“If we’re doing this, we’re running there, full speed.”

  “What? You mean like... the whole way?”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s like a hundred and fifty miles!”

  “More like a hundred and sixty.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “Probably.”

  “We’d need to leave at like... four in the morning.”

  “We’ll leave right now.”

  “And you’re just gonna stand there eating your burrito while dropping this on me?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “I just got my legs working right, man.”

  “Perfect time to test them.”

  “You’re serious about this.”

  “Dead serious.”

  “...fine. But you’re buying me new running shoes.”

  “You can have twenty-three dollars.”

  “That’s oddly specific.”

  “That’s all I got.”

  “That won’t even buy one shoe,” Diego sighed. “We’re so screwed.”

  “Yep.”

  “I hate you sometimes.”

  “I know.”

  After saving Garvin’s number (he had a feeling there’d be more calls coming, and he didn’t want to second-guess every “unknown” that popped up on his screen), Lance typed out a quick message.

  Lance: New condition for joining. Diego wants in too.

  Her response came quickly.

  Agent Garvin: Ramírez? The one in the wheelchair?

  Lance: Not anymore. He wants to try.

  Agent Garvin: Noted. Two candidates then.

  Simple, professional, and to the point—exactly what he’d come to expect from her.

  Less than ten minutes later, they’d stuffed two of Lance’s old backpacks with their meager supplies. The inventory was grim: four water bottles, three protein bars from the back of his pantry, a bag of dried dates Diego had forgotten about last week, half a loaf of bread, and a suspicious-looking yogurt container. They threw in whatever clothes they could grab—mostly Lance’s old running gear that still smelled faintly of laundry detergent.

  The pit stop at Marcus’s house was quick. Jiro’s bowl, his ratty blue octopus toy, and a half-empty bag of kibble landed on the ex-marine’s doorstep along with a rushed explanation. Marcus just grinned, already reaching down to scratch behind Jiro’s ears. The dog settled in immediately, like he’d been expecting this all along. Marcus started to launch into what sounded like a well-rehearsed speech about military benefits and brotherhood, but they were already backing away, Diego bouncing on the balls of his feet while Lance checked his watch.

  They left before Marcus could finish his first “back in my day,” his booming laugh following them down the street as they broke into an easy jog. One hundred and sixty miles to go.

  Okay... let’s see if we can get through this without anyone dying, Lance thought.

  Gravel crunched under their feet as Lance and Diego settled into an easy stride. The first mile felt easy. Too easy. Their pace was steady, conversation light as they found their rhythm. The early morning air had a bite to it, but neither of them noticed the cold. Their enhanced metabolism ran hot these days.

  “You know this is crazy, right?” Diego’s voice carried clearly despite their pace. His legs, newly healed and enhanced, moved with fluid grace that belied his recent injuries. “Like, actually insane.”

  “Probably.”

  “No, I mean it.” Diego wasn’t even breathing hard. “Normal people don’t just decide to run a hundred and sixty miles. They take cars, or trains, or—I don’t know—literally any other form of transportation.”

  “We’re not normal people anymore.”

  Yeah, that was obvious by now. They ran past the city limits sign and through the suburbs until houses gave way to open fields, with trees on both sides of the empty highway and the occasional car passing by.

  “Remember when we used to get winded after three miles?” Diego asked after they’d covered another ten miles. The sun was finally burning bright, warming their faces as they ran. “Now look at us. Twenty miles in and I feel like I could do this forever.”

  Lance nodded, monitoring their pace. They’d unconsciously increased their speed, moving at a pace that made his early superhuman days seem like a light jog.

  Lance focused his arma into his legs, pushing more power through them than usual. Not because he wanted to—Diego’s new legs were just that much better.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  [Adaptive Limbs: Saltatorial (51%)]

  └─Muscle adaptation rate increased

  His stride got a little longer. Either he was getting stronger or it was a placebo. The system messages didn’t lie though, so he doubted it was the placebo.

  “The energy cycling helps. Keeps the muscles fresh.”

  “Yeah, about that.” Diego easily matched Lance’s stride. Too easily. “I get the theory you explained—the energy pathways and all that. I think I’m doing it, but only in my legs, and I can’t control it like you can.”

  Lance glanced at his friend. “You’re channeling energy without thinking about it. That’s why you can keep up.”

  “But I can’t direct it anywhere else. It just happens when I run.”

  “More efficient.” Lance demonstrated by shifting his energy flow, feeling the familiar tingle as power concentrated in his legs. Their pace increased slightly without additional effort. “Less wasted movement, better endurance.”

  Diego whistled low. “Man, that would have been useful back when I was competing. Wonder if the other Enhanced Corps applicants know this stuff.” Diego kept his eyes on the road ahead. “I mean, even Rick—” He stopped himself.

  Lance waited for the familiar wave of anger, but it didn’t come. Just emptiness. Rick felt like another life now, one that belonged to someone else. The real threat was whether he could measure up to Enhanced Corps standards.

  The smell of cut grass drifted from the farmland as they ran, mixing with diesel fumes from a passing truck. Drivers slowed to stare at them, probably wondering what two guys were doing out here on the highway.

  Around mile thirty, they came across an elderly couple standing beside a blue Buick, hazard lights blinking steadily. The woman waved as they approached, her weathered face creased with worry.

  “Flat tire,” Diego said, already slowing down.

