Chapter Text
Jaime Reyes, a nerd at Rio Grande High School with only one real friend to his name, had fallen asleep face-down on a pile of overdue homework. Shirtless in the sweltering heat, he'd hoped the open window might bring in some air to cool down his small bedroom.
The sharp ring of his old-school flip phone startled him awake. He gasped, bolting upright, and fumbled for the device beside him. Blinking groggily, he checked the time—11:46 p.m.—then squinted at the caller ID. He groaned before pressing the green ‘answer’ button.
“Tye, it’s almost midnight,” Jaime muttered, still half-asleep. “What?”
“I’ve had enough, Jaime,” came Tye’s voice from the other end. He sounded fierce, but Jaime didn’t miss the tremble underneath. “I’m done letting Maurice push me around. I’m on the bus to Houston tonight. I’m at the depot now.”
“Whoa—slow down, hermano,” Jaime said, instantly more alert as he sat up straighter.
“No! Not this time!” Tye shot back with a mix of anger and something rawer, more fragile. Then he sighed, and his voice softened, almost breaking. “I just called to say goodbye…”
“Tye, listen. I’m on my way,” Jaime replied, already throwing off his sheets and yanking on a hoodie. “Meet me by the statue of Cochise, okay? We’ll talk. Just promise me you’ll wait till I get there.”
The line went dead.
Without wasting another second, Jaime climbed out his window and broke into a sprint through the quiet streets of El Paso toward the train station.
Tye Longshadow—his best and only friend—had been part of Jaime’s life for as long as he could remember. And that had always been enough. Everyone else thought they were losers, but that was okay—because they had each other.
They’d first met in kindergarten, back when Tye was still reeling from the death of his father—a soldier who’d been killed in the line of duty. Back then, Tye clung to his mother, Shelly Longshadow, like a lifeline. It made him a target. The other kids teased him for his long raven-black hair, calling him a girl. They mocked him for being a “mama’s boy,” or for crying over a dad he would never see again.
But Jaime had stood up for him—fists swinging, consequences be damned. From that day on, they were inseparable.
Ironically, their roles had reversed in recent years. Now Jaime was the one getting pushed around, while Tye had become the hot-headed rebel who never backed down from a fight.
But then Maurice came into the picture.
Shelly had met him online—her attempt to move on after years of being alone. But Maurice was no Mr. Longshadow. He was a loud, broad-shouldered brute who liked to throw his weight around. According to Tye, he dealt in shady business—pirated goods, things he wouldn’t even tell his own girlfriend about.
Tye and Maurice butted heads constantly. Shelly, overwhelmed and caught in the crossfire, tried to play peacekeeper—but it was clear the situation was unraveling fast.
Tye had threatened to run away before—but this time, Jaime could hear it in his voice. He meant it. And that terrified him.
Jaime was still a mile away from the station when it happened.
A strong hand grabbed him from behind. Another clamped down over his mouth, pressing a rag soaked in something sharp and chemical-scented to his face. He thrashed, but the smell invaded his nose and mouth, burning his throat and making his vision blur. His limbs went weak. The world tilted.
And then everything went black.
Meanwhile, Tye Longshadow stood leaning against the weather-worn statue of Cochise, arms crossed, his foot tapping anxiously against the concrete base. He waited for Jaime, fully expecting him to try talking him out of it—again.
But it wouldn’t work this time. Jaime would just be wasting his breath. Tye was leaving. For real.
Still… a part of him hesitated. A knot of guilt sat heavy in his chest.
He didn’t want to leave Jaime behind. He was his only real friend—the only one who had stuck by him after his dad died. Even his mom, grieving in her own right, had drifted away into a fog of sorrow Tye couldn’t reach through. His grandfather tried his best, offering ancient wisdom and patient silence—but it never filled the emptiness.
Jaime understood. Somehow, without even trying.
Jaime had once told him that if anything ever happened to his own papá, he wouldn’t know how to go on. That stuck with Tye more than any speech, any lesson. It meant someone got it.
Over the years, Jaime had become more than a friend—he was a sanctuary. When school felt like a battlefield, when Maurice came home swinging his fists or slinging cruel words, or when the hole in Tye’s heart gaped too wide from missing his father, he always found himself sneaking over to the Reyes household.
And Jaime never turned him away. Never even asked questions. Just let him crash on the floor, handed him a spare blanket, or sometimes just sat with him in silence.
Tye acted tough, sure. Brash. Sometimes even mean. But it wasn’t because he didn’t care—it was because he did, more than he knew how to say. And that scared him. Part of him—maybe the biggest part—wanted to stay. To deal with Maurice, with everything, just to keep seeing Jaime’s dumb, stubborn face every day.
That’s when a sharp shiver ran down his spine. Something felt wrong.
Before he could turn, a shadow moved behind him.
An arm wrapped tightly around his chest, pinning his arms to his sides. A gloved hand slammed over his mouth.
His eyes widened in panic. He thrashed and kicked, but his struggles grew sluggish as a chemical smell filled his nostrils—sharp, artificial, numbing. His thoughts began to slip. Limbs turned heavy.
The last thing he saw before his eyes fluttered shut was the flickering light from the nearby bus depot sign.
Then—darkness.
Tye Longshadow was carefully lowered into a red-and-black container pod. The lid hissed shut with a soft hydraulic click, and the night grew silent once more.
Queen Bee turned with a smirk as six red-and-black pods were rolled into the chamber. The mission hadn’t gone perfectly—she had lost some valuable cargo thanks to the League’s meddling junior team—but this batch made up for it.
Mostly.
Five intact subjects was more than acceptable.
Inside the pods were teenagers: two 14-year-olds, one 15-year-old, one 16-year-old, and one 17-year-old. A diverse mix. All prime candidates. All with potential.
She gave a satisfied nod, and the workers—loyal, silent, and efficient—immediately redirected the pods toward the emergency transport plane waiting on the tarmac. Within minutes, they were securely loaded aboard, sealed away in the aircraft’s belly. No one would find them—not before they reached their destination.
Queen Bee watched them go with a glint of pride. Their mysterious “partner” would be pleased.
High above the clouds, the jet rumbled through the night sky.
Inside one of the pods, Jaime Reyes began to stir.
He groaned softly, blinking open chocolate-brown eyes as the haze of unconsciousness started to lift. The red-tinted interior of the pod glowed dimly, giving everything a sickly hue. Panic set in fast.
Where am I? What’s going on? Why am I here? Tye?!
He pushed against the glass. Then shoved. Then pounded.
His fists thudded against the containment wall over and over, but it didn’t so much as crack. The material was solid, reinforced. Designed to hold him.
He was trapped.
And the worst part?
He had no idea where he was—or what they planned to do to him.