March 1st, 2185 -- 6:35 PM.

  It’s nice to get some fresh air for once. I don’t have to worry about accidentally crashing into a wall or something stupid like that.

  An earpiece crackles, followed by a voice: “All good Raylight?” she asks in a tone tired and wanting to take a break. Jane’s definitely exhausted from our fight with that giant crab. It’s not like I can blame her; as powerful as her signature 8-barreled revolver is, it doesn’t help that not much of her energy reserves are diverted to personal protection and she has to keep darting around to remain effective. It’s only been an hour since then anyhow.

  “Mhm!” I answer, soaring like a bird on my winged jetpack. The thrusters spurt out a constant flame as raw electrical energy is converted to a force keeping me up in the air. “Just peachy!” I add, keeping the high voice my manager keeps telling me to use. She says that I’m beautiful when I’m like this. Considering her definition of ‘beauty’ involves wearing only a crop top, shorts, and heels, I’m not sure how much I believe her on that.

  Still, I don’t have much of a choice in the matter. My life is theirs. I’m almost tempted to turn on the autopilot on my thing, let myself coast on the winds and let my thoughts wander. It remains a bad idea. I’ve flown for so long on my own. My wings should belong to me and me alone. I dare not to let go of the straps and instead look down, thinking of my own throat. Will my voice always sound like this, so young and hyper?

  Jane at least has the luxury of being gruff and stubborn; that’s her persona as a cowboy marksman. Nightingale is the stoic leader who gives us commands, Lucifer is the shy mage who strikes from any distance with powerful energy bolts, and Renegade is the crazy loose cannon. What am I supposed to be then? A mere scout who looks on from above and reports on the important details? Someone who exposes the gaping wounds of Boss Monsters?

  The intercom again crackles to life: “Raylight, we’ve got something,” Nightingale announces in his cold tone. “You’ll need to come down, alright?”

  Again? Really? With a twist, the wings shift down and I descend. Diving into the undergrowth of the High Forest, leaves scrape against the hard light barrier between me and my skin, singing at touch. Right before I hit the ground, I pull up and roll on the ground. My hand plants itself in the ground as I extend one out to my side, looking right up with a smirk.

  There’s a giggle from Jane and sighs from the rest of my teammates. “Can’t help but be dramatic, can you?” Renegade mocks. I flip the finger at him. Somehow, this gets more of a laugh. Incidentally, I look over and notice the odd human-sized leaf bud oozing out black liquid.

  I gesture my hands to the cocoon: “So just blow up the thing?” I ask. “Why’d you call me down?!”

  “There’s a person inside,” Jane explains, flipping up her infrared visor. “Alive too. None of us want to touch the icky stuff, so...”

  “Fine.” The ring around my finger glows a neon blue like my hair, beams of energy spawning forth that latch onto the leaves. I give a simple flourish downwards. At once, the cocoon unwraps as the leaves are pulled to the ground and out flows a woman with a torn shirt. Liquid gushes out with her, the rest of my teammates instinctively stepping back; I merely roll my eyes at their cowardice.

  “This is what you’re scared of?” I demand.

  “Well,” Lucifer starts, “she’s a woman-”

  Jane shoves him out of the way. “Move over.” Looking around for a moment, she asks, “She’s alright, right?”

  “Whoever she is, yeah,” I answer. My hand resting against her neck feels a strong pulse. Her heart remained strong despite whatever seemed to get her in this situation in the first place. At least we were lucky enough to find her here.

  Footsteps approach; they're boots stepping through dirt. “Found a jacket around here,” Jane adds. Raising the woman’s arms, she fits the jacket around her and zips it up. “You want me to handle the shock?”

  “I have to!”

  “Raylight-” Renegade starts, only for me to raise my hand. He stops whatever nonsense he was going to say.

  “I have to,” I repeat. What use am I otherwise?

  “Bwuh?” a voice asks. I look down, the woman from before blinking. Her red eyes adjust to the fading sunlight and focus on my own face. “Am I in heaven already?”

  “Nope,” I answer. “Just the real world.” She looks to her left and right, then down at her chest. “Your shirt was torn up,” I add. “So we... put that jacket back on. It is yours, right?”

  She gives a short nod. Getting up and brushing her jean legs, she looks around for another time, right in the direction of the trees. We all turn but see no one nor nothing -- just shadows playing tricks on our eyes.

