As usual, Kisi Yeboah was on surveillance duty when she detected the minds of a small group of people approaching Interpol HQ. Outside, a helicopter was cleared for landing so Kisi alerted Sean Pierce that their new recruit had arrived. The helicopter descended on the landing pad on the roof and when the side hatch opened and Arthit Wang stepped out with a duffle bag over his shoulder, he found Pierce and Dafne Mansoor waiting for him. “Hello, Inspector,” Pierce greeted him, “I trust you had a pleasant flight.”

“Hello, Director,” Wang bowed politely, “I look forward to working with you.”

“I’m Dafne Mansoor, Codename: Intrepid,” she shook his hand politely, “I’ll be your field leader. We’d like to give you a tour of our headquarters to start things off.”

“Welcome to the Badges,” Pierce said proudly.

In the following days, Wang underwent a series of tests with the medical team to determine he would survive the Neutronium process without serious health issues. Once it was deemed safe, Wang was sent to a filtration chamber. The room was just large enough to contain a bed with a lamp-like power coupling stretching along either side. The right side of the room had a camera where the science team monitored the situation while the left side had a wall chamber which held a thin blue tube that emitted a blue light which Wang recognized as Neutronium. The aliens that invaded Earth decades earlier were a Type 2 Civilization, meaning they harnessed the power of the stars. According to Rex Robinson, they used Neutronium for a variety of effects, including the creation of super soldiers. It was hard for him to fathom but he went through with it out of duty, hoping that, whatever the results were, he would use the situation to help people in need. He laid down on the bed, listening to the various body monitors chirp. The sedatives started kicking in and he began to drift away and as he did so, he saw the couplings glow brightly. He remembered Pierce’s words, “Normally, we only use a portion of energy but with you being Elite, we’ll have to use the entire tube. Mass manipulation powers have always been within our wheel house but emptying a tube will give you mass manipulation on a stellar level; essentially effecting mass the way a star might.” He closed his eyes and a moment later, his body disappeared as energy washed over him. In an instant, he was reassembled molecularly.

He was given the codename Tonne and after a short stint in the hospital, Wang was sent to Jill Frakes to test his new powers. Like Hernandez, he found himself in a French field with a few scattered trees and little else. “I heard you can manipulate mass,” Frakes began, “What have you discovered so far?”

“While in the hospital, I learned I can effect density, weight and perhaps the force of objects,” Wang explained.

“You can affect weight?,” Frakes motioned toward the Cloudburst parked behind them, “Do you think you can lift the Cloudburst?”

“I can try.”

Once Wang was close to the Cloudburst, he placed his hands on the underside of the ship. He could feel the heaviness in his body as if his arms and legs were one with the vehicle. He concentrated, feeling the mass slowly leave the ship, transferring into his own muscles. He began to lift, which rocked the ship to the side, the tip of the opposite wing lightly touching the grass. The feat surprised even Wang and he began to lose focus and once that happened, he could feel the weight returning. He quickly stepped back while doing his best to channel the mass in such a way that when the ship rocked back into place, there would be a soft landing. The aircraft waddled gently before resting and Wang took several steps back.

“Impressive first try,” Frakes told him.

“I can do better with further training.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t my department.”

In the following week, Wang met with Anton Varkov in the IMD training facility. Hernandez and Bakshi stood off to the side and watched silently as Varkov studied him.

“You have muay thai training, yes?,” Varkov asked.

“Yes, I do.”

“Lots of agents here studied muay thai. And krav maga. And jiu-jitsu. And silat, among others. Do you know any of those?”

“No, I do not.”

“Well, I suppose it’s a start,” Varkov took a fighting stance, “Try me.”

Wang took a defensive stance but did not initiate. “Ah, not too passive but not too rushed for an attack,” Varkov stepped forward with a punch and Wang refused to move. Instead, he absorbed the force of the punch while increasing his own weight. The result: Varkov’s fist harmlessly stopping against his chest while he remained unmoved. Wang responded with a muay thai leg sweep with enough force to throw the former super soldier on the mat.

“Is he super strong?,” Hernandez whispered to Bakshi.

“Not at all,” Bakshi explained as he studied Wang with interest.

“Aha, a balanced man,” Varkov nodded with approval and stood up.

“I try to maintain balance as a Buddhist,” Wang explained and while it helped him physically, he was not as balanced mentally since he was still doubting his place on the team and found his thoughts wandering back to the needs of his home country.

Varkov, meanwhile, addressed the newly formed Elite Squad, “We have a man of faith, a man of science and a man of duty. Together, perhaps you won’t be a complete disappointment to the Badges, no?”

****

In Sweden, a team of scientists flipped a series of switches and the large collider in front of them hummed with power. After nearly a year of planning, the machine was complete and the team was ready to unlock the cryptic dimension most commonly known as the Nowhere Place.

They watched a small particle of light grow larger and larger as members of the team checked their monitors for a variety of readings. A scientist adjusted a few dials on a control panel and the speck of light stopped growing once it was the size of a fingertip. With the scientists distracted, figures wearing hazmat suits rushed in behind the them. The lead figure produced a blade, reached behind a female scientist and quickly slit her throat. The sick gurgling sound and spurt of blood got the attention of the others but it was too late, the Iconoclasts were already pouncing on them with bladed weapons and blunt objects.

Their leader, King Argent, was imprisoned a year earlier and while he was adamant about his followers staying out of harm’s way, they took it upon themselves to continue his crusade against modern technology. “The blasphemers are using their machines to pervert our world!,” an Iconoclast roared, “Bring back True Nature!” He threw a glass bottle filled with a strange substance and once it hit the control panel, a ball of flames erupted along with a spray of sparks. The fire spread along the wall but the Iconoclasts’ attention was drawn to the portal of light that suddenly grew from the size of a fingertip to the size of a doorway. “Something’s coming through!,” one of them shouted.

The semi-translucent, crystalline figure was tall and slender with no clothes or hair and smoothed, androgynous features that did not a convey a particular gender. Its opaque eyes seemingly scanned the area and when it opened its hollow mouth, its voice sounded like an echoed whisper, “Yearn for the pinnacle of emphasis.” The floor began to bend and twist like paper being crumpled into a ball, which made the Iconoclasts cautiously back away even faster than they already were. The walls became discolored and seemingly melted despite no heat being present. The wall of flames that were rapidly spreading were suddenly blown out by a wind with no origin. Then, strange pulsating colors began to flash around the room as the figure stepped forward with no clear destination, “Expand his lingering want.” The Iconoclasts finally decided to attack with their melee weapons but their weapons harmlessly bounced off the figure’s dense body and did no harm. The attack did, however, make it stop momentarily; the Iconoclasts backed up once again as it slowly turned its head toward them. The weapons in their hands suddenly began to elongate and turn rubbery, then they slithered around like snakes. The Iconoclasts made an attempt to throw them down, but the tendrils wrapped themselves around the cultists, gradually pulling them to the floor as they got longer. Soon, there was a mass of tangling vines crawling over them, their screams muffled behind suffocating coils. They tried to claw their way out but their limbs were likewise covered and immobilized; the tendrils continued to grow and slither around while the crystalline figure watched emotionlessly. It wasn’t long before there was nothing left except a mound of rubbery, intertwining coils stacked almost as high as the ceiling with no trace of the men and women inside. Once the threat was removed, the Surrealist marched forward.