Entering a small home, Gutshot looked up and stopped midway through pulling his keys from the front door, confused by the sight. A heavyset man leaning heavily on a cane stood in the kitchen, smiling at him. Squinting, Gutshot tried to place him. He was very familiar in a deja-vu kind of way.

  “Who are you?” Gutshot asked.

  Sighing, the man moved away from the dishwasher he was clearing out and hobbled into the living room casually.

  “Hello?” Gutshot prodded.

  “Just a minute.”

  Remaining cautiously by the open door, Gutshot protruded his stomach slightly, preparing for anything. Continuing through the room, the man stepped into the hallway and out of sight of Gutshot. An instant later, he popped his head back through. Gutshot lit up.

  “Dad!”

  “Hey, kiddo,” Gutshot’s dad hobbled back toward him.

  “I learned about my other power today! It makes me think that random people are my dad!” Gutshot shared as he locked the door.

  His father, Gorman, stopped short, looking at him with an impressed air of shock.

  “You know you forget me?”

  “I do now.” Gutshot rubbed his belly gently, embarrassed.

  His father laughed, leaning both hands on his cane as he flashed a rare grin. “You know how long I’ve been working on getting you to figure it out? Someone finally cracked it! Who was it? Apex put it together for you?”

  “My friend, Sami.” Gutshot glanced down at his father’s heavy lean on the cane. “I forgot about your leg. You know, I can get someone—”

  “To look at that for me? Your friend Beth at HUE can heal things, including an injury like mine?”

  Gutshot paused, mortification bubbling into his throat. “We’ve talked about it before?”

  “Only every day.”

  “So that means…”

  “Whenever you get a ‘new dad,’ you totally forget about me. It doesn’t seem to happen when you hop from a replacement to a replacement, just me. Does something with your speech too, you’re usually more sophisticated. Did they tell you how it works?” It sounded rehearsed. This conversation was common for Gorman, to Gutshot’s chagrin.

  “You mean the Dad Replacement? No, I only just figured out that it’s happening. You know when?”

  “Whenever a male you see leaves the room you’re in, they become your dad, replacing the old one. Doesn’t even have to be human. It happened once with a fruit fly we shooed out of the place!”

  “How did I know it was a male fly?”

  “How should I know!” His dad laughed.

  Plopping himself onto the couch, Gutshot patted his stomach in thought. How often had he hopped fathers in this one day. Did every passing car have the chance to replace his father? Knowing the issue made it better to deal with, but it didn’t resolve the issue.

  Limping, his father returned to the kitchen and finished storing plates and cutlery away before joining him in the living room. Ruffling his son’s hair, Gorman sat down on the armchair and let out a long, satisfied grunt when taking the weight off his legs.

  Gutshot eyed the permanent injury, frowning. A leg broken by bots during the Silent Scream years ago that never fully healed. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out the index card with “Steve - clay guy” written on it.

  “Maybe I can write a note to myself to make sure I get Beth to check out your foot.”

  “Haven’t we tried that before?” Gutshot’s dad was digging into the side of the couch cushion in search.

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Yeah, me neither. I think we did and you threw it out when you got a new dad.”

  “But I’ll figure it out, I promise! It’s why I joined HUE in the first place. It was our best bet of finding someone with healing powers.”

  Face softening, Gutshot’s father looked up to him with a small smile. “All I care about is that you come home safe every day. You’re doing important work, but it’s dangerous work. I know your ‘Gutshot’ power is incredible, but I’m afraid you’ll try to use it in a situation where it won’t work out. And I’d much rather have you struggle to remember me than not come back at all.”

  “Don’t worry, Dad, I’m safe.”

  “What about that deployment where you met the scientist?”

  “That was one time!”

  Smiling and shrugging, his father returned to searching more earnestly. Gutshot flipped the index card to the back and took intense notes to make sure he wouldn’t forget to get his dad checked out the next time he saw Beth.

  “There it is,” Gorman said to himself, pulling a small rectangle from the couch. “I got you a documentary on armadillos. Thought you might like it on account of your power.”