  “We should get going,” I add. “You can trust us! I’m-”

  She merely waves her hand. “I know who you are -- Team Sunset. Let’s just go.” A sigh leaves her mouth. Looking up to the sky, she mumbles, “It’s just been a long day.”

  Oof, she must be really out of it. I begin flying again, trusting my team to take care of this while I continue to soar. There is some turbulence as I get up at a safe altitude; a few bumps here and there. Still, a few button presses are enough to stabilize me. Having nothing better to do, I roll around and flip over to face the orange sky. A sunset, akin to the one we used for our team photo.

  For a moment, I hover in the air. I stare into the sun that starts to burn my retinas. The emergency glasses kick in and protect my eyes from any further damage, obviously. It’s so bright that it starts to blind everyone who looks at it.

  I remind myself of the wound on my right arm -- a thin burn scar. Everyone thought it was an accident after I overloaded the ring too often and the energy beam backfired. There was some truth in that -- it was a good cover to hide five miniscule letters though; R, O, B, I, and N. Robin, the name before this mess. I don’t even remember being called this, I just saw it from a file that had my picture on it. It has to mean something. It just has to. I can’t forget it. Once my contract is up, maybe I’ll go into the music business. Sure, idol culture is hell based on how often Nightingale talks about BTS, but it’s a chance to travel the world.

  “So,” Jane asks, sounding anxious. Even from here, I can practically hear her fiddling her thumbs. “Are you a Hunter?”

  Where did that come from?

  “Sorry????” The woman asks.

  “Nothing,” Jane mumbles back. Giving a slight pause, she adds, “I must have misread something.”

  Well, whatever. I cannot be half-assed to deal with this right now. They just keep walking as I soar, gliding above the noise. Thankfully, it’s not long before we make it back to the Rest Stop marked by blue holographic light. I hear some ‘woos’ by people hoping to keep up with our legacy. Or rather, people trying to fit in shoes too small for them. I land again, prompting the crowd to cheer for whatever reason.

  Some men continue to look me up, only for Jane to step in front of the crowd. Renegade trails behind me as the stares press on. “Is she ok?” I ask.

  Jane turns with a questioning look.

  “That woman,” I clarify.

  Jane simply gives a nod. She points over to the line back where one person in a muddly violet jacket shivers. No one else seems to notice; it’s a shame. I start to reach my hand out. The crowd, naturally, starts to reach back for me and I instinctively draw my hand back. The only thing that stops them is Jane putting a cautious hand on her revolver. The woman seems to notice though, giving a weak smile and a nod.

  I hesitate, but I wave back, seeming to relieve the woman. Her face is soon blocked by the rabid crowd continuing to shove cameras, Jane again moving in front of them, much to the dislike of our audience.

  “Need my cloak?” she mumbles. I shake my head -- it’d look worse if I did. She pauses, but proceeds; nothing we can do about it.

  What makes me so special to them? Why do they want only me and no one else? Everyone is cooler than me, better than me. These people, they don’t want to see me, I’ve always known that. It doesn’t make it hurt any less.

  The crowd’s cheers become muffled as we go through our own private portal, getting back ‘home’. The walls remain the same as since we left; made of pristine quartz white tile and cleansed of blood since the last time we came in. Renegrade grunts, rolling around his shoulder. “Stupid crab. You still alright Lucifer?”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “Yes,” he sighs, dropping the shy facade and getting snarky. “Of course I am. I should be asking you, Nightingale, and Raylight that.” He’s not wrong; as powerful as our hard light barriers are, some of the force still transfers over to our bodies. I wince at the aches in my shoulders from when a rock was thrown at me; took me a moment to properly fix my shoulder. The pale-white foundation they make me wear really does wonders at hiding the bruises.

  Most of us -- aside from Lucifer -- enter our own dormitories. It was just at the end of the hall, close to the Warp Portal. They’re just simple beds, decorated at our own expense. A lot of the time, we leave unwrapped gifts around from ‘fans.’ I constantly get the most, annoyingly. It’s gotten to the point where I give them to everyone else and I still have a surplus. Right now, I count twenty gifts that I still haven’t sorted out. We’ve all agreed to open them together since the last time; someone sent in a poisoned pie once, and that... seemed to do something. I think everyone mellowed out after that, even though they were a bit jealous before. I unstrap my jetpack and nest it against the charging port, plugging in the cables.

