Perspective(s)

She woke to a steady beep. Limbs heavy. Head spinning.

A nurse adjusted her IV. “Ah, you’re awake! Gave everyone quite the scare, Miss Reyes.”

Talia’s voice was sandpaper. “…What happened?”

The nurse hesitated. “Car accident. A bad one. Three people didn’t make it.”

Talia froze.

“You survived. Completely unharmed.”

She sat the next morning, staring blankly at the blanket in her lap.

Then—a knock.

“Vice General Quinones is here to see you,” the nurse said.

Her breath caught. “Quinones? The guy from TV?”

She didn’t even have time to process it before the door opened.

And it walked in.

Twisted. Demonic. A being with curling black horns and a smothering presence.

It smiled. 

Then a voice too familiar came out of its mouth.

“Ah. Miss Talia Reyes. Good to see you awake.”

She looked to the nurse, begging for some sign this wasn’t real.

But the nurse wasn’t frightened.

The nurse was, blushing?

“I’d like to thank you for taking care of her,” the demon said.

The nurse tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Of course…” giggling.

Talia felt sick.

Quinones turned back to her, voice deceptively soft. “Let’s talk about your accident.”

She avoided his gaze. “I… I don’t remember.”

“Hmm.” He studied her. Then lifted her chin.

“You don’t need to be afraid. I only want the truth.”

She stiffened.

“Have you started seeing things?”

Her lungs froze. Fingers curled into the sheets.

“What do you mean by ‘things’?”

His body tensed. Just for a second. Then relaxed again.

She laughed nervously. “I mean… don’t we all see stuff sometimes?”

He leaned in, eyes dimming.

“You understand your position, don’t you?”

She swallowed hard.

“You killed three people. A mother of two. A truck driver. A family man.”

She stared at him. “Are you deadass? I wasn’t drunk. Run a fucking test on me—”

He was suddenly inches away.

“Their blood is on your hands.”

Her body turned to ice.

“If you don’t tell the truth… I can’t promise what happens next.”

The nurse continued smiling, oblivious.

Talia didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

“I don’t remember anything.”

Silence.

Then Quinones smiled. “Very well.”

He stood, turned to the nurse. “Thank you for your time.”

And left.

Relief hit like a wave—then immediately shattered.

A man stepped in with a clipboard.

“Hello, my name is Mr. Kyle Oguri, due to your legal circumstances, you are assigned to serve at the Sociis Defense Academy.”

Talia blinked. “Wait… I’m getting enrolled?”

He looked up, deadpan. “No.”

Cut to:

Talia in an oversized janitor’s uniform, staring at the embroidered patch that read Sociis Academy Custodial Staff, she stands flabbergasted in a busy hallway unable to come to terms with the development.

A student passed, wrinkling their noses. “Isn’t she our age?”

“Why is she a janitor.”

Another chimed in. “You missed a spot.”

Talia stared at a single crumb on the floor.

She gripped the mop.

Hard.

Hard enough to make it bend.

The students backed up fast.

“Whoa, chill!”

“Don’t kill us, mop girl!”

A shout echoed down the hall. “ ITS TALIA!”

A bellow cut through the air, “TALIA!” She abruptly turned, now perfectly upright.

It was none other than Mr. Oguri, her now supervisor 

“You trying to get reported to the Principal Quinones already?”

“No sir! Anything but that monster—!” she wailed, almost dramatically.

Kyle groaned. “You keep calling him a monster, he’s not even that bad. Just give me the mop and get a uniform that fits, alright?”

“Yes sir!” She saluted, then jogged off.

Kyle stood frozen for a moment, watching her disappear down the hallway. His eyes flicked from student to student, tracking her until she rounded a corner and vanished from sight.

Only then did he look down at the broom still in his hand, the same one Talia had.

His grip tightened around the shaft, now visibly bent.

This broom wasn’t just any broom.

It was a military-grade, Academy-issued tactical broom designed with aerospace-grade aluminum alloy and reinforced carbon fiber. Light, durable, practically indestructible.

His jaw clenched. He started walking, fast, broom still in hand, boots echoing sharply off the tile as he turned down a restricted wing of the school. Eventually, he reached a wide set of double doors at the end of a quiet corridor.

He knocked once.

No answer.

He muttered something under his breath, then pushed the door open anyway.

Inside, General Marcus Quinones stood behind his desk, papers spread out before him, the ever-present fatigue behind his eyes giving way to mild irritation.

“Already?” he said, not even looking up. 

“It’s only the second day. What could she have possibly done now?”

Kyle didn’t sit. “Marcus… Is it possible for a Paragon to appear even if they were born before the war’s end?”

The General looked up slowly. “Are you seriously asking me if someone could show signs of Paragon-level power, when they were born before the war ended?”

Kyle nodded.

Quinones exhaled through his nose, leaning back. “It’s completely impossible. Every single Paragon ever recorded was born after the war. No exceptions. And even then, their powers show up early, thirteen, maybe fourteen if they’re a late bloomer. The janitor is sixteen. A junior.”

Kyle said nothing for a beat. Just nodded again. “Understood. Thank you for your time.”

He turned and walked out of the room, the broken broom still in his hand.

It was probably a fluke, he told himself. She must’ve just hit a weak point in the broom. That’s all. There’s no way—

But the thought didn’t settle. It scratched at the back of his mind like a splinter he couldn’t reach.

As he turned a corner, he nearly collided with a student rushing past.

“Whoa, watch it— oh, hey, Kyle! You look kinda pale, man. You good?”

Kyle forced a half-smile. “Yeah. Just… thinking too hard. Dangerous habit. Don’t try it. Focus on your classes.”