  “Huh? How?” Gutshot barely looked up from the card he scribbled on.

  “An armadillo is the opposite of your Gutshot power. In fact, most animals are vulnerable at their stomachs, including humans. You’re pretty unique in that way. I thought you might like to see this to appreciate it.” Gorman tossed the DVD to Gutshot. It bounced off his stomach.

  “Sorry, let me just finish the note to fix you.”

  “It’s really not a big deal, kiddo. I’ve learned to live with my leg. It’s not something I dream of going away anymore, it’s just a new phase of life.”

  Satisfied with his note, Gutshot tucked it away and picked up the DVD. Examining the armadillo on the cover and flipping to read the blurb on the back, Gutshot frowned suddenly.

  “Do we own a DVD Player?”

  “No.”

  “Oh. I thought you wanted to watch it together.”

  “Why? I don’t have a super stomach!” Gorman slapped his large belly.

  Gutshot laughed aloud at the resulting ripple. Smile going somber, Gutshot took a moment to take in his father’s face. His dad may not have believed it was a big deal, but Gutshot wanted to see him walk pain free. He had sacrificed so much just for Gutshot to get his chance at HUE, and he wanted to at least pay it back in some way.

  Tomorrow, he definitely would.

  * * *

  Hands on both sides of his face like blinders, Gutshot hastily made his way to HUE Headquarters. Every footstep was a liability, every shop could hold a man, every car passing by could try to replace his father. But he would get to HUE and talk to Beth before the Replacement happened. He didn’t know how many times he’d attempted it before, but this would finally be the time. He could feel it!

  A commotion was happening in one alleyway he passed, like a dozen chickens were talking to one another, and Gutshot had to strain his neck to prevent himself from glancing. Closing his eyes, he rushed forward on the sidewalk, not caring for the danger of accidentally stumbling into the street. His stomach would probably protect him from a head on collision with a car.

  Entering a familiar path, Gutshot was in a full sprint, heaving as ran to the entrance of HUE. Progress was slow, Gutshot wasn’t much of a runner, but the strain was nothing compared to the determination.

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  Bursting through the doors, Gutshot barely waved at the receptionists before slapping his card on the reader to open the door.

  “Everything okay?” Lily asked.

  “What’s the rush, bud?” Darius asked.

  Ignoring them, Gutshot bolted inside, his face a beet red from the strain. “Beth? Where’s Beth!?”

  Beth perked her head up from the other end of the warehouse, looking nervous. Milo stood in front of her.

  “What’s wrong? Is someone hurt?” he asked.

  “My dad! My real dad!” Gutshot stumbled as he rushed over.

  “Oh, great.” Milo folded his arms.

  Beth peeked out from behind her brother. “Is there something wrong? Can I help in some way?”

  Digging into his pocket, Gutshot quickly pulled out a DVD about armadillos. Blinking, he couldn’t remember where he got it from. Shaking his head, his hand shot back into his pocket and pulled out an index card.

  Reading quickly, he spoke. “My dad has a broken leg, it’s been broken for years and it causes him a lot of pain. He… I…”

  Beth took a step around Milo, approaching Gutshot. “It’s okay, I’m listening. Go on.”

  “I just… Well, it says his leg is broken, but Darius is fine. I just passed by him on the way in. For some reason, I wrote down that my real dad was named Gorman. I’ve never met a Gorman. Do we have someone with that name in HUE?”

  “Oh.” Beth looked embarrassed for him. “Are you sure you wrote the note when you were with your real dad?”

  Gutshot frowned in frustration. “I don’t remember. I’m pretty sure Darius isn’t my dad.”

  “He’s not,” Beth confirmed.

  Crumpling up the note, he shoved it into his pocket angrily. There was a reason he wrote it, but it was dancing at the edge of his memory. Shuffling away in shame, he looked over the movie in confusion.

  “Morning Gutshot. Did you grab that from the TV room?” Claire chewed on an apple.

