"Concentrate, Xiomara!" Oscar shouted from across the overgrown field he and the girl were standing in.

The young pyrokinetic was stood a few yards away, her small face contorted as she focused on the task at hand. Her hands were outstretched with red flames rolling off her fingertips. They dripped onto the tall grass below her, quickly reducing the greenery to ash.

If he didn't intervene, she would burn down the entire park.

Blowing air out of his nose, he stomped up to her and ordered her to stop. Once she ceased her flames, he held his hands over the fires slithering through the glass like snakes. They snapped their heads at him, their fiery tongues flicking in the air. He crackled his knuckles and closed his eyes.

He siphoned the flames into his palms, rescuing the field from their wrath. Warmth spread up his arms until it settled in his chest. Absorbing fire was one of the only times he felt a temperature change within himself. He didn't suffer from fevers when he got sick and the sun outside barely did anything for his skin.

Eating fire—as he liked to call it—was his only source of warmth.

Exhaling deeply, he finished absorbing Xiomara's flames. Once they were all gone, he dropped his hands and opened his eyes. He gave the girl a disappointed shake of his head.

"Show off," she grumbled.

"I thought I told you to concentrate."

"I was!"

"Obviously not."

The two of them had been training in the abandoned park in the lot behind Trinity Mission. He would've rathered a more secure and discreet location, but Los Angeles was kind of short on those. The park's walls were boarded up and overgrown with leaves, blocking off any view toward the street. Tall, leafy trees shrouded them from anyone who might have wanted to take a peek inside. There were worse places for them to train. He just hoped no one could see them.

For the past thirty minutes, Oscar had Xiomara practicing turning her fire into a steady stream. As of now, she was only able to dispel her flames in sporadic, yet powerful, spurts that lacked any sort of control. If they were going to face off against Atlas and the Jaegers, she was going to need to learn how to control her abilities.

She was a wildfire. A flame that, if left unchecked, could burn down everything.

He didn't need her to be an expert pyrokinetic—just good enough to hold her own in a fight.

Though, he wasn't sure how long that would take. He wasn't even sure if he had what it took to teach her. He certainly didn't have the patience for it. Granted, it was only their first session, but being a mentor was new to him. He never had one back at The Acropolis. Sure, the scientists and agents did their best to train him but none of them could truly give him the helped he needed. He was the world's first pyrokinetic. There was no precedent for the type of assistance he needed.

He had nothing to base his teaching style on. There wasn't a guide or tutorial online he could follow. And it wasn't like he had fond memories of his teachers from high school.

If he wanted to successfully train Xiomara, he was going to have to figure it out himself.

"I can't do it," Xiomara's voice was full of shame. Her lips were wound tightly together and a vein in her temple pulsed violently.

"Not with that attitude." He sighed. "Look, let's try something else. Something easier." He took a few steps backward and held his arms out. "Throw a fireball at me."

Even from where he was standing, he could see her rolling her eyes at him. Scowling, she dropped her hands and turned her back to him. She hung her head and stuffed her fists into the pockets of the black overalls Sister Maria gave her to wear.

"C'mon, it's easy!"

"Maybe for you!"

"Stop pouting and throw a fireball at me!"

"I can't do it!"

Oscar's nostrils flared as he felt his temper rising. With his lip curling, he stomped up to her. She whipped her head toward him, her eyes burning like lit embers in a raging forest fire. She threw her hands down, smoke rolling off the ends of her closed fists.

Oscar's steps faltered. His eyes widened. "Alright, calm down now—"

She pointed a smoking finger at him. "Bad teacher!"

"Me?!" He squinted at her. "Maybe you're just a bad student. Ever think about that?"

She flipped him off.

A frown grabbed Oscar's mouth. "Where the hell did you learn that from?"

"I'm not a child," she spat back at him. "I know things."

"You don't know anything. Trust me. Besides, you are literally a child." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Wait, I don't even know how old you are. Cuántos años tienes?"

"Doce."

Twelve.

She wasn't even a teenager yet and she was already giving him the middle finger. He couldn't help but smile. Her entire demeanor reminded him of Emily back when they still went to high school together. The girl would constantly get detention for flipping off teachers. That was where they had first met—in the back of a classroom after school.

His smile waned.

Emily had once been an ally. A fiend. She had once been a part of his family; they all had been. But that family died with him after he told them he had been the mole leaking information to their enemies. He regretted his choice to betray them every day.

There was nothing he could do or say to reverse his decision, though.

And there was nothing they could do to fix what they did to him. They had abandoned him when he needed them the most. While they might have been his family back then, they were nothing to him now. Just faceless enemies who would suffer his wrath whenever he got his hands on them.

They made their choice the same way he made his all those years ago.

Now they had to suffer the consequences.