  Lance nodded. They couldn’t just run past—that wasn’t who they were, arma or not.

  The couple introduced themselves as Bob and Martha, retired school teachers heading to visit their grandkids. They were planning to help out until the kids got their gene therapy clearance, like everyone else these days. Bob had been struggling with the jack when they arrived.

  “Let me help with that,” Diego offered, reaching for the tire iron.

  “Oh, we couldn’t impose,” Martha started, but Diego was already positioning himself beside the car.

  Lance watched as his friend carefully gripped the lug nuts, consciously holding back his power. One wrong twist and he could snap the metal like twigs. It was strange, seeing such a mundane task through the lens of their new abilities. Even something as simple as changing a tire required constant awareness, constant control.

  Bob whistled as Diego effortlessly lifted the car without the jack. “Strong young man!”

  Lance remembered shaking after clearing the front of his small car two inches off the ground last month. Diego made it look easy—his Adaptive Limbs giving him just enough edge to outperform Lance’s current strength.

  The Beast froze for a split second, then laughed it off. “All those gym sessions paying off, I guess.”

  They had the tire changed in under five minutes, holding back their speed to seem normal. Martha insisted on offering them bottles of water from their cooler—“You boys must be thirsty, running all this way! Also, let us give you boys a ride back to town.” Martha pulled two water bottles from their cooler. “It’s no trouble at all.”

  “Thanks, but we’re training for a marathon.” Lance accepted the water with a smile.

  Bob’s forehead wrinkled. “A marathon? Now? With everything that’s happening?”

  “It’s like a…” Diego stuttered. “Virtual marathon. Everyone runs separately, tracks their time online.”

  “Oh, that makes more sense.” Bob nodded slowly. “Though I’d think people would have bigger concerns these days than running competitions.”

  “Sometimes running is the only thing that makes sense.” Lance took a long drink from his water.

  Martha touched Bob’s arm. “Well, we should get going if we want to make it before dark.”

  “You boys be careful out here.” Bob climbed back into the driver’s seat. “Lot of crazy things happening lately.”

  As they waved goodbye to the couple, Diego turned to Lance. “That was weird, right? Having to pretend to struggle with something so simple?”

  “Everything’s weird now. Better get used to it.” Lance finished his water.

  They matched each other’s stride once again and watched the miles roll away beneath their feet. Clouds blanketed the sky, matching the emptiness of the quarantined roads. Even with their enhanced endurance, he could feel the distance in his bones, a deep ache that even energy cycling couldn’t completely eliminate.

  He monitored his energy flow while they ran. He’d been cycling arma through his system for hours now, and something was definitely changing.

  [Adaptive Limbs: Saltatorial (53%)]

  └─Enhanced muscle memory development detected

  Another two percent increase to his stolen power, but one more message quickly followed it.

  [Energy Mastery evolution detected]

  └─[Energy Cycling (Emergent)] is evolving into [Energy Circulation (Adaptive)]

  └──Energy Circulation: Enables dynamic manipulation of energy pathways

  Holy shit, he thought. If regular cycling let him run this far, adaptive circulation might let him do basically anything. The possibilities were insane—maybe even enough to keep up with Diego’s annoying new upgrades.

  Around mid-afternoon, they stopped at a small gas station with a red canopy that had seen better days. One charging dock sat off to the side while the rest of the pumps were pure old school, with a rusty sign out front and old ads stuck on the windows.

  The bright lights inside buzzed over white walls that needed a fresh coat of paint, and the shelves were packed with beef jerky next to rows of energy drinks while the cashier kept scrolling on her phone as they grabbed their snacks.

  [Human (Unawakened)]

  Lance checked the clerk’s energy levels but found nothing—just another person who got the Synergy vaccine. He wondered if that made her one of the lucky ones or not, since nobody really knew which was better anymore. Arma or no arma.

  Their reflection caught his eye in the store window, and he thought about how they should’ve been half-dead after running sixty miles, but instead they didn’t even look winded, like they’d just gone for a quick jog around the block.

  They paid for their stuff, stuffed everything into their backpacks, and headed back out into the empty lot.

  “You think this is what it’s going to be like?” Diego asked as they started running again, his voice thoughtful. “The past month we’ve been in our own bubble—support group, training, fighting. But with the city behind us, I can finally see how fucked up everything was.”

  “Well,” Lance said. “We’re stronger than we’ve ever been. And we’ll keep getting stronger.”

  “Makes me wonder—are we even supposed to hide it?”

  Lance stared down the empty highway. He considered the question.

  “Good point… I don’t think we do. The world’s already changing—gene therapy, Enhanced Corps. I have a feeling society’s going to have to adjust to people like us, not the other way around. Hopefully that’s what the Enhanced Corps is for.”

  “Or maybe it’s just another way to control us.” Diego’s voice held an edge Lance hadn’t heard before. “Track us, study us, figure out how to shut us down if we get too powerful.”

  “You having second thoughts?”

  “Nah, man.” Diego’s grin flashed white under the cloud cover. “Just thinking out loud. Besides, we’ve come too far to turn back now.”

  Lance’s legs were doing that weird thing again—like they were rewiring themselves with each mile. He’d gotten used to it.

  [Adaptive Limbs: Saltatorial (54%)]

  └─Locomotion efficiency improved

  Guess I’m a train now, he mused.

  He barely stumbled anymore when transitioning from running to walking. Three days ago, he’d nearly face-planted every time.