  “I don’t remember where I got it from. But can we watch movies in the TV room?”

  “If Annie allows it,” Sami took a swig of water from his gallon. “She wasn’t a fan of my suggestion to watch anything action-oriented last time I talked to her.” He sounded uncharacteristically upset.

  “I guess I’ll go talk to her. Maybe she’ll know where it came from.”

  “Good luck with that,” Sami said sarcastically, waving with his Shadow Hand.

  Scrunching his face as he walked, Gutshot felt like he was three steps behind himself. It happened often that there was a fuzzy haze at the edge of his memory that made him feel stupid. Act stupid too, infantilized by a gap of experience in his life, but Sami and Claire never judged him for it. Though, it made sense that Sami wouldn’t disparage him on account of him being his dad.

  He knew the others in HUE held a bit of disdain for what seemed like insincerity. But something just refused to click in his brain, and it wasn’t just about his dad. A wide-spreading void of a flower in his mind, whose stem began at the memory of his father. And the void consumed all related memories, sapping his intelligence.

  Entering the halls beyond the warehouse, Gutshot paused when he saw the girl in the TV room alone. She was sitting up, but her eyes were on her phone more than the screen. A documentary was playing, flashing images of space. The intricate star systems and planets floating in emptiness were beautiful and Gutshot hesitated to disrupt it. At the same time, it didn’t look like Annie cared, much less paid attention.

  Cracking the door open, he poked his head in. “Can I come in?”

  “Mmm.” She didn’t look up from her phone and her tone was flat. Light music emitted from surrounding speakers, colors flashing.

  Gutshot took it as an invitation and slid his way inside. Glancing around the cramped, dark room, Gutshot made his way to the couch and sat on the arm, tapping on his movie case. Annie glanced at him.

  “What movie?”

  “Armored Armadillos.” Gutshot showed her. “Do you know if it was part of this movie collection?”

  “Definitely not. I’ve watched all the nature docs we have at least three times.”

  Gutshot frowned at it, disappointed in the lack of answers.

  “Did you wanna watch it?” Annie asked, sounding enthused.

  Gutshot blinked, flipping the case over again. He wasn’t particularly interested in armadillos. But there had to have been a reason he held the movie.

  “Sure. You don’t mind?”

  Annie shrugged.

  Hopping up from the couch, Gutshot kneeled down and stared between the DVD player and… the other one that took big tapes. He felt like he should know what it was called, even if it was a little before his time. Something lost with the memory of his dad?

  As he pursed his lips and tried to figure out the device, the movie suddenly slipped from his hands. Blinking, he realized the case was floating a few inches ahead of his face. Clicking open, the DVD popped out and perfectly landed in the DVD tray that opened just in time, ?kicking out the old movie.

  Falling back slightly, Gutshot looked over his shoulder and saw Annie spinning a finger in midair. An air of ease surrounded her, like she’d done it hundreds of times before. Gutshot didn’t recall exactly what her power was, but it was the most elegant telekinesis he’d ever seen. The removed movie neatly set itself into its case and slotted itself alphabetically with the rest of the space documentaries. Stunned, Gutshot returned to the couch.

  “Thanks. That was amazing.”

  “No problem. I hope the narrator’s good on this one.” Annie leaned forward on the couch eagerly.

  The opening credits passed on screen in near silence, the buzz of wilderness ambience in the background. The camera panned down from a bright sky into a hot desert, miles of expanse in all directions. Zooming slowly, the screen revealed that it tracked an armadillo waddle across the land. A professional-sounding, enunciative narrator suddenly spoke,

  “Here, in the twilight zone of the Texas brush, we witness a creature of remarkable resilience, the armadillo. Its bony armor, a marvel of natural engineering, deflects the fangs of predators and the harsh thorns of the unforgiving landscape. But this walking tank has a secret vulnerability. Beneath that impenetrable shield lies a soft, unprotected underbelly. A frailty that savvy hunters are quick to exploit. The armadillo’s life is a constant gamble, a delicate balance between armored might and vulnerable flesh, played out under the watchful eyes of the desert stars.”