That was why he was training Xiomara. That was why he had to get her up to speed. If he wanted to take down Atlas and everyone else who had wronged him, he was going to need some help. Xiomara was the perfect person to assist him on his tour of revenge. Not only was she a pyrokinetic just like him, but she had the potential to be far more powerful.

And he was pretty darn powerful.

It excited him. It also frightened him at the same time.

He wouldn't let the fear of what she could become hold him back, though. It wouldn't be fair to her. She deserved to see out her full potential—whatever that ended up being.

His expression softened as he turned his attention back toward her. She was glaring down at the grass, her jaw tightened and her brows knit tightly. A furious look had filled her bright irises.

"Xiomara..."

"What?" she snapped.

"I..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? Lo siento."

She reluctantly looked up at him. The anger within her eyes subsided. Her shoulders dropped.

"I'm not being hard on you on purpose," he reassured her. "I'm just...I want you to be ready."

She lifted an eyebrow at him. "Ready?"

He blanched. "Er, I mean, I just want you to learn how to control your abilities. Just in case the Jaegers come back for you."

She nodded slowly. The look on her face suggested she bought his lie. He hoped she had.

The true purpose of their training sessions hadn't yet been explained to her. He wasn't sure how he would tell her—but he vowed he would. He didn't want it to seem like he was using her, even though he sort of was.

But the difference between himself and Atlas was that she wasn't just a piece of property to him. She wasn't a flame that needed to be extinguished. She was a human being with feelings and aspirations. A human being that deserved a life of her own. If she helped him with his mission, he could help her.

Still, he knew she wouldn't have seen it that way if he told her.

He would tell her, though. Just not now.

"We can try again later," he told her.

"Okay."

Nodding, he held his hand out toward her. She stared at it for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip as she contemplated. Finally, she took his hand.

Oscar smiled at her. She returned it.

"Come on," he said. "Sister Maria's making tamales for lunch."

"I love tamales."

"Me too."

And with that, the two of them made their way back to the church.

#

After lunch, Oscar left Xiomara to the nuns for bible study. She seemed to enjoy it more than he did, though. With them taking up the main church hall to sing hymns and read the bible, Oscar took it upon himself to finally get the ball on his mission rolling.

Over the past few weeks, he had been keeping up with Atlas news through various underground message boards and media outlets. There was a large community of anti-Atlas and anti-Prime members across the world who kept their compatriots informed on all their movements. How they got access to their information, Oscar wasn't sure.

He was just glad he was able to get access to it too.

Using Sister Maria's laptop, he signed onto the private browser he secretly installed on it and pulled up his two favorite websites: PrimeWatch and Orakle.

The former was purely centered around Primes—registered and unregistered. Unofficial files on every known Prime were kept in the site's database. They had files on Atlas' enhanced soldiers, Chase's band of renegades, and even those who had yet to be captured. He clicked through a few different screens until he landed on what he was looking for.

His eyes widened after landing on a recent news article.

The headline read "Exiles capture by Atlas in North Dakota".

Captured? Didn't see that coming.

He never would've thought they would've been captured. For three years, they had remained under the radar. What changed? How had Atlas found them? Shaking his head, he decided he didn't care. It wasn't his problem. They didn't deserve his concern.

He clicked the article and continued reading. According to whoever gathered the information on the Atlas raid, half of the Exiles had been apprehended while the others escaped. Chase, Victor, and Emily were among the escapees while Black Hole—a young, mysterious Prime believed to have cosmic abilities—had been arrested, among others.

They were being held at The Acropolis until the storm ravaging the Atlantic Ocean subsided. No helicopters would be able to perform any pickups or drop-offs to The Vault until the storm stopped.

If he knew Chase, and he was certain he did, the other Exiles would surely go after their captured members. Leaving people behind was not in Sentinel's philosophy.

Oscar's eyes lit up.

A wicked grin spread across his face.

All of his enemies would soon be in one place.

The Acropolis.

If he could make it to Atlas' headquarters in a few days, he could streamline his mission. He could take everyone out in one, flaming sweep. His grin widened. A look of malice filled his eyes.

It was perfect.

Xiomara was nowhere near ready to fight Atlas. And if Chase and his people would be heading to The Acropolis as well, that meant there would be even more Primes to fight. Oscar wasn't worried about himself; he was certain he could hold his own against them. It was Xiomara he was concerned about.

She was nowhere near ready to fight.

Maybe I'll just go myself...

He shook his head. He promised he would look after her. Leaving her behind at the church was not an option. But could he realistically take her with him to Oregon? Throwing her into a hectic fight like that was the opposite of protecting her.

Groaning, he threw his head back.

Plotting his revenge was proving to be more difficult than he anticipated.

"Everything alright, Uriel?"

Oscar nearly jumped out of his seat. In one swift motion, he slammed the laptop shut and spun around. Faking a smile, he tried his best to look casual.

"Huh? Oh yeah, I'm alright. Just...the wifi in here is terrible."

