The mix of grit and sweat had turned her hair into a matted, lifeless mess.

  Vicky wiped the sweat trickling down her flushed cheeks with her arm, brushing her bangs back and narrowing her crystalline eyes.

  The image of her head turning into a pressure cooker releasing steam from her ears flitted through her mind, and it wasn’t far from reality.

  They’d been out under the blazing desert sun for nearly three hours, exposed and far from any prying eyes. The sky was a relentless, blinding blue, and the searing heat of the afternoon showed no mercy, with temperatures stubbornly holding at over a hundred degrees.

  This was their second day there, enduring the same brutal conditions, and while her naturally tan skin offered her more protection than Adam’s, she had to admit that his advice about wearing sunscreen had been a lifesaver. Without it, her bronzed tone would’ve already given way to an unattractive, angry red.

  The advice she regretted following, however, was wearing this uncomfortable miniskirt.

  Every time she tried to do something as simple as move her legs, the skirt was there to remind her that following trends set by other women never ended well for her. She was so used to wearing pants that being stuck in one of these short, clingy things made her feel half-naked and utterly ridiculous.

  The upper half of her outfit wasn’t doing her any favors either. Her T-shirt clung to her, sticky with sweat and dust, while the elastic straps crisscrossing her chest to secure the folded Daedalus jetpack on her back only added to her discomfort.

  “Why don’t you take it off?” Adam suggested. He was about twenty yards away, shirtless and clearly not too bothered by the sun.

  “If you give me your pants, I’ll trade you this awful miniskirt,” she shot back.

  “First of all, it’s not awful—it’s part of a new women’s clothing line my friend launched, and I bought it to support her,” he clarified. “Second, I wasn’t talking about the skirt. I meant your T-shirt.” He gestured to his own, which he’d fashioned into a makeshift skirt, tucking it into the elastic waistband of his shorts.

  “Maybe I’ll do that when you grow breasts,” Vicky shot back, punctuating her words with a thumb gesture he figured was the Markabian equivalent of flipping someone off.

  Adam took off his cap, ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, and put the cap back on. He spread his legs apart like a baseball batter ready to face a pitch, his sneakers crunching the dry, cracked ground beneath him. He waited for her to restart the game.

  Vicky raised her arm, revealing an energy ball in her hand, and hurled it toward him.

  Despite the sun’s glare and shimmering heat waves on the horizon, Adam caught sight of the glowing blue sphere hurtling his way. He conjured a makeshift bat out of his white flames and swung, shattering the orb into a shower of sparks that scattered across the desert.

  “Ha! In your face!” he shouted, celebrating his victory with a ridiculous dance.

  “You seem… very enthusiastic,” she remarked. “Glad to see you’ve moved past this morning’s rough patch.”

  Adam mimicked his batting swing. “Moved past it? Nah. I just imagine every Fotia is Halstein’s face. Or that guy Gabor’s. You have no idea how satisfying it is to see them pop.”

  Vicky tossed two more energy balls his way. “That is, when you actually hit them.”

  Adam swatted them away with his fiery bat technique. “Uh-uh. Remember, girl—my Kappa Radiation devours your… what’s it called again? Enhanced Fluctuating Discharge?”

  Vicky fired a third shot, obscured by a cloud of sand. Adam didn’t see it in time, and it struck him square in the chest, knocking him flat on his back in a shower of blue sparks.

  “Not sure why you’re so pleased,” she teased, walking over. “Out of fifteen shots, you’ve only hit three. Your aim is terrible. And be grateful you’re immune to my Fotias and only feel the impact—otherwise, we’d be rushing you to the hospital right now.”

  She wasn’t wrong, and the worst part? Adam was starting to get used to the electric tingles from the bombs and the rough landings. He stayed on the ground, letting the hot wind coat him in desert dust. At this point, he was so filthy that a little more dirt hardly mattered.

  “I’ve got an idea…” he said, spitting out a bit of sand as he sat up. He brushed the grime off his face and shielded his eyes from the sun. “Let’s call it a day and go watch a movie or something. What do you say? Huh?”

  Vicky walked away, returning to her previous position.

  “Second day of training, and you already want to quit? We’re not leaving until you practice your flight again. Who knows if we’ll even see each other after tomorrow.”

  Adam snorted. “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic, dear?”

  With a smile at that ‘dear’ spoken in a Markabian accent, Vicky charged up a Fotia and hurled it at him, forcing him to react.

