Epilogue

28/8/2088, 1:19 AM, Arley

The agent had evacuated the remaining students from the school later on. She left officially, allowing me, Delta and my colleagues to "take care of the rest".

We left the adults there, tied up, with a note on them (unsurprisingly, the Headmaster was still at the school, but only three of the fourteen orderlies there).

"Hey twiddle-dicks! We're kinda tired with the whole vigilante bullshit so. Talk with Kim Possible over there (wherever "over there" is right now) so we can sort this out. Etc. We're not the bad guys here." Of course, the feds always thought the "Xeno" were the bad guys, but I didn't add that in. It should've been in the note, too... but it would've pissed them off even more.

Delta, you could say, approved of his wording.

Shortly after, we met up with some folks who'd managed to escape the school in-between. They were on the run too.

In the middle of our meeting, the military busted down the door. They found a trace of someone's powers, using special dogs to find us.

There were explosions - a lot of rustle and tussle. We all made a quick escape. We'd "gone missing" for a bit. (Those agents really did not give a shit about us, eh?)

Thus, the timestamp of an era where a smudge of justice was presented to Xeno-beings. It was small... it may not be the start to anything real big, but it had to count for something, right? No, it didn't. But it did for us.

***

We held a petition on deciding the group's name and the individual alias everyone will have; I'd consider what our signature could be. It'll be one of the many small steps we'll be taking in means of leading up to something much, much bigger. Whatever that could be?

It may be a bit cheesy if we name our "group" so it'd better be a clever name. It has to be something as good as the Sailor Guardians or the Justice League or [insert obscure reference here]. Would it be so bad to have an identifier?

Delta wants to be known as Aquanetta. I have no fresh sense in hell of what mine will be.

Who knows? Maybe I'll get the super-suit I've always wanted.

Though, we did get a Family Dog. It's only me, Delta, Jamie, Josh and the techie, Omar (he isn't a permanent resident - he's more vagabond), now. We aren't much of a family, but it is a much better family than the biological family I have. Or... used to have.

Jamie senses that it is not over. I can relate to the premonition.

The student that'd designed the device for me, Omar, (the one that was a modified game console) says he "modified" it further.

We get to stay at the agent's Headquarters for awhile. Clusters of our people parted ways, others staying at the Headquarters, others going home to their families. A "deal" was arranged so that we were no longer considered vigilantes. Those with no want for any other home came with Delta and I.

We've been living in one of Omar's apartments. We later found somewhere else to occupy the spaces of, vacant - a place that needed some work.

Delta and I started to go to school - an actual high school... Harley's high school. The agent checked up on us once or twice before dropping us. Somehow, I knew she'd be unreliable.

"How are the kids?"

Silence.

"You know, the students...?"

The line disconnects.

A letter arrived at our doorstep - an offer to join an academy, one of the likes of us. I'd consider it. Delta looked into it. She told me, "What's the worst that could happen?"

I've small plans to make our place of residence into an academy perhaps, or... something like that. An academy where the Xeno-beings would not have to live in fear for their lives, one where they could thrive, if I could choose. The older kids would help with it. But that was... wishful thinking, you know?

The academy that offered us a "scholarship" of sorts had prepared shit for us. By "shit", I mean that I was introduced to a school uniform that represented the academy's signature, including a skin-tight, obviously spandex, white suit laced with gold. I probably won't wear it... ever. Even if i did consider myself a hero, I'm not wearing a damn super-suit, at least not until I had a reason to. It could be a start to whatever I plan to make out of this "house".

This all seemed easy. Too easy. Was I wrong to think that?

Who is Chemical X, really...?

***

I was in one of the rooms, strumming the strings on a trashy guitar. I found a lot of worn-out merch of bands, games... comics. This shit is technically vintage!

I heard a knock on the doors of the house. Jamie and Delta confronted our visitors. I flew through the halls to see it for myself.

As I neared earshot, I heard a stranger. "...Xero Heroes. Or Zero, but Xero makes it punny. More of a catchphrase than an official name."

"You were all over the news for quite some time," another one had said.

"And?" Delta asked.

Jamie added, "We're not a shelter for Xeno."

"We're from the academy," someone else pitched in.

They've come here, speaking of a Number 7. But I already know what they're here for.