved to the side, and gestured those behind us to pass us by. “Let’s wait for our squad if you’re not hungry,” he said, louder but not too obvious. 

Because there was nothing suspicious about mages eating with shifters. My eyes rolled so hard that they hurt.

“No,” I mumbled. “It’s locked tighter than Fort Knox.”

He choked on a laugh and shook his head. The hall emptied before he spoke.

“Where do you come up with those sayings?”

“It’s just in the archive.” I shrugged. “Not even sealed. No one cares about the old media files.” I spotted Twenty-one bouncing down the hall and waved. “Do you think he can join us? When I get in, and we watch The Last Unicorn?” Twenty looked green and wavered on his feet, leaning on A. 

“Sure…” Avon wasn’t paying attention, though — he was already walking toward Twenty-one and Twenty. And that asshole A, who couldn’t even be bothered to notice my brother — she was staring at the wall like it would eat her. “Are you alright?”

“Yep — sure thing.” Twenty-one beamed, chipper despite the bags under his eyes. “I think the medbay got things straightened out, because—” 

“Hey! You three were supposed to be in medbay at 0600.” A grey-coated medico strode down the hall.

Twenty-one, Twenty, and A exchanged wide-eyed looks, and A started shaking her head.

“A-apologies, sir, but—”

“Nope. Get your asses to medbay now. Breakfast’ll keep.” The medico chivvied them down the hall, with Twenty still leaning on A and Twenty-one less bouncy. 

He looked back, and I met his worried frown with another wave.

“We didn’t fuck up, did we?”

Avon’s silence as he turned toward the mess hall wasn’t reassuring.

“The medico’s wrong, though — breakfast won’t keep.” I trailed after Avon. “Can we get some snacks for them?”

“Yeah.” Avon tapped his comp. “I can tweak it into the budget if we stick to oatmeal and protein slop for a week or two.”

I hated oatmeal, but…

“Okay.” I paused. “Avon?”

“Hmm?” He kept poking at his comp even while grabbing an empty tray with his left hand.

“Thanks.” My voice wouldn’t carry, but Avon heard and his smile warmed me.