  Annie tucked her legs under herself, nodding at the screen. “Neat. Nice narration, too. Armor everywhere except the stomach. I didn’t know that they lived in… Are you crying?”

  Sniffling, Gutshot wiped a tear from his cheek. “Yeah, I… I dunno. I felt like I should have already known about their armor. And it’s sad that I didn’t.”

  “Oh. I thought you were crying because they’re beautiful creatures.” She watched the main armadillo waddle under the meager protection of a desert broom. “That would have made more sense. But your thing isn’t too weird. I’ve seen a lot of movies where people cry at strange times.”

  Wiping another tear threatening to break from his eye, Gutshot looked at her. “Really?”

  Annie continued to watch the screen.

  Gutshot stared at the massive pile of movies. “Can we watch one after this? An emotional one?”

  Annie looked at him skeptically. “Why?”

  “I dunno. Maybe it can help me understand.”

  Annie’s eyes narrowed. “Can I pick the movie?”

  “Yeah. It’s your turn, right?”

  Annie smiled widely, nodding and turning back to the screen.

  Footsteps raced past the door. Shouts flooded the hall, followed by more running. Gutshot glanced at the door and started. Apex leaned toward the glass, focusing on Annie and looking like he was considering something important. Shaking his head, he cracked the door open.

  “Annie. We found The Underground. We could really use your help taking them down.”

  “I’m fine.” Annie didn’t even look at him.

  Gutshot went hot, ducking down slightly. He didn’t want to be the only thing between Apex and whatever powers Annie had.

  “Annie, please, this is important.” Apex sounded strained, like patience was thin.

  “You say that every time. I’m good.”

  Grunting in frustration, Apex slammed the door and rushed off. The glass on the door cracked and a hinge broke clean off. Without looking, Annie pointed at it and Gutshot watched with wide eyes as the glass reversed its damage, resealing itself. The broken hinge hopped up from the floor and tucked itself back into the door and its frame.

  Gutshot turned to Annie, staring with his mouth slightly agape.

  “What?” she snapped. “Got something to say about me rejecting a deployment?”

  “No. I was gonna say I like your power.” Gutshot turned back to the screen in time to see a coyote prowling the edges of the armadillo’s path.

  Annie blinked and glanced at Gutshot. “That’s it? You don’t have anything else to say?”

  “Was I supposed to say something else?”

  “No, I just… Thanks. I like my power too.” Annie leaned deeply into the couch cushion, smiling contentedly at him.

  Gutshot didn’t know what he said, but apparently it was the right thing. Suddenly, he sat up straighter and glanced back at the door as something occurred to him.

  If the mission was so important, why didn’t Apex invite Gutshot? Clearly an oversight.

  More ruckus built up from within the hallway and Gutshot leaned toward the TV to hear the narration better. Bafflingly, the armadillo sounded like a bunch of chickens clucking in succession. Squinting, Gutshot shook his head in confusion.

  “Why does it sound like that?”

  “Like what?” Annie turned up the volume with a flick of a finger.

  When the noise of the TV got louder and the narrator came back into focus, Gutshot realized the chicken crows were coming from somewhere in the warehouse. Standing up, he looked at the window only to witness a dozen feathers flying around, like a small army of birds was just beyond the door. He made a half motion to the door, then turned back to Annie.

  “Sorry. Is it rude if I leave now? I don’t mean to ruin movie night. I just saw my dad pass by, and he didn’t look too happy.”

  Annie looked up like she didn’t even notice him standing. Frowning, she looked at the screen, then back to him.

  “It’s not even night time. And didn’t you want to watch another movie after this?”

  Gutshot heard more birds rushing around outside. “Next time?”

  Annie shrugged nonchalantly, but her lips quirked upward slightly. “Next time.”

  Nodding to her appreciatively, Gutshot stumbled to the door and outside the room where he was met with an army of chickens running through the halls.