Providence

  July 31, 10:10

  I looked up at the excmation and felt that reaction appropriate.

  Ron was floating, several inches off the ground. However, instead of the joy or rather, any intense emotion (we expected rage), his expression matched Manhunter’s right now. Utter calmness entering the territory of biting cold.

  “I don’t have ser eyes,” the boy said while bobbing from his elevated position, his indifferent voice giving me a hint as to the reason for M’gann’s reaction.

  “I believe I may have the expnation for that,” Manhunter said and gnced at me, nodding.

  “Ron, I’m powering down the helmet.”

  “Okay,” he said, his voice and whole body dropping like a stone.

  “So?” Rob asked, alternating his gaze between me and the trio below. “What’s the verdict?”

  “Things worked as expected,” I remarked while checking the data recorded on the tablet. “The helmet did its job, as we all saw. There was some increased brain activity, but it didn’t have the effects we predicted. It was quite the opposite actually.”

  ““Yes.”” Manhunter and Ron said at the same time.

  They looked at each other and the expert in everything psionic continued. “We expected the increase in power to come with a proportionate increase in aggression due to the data we have on Match and the Blockbuster formu. However, this is where I believe we miscalcuted.”

  “Kryptonians do have psionic abilities, but they are hardlocked to do specific things. They do not have the freedom to… branch out, like we Martians do. In Superboy’s case, he has just a few of these hardlocked abilities… and they are all applications of the powerful psionic field embedded throughout his physiology.”

  This is where I had to interrupt.

  “Uh J’onn. How embedded is this field? Because I’ve scanned Ron with psi detectors before, and they picked up nothing.”

  “I would be surprised if you did. This field is intrinsic to his very being. I suspect it goes down to his very atoms.”

  “Which would expin why he does not age.”

  “Yes. Among many things.” Manhunter replied.

  This revetion actually expined a lot of things. Out of all the team members, it was Ron’s powers that confused me the most. There was just no sense to how they worked other than his ability to absorb sunlight.

  With Wally, his faulty connection with the Speed Force proved sufficient as an expnation. Kaldur was an Atntean. There was no mystery there. His race had adapted to life undersea, simple expnation.

  However, Ron’s abilities were haywire. He had infrared vision, microscopic, and telescopic vision, yet no X-Ray vision. Super hearing yet no enhanced sense of smell or taste. Don’t even get me started on his strength and durability. There was no sense to how it worked without a bio-electric aura.

  Thank goodness we’d done this test. Not only would my curiosity be sated, we finally have more information on the patchwork genetics Luthor’s scientists had done to create him.

  “I’m guessing the helmet activated something that made this embedded psionic field perceivable,” I said, recalling the thin sheath of red I saw enveloping Ron while he floated.

  Manhunter focused on the star of today’s show and answered. “Yes. It extended the range of the field slightly, forming a sheath that covered Superboy from head to toe. It went no further from that point and quietly continued to grow in strength. A form of tactile psychic activity."

  “Tactile telekinesis,” I hastily corrected, earning a few stares and nods.

  “There was something else right?” I asked, addressing not just the Martian but Ron as well.

  “My emotions,” he paused. “They were dulled, muted, almost gone. It was as if I was looking at things through a gray lens.”

  “That seems to be the only side effect. I suspect it stems from your Genomorph DNA or some unknown interaction between it and your Kryptonian one.”

  “Or it may result from all three. Remember, he’s human too,” I added.

  “...What does this mean for Ron?” Superman pced a hand on his brother’s shoulder and asked.

  “On my end,” I checked the test scan of Ron’s physiology, noting the slight residual changes in his entire profile, most of it concentrated in his brain. “The helmet seems to have changed things, but they are small and none of it is negative. Manhunter?”

  “He will need to be monitored in the coming days and weeks, but I believe we have little to worry about.”

  “What about his emotions?” asked Superman.

  “That’s fairly normal,” Manhunter answered, surprising not just me, but everyone else. Well, almost everyone. Grace had her arms crossed and was uncharacteristically quiet.

  She had a smirk though, and it made me think this girl wanted to do something crazy like cheer Ron on and sneak in more curses to deliberately make Big Blue uncomfortable.

  M’gann was the other unsurprised party.

  “On Mars, you need to have complete control of your emotions to be considered a master in the mind arts. Uncle J’onn is of course one of them and he’s been teaching me, but it’s hard.”

  Her entire demeanor went dour for a moment but she bounced back just as fast and pressed both her hands against the gss. “But for Ron to already have such control, and on his first try… his talent for this is amazing!“

  The team looked at Ron with renewed understanding while the boy himself struggled under their gaze, his expression somewhere between immense joy and constipation.