The priest readjusted his glasses. "Ah, yes. Our internet could be a little better. I'll call the cable company tomorrow morning to see if we can upgrade."

"That'd be nice."

Father Vincent squinted at him. "What are you doing in here, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Just doing a little research."

"On Primes?"

Oscar blanched. "Er, no? What makes you say that?"

The priest chuckled and approached him. "I may be old, but I'm not blind. At least, not yet." He gestured at the closed laptop on the desk. "You were reading an article. An attack in North Dakota."

"How long were you standing there?!"

"Long enough."

Oscar scowled at the man. "I was just reading, alright? Don't read too much into it."

"You know," Father Vincent began as he sat down on the edge of the table, "I've had my suspicions about you for a long time. I was never sure if I was right, but I've started to wonder..."

"Look, whatever you think you know...it's wrong," Oscar interrupted, his tone colder than ice. "Just drop it, okay? I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Is that a threat, Uriel?"

"It's a warning, Father Vincent."

The man stroked his mustache. "I see, I see." He folded his wrinkly hands over his lap. "We want to help you. Trinity Mission is a place of healing. A place of refuge." He glanced at Oscar with his deep, knowing eyes. "A place of rebirth. I have a feeling you know all about that."

He kept quiet. His jaw was locked shut, keeping all the words hostage in his mouth.

"I can see the rage within you, hijo," Father Vincent continued. "You're full of anger and fury and hurt. It rolls off you like heatwaves in the summer. We all can feel it."

"You can't feel anything!" Oscar erupted, shooting up from his chair. He jabbed a finger at the man. "You haven't felt anything I've felt. You have no idea what I've been through, old man." He felt his body temperature start to rise as curls of smoke poured from his shoes.

Shit.

Father Vincent didn't seem to be fazed. Nor surprise. He remained sat on the edge of the table with his hands clasped. A serene, almost blank, expression covered his face. Oscar could barely see his eyes through the foggy lens of his glasses.

Taking a few deep breaths, he willed himself to cool down. He didn't want to accidentally set the church on fire. Even if the priest was pissing him off.

"Your name isn't really Uriel," Father Vincent said.

"It's not."

"You're also a Prime."

"I am."

He nodded. "Thought so." His eyes flickered to the door. "And Xiomara?"

Oscar bit down on his tongue. His brain debated whether or not she should tell the priest about Xiomara. Then again, he figured it didn't really matter. Now with his secret out, he knew he couldn't stay at Trinity Mission. While he trusted Sister Maria, he wasn't sure if he could trust Father Vincent.

He would have to find a new place to stay soon.

"Yes," he finally said. "Xiomara is like me."

"God told me there was something special about her," the priest said with a small smile. He motioned toward Oscar with his chin. "He also told me there was something special about you."

He scoffed. "Yeah, right."

"I may not know you," he started, "but I know you. I know the type of person you are. I've seen men like you throughout my entire life. People have wronged you. Society has forgotten about you. Your life has been plagued with anguish and suffering. You're drowning beneath its waves, gasping for air. The rage you carry within is suffocating you. You're on a quest for revenge, but I'm telling you now, hijo. You cannot give in to the anger. You cannot let it win."

Tears welled in his eyes. Wiping them away, he dropped his head.

He doesn't understand. No one will ever understand.

"I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't." He lifted his head slightly. His hands curled into fists at his side. "You don't know what they did. I have to do this. I don't have a choice."

"We always have a choice. You cannot let your rage consume you. It will destroy you."

"They ruined my life, Father."

"And it's up to you to fix it."

He fell silent.

"I've been praying for you the day I met you," Father Vincent said softly. He laid a hand on Oscar's shoulder. "You're destined for great things. God brought you to my church for a reason. It's my duty to help you, to prevent you from going down this path you're headed down. If you don't stop now, I fear there is nothing that can save you."

"I don't need saving," Oscar snapped. He shook the man's hand off him. "What I need is my family back. My uncle, my sister. My parents. But they're dead. They're not coming back. These people...they took them away from me. Then they threw me away when I needed them most." Sniffling, he wiped his nose. "They have to pay. They have to."

"And what about Xiomara? What will happen to her if you continue down this path? What will you do when you get her killed?"

"That won't happen."

"You don't know that."

Oscar scowled. "I'm done talking about this with you." He hurried for the door. Stopping beneath the doorframe, he glanced at the priest over his shoulder. "We'll be out of here before the day's over."

"You don't have to leave. You can stay here for as long as you want—"

"No," he protested. "We're going."

Just as he stepped foot out the room, he heard a scream. Then another. Soon, the air was filled with piercing shouts and the sound of doors being kicked in. His heart stopped. A chilling sensation cascaded down his body like a waterfall of ice.

He turned to Father Vincent, who had risen back to his feet.

"We need to get to the nave," the priest said.

Oscar nodded. Despite their argument, they both knew what needed to be done. Without a second thought, the two of them took off for the front of the church.