[Power Assessment Complete]
[Ability Assessment Result: Pink]
[Classification: Extremely Unfit]
Eric stared at the screen. He blinked once. Then again, as if exhaustion alone could make the words something else.
When it didn't, he exhaled, pressing his forehead against the train's pole and silently chuckle.
If luck were a person, it had a restraining order against him.
Now that he thought about it, what the hell had he been expecting, walking into the Bureau?
If the answer was "to see if I'm eligible to join the military," then he wasn't just unlucky—he was also stupid.
"Devil!"
The crackhead shrieked for what felt like the thousandth time, jabbing a trembling finger at him. "You think no one sees? Hiding that evil with thy frail look?! Go back to hell, devil!"
Once again, every eye in the transport was on him. Over a hundred people packed into the train, and yet the crackhead chose him.
Screaming the same shit over and over again.
At this point, he just had to accept that life sucked.
Now that he thought about it, he'd never heard of anyone getting a pink result.
Green meant gifted—the most common classification. Those ranked green had powers ranging from mild telekinesis to heightened reflexes or enhanced combat skills. They got recruited into specialized jobs like the military, security, or the occasional elite contractor.
Blue meant latent abilities. Then came Red, Silver, and Gold—the ones who either became public figures, got detained, or straight-up disappeared.
Even Gray, the mark of complete mundanity would've been preferable.
But Pink?
Pink didn't exist.
"Did I just unlock a new level of weakness? Sad thing bad luck isn't a power. I'd be glowing gold."
The girl beside the dark haired lanky young man [Eric] faded out clothes clutched her bag tighter and slowly pulled away.
Maybe if he laughed louder, they'd all move to the next cabin. But knowing his luck, they'd just call security on him instead of the crackhead.
"Devil! You shouldn't be here!" The shrieking escalated into something between a roar and a sob. "Go back to hell!"
"Shut the fuck up…"
Only when the train froze in place did he realize he'd said it out loud.
His fists were clenched, pupils wide, his body hard with the kind of frustration that made people throw punches.
Knowing he just messed up, he exhaled slow, shut his eyes and waited.
"What a neanderthal," a gnarly voice scolded.
"Your mother should scrub your filthy mouth with soap." An old lady snapped.
More scolding. More judgment. He shut his ears against it.
Just a few more minutes to his stop. He could do this.
Shoulders slumped, he tried to float out of his own body, something he'd mastered as a kid. But today, it was impossible.
So, finally, he gave up.
Every day was a bad day. But today? Today was wearing the damn crown. All it needed was one more disaster to surpass that day eight years ago.
He yawned, stretching—
And then his phone buzzed violently in his hand.
He wasn't sure what he expected when his eyes drifted to the screen. Maybe an apology from the Bureau, claiming it was a glitch or offering him a second chance.
Instead, there was a name.
Kael.
The train came to a stop, and he straightened and tapped the floating icon.
Two words: Brother. Tomatoes. And his world stilled.
Then, before he'd fully processed it, his body was already moving. He shoved past passengers, nearly knocking the crackhead to the ground.
Two words that sent him sprinting all the way home.
"Young people," the old woman muttered.
The crackhead, who had been watching Eric go, suddenly tilted his head toward her. His mouth worked soundlessly before he whispered something unintelligible.
The old woman frowned. "What?"
Then, with a powerful squeal, the crackhead shrieked—
"Witch! What are you doing here, witch?!"
***
It had been eight decades since the First Wake, yet Earth still suffered its aftermath. Which made sense, considering the destruction it left behind.
Survivors who had witnessed it firsthand spoke of it in whispered tones. They whispered about the day the heavens wept fire, burning through cities, forests, and flesh alike.
Buildings melted. Vegetation rotted. Those who didn't die screaming suffocated under the swirling ash. Day turned to night as half the world vanished. The blackened sky choked out the sun, leaving only a dim red glow behind the smoke.
And from the ashes, the Ashspawns emerged.
Mindless husks, born from humans buried too deep beneath the ruin, they tore distances for a drop of blood. Sickly pale and grotesquely muscular, they were fast and unnaturally strong, as though engineered rather than mutated.
Weapons evolved to match them. Bullets designed to pierce their thickened hides and finally kill. But even then, everyone knew: humanity was on the brink of extinction.
Yet from the same ashes, came the Ashborns.
They were survivors of the First Wake who had inhaled just enough of its cursed ash, mutating in a different way. The harder their survival, the stronger but more uncontrollable they became.