  “We managed to get something,” Nightingale suddenly says. “Made sure no one saw us.”

  Lucifer walks into the room, holding a small box. Inside it was...

  “A cake,” I murmur. It’s a small blueberry cake. It’s not a slice either; it’s a whole cake. A pale blue frosted cake with cute cream swirls at the edges. Delicately, Renegade breaks the top with two candles. Lucifer taps them both with his staff, igniting the tips.

  Jane pats me on the shoulder. “Happy fifteenth birthday.”

  She starts to walk out, the boys following her. I’m just left alone in the room now, lights still buzzing.

  Haha. I said that blueberries were my favorite fruit, didn’t I? It must have been so long ago that I stated that. Some fans kept wanting to send me gifts and a reporter asked me what my favorite fruit was. I answered with something the same color as my suit.

  There’s a plastic fork left in the box. With one clean motion, I sever the tip right off. Its taste is sickly sweet, like honey left out in the sun to slowly age.

  “I hate blueberries,” I whisper.

  I continue to eat, the sugars still sticking to my tongue. The candles are left for last, continuing to burn away at the wax. Soon enough, they’ll decay like everything else. I hold them in my hands, unafraid of the inconsequential heat. I almost wonder what they’d feel like against my tongue. Yet, there’s one thing to do:

  “I want my name.”

  With one huff, they’re blown out. Embers remain, fire flying out in this room. Yet, this fire can’t escape.

  How poetic.

  There’s stomping from down the hall, boots clanking against the floor. I hastily take the box and start tucking it under my bed. By the time I get up, it’s opened; in steps Jane.

  “Sorry,” she apologizes. “The crowd out there is desperate for you. I just said you had ‘woman troubles’, but the wigged guys on high want you out now.” He takes a look around the room, face burrowing. “Hey, where’s the box?”

  “Right here,” I answer, taking it out from under my bed. I pass it over to her, whereupon she motions to her lip and wipes. I do the same, feeling the frosting touch my hand. I am so lucky she answered the door. A napkin is placed into my palms, immediately used to clean my hands.

  Jane stretches, now out of her cloak -- her loose curly purple hair flows out, complementing her beach-tan skin. I still can’t help but wonder why they never pick her, Nightingale, or even Renegade. They’re as good as me, so why am I in the spotlight?

  “Hey, that reminds me.”

  “Hmm?” Jane asks, opening one eye.

  “Why did you think that woman we saw was a Hunter?”

  “Uhh,” Jane starts, “Well, my visor found a foreign object inside her. Seemed metallic and matched her own heartbeat."

  I can’t help but raise my own eye. “Really?” It’s not uncommon for Hunters to augment themselves so they can handle the conditions or terrain. Even us Players have gone through modifications at times. Ever since the Carnia-Dragon Incident though, there’s been an age limit for how young people have to be. “Didn’t strike me as a Hunter though.”

  “Yeah, should have had heavier armor. But no, she’s just in civilian clothing. Weirdly enough, she only had a revolver.”

  “...Don’t you only have revolvers?”

  Jane sighs: “A standard Yotta revolver.” Oh, right; Jane’s revolver keeps making me forget just how weak ‘civilian issue’ weapons are.

  “Well, maybe she’s just a Looter who wants to play it safe, right? That’s more likely.”

  “Mm, maybe,” Jane admits, rubbing her chin to seem more mature. “Would explain why she didn’t have any equipment left on her. Probably got caught in some creature’s trap. Good thing we found her when we did, right?”

  “Yep.” At least we managed to save someone; who knows what would have happened if we were just a moment too late? “You still think she’ll be ok though?”

  I just shake my head. “Therapy, at least.”

  “Like us?”

  “Such a shame our agency can’t fit it in the budget, you know?”

  We arrive at the doors. I take a deep breath in.

  “Knock ‘em dead,” Jane suggests. “You still don’t-”

  “I have to,” I interrupt. “One of us has to burn bright.”

  I shove them open, cameras flashing. I stroll down the strutway, feeling everyone look at me, stare. I take the stand, putting on a smile as I wave to the crowd.

  “Hey everyone!” I start. “Good to see you all, once more!”

  “Are you considering a new member as of now?”