The fourth cup of caf-blend eased down my throat, and I reveled in it, knowing I wouldn’t have to chug it before running to a lift. Our pockets were loaded with the snack packets that were permitted outside of the mess, and we were on our way to find Twenty-one.
“Fuck me. Can you imagine if they charged for this?” I clutched the mug and the distraction it provided — if we talked about mundane things, we could avoid… other things. My stomach roiled. A distraction didn't make everything else go away. Avon’s chuckle brought me back to the present. 
“Well, if you want the good stuff…” Avon tapped on his comp. “Fortunately, you’re not a snob in that respect.”
“Hey! I’m not a snob in any respect!” I went to shove Avon, but his frown drew me up. “What’s the matter?”
“The newbies — they’ve all been confined to quarters.” Avon turned right at the next intersecting hall and walked faster. “Visitors permitted, but that could change on an officer’s whim.”
“Why?” I sipped the caf-blend down enough that it wouldn’t slosh.
“I don’t—” Avon paused; ahead of us in the hall, a grey-clad figure staggered, flinching away from the walls as if they were lava. Avon swore and jogged down the hall. “A?”
A whirled, falling back against the wall and cringing. Green eyes searched the hall but didn’t land on anything until I approached.
Then they locked on my cup.
She lunged forward, snatched the cup, and drained it. 
If I hadn’t been surprised, she’d never have gotten that caf from me.
“Hey, Asshole!” My teeth clenched around the words. “That’s mine!”
Predictably, she didn’t listen; instead, she returned the cup, staggered down the hall, and leaned over a trash bin.
Then. She. Barfed.
My stolen caf-blend.
Straight into the trash.
“What the hell?” I threw the mug down. 
A jumped when it shattered.
“Nova! Forget the caf-blend — something’s seriously wrong.” Avon’s rebuke cut like a knife, and I subsided, fuming.
“What happened?” Avon reached for A’s shoulder, but she flinched away, knocking into the bin. Avon steadied it before it dumped out. 
A looked less than thrilled to be trapped between the bin, the wall, and Avon.
Tough shit.
“Why were you confined to quarters?” Easing back, Avon lightened his presence without leaving a path to escape. “What are you doing out here?”
“Apologies, sir.” A’s eyes darted around, not focusing again, and her hands shook. “A medico reviewed the biometrics.” She touched a finger to her black collar. “He… seemed angry and gave the order. This one was kept back.”
Avon arched a brow at me, and I nodded. Dia wasn’t happy with the questions I’d planted, and it didn’t surprise me he followed up.
“Do you know what’s in the red—” 
A gasped, head snapping to the side as if something had exploded that only she heard. She jumped over the bin — where were those moves when we’d fought the devils? — and vanished down the hall.
“Where’s the fire?” I kicked at the ceramic shards on the floor. Avon shot me an exasperated look and chased after her. Rolling my eyes, I jogged after him. The door to Twenty-one’s dorm was in sight when the obnoxious blat blat of the alarms started. My wrist comp pinged a Fire on base alert before the sound cut off and a Situation under control ping covered the first. By then, I’d reached the door, and it hissed open on a scene that was definitely not under control.
Twenty slumped in a corner, a hand pressed to his forehead, slowing a trickle of blood. Surrounded by white froth, Avon released another burst of foam from a fire extinguisher onto what had been the middle bunk. And that Asshole was wrapped around Twenty-one, holding him down as he fought and cried to be free.
Growling like a shifter, I launched myself toward the fight, ready to commit some mayhem of my own. Then a fucking fireball came flying at my chest, and I threw myself down, sliding in the foam. Heat tickled up my spine, and I rolled, trying to quench the licks of flame clinging to my fatigues while not inhaling the foam. I folded my arms over my face just in time; Avon doused me with the extinguisher. When he stopped, I paused to reflect instead of jumping right back in.
“Make it stop. Please make it stop.” 
Twenty-one’s voice was so hoarse I barely recognized it, and so I doubted what I heard. A glance confirmed it — his lips moved in a constant stream of pleading words, blowing more bubbles in the bloody foam smeared across his face and the metal floor he was smashed against. A rode his back like a demonic monkey, elbows hooked under his arms and hands laced against his neck, forcing his head down. Her feet were hooked over his thighs, restricting his movements further, and she crooned a dumb-ass song at the edge of hearing.
Like music could soothe a savage breast.
Despite all that, tiny flames wreathed Twenty-one’s fingers. He’d done it. He’d learned to summon fire, proving he was a mage — no matter what the humans said.
But the flames flickered and died as I watched, and the begging trailed off. A comp squawked — an officer demanding answers — and when A released Twenty-one to scramble through the mess of foam, Twenty-one didn’t get up.
“Sir, as reported, the situation is under control.” A knelt, spine straight, as she answered the comp.
“The cameras failed after the first alert.” The officer’s scowl was plain, even without visuals. “Give me a status report.”
