[ WP ] Every human gets a unique power sometime in their life . The powers are rated on a scale of normal to legendary . One day , a new level is needed .

Traci froze. The bright dot pulsed gently from the screen before her, its white glow seemingly innocent among the billions of greens, oranges, yellows and few reds dotting the map grid. She waited a moment, then reached for the comm. 
 
 Silence at first, then, `` yes, Zerreck?'' 
 
 `` Commander, you need to see this.'' There was a pause, then the voice returned. `` Throw it up on the main. Await further instruction.'' The link went dead. 
 
 Traci brought the display up. The heads around her turned, all facing upward at the world laid out at the head of the D.A.S. intelligence hub center. There, the colored icons of power distribution for the human race sat in brilliant relief as the whole room darkened. Silence ensued, then the murmuring began. Traci simply sat, eyes fixed to that white dot. No one moved. 
 
 The doors flew open, and the Commander strode in. A tall man, made impossibly large by his Red Code. Intimidation came easily to him, so much so that his quiet voice was more a defense against potential death by terror of those around him. It was indeed possible to be frightened to death, it was clear, and his ability to command via that charisma of fear kept him safe from the Purges. 
 
 He motioned to an aide, and she drew her fingers through the air in front of her. Files of data streamed across the screens before them all. All the information out of that small region in Southern China, a sea of green and yellow on the map, and a tiny white dot in the center. 
 
 `` Timeline?'' His voice quiet, demanded the attention of those present, and everyone obliged. Two days ago, a child was born, out of some shack of the Ming Ghettos outside Murlong District. The white signature registered immediately, a small owlish man reported. The Commander frowned. 
 
 `` Birthers are rare,'' he mused. Abilities tend to manifest later in life, whether through turmoil and trauma, or sometimes extreme vitality experiences. Bliss was common for Green Codes, whereas Yellows, Ambers and Oranges came about in military excursions or some political gambit. The Commander was a near Birther, it was known; Traci had heard how, at the age of two, he'd been orphaned in a mugging. He Manifested in his dying mother's arms. The mugger was never found. 
 
 And Red was as high as the coding went. Nation leaders, generals, mass murderers. Few and far between, and always either Purged, or contained in a position of authority where tabs could be kept. 
 
 The white dot drew attention like a star born upon the planet. The Commander motioned to another aide. `` Intel. Everything you can get. Turn every stone, read every scrap of paper or vid-intel. I want everything on this,'' he paused and looked back at the screen, `` unprecedented moment.'' He turned and left the room, aides following. The man he'd given orders was mumbling, reaching out to his links and contacts via telepathy leylines along the globe. 
 Traci was still. A white dot. Code White. This was new. No one had ever seen it, and if -- no, when the news spread, whoever that child was, was in peril. If the world did n't hoist him or her on a pedestal, that child was doomed to death, if not worse. 
 
 Traci pulled her personal comm from the lower drawee of her desk. She sent a message to Rick. He needed to know, before the major media found out. He could dig with his resources, she knew. The Commander would be furious, or as much as he allowed of himself. But she could persuade him to the benefits of Rick's hacking skills. She was Code Orange, after all. She could convince the Vatican she was the Pope, if she wanted. 
 
 Traci set the comm down, and turned her eyes upward. The white dot sat, glowing. Innocent? The world still might not be prepared. 
 
 Part I - End 
 
 
 EDIT -- Writing on my phone proves hazardous. Spelling / Grammar edited.