  “You go Ron,” Grace shouted, throwing her arm up. “Woaaah! Let’s fucking go!”

  I chuckled a bit too loudly at Superman’s natural reaction and he looked at me in exasperation. That super hearing. Can’t believe I forgot about it.

  Fortunately for me, I wasn’t in the universe where twin beams of bzing red would’ve followed. Superman took the joke in stride and asked Manhunter about the emotions again.

  “I’m still worried about his emotions. What if—”

  “You can be at ease my friend. It is not as extreme as you’re thinking. Remember the first thing he did after his powers activated.”

  “...He flew.”

  “And? Think harder,” Manhunter said.

  Ron clutched the back of his neck, looking away in an attempt to hide his mild embarrassment.

  Superman took all this in and his eyes widened. “Oh…”

  “Yes,” Manhunter said and this time pced his own hand on Ron’s shoulder. “Even with his emotions under tight control, he remains who he is. He doesn’t become a different person.”

  “Oh… then I’m sorry, Ron. For doubting you.”

  “It’s okay. I understand. You were just worried about me.”

  “KI—” Grace’s shout got cut off immediately by a hastily fired web.

  I couldn’t let her say whatever nonsense her demented mind had cooked up. This girl seriously needed training in dealing with people. Being a bull in a china shop would only get you so far.

  Ignoring the rising intensity of her gres with each failed attempt to free herself, I focused back on the trio.

  “One final thing,” Manhunter said, focusing on Ron specifically. “Since you remember how it felt to use your powers. Can you try accessing them again?”

  “But I don’t have the helmet.”

  “I know, and something tells me you don’t need it. Try thinking about the gray lenses you mentioned. Imagine putting them on, over everything, your anger, your fear, your happiness.”

  Ron closed his eyes and everyone tuned in, even Grace had given up trying to free herself.

  The seconds ticked by, bit by bit and for a while the struggle on our friend’s face was all we could see. Just shy of hitting the minute mark, his expression eased into what we’d come to associate with his unlocked powers.

  His feet left the ground, his whole body floating upward. He opened his eyes, blinking repeatedly at what he’d achieved. Joy chased away the cold on his features and he plummeted.

  “I did it,” he said. “I did it. I did it without the helmet!”

  The boys and Grace began to cp, while M’gann damn near had hearts in eyes. I smirked at the joyous atmosphere and decided to ruin something nice just for once.

  “Yes you did. Great work. Now, prepare for the boatload of tests.”

  “Ughhh.”

  Moods soured instantly, and I found it soothing in a way I’d rarely experienced.

  .

  .

  .

  .

  Belle Reve

  July 31, 13:00

  “I’m here for the prisoner transfer. You know the one.”

  “You’ll have to be specific sir—”

  “This is Belle Reve. There has never been a prisoner transfer from this pce. So when you say specific, do you mean what I think you mean? Prisoners are allowed to leave willy nilly? Looks like I have to make some calls.”

  “Please—sir don’t do that. I’ll get the transfer sorted immediately.”

  “See that you do,” I said and lowered my cell phone, keeping it in hand.

  The guard at the reception picked up the phone on his desk and made a quick call. I stared at him with the haughty face I’d been wearing since I arrived, ughing inwardly at his panicked reaction.

  I didn’t know it was this fun to behave like an asshole. Or maybe the asshole was inside me this whole time.

  My meeting with the admiral had borne multiple fruit, and one of them was the release of Cheshire into my custody. When I expined my patable and more humane alternative to the Suicide Squad, the admiral was all for it.

  He didn’t take kindly to the fact that Waller had received support for her insane initiative. So him agreeing to this was a way to prove her and her backers wrong. Of course, that meant putting his trust in me, someone he barely knew.

  However, that’s what the generous gifts were for. What better way to convince a commander than giving him the tools and resources to better the lives of his men?

  It took a bit, more than I liked, but Waller stopped pying around and delivered what I came for.

  From the same corridor she took to meet me the first time I came here, she appeared with an escort of heavily armored guards marching behind her.

  Jade’s orange jumpsuit and the clinking of her chains stood out like a girl in a comic book store despite the sandwich formation that had been formed around her.

  “Amanda Waller,” I smiled smugly and shifted my entire demeanor, putting both hands in the pockets of my long bck greatcoat. “The things I heard do not do you justice.”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “Oh… didn’t your bosses tell you? I’m just the guy here to take some load off your hands. Heard you were overworked,” I said and looked past her to the guards and then Jade.

  “Uncuff her,” I said with a dismissive wave.

  My orders hit, well… a wall.

