“Almost a decade ago, what was at first thought to be a large meteor crash-landed into the Lower Peninsula of Michigan,” General Ryder said. “The whole world was startled, however, when a previously unknown race of beings emerged from the crater; the Repulsoids.”

“I remember,” I nodded. I’d been a smidge over twelve at the time, and I couldn’t forget the news reports, the televised specials. Everything. My father had said that it had been like 9/11, only much bigger in scale – everyone was talking about it.

“In short order, the Repulsoids conquered the Great Lakes region, and dug in. Then they started moving southward, conquering more and more territory, until eight years ago they were finally fought to a standstill in the Battle of Indianapolis.”

I remembered that, too. The city had been reduced to rubble in the fight. It had involved nukes on the humans’ part, dropped on the Repulsoids’ main force, and it was only because of that that the aliens weren’t able to break through. And just barely, at that.

“This, of course, is all public knowledge,” the general continued. “There is one thing that isn’t widely known, though. In fact, only a select few people know of it.”

“And that is?” I asked.

“While we were sifting through what remained of Indianapolis, we found something. Several energy sources powered by an unknown element which we named Elerium, probably belonging to some of the enemy commanders who perished in the atomic blast. We collected any and all we could find, and brought them to a top secret lab.” He turned over the sheaf of paper that was lying on the table between us. “And that’s when the Defender Project was born.”

I looked down at the documents he was showing. The first page was simply a cover, with DEFENDER PROJECT – CLASSIFIED – US LEVEL TOP SECRET – NATO LEVEL COSMIC SECRET emblazoned across it; lifting the cover revealed a diagram, which depicted something I’d seen many times before, in newscasts and on newspapers.

A person, wearing a suit, a helmet concealing their face.

One of the Defenders. One of the heroes who’d suddenly appeared two years prior, and served as a sort of rear-guard. While the war was at a stand-still, the Repulsoids very much enjoying striking at soft, vulnerable, civilian targets, seemingly at random; this often caused death and destruction before the army could intervene – until two years ago, that is: the defenders were always quick to respond, and were often able to repel the aliens while minimising casualties at the same time. There were five of them, wearing differently-coloured suits: red, blue, green, white, and yellow; red, blue, and yellow were men, while green and white were women – their suits were almost skin-tight, it was obvious.

I looked up at the general. “Okay, so?”

“You don’t seem surprised,” he said.

“The fact that the Defenders’ suits and weapons are made with alien technology is widely known,” I shrugged. “Even if the government never confirmed it, it’s obvious. What I don’t get is why you’re showing me this.”

General Ryder looked at me straight in the eye. “What would you say if I told you your brother Marcus was Defender Red?”

“Mark? No way,” I dismissed the idea with a wave of my hand. “True, he’s a soldier, and he always excelled in everything, he was always top of his class. But there’s no way he would be chosen for something like that.”

As the words left my mouth, a part of my brain piped up. Or is there? After all, he’s always been the best of the best. And two years ago he got a sudden, unexpected promotion, and he was transferred to the front lines, while before he’d been in the reserve. But still, there’s no way, right?

“No way,” I said again, with less certainty this time.

The general nodded gravely. “Miss Kennedy, your brother was Defender Red. And as Defender Red, he died in the line of duty two weeks ago in Columbus, Ohio.”

That rang a bell. I recalled watching the TV on the morning of the day my mother called me to tell me Mark had died. It did mention Columbus, and something about Defender Red, but I’d shut it down before I could hear what had happened. Now I wished I hadn’t.

“What happened?” I asked.

“He and the rest of the team were separated,” the General answered. “Captain Bishop found himself facing many enemies, including three Repulsoid leaders – and let me tell you, even a single one of those is bad news. Still, he fought valiantly, and managed to hold them at bay until the team caught up with him. The aliens were repelled, but the injuries your brother sustained were too severe. He died at the hospital, two hours later.” The last words were barely above a whisper.

I looked at him. This man was telling me that Mark – my little brother Mark – had been a superhero. That he put his life on the line, day in and day out, for the sake of others. Well, that sounded like Mark alright; always thinking about other people, never about himself.

The general saw the look I had in my eyes. “For what it’s worth, we’re all sorry for his loss, and miss him terribly. Our condolences.”

I nodded, but didn’t otherwise answer. Silence hung between us while I considered the words he’d said. There was still one piece of the puzzle missing, however.

“Alright,” I nodded. “I believe you. My brother was Defender Red. But still, I don’t get it. Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because we have a problem,” he replied. “When your brother was killed, the team was left one member short.”

“Then find someone to replace him,” I shrugged.

General Ryder shook his head. “It’s not that easy.” He reached into his briefcase, and placed an object in the middle of the table, right in front of my eyes.