  Adam destroyed the orb with a punch, leapt into the air, and hovered about fifteen feet off the ground—a bit higher than he’d intended. He still couldn’t quite control the force of his takeoffs, and it annoyed him to no end. But he had to admit, he wasn’t doing half bad.

  Eager to keep defying gravity, he performed a few mid-air flips, this time without losing his balance like before. Floating there, filthy, sweaty, and with his hair in a dusty mess, he felt powerful and reckless. Throwing up his middle finger at the bright blue sky, he let out a raucous laugh.

  “This one’s for you, Gabor!” he yelled, slapping his abdomen. “My abs are making a comeback! You’ll see them shining in all their glory!”

  “What are you even talking about, you lunatic?”

  “And you, kiddo! Bring me down if you can!” he challenged her. But as he glanced down, he noticed a new shadow joining his own on the desert floor.

  Vicky was behind him. Damn, she was fast!

  Adam licked his lips, tasting dirt and blood, and when he turned around, he saw her hovering about thirty feet above him. The propulsion system was deployed behind her back, forming two small, chrome-colored wings. He met her gaze and instantly understood her intentions, snapping out of the nearly euphoric state he’d slipped into.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Hey! You know what happens if you get too close to me! We tried this yesterday—it wasn’t fun!”

  “It will be, if you can keep your distance this time.”

  “That’s the problem, Vicky. I don’t think I can outfly you…”

  “You will!” she said, diving straight for him.

  Adam bolted away, putting as much distance between them as possible.

  Vicky stopped midair and darted toward him again.

  He flew in the opposite direction, but she kept on his tail.

  Up, down, left, right—the two of them zigzagged through the sky.

  “Remember,” Vicky shouted, “the secret is keeping your distance from me!”

  “I know!”

  “Six feet! Keep six feet between us, and we’ll be fine!”

  “I know!”

  Pushing himself to his limit, Adam increased his speed. His shirt came loose from the elastic waistband of his shorts and shot off like a missile. Vicky swatted it aside mid-flight.

  “Six feet! Six feet!” she repeated.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Adam saw she was still there, making it nearly impossible to shake her off.

  “Faster! Faster!” Vicky stretched her arms forward as if she was about to grab his ankles. “Come on, soldier! I can’t enter your control zone!”

  “Then back off already!”

  “That’s not happening! Fly faster!”

  Adam could hear the sharp whistle of the Dedalus propulsion system closing in on him.

  “Faster!” she shouted.

  “I’m trying!”

  “Faster!”

  “I said I’m trying, damn it!”

  But she was faster and broke through the bubble surrounding Adam—intangible, yet as real as the wind itself.

  Vicky crossed into the invisible field of Kappa radiation he was emitting, and the whine of the Daedalus units slicing through the air suddenly went silent. The chrome wings still shimmered with their silvery glow, but now they were just lights; the antigravity engines were still running, but for some reason, they no longer produced any thrust.

  Vicky managed to glide a few more feet using her momentum, but even after exiting Adam’s radiation field, her propulsion system didn’t reactivate. She began to lose altitude, like a glider stripped of its lift.

  When she finally stalled, she plummeted from the sky like a trapeze artist who’d lost her grip.

  Adam spun midair and dove after her.

  She stretched out her arms, expecting him to catch her—but her hands were… closed? What the hell?!

  Adam had to push harder against the air resistance and managed to catch her just a few feet above the ground, grabbing her by the forearms.

  Then she lifted her face and looked at him with a satisfied smile. Had that been her plan all along—create a dangerous situation just to force him to react quickly?

  “The next time you feel like pulling a stunt like that, Vicky, keep your hands open, will you? Makes it easier for me to save you.”

  “And risk you snapping my wrists or a finger with that grip of yours? No way! I was in free fall! I’d rather take a bruise than a broken bone, man.”

  That last word—man—mimicking Proxima’s accent, made Adam smile in spite of himself.

  As they glided back down to solid ground, the memory came rushing back. Something similar had happened long ago, in the woods outside Markabia—only back then, the roles were reversed. It had been Vicky who saved him from crashing into the ground.

  And of course, the cause of that fall hadn’t been Kappa radiation and its strange effects, but a malfunction in the gravitational system of his flight wings.

  That time, Vicky had come down from the sky with him clinging to her arms. Her Daedalus thrusters shot out streams of light, slowing their descent through the trees.