  “Mm, have to ask my agency!” Last time, they went rabid when I leaked Jane’s arrival. For some reason, that fame died down when they actually saw her. Still, I got in a lot of trouble just by announcing the possibility of her joining.

  “Anyone you’re considering dating? Maybe little Lucifer?”

  Ew. I don’t like boys. Also, he’s an older brother to me.

  “Or Team Wildfire?” Ugh, I hated those pricks. Jane and Nightingale made sure I was never in a room alone with those guys and I’m happy they kept it that way.

  Still, it doesn’t matter what I think. I merely repeat the words I was told to use: “Nope, still open!”

  “What are your thoughts on the Robin Williams case?” a woman in the front now. What? Wait, is that my name?! Robin Williams?!

  “Sorry?” I ask, happening to lean down. “The what now?”

  “The case of Robin Williams, where he was shot by the Hydra Military Division on suspicions of being a mutant.” Oh... it’s not me. It couldn’t be me, of course. How could you be so stupid? “Currently, his family is counter-suing the state for lynching a man with zero evidence. What are your thoughts?”

  Crap, I’m... ugh. I should have paid more attention to what she was saying before blindly asking questions.

  I give the honest answer this time: “Well, it’s tragic.” I take off the tone, letting my voice go deeper. “It’s something that shouldn’t have happened. I extend my thoughts and prayers to their family.” And the hope that they win that case.

  I continue to answer questions for the crowd, standing for two hours until the event finally concludes. I take a bow, then retire to my quarters.

  Everyone else is off to sleep, lights off. I don’t bother changing, just going to my own bed and tucking myself in. What hell is going to happen tomorrow?

  Best case, I’ll be taken off field duty and yelled at by my agency over that mishap.

  “I saw what happened,” Jane adds, stirring. “I also left some clothes in the bathroom. Better to change, right?”

  “Mhm,” I answer, still knowing that she means the best. I make a quick change, use some mouthwash, floss, then fall back into bed.

  “It just isn’t right,” Lucifer starts. “Why do they have to execute mutants?”

  Renegade replies: “‘Because they’re a threat to all humanity’.” He scoffs at his own answer. “As if.”

  “Yet the news has been full of hostile interactions,” I softly admit.

  “So what, we were supposed to shoot John?” Lucifer demands.

  The whole room quiets, Jane sitting up. I go to her side, only for her to raise a hand.

  “...Not now,” she states. Her head sinks down, but we still gather around her bed. Not close enough to touch, but close enough so she remembers we’re there. “We didn’t have to lose him, right?”

  “On the bright side... his body wasn’t found,” Nightingale states. “He’s probably still alive, right?”

  Jane simply nods. She never took his loss easy; she ran with us for a few missions, John often showing her the ropes. Her and John were inseparable, even if John was a few years her elder. Then, it just happened;

  He pricked his hand on a thorn. We didn’t think much of it, it was just one measly wound. We had been through worse.

  But his sleeping grew ragged. I can’t help but glance to the sixth empty bed; despite the shade, I can still see the vomit he left during one night. None of us could do anything to help.

  On one operation, it just happened. He grew vine tendrils. Most of his face seemed to be gone, shrieking into the air. It was inhuman, the way he twitched and spasmed.

  Out of reflex and confusion, Jane shot him a couple of times as vines extended towards her. While her gun could blast boulders apart, it did nothing but sear his skin. Then again, Jane probably just didn’t want to hurt him. At that point, we all just ran; mutations were always random. The Boss Monster was taken by another team, and all of us got reamed by our agency.

  Nightingale told a story; we had been out on a hunt, only for John to get crushed by some rock. Out of a panic, we all fled. We could have corrected the story.

  But we didn’t. That moment of Jane shivering still lingers with me whenever I think back.

  It took a while for our managers to believe us, especially when...

  ...they never found the body. I showed horror, shock that someone we knew had died. Yet, I could tell from everyone else that deep down, we all were secretly relieved. For therapeutic reasons, (probably legal honestly) we were sent back to our rooms, given a month of free time to do what we wanted. Provided we remained in their rooms of course.

  Did we make the right decision sparing that woman too? Not reporting her?

  Oh god, was she a mutant?

  ... No. Like Jane said, she was just a Looter. A Looter trying to fend for her own life, probably losing her equipment in the heat of the moment.