It was about the same size and shape as an old flip phone – rectangular, with rounded edges, probably three by five inches and one inch thick. It had two buttons on one of the short sides, and a small lever on one of the long sides. It was jet black, except the buttons and the lever, which were red.

“This is your brother’s battle morpher,” the general said. “He used this to turn into Defender Red.”

I looked at the item, and then up at him. “Alright. So?”

He picked up the morpher and pressed one of the two buttons. The object beeped once, and then buzzed harshly. “Access Denied” said a curt, synthetic voice.

“Every morpher can only be used by the person it’s assigned to,” General Ryder explained. “It’s a safety measure, to avoid unauthorised people using it.”

I stared blankly at him. I still didn’t know what he was getting at.

“It’s a genetic lock,” he said, looking at me in the eyes.

It took me a few seconds, but I understood. “No,” I whispered.

“Captain Bishop was your brother…”

“No. No, no no. No.”

“…Your twin brother.”

“Absolutely not,” I said firmly. “Absolutely the fuck not. Find someone else.”

“There is no someone else, miss Kennedy,” the general said, still staring straight at me. “As of right now, you’re the only person on Earth who can unlock this morpher.”

“Then remove the lock!” I shouted; out of the corner of my eyes I could see my aunt and her wife looking at us worriedly, but I didn’t care. “It can't be that hard, can it?”

“Unfortunately, the only one who could do that was Doctor Winters, the scientist who built the morphers,” he replied, shaking his head.

“…Was?” I asked.

“She died in Columbus, two weeks ago.”

I paused. “Like…”

“Like Marcus, yes,” he nodded. “Actually, we think that the Repulsoids were trying to get at her, specifically; that’s the reason behind the attack.”

I gulped. My anger had cooled a bit, but still, I wasn’t going to acquiesce to his implicit request.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “For Doctor Winters, and… Everything else. But I’m not going to do it.”

The general looked at me for a few moments. “Twenty-five hundred thirty four dollars, and thirty cents,” he said.

I blinked. “What’s that?”

“Your starting pay, should you accept. Weekly. Before bonuses and hazard pay. With food and lodgings already accounted for.”

Holy crap. That was a lot of money. It would solve my problems… Well, for the foreseeable future. I looked at him without speaking.

“That, and a full-ride scholarship to a college of your choosing – any college in the United States – once you leave the service,” he added.

That, on top of a really good pay? It was tempting. It really was. But still, I had more basic objections than if I was going to get any money out of it.

I sighed. “Still no. Sorry,” I said, getting up from my seat.

“Miss Kennedy--”

“The military turned my father into a bitter, angry man,” I said. “The military drove a wedge between me and my parents. The military killed my brother.” I shook my head. “I want nothing to do with this. With any of this. I’m sorry.” I started towards the café door, but turned back briefly. “Thank you for the coffee.”

The general didn’t try to stop me. I walked all the way to the door, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Millie and Isabela get up from their seats to follow me. When I reached the entrance I made to push the door open, but then stopped, frowning.

The door was wooden, but the middle was frosted glass; I couldn’t tell exactly what was on the other side, but I could see a figure behind it, silhouetted by the late afternoon sun. A very big figure, easily two metres tall, if not more, and with a muscular build to match. No, not just one figure, several of them. What…

Evidently, General Ryder had seen them too. “Look out!” he shouted. I turned my head to look at him.

And that’s when the door blew up.

I fell backwards, my hands flying upwards to protect my face from the shards of wood and glass, my ears ringing from the effect of the explosion. It took me a few moments to get my bearings again, and when I recovered I looked up and saw a shape in the door. My vision was blurry, but slowly the figure came into focus.

It looked like a dog. A huge bipedal dog, the size of a bear, dressed in what looked like a military uniform, with a rifle in their hands.

Shit.

The Repulsoid looked around the store, and then noticed me lying there on the ground. They looked down at me, and grinned; their mouth had way too many teeth in it.

They raised their rifle, taking aim at me, but before they could pull the trigger, gunshots sounded through the café; I saw spots of red appear all over the creature’s body, and they growled – more in annoyance than in pain.

I turned my head towards the origin of the gunshots; General Ryder and his men had their guns in their hands, and were shooting at the Repulsoid.

“Miss Kennedy, get back here!” he ordered.

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I scampered on all fours across the floor, cutting my hands and knees a bit on the broken glass, and taking refuge behind a table the soldiers had overturned to provide some cover.

“What the hell are they doing here?” I asked. “We’re in Georgia, the front lines are a thousand miles away!”

“This is probably just a small strike team,” the general replied, taking another pot-shot at the alien. “A half dozen Repulsoid soldiers, maybe a dozen, and a leader; there’s no way any more than that could’ve gotten this far without being noticed.”

Another Repulsoid climbed through the remains of the door; the first one raised their rifle, from which came a white-hot beam of plasma that lanced through the chest of one of the general’s men, throwing him back against the wall and killing him.