“Mages Avon and Nova are unharmed. Cleanup is necessitated for one bunk, damaged, and one extinguisher, used. Variation Twenty Subject A has taken a knock to the head. Biometrics are stable. Variation Twenty-one Subject B has ceased to function and will need to be packaged for return.”
The stone-cold bitch hadn’t paused in her recitation.
“What? One of you… toys… died?” The officer swore. “How?”
A stared at Twenty-one and something I recognized flitted across her face before she answered.
“Failure to thrive.”
Twenty laughed once — a harsh bark — and Avon threw the canister at the wall with a clang. The officer didn’t hear or didn’t care, giving orders for us to stand by for a damage assessment crew and signing off.
I barely heard. Fire coursed through my veins. Twenty-one was dead and that fucking asshole…
“You’re jealous.” Rage coated my words, turning my voice into a caricature. Three sets of eyes snapped to me; I met the green ones and, for once, they stayed focused.
“Yes, sir.”
Unbelievable. The unmitigated gall. 
Avon made a hoarse noise, and a hand dragged at his round-linked collar. I wanted to go to him, make sure he was alright. But I couldn’t let that Asshole get away with it.
“So you killed him?” Fire and something more danced across my hands now, mimicking the moments before Twenty-one’s death. The pain from my collar fueled my wrath. When A shook her head, I cut her off. “Don’t lie. I can see straight through you. Even if you didn’t stab him — or whatever you think ‘failure to thrive’ means — you could have stopped it.”
The asshole turned to look at Twenty-one instead of meeting my accusation.
“Have you ever had a balloon?”
“What the fuck does that have to do with your assholery?” For a heartbeat, I almost let her win. Then I realized what she was doing. “Distractions, huh? Not going to work.” Abandoning superficial threats, I yanked all the magery I could pull with the collar locking me down. It burned like acid, and I realized I was pulling from more than myself.
But I didn’t stop.
“Nov—” Avon broke off with a gasp when I stabbed the power into A’s chest.
It exploded, spraying gore and viscera outward to coat the room. Blood and bits mixed with the foam into an unpleasant slurry that squished beneath my knees as I collapsed, straining for breath as the collar fired every nerve in my body before cutting off.
Shaking and gasping in the aftermath, I stared at Avon, who had also fallen into the mess to writhe and gasp, realizing I’d signed our death warrants and knowing the executioner wouldn’t be merciful. And all for some rando I’d known for less than a week.
“Avon…” I crawled toward my brother, unmindful of the nastiness soaking my fatigues. He curled tighter and didn’t reach toward me.
The door slid open and Dia skidded in, coat askew and hair standing on end.
“What happened? The biome—” His face went grey when he saw the carnage. “What…?”
“Twenty-one’s dead.” Finally within arm’s reach, I stretched toward my brother. He cringed away. “Avon…” My voice died, too.
“What did you do?” Dia stormed over and yanked me around to face him.
“Something awesome, that’s what.” Twenty shoved off the wall, wobbling as he stepped into the bloody foam. “Best show since I got here. Better than feeding A caf-blend last night. But so wasteful.” He scooped up a handful of foam and frowned at the red melting into it. “Couldn’t you have, I dunno, done that before the fire? Lea’s always wanted some of that.”
“So glad our imminent destruction amuses you. Maybe you can get a front-row seat for the whipping?” I glared half-heartedly; whipping was the least of what they’d do to us.
“Why?” Twenty’s head tipped, genuine curiosity shining through. He waved at the mess. “This? A’s already replaced the video. Same as the other night.”
“What?” Dia’s fingers fell open, and he glanced from A’s corpse to Twenty’s dismissive expression.
But it didn’t matter. I pulled away from Dia’s limp hands and crawled back to Avon. His shoulders shook in silent sobs that drew tears from my eyes.
“Last night? The night before?” Twenty shrugged. “Whatever. You suck for taking away my happy meds. And starving me? Inexcusable.” He scowled.
“Wrong dose, fine.” Dia waved an impatient hand. “Get on with it.”
“Fuck off — you asked! Your medicos made me cranky. I may have tried to pull A’s heart out through her stomach.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.
“Two nights ago.” Avon’s hoarse whisper cut through my heart. “When we took Twenty-one back, she was holding her stomach.”
“That’s not what I’m asking!” Dia dragged his hands across his hair. “How does a corpse hack the comps?”
“As if this one were so lucky.”
I did not scream like a toddler still in the crèche, no matter what Avon says. And if I had, you wouldn’t have heard me over Dia’s screaming.
A hauled herself to her knees, her naked torso knitting back together from the shattered fragments of spine and ribs. 
“Aw, still a failure?” Twenty rocked his head back and laughed until he had to cradle his head, which still bled sluggishly.
“Even more pointless than usual.” A grumbled — a sulky tone I’d expect from Twenty-one or Twenty — and scrambled to her feet. “This one will be in the shower.” She grabbed the plaid bag, which had somehow escaped the carnage, and slipped out the door just before the damage assessment squad poured through.