The Nexus.

In the quiet and confined space of my quarters, I sat cross-legged, attempting to calm the chaos within my mind through meditation. My goal was to unlock and examine the fragments of memories from my past that had recently surfaced. The process of sifting through these memories brought me a strange sense of calm, as though piecing together the puzzle of who I was allowed me to understand myself better. From what I could gather, I had always been someone who struggled to find my place in the world. A persistent feeling of not belonging gnawed at me, accompanied by an insatiable longing for a greater purpose. This desire seemed to dominate my thoughts, leaving me willing to do almost anything to feel significant.

As I continued meditating, vivid images of my younger self being bullied repeatedly intruded on my thoughts. These painful memories spanned from my earliest school years to the moment my life was interrupted by the coma. The mocking laughter, the cruel words, and the sense of helplessness returned with an intensity that left me feeling small and powerless. It wasn't just the memories of bullying that haunted me but also the realization that I had allowed others to walk over me, to exploit my kindness and passivity. This inability to stand up for myself had driven me to some of the darkest points in my life.

Another memory emerged—a particularly humiliating one. I recalled standing nervously on a brightly lit stage, participating in a talent show. My chosen act was close-up magic, a skill I had practiced tirelessly at the time. At first, the performance seemed to be going well; the audience was intrigued, and I felt a spark of confidence. However, when I attempted a seemingly simple card trick, I failed miserably. The audience's reaction was harsh and unforgiving—a cacophony of laughter that echoed in my mind even now. That memory lingered like a shadow, representing a profound moment of failure.

The intensity of these recollections broke my focus, forcing me to pause and process the emotions they stirred. I recognized that fully uncovering and understanding my past would require more time and space than I currently had. The fatigue from that day's rigorous training wasn't helping either. Resigned, I sank onto my bed, letting exhaustion overtake me as I fell into a restless sleep.

Morning came, and with it, the next leg of our journey. Rem and I boarded a plane bound for San Diego. As the flight began, I decided to make use of the time by resuming my meditation. This time, I wanted to challenge myself by floating cross-legged in the air while the plane was in motion. The task proved far more difficult than I anticipated, as maintaining my balance in such unstable conditions required an intense level of concentration.

While meditating, another memory surfaced. I saw myself as a child, wobbling nervously on a bicycle for the first time. My father's voice rang out, steady and reassuring: "I've got you," he said, keeping a firm hand on my back. For a brief, exhilarating moment, I pedaled freely as he let go, only to lose my balance shortly after and tumble to the ground. The memory was so vivid that I physically jolted as I relived the sensation of falling. Opening my eyes, I noticed Rem watching me with concern.

"I was trying to remember," I said, my voice sharp with frustration.

"Take a break for now," she suggested gently, placing a hand on mine in an attempt to comfort me.

"No, I can do this," I snapped back, the intensity of my tone surprising even me. I wasn't sure why I reacted so defensively, but the idea of someone telling me what I could or couldn't do felt unbearable. Determined to prove myself, I resumed my meditation despite her visible unease.

"Kaleb, you're going to hurt yourself," Rem warned again, her voice filled with concern. Her words broke my concentration, and anger flared up inside me. "Why did you do that?!" I shouted, my voice echoing through the cabin. The sheer force of my outburst sent tremors through the plane, causing it to lurch and spiral downward.

Chaos erupted around us as the pilots screamed and panic spread like wildfire. Rem attempted to use her abilities to calm me, but I shoved her away in a blind moment of rage. Summoning my power, I froze the plane mid-air with nothing but a thought. The world around me seemed to pause as my vision shifted, allowing me to see streams of energy flowing through the space. It was as though I had tapped into something far greater than myself, but the realization brought no comfort—only fear.

"Stop," Rem's voice trembled, breaking through the haze of my anger.

"I didn't mean to do this," I stammered, my voice barely audible. Shaken, I reversed the effects and stabilized the plane. As the chaos subsided, I stared at my hands, the weight of my actions sinking in. What had I done? The guilt was overwhelming, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I had lost control of something fundamental within myself.

The pilot's voice crackled over the intercom, filled with anger and fear. His words were laced with contempt for metahumans, and though I wanted to ignore him, his accusations cut deep. A part of me felt the urge to lash out again, but I resisted, sitting silently as Rem watched me cautiously. She seemed determined to prevent me from meditating again, though her intentions were protective.

When we landed, I wasted no time. I bolted off the plane and rushed to my room, ignoring everyone, including my roommate, as I slammed the door shut and locked it behind me. Collapsing against the door, I pulled my knees to my chest, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. The chamber and the training were supposed to help me gain control, but instead, I felt like I was unraveling. Only a few days had passed since I arrived at Sentinel Solutions, yet it felt like my world was already falling apart.

Taking deep, deliberate breaths, I tried to silence the dark thoughts swirling in my mind. Much like my instinct to absorb energy, there was a part of me that seemed to push for selflessness, urging me to use my powers for personal gain. But just as quickly as this resolve appeared, it vanished, as though it had a will of its own. My room felt stifling, the walls closing in around me. "Am I losing my mind?" I whispered, the words hanging heavy in the air.

Summoning what little strength I had left, I forced myself to stand. "You can't beat me," I said aloud, addressing the darkness within. A knock at the door startled me. "Kaleb, it's Rem," came her voice. "Please let me in. I want to talk about what happened."

"Go away," I muttered after a pause. "I don't want to talk right now."

Her voice softened. "Look, I can't imagine how you feel, but whatever happened on that plane—it wasn't you," she said gently before retreating, reminding me that training would resume the next day.

Alone once more, a chilling sensation coursed through me. Glancing at the mirror, I froze in terror. My reflection stared back with glowing red eyes, its expression twisted and unnatural. Every few seconds, the image flickered and distorted, my face becoming unrecognizable. Panic surged through me as I grabbed grounding bands from the nightstand and snapped them onto my wrists. Instantly, the energy within me dissipated, and I felt myself return to normal.

Collapsing onto the floor, I buried my face in my hands, trembling. "What is happening to me?" I whispered the question echoing unanswered in the silence of my room.