Where Ashspawns were mindless monsters, Ashborns were something else. Neither wholly human nor fully monstrous, their very existence a question no one wanted to answer. Or could.
Some went rogue. Some disappeared before they had the chance.
The rest,if they were deemed stable were ranked, trained, and stationed to fight the Ashspawns that still spread like a plague.
Then, people started passing it down to their children.
And soon enough, what was once a curse became a sought-after blessing. Parents lined up to have their children tested.
***
But what the hell was pink?
Eric's breath came in ragged gasps as he sprinted home, sweat soaking through his shirt. He ignored the stares from the crumbling neighborhood around him. It didn't matter.
Brother. Tomatoes.
Kael had first used it when she was nine. He was fourteen. It was their code.
And Kael never used it lightly.
He slammed into the door, nearly tearing it off its rusted hinges as he burst inside—
Black smoke hit him first.
He shut the door behind him. The house was silent and dim, except for the crackling coming from the kitchen.
The kitchen—
"Kael!" He dashed in, yanking the tablecloth from the counter.
The pot atop the stove was already bursting with flames.
He killed the gas, shoved the thick fabric into the fire, and dragged it back, smothering the flames before they could spread.
Another close call in the span of a week.
His pulse was still hammering when the light caught his attention and he turned and finally saw her.
Kael sat curled into the farthest corner of the kitchen, her arms wrapped around her knees, her body trembling and glowing.
She was bright enough to cast shadows against the walls, her head buried against her arms, whispering something just beneath the sound of her own whimpers.
Eric exhaled sharply. Of course she'd forgotten to take her pills. Of course she was spiralling again.
Body relaxed, he walked over and sank down beside her, pressing close until their shoulders and knees touched.
She was burning. But she'd burned him once, years ago, back in the orphanage. Since then, she never had.
"You saw them again?" he murmured.
She nodded.
Eric stared up at the ceiling. "Did they try to grab you this time?"
Another nod. More vigorous.
His lips twitched, glancing down at her messy ponytail. Dark blue strands. Obviously styled by those trembling hands. He sighed lazily. "You didn't tell them your brother's gonna mess them up if they get too close?"
Her shoulders shook a little. A half-sob, half laugh spilling from her lowered head.
But her glow dimmed just a bit.
Good.
He ruffled her hair. "Alright, Glowstick. Off the floor before you start fusing with it."
Kael sniffled but didn't move.
This one had been bad, then.
Her body had stopped shaking, but her arms were still locked around her legs.
So Eric leaned in. "You know," he said lightly, "I did something stupid today."
Kael lifted her head then. Big, watery gray eyes peeking out from behind her knees. "You do something stupid every day."
"Fair, but this one's extra stupid."
She paused, then softly as though testing waters, asked, "How stupid?"
"I might've gone to the Bureau."
So for the next thirty quiet seconds he watched her make the calculations in her head.
Her glow flickered. "You didn't."
"Oh, but I did." He slapped a hand to his chest like he was receiving an Oscar. "I walked in there like a certified dumbass, thinking, 'Wow, maybe today's the day the universe finally stops kicking me for sport!'"
She sniffled again, but a tiny smirk twitched at the corner of her lips. "What happened?"
He groaned. "I got pink."
Kael blinked at him. Then she let out the ugliest most unrestrained laughter he ever heard.
Eric's stiff back relaxed against the wall again.
"Wait! Pink?!" she managed to choke. "That's not even—that's not even a thing!"
"I know! Got tired of getting retested over and over, had to take my L's."
Kael fell over, laughing so hard she wheezed, her glow dimmed. "You're—snrk—you're an undiscovered species of weak!"
"They noticed. Said something about never coming back for a recheck." He stood and offered his hand. She took it. "Guess I'm the first to ever get banned from the Bureau."
Tears streamed down her cheeks. "Please no more."
Within ten minutes, he had her tucked in, the last of her pills in her system, listening to her mumble soft, sleepy nonsense until her breathing evened out.
But just before she drifted under...
"Eric?"
"Hm?"
A pause.
"I'm glad you got pink."
She was gone before he could reply.
So in the silence of their crumbling home, Eric sat on her couch, staring at the Bureau's damning message, fingers hovering over the thrash icon.
She'd laughed and stopped glowing.
He sighed and deleted.
And honestly?
That was worth getting pink for. Up