Keller Estate, Underground Training Room
Jack's eyes flew open.
The spell had felt like… nothing. A tingle behind the eyes. A shimmer in his chest. Then warmth. Like someone had turned on a space heater inside his brain. And now—everything was different.
He sat up so fast he nearly launched himself off the bed.
His heart thudded, but not with fear. With energy. His limbs felt tighter, stronger. Like they knew what to do before he could even think about it.
Anansewa knelt beside the bed, eyes glowing faintly orange. The glowing silk pattern she had woven across Jack’s forehead still hovered in the air, a flickering spiderweb that dissolved as she reached up and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Jack? Are you okay?”
Jack blinked, then grinned wide.
“Do it again,” he said breathlessly.
Anansewa raised an eyebrow. “Do what again?”
“That thing! That awesome thing you just did! I feel amazing! Watch!”
Before she could respond, Jack rolled off the bed, tucked into a shoulder roll mid-fall, landed in a crouch, and sprang to his feet with surprising grace. His boots didn’t even scuff the mat.
He turned, beaming. “Did you see that?! I didn’t even think! I just did it!”
Anansewa stood slowly, watching him. “That’s… good. That means the motor training portion of your memory is returning.”
Jack wasn’t listening.
He was too busy darting around the room, hopping over low crates, somersaulting under a suspended bar, then stopping at the weapons rack and instinctively pulling one of the lighter throwing knives. His fingers flipped it once, twice, then—
FSSHTT!
The blade sank into a foam dummy across the room, dead center in the chest.
“WOAH!” Jack yelped. “Did you see that?! I didn’t even aim that hard!”
“Yes, Jack. I saw.”
“I’m like a ninja cowboy or something!” He spun around, clearly trying not to bounce in place. “We gotta go now! Come on—Ethan needs me!”
Anansewa’s brows furrowed. She approached slowly, speaking gently. “Jack. Before we do anything, I need you to tell me something.”
“Yeah?” He tugged another throwing knife from the rack, gripping it with expert fingers.
“Do you remember who I am?”
Jack squinted. “Uh…”
He tilted his head, then shrugged. “You’re the spider-rope girl. You helped me with the spell.”
“…Do you remember my name?”
Jack paused again. His mouth opened, closed. He winced, trying to concentrate.
“Uhhhhh…”
The sound came out like a balloon deflating in slow motion.
“Nope!” he admitted cheerfully, bouncing on his heels. “But you’re super nice, and you saved my brain, so thanks!”
Anansewa exhaled slowly. “Okay… what about Khaki? Do you remember who he is?”
Jack laughed. “You mean the guy who talks like a camp counselor and dresses like an action figure? Yeah. I mean, no. Not really.”
Anansewa's throat tightened. “Cyberteen?”
Jack spun and chucked another blade—thunk—it nailed the dummy in the shoulder.
“I think that’s the electric dude, right? Kinda cranky, but not bad. And he has a cool suit. But no, don’t remember him either.”
“What about you, Jack? What do you remember about yourself?”
Jack scratched the back of his head. “Uhh… I’m twelve. I live in the woods. I like fighting bad guys. And I’m best friends with Ethan.”
“That’s it?”
Jack shrugged again. “That’s enough, right?”
Anansewa bit her lip.
The spell had worked—technically. His reflexes, his training, his balance, his grip, even the throw angles—perfect. The muscle memory of a trained vigilante was back.
But the rest of him? Still very much a twelve-year-old.
Impulsive. Reckless. Gleeful. Confused.
The spell hadn’t restored his memories. In fact, judging from how he couldn’t even focus on trying to remember her name, it may have pushed them farther away.
Anansewa turned and walked toward the corner of the training room where Ken was pacing, arms crossed and tense.
“How bad?” he asked under his breath.
“He’s got all his muscle memory,” she whispered back. “Combat instincts. Tactical movement. Maybe even some equipment use. But emotionally? Cognitively? He’s still a kid. And his episodic memory’s scrambled worse than before.”
Ken let out a slow breath through his nose. “Can he fight?”
“He can fight,” Anansewa said grimly. “But he can’t reason. He’s a child with the instincts of a grown-up vigilante and none of the judgment. He can run a rooftop sprint blindfolded, but he doesn’t remember why he’d need to.”
They both turned to look at Jack, who was now posing dramatically in front of a mirror, doing exaggerated kicks with sound effects and muttering things like “POW! ZAP! WHATCHA!”
“He thinks it’s a game,” Ken muttered.
Anansewa sighed. “It is, to him.”
Jack finished his routine and jogged over, practically glowing. “Okay! When do we go? I wanna sneak in and rescue Ethan like a jungle commando!”
Ken looked him up and down. “Jack, we’re not going to war. This is serious.”
“I am serious,” Jack replied, puffing his chest. “I got throwing knives and everything!”
“You also forgot my name five minutes ago.”
“Did not!” Jack said automatically, then paused. “...Okay, maybe I did. But I still know what’s important! Ethan’s my friend. He needs help. That’s all I need to know.”
Ken looked at Anansewa. “This is a problem.”
“It’s a liability,” she said. “But we don’t have time to undo it. And honestly?” She lowered her voice further. “We might not be able to undo it now.”
Ken frowned.
Jack, oblivious to their growing tension, was humming a tune and adjusting the strap on his satchel.
“Once more into the breach, I guess,” Ken muttered. “Suit him up.”
Ten minutes later, Jack stood at the ready, dressed in his green scout-like outfit, throwing knife satchel slung at his side, goggles perched on his head like he was going treasure hunting instead of storming a techno-sorceress’s lair.
He grinned up at Anansewa, bouncing on his heels. “So… am I gonna get a superhero name or what?”
Anansewa couldn’t help but smile.
She ruffled his hair.
“You already have one, remember?”
Jack blinked.
“Nope.”
Anansewa chuckled softly. “Stealthy Scout.”
Jack lit up. “Ooh, that’s awesome!”
Then he paused.
“…Wait, did I come up with that?”
“You did.”
Jack beamed. “Well then, of course it’s awesome.”
Anansewa managed a small, bittersweet smile. She watched as the twelve-year-old vigilante bounded out of the room to find his boots, completely unaware that the spell meant to restore his memories had instead left him dangling—half a warrior, half a child, and entirely unpredictable.
She turned back to Ken.
“This is going to be a wild rescue.”
Ken nodded grimly.
“Let’s just hope he remembers how to duck.”