“But why are they here?” I repeated.

“They’re probably looking for the morpher,” was the reply. “We have to get it out of here. You know how to use a gun?”

Of course I know how to use a gun, what the hell, do you think someone growing up in a household like mine, with my father and his worship of the military, wouldn’t know--

I forced my brain to slow down and take a deep breath. “Yes,” I replied simply.

General Ryder nodded; he reached into his briefcase, and pulled out a handgun, which he offered to me, grip first. “I always carry two, just in case,” he said. “Take your aunts and go out through the back door. We’ll keep them distracted. Run as far away as you can, and hide somewhere. I’ll find a way to contact you. And take this with you,” he added, holding up the morpher.

“But—” I began, but he cut me off.

“Just do it!” he said firmly.

I looked at him for a brief moment, then nodded. I pocketed the morpher, grabbed Millie’s arm – she and Isabela had taken refuge behind the overturned table, too – and dragged her away, her wife following closely behind us.

We made our way through the café, keeping our heads down as bullets and beams of plasma flew all around us, entered the kitchen, and made a beeline for the back door.

I crashed through it, and looked around.

Four Repulsoid soldiers were standing at the end of the alley, looking in my direction.

The words my brother had written in his last letter echoed in my brain: and they’re really smart, too, as intelligent as a human.

Shit. Of course they would try the back door too.

There was a door just opposite the café’s; I dove through it, barely dodging two plasma beams.

I stood up and looked around; I was in some sort of warehouse, the walls lined with shelves holding big cardboard boxes. But there was no time to waste.

“Over here!” I shouted at my relatives, motioning for them to run across the street; they complied, though not without danger – once again, the aliens’ fire came very close to hitting them.

“Come on, this way!” I said, rushing through the warehouse. I had no idea where we were going, except away from the aliens, which seemed like the best idea at the moment.

Reaching the far side of the building, we burst through another door, into a deserted street; the Repulsoids were hot on our tail. “Come on, don’t slow down!” I said, crossing the street and turning a corner. My aunt was right behind me; Isabela, on the other hand, lagged behind a bit.

I heard the noise of a plasma weapon discharging, and my aunt’s wife cry out in pain; she stumbled to the ground in front of us.

“Isabela!” Millie shouted, diving for her. I just barely held her back, and grabbed Isabela by her clothes, dragging her to safety around the corner.

I looked at her; she was mostly okay, but she had a bad burn – courtesy of the Repulsoids – on one of her legs. She couldn’t even stand at the moment, let alone walk or run.

“Go,” she said. “Run.”

“No, mi amor,” aunt Millie replied. “I won’t leave you.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Isabela protested. “They’re going to kill us all. Just go,” she pleaded.

My aunt shook her head, tears in her eyes.

I just looked at them. I heard the aliens’ footsteps around the corner, coming closer and closer. I could just leave them and run away on my own, but they’d surely be killed. But even if I stayed there, what could I do with just a handgun, against four – or more – Repulsoids?

Unless…

Suddenly I became conscious of the morpher’s weight in my pocket.

I gulped.

But there was no choice.

No one was going to die today. Not if I could help it.

I pulled out the morpher, and inspected it; I remembered which button the general had pressed, and did the same.

The object beeped once. “Welcome,” said a computerised voice; it was female, and much more pleasant than the one who’d denied the use of the morpher to the general.

I paused. I expected something to happen, but nothing did.

The aliens’ footsteps were closing in.

I stared at the item I had in my hand. The other button? The lever? What do I do? If I just had someone--

“Hello?” came a girl’s voice from the morpher.

I was so startled I almost dropped it; instead, I brought it close to my mouth and replied. “Hello?”

A brief pause. “Who is this?”

“How do I use this thing?” I asked frantically.

“Who is this?” the voice repeated.

“This is Stephanie Kennedy I’m Mark Bishop’s sister I’m using his morpher there are aliens close by please tell me how to use it” I said as quickly as my mouth could move.

The person on the other side probably heard how frantic I was. “Alright, calm down. You’ve activated the morpher, now stand up straight, bring it close to your belly – where a belt’s buckle would normally be – and press the button,” she explained. “The other one, not the one you pressed before.”

I quickly complied with her instructions; I was startled when a beam of light shot around my waist, like a belt, keeping the morpher in place without me having to hold it up with my hands.

“Standby,” the morpher’s voice said; it made three loud beeps.

“Alright,” the mystery girl said. Now I could hear her voice as if it was coming from an earpiece, not the morpher itself. “Now pull the lever, and brace yourself. It feels really weird the first time.”

I glanced at Millie and Isabela, who were staring up at me wide-eyed. I wanted to reassure them, but there was no time to explain. I took a deep breath, and flicked the lever with my thumb.

The morpher beeped thrice again.

“Power Up!” the synthetic voice said.

And then there was a flash of red light.