  “They only take orders from me.”

  “Okay?” I waved my hand at her and then them. “What are you waiting for?”

  “Do it,” Waller said without looking back, the overweight woman looking like she wanted to strangle me with her gaze.

  A continuous shuffle of fabric and movement ensued, followed by the sound of chains. Jade walked forward after the whole kerfuffle and I frowned.

  “You must be a crappy warden if your guards can’t do this simple thing. Because I said uncuff her.”

  “She is a dangerous criminal. My men have been taught not to endanger themselves. Besides, they’re just simple cuffs. I’m sure you can manage. Now get out of my prison.”

  “Sheesh,” I waved Jade forward, but she didn’t move. “Looks like bitch and hardass were spot on.”

  “Get out!”

  “Well, right this way Miss Nguyen,” I said, this time waving at the duo of masked and armed agents behind me. “I don’t have all day.”

  They both fnked Jade and led her out while I followed. Outside the prison, a rge SUV awaited us, the engine already running. We all funneled in, Jade going in the back with the agents while I sat in my proper pce at the front.

  “Everyone settled?”

  Green on all fronts. I spped the dashboard twice, saying, “Let’s go,” and agent Michaels accelerated the vehicle, taking us away from the prison.

  I reached up to my face and peeled off the nano mask, doing away with the generic CIA spook appearance. The AC in the car hit my face proper and I reclined in the seat, releasing a contented sigh.

  The skin all over the rest of my body returned to its normal coloration and I looked behind me at the rear seats.

  “Hey,” I nodded at Jade. “Remember me? I said I’d get you out.”

  She processed what I said and narrowed her eyes, realisation dawning on her features.

  “You,” she said, her whole demeanor rexing slightly. This woman was ready to fight her way out of here.

  A part of me wanted to see that just to know how well my agents would fare against someone like her. But I dashed that thought. There would be plenty of time for that. After all, she worked for me now.

  “Let’s get those off you,” I gestured at chains around her wrists. She brought them forward and I grabbed the middle length, tearing it. I made short work of the ones around her wrists and crushed everything into a ball.

  I stopped looking at the backseat and rexed, pying with the metal ball, continuously squishing it into a smaller size.

  “Your mother gets out today. Do you want to go see her or do we go straight to business?”

  “What time?”

  “Huh?”

  “What time does she get out?”

  “Two hours from now give or take.”

  Silence.

  I guess going against your mother’s wishes and embracing the life she specifically didn’t want for you would make any reunion awkward to say the least. Maybe I should’ve just taken us to the prison and deprived her of the choice?

  When I put myself in Jade’s shoes, I don’t think I’d be able to face my mom. But she wasn’t me, and she didn’t strike me as someone who avoided her problems. She went after them aggressively with her twin sai.

  “I’ll go. But I can’t look like this. And the thing you promised—”

  “I’ve got it right here…” I patted my chest pocket, “...don’t worry.”

  A light bump went through the car and the angle of things shifted, like we were going up an incline. The long endless road and wide open field that stretched for miles on both sides melted into the dim, metal gray interior of the Zephyr II’s cargo hold.

  The engine died down and we all alighted, Jade being the st and the only one of us to be surprised and confused but hiding it well.

  “Don’t be so surprised. You’ll get used to it soon,” I said and waved her forward. Man, that orange really stands out. Being a prisoner must be one hell of an experience.

  “Agent Michaels, please show her to her bunk and tell Hoff to set a course for Gotham City.”

  “Sir.”

  The two women moved further away from the cargo hold toward the staircase that led to the upper decks while the two male agents went to man their own stations, whispering to themselves.

  “Thirty bucks says she prints weapons.”

  “Thirty? You’re on.”

  I huffed, stifling a chuckle. Thirty was going to lose. Sure, I had given Jade access to one of the ship’s fabricators so she could print whatever clothes and items she needed.

  However weapons were off the table. If she somehow circumvented the measures put in pce and attempted it, I would be notified. No weapons for miss assassin over here. Not yet at least.

  Immortality sounds glorious.

  Until you are the one still standing at the family altar, watching everyone you loved turn into names on wood.

  RCW: Real Cultivation World is cultivation with receipts. Pills spoil. Talismans smudge. The cn counts spirit stones before it counts favors, and progress is measured in years, not chapters.

  Elian has a cheat, but it is not a golden ticket. It is a small edge in a world that still wants him dead, indebted, or broken.

  If you want a cultivation story where power has weight, time has teeth, and “family” means shelter and competition in the same breath:

  Read RCW: Real Cultivation World on ScribbleHub: https:///series/2172950/rcw-real-cultivation-world/