  “Do you ever listen, Juzo?” she’d said. “How many times do I have to tell you? Stop buying jetpacks on the black market. That old guy just picks up the junk the military throws away and sells it back to you with a fresh coat of paint.”

  “I can’t afford anything better,” he’d said. “Resupplying fruit and veggies at the market doesn’t exactly rake in the profits—and you know it.”

  “Well, if it’s just a matter of money…” Vicky winked at him. “You know, we could work out a trade, something between you and me. What do you say?”

  She had made her intentions perfectly clear. Even so, he had simply answered with a calm smile.

  How he’d longed to kiss her back then! Why hadn’t he? Who knew? Maybe because, at the time, he’d been a fool—too caught up in brooding over his poor decisions, financial and personal, to express his feelings and enjoy the moment with someone he loved.

  But now, he had a chance to fix that mistake.

  He pulled her closer and kissed her.

  And she kissed him back.

  For a moment, their lips lingered together in the middle of the desert.

  Until she pushed him away.

  Worse still, she wiped her lips. Then she stepped back, the chrome wings of her propulsion system still extended, confusion and even anger flashing in her eyes.

  “What are you doing?”

  At that moment, Adam realized they weren’t in the woods outside Markabia but in the desert near Proxima. He realized he wasn’t Juzo, but Adam, and that he could no longer make up for lost time because those past regrets belonged to his brother.

  As far as Vicky was concerned, the time Juzo had to right his wrongs had run out weeks ago, when he died. Adam would always be both Juzo and himself, but that didn’t mean Vicky saw it that way.

  Shame washed over him like the scorching desert sun.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

  Vicky managed a small nod of forgiveness and even mustered a brief, awkward smile to soften the blow. She blushed, and a lump in her throat kept her from brushing off the awkwardness as quickly as she wanted to. Because, to be honest, for the first few seconds of the kiss, she hadn’t just allowed it—she’d returned it.

  Yes, for an instant, Vicky hadn’t kissed Adam. She’d kissed Juzo.

  “It’s okay,” she said at last. “I know… Sometimes you’re not entirely yourself.”

  Adam lowered his head and took the opportunity to pick up his shirt, lying not far away, to delay the moment he would have to lift his gaze and meet hers.

  First, the bitter scene in the White Box of Surprises, enduring Dr. Gabor’s ridiculous accusations—each as inappropriate as they were painfully true—and now this. A perfect ending to a day full of humiliation.

  He grabbed the shirt, shook off the dirt, and draped it over his shoulders.

  “Hey, I mean it,” she said, trying to encourage him. “It’s okay.”

  Adam answered with a half-hearted smile and started walking eastward, toward the car.

  The sun beat down on his bare back. The scrapes from so many falls burned on his neck, shoulders, and elsewhere, the mix of sweat and sand irritating his skin. He rubbed at them with the shirt to dull the itching and kept moving.

  His shadow stretched ahead of him, wobbling like a defeated ghost, as his dirty sneakers crunched against the dry ground.

  They had a long stretch of desert to cross before reaching the car. How could he fill the void with idle chatter to avoid letting silence remind them of his little slip-up?

  As they walked, Vicky pressed the small clasp at the center of her elastic harness, deploying the wings of her thruster pack. The turbines glinted silver, but no hum came from the engines. A few steps ahead, she tried again, and this time it worked. The hum turned into a whistle, signaling she was ready to take to the skies.

  “You can go on ahead if you want,” Adam said.

  “No, this is fine,” she replied. Still walking, she kept the wings extended and the engine running—perhaps as a backup in case the awkwardness between them became unbearable.

  But then a sharp crackle came from the Daedalus pack, silencing the engine and extinguishing its silvery glow.

  Vicky unstrapped the pack, manually folded the wings, opened a compartment on the central casing, and pulled out a burnt crystal capacitor. She held it up for him to see.

  “This time, it didn’t just lose power like yesterday,” she said, slinging the pack back over her shoulders. It seemed she also needed something to talk about, anything to make her discomfort less obvious—though her attempts to act natural while avoiding eye contact were painfully transparent. “Well, if you want, you can…” She gestured, as if to say, ‘Go ahead.’

  Adam considered it. As tempting as the offer to get away from her as quickly as possible was, he declined. There was always the alternative of flying her to the car in his arms, but after what had just happened, it was best to avoid any physical contact for now.