Story soundtrack: "Mistakes" by Haimin.

This is very frightening and very strange. Very sad, too. Read with care and caution. It's pretty jumpy, pretty vague. I think you can figure out the pattern pretty quick, though. (And yes, there's a pattern. It doesn't change. That should help.) Also, in case you're wondering, I came up with this idea after watching "Mission Mania" this afternoon.

I don't own Lab Rats. I won't say "enjoy." It's not that kind of story.

* * * Six * * *

"Six people died today because I wasn't strong enough."

"Six people died today because I wasn't fast enough."

"Six people died today because I wasn't smart enough."

"Six people died today because I . . . wasn't enough."

"That's a not a big number, is it?" He looked up. "And I'm really asking."

She sighed and fidgeted, running her fingers up and down her arm. "Why?" She paused, pondering the question. "Well . . . because we lost track of who we were."

"We fell apart." He stared down at the toes of his boots. "Our probability for success was high. We should've aced it." The corner of his mouth twitched.

He looked up. "I saw them, you know. I watched them. I . . . watched them die."

"Well, then I think, it's more than six, really." He tapped a hand on his knee, playing some tune only he knew. "Those six knew other people."

"I never really thought it could happen, you know?" She stared out the window, looking over the ocean. "We . . . we've been training just so that it doesn't happen."

"I should've done something. I'm the leader. I should've done something."

"They screamed, too." His gaze was on the table, but that wasn't what he really saw. "It's the most horrifying thing I ever heard. I don't think I'll ever be able to sleep again."

"I mean, each of those six had friends and family. That number is more than six."

"I've been outrunning people my whole life. All I ever wanted was to get ahead. I regret every time I skipped out on training. I really do."

"I guess I'm in denial." He scratched the back of his neck stiffly. He dug into his skin; he probably didn't even realize he was doing it. "I don't want to think that we . . . that I . . . failed."

"One was a boy my age. He even looked like me. I caught his gaze for just a second. Just before . . . before . . ."

He stuck out his fingers in a desperate attempt to count. Finally he clenched his fist. "It's a lot, okay? It's a big, big number."

"Yesterday I was upset because someone unfriended me online. How stupid is that?"

"I don't want to think we're any weaker. We're still strong. We'll . . . we'll make it through this."

"I know I'm new to this and all, but I really didn't think that . . . that something like this would happen."

"A lot of people are crying today. Parents, siblings, friends . . ." He bit his lip.

"I promise I will never get upset about something like that again. Never."

"This has never happened before." He ran his hand over the smooth glass table. "We always knew it was a possibility. We've come close. But it's never happened."

"How could someone be that evil, you know? Six innocents. Complete innocents."

"That's six funerals. Six mourning families. Six dead bodies, six coffins, six graves. I got the math right, right?"

"Maybe for a minute I forgot what these missions are about. I was thinking about how I could take a selfie from the mission site. But once I saw the . . . the blood . . ." She swallowed.

"It's never going to happen again." His breathing quickened slightly. "Never again."

"Machine guns make the worst sound. No, scratch that. Screams do. I already told you about the screams, right?"

"There was a little boy there. He must've only be five. He's not going to graduate, or get married. He's never going to beg his parents for a car after he learns how to drive."

She took a deep breath. "I love the ocean. It's so free. It's so peaceful." She couldn't bear to take her eyes off the waves crashing outside the window. "Why can't more people be like the ocean?"

"There's the awful realization that evil's never going to stop, is it? It'll always be there. It's not like this was a rare thing. But once you realize it's there, you can't . . . you just can't shake the . . . hopelessness you feel."

"Three men killed six people. You'd think four superhumans could stop them. But no. We were just a second too late. Six people . . . six bullet-filled corpses . . ." He looked up, tears shining in his eyes. "You didn't see them."

"We met his mom later. She was pregnant. That boy will never get to met his baby sister." His mouth opened a little and he leaned back, staring into space. "He'll never know how great it feels to be a big brother. He'll never kiss her scraped knee after she falls on the sidewalk. He'll never read her a bedtime story. He'll never teach her how to play his favorite video game."

"Forget about me." She straightened her shoulders. "It's never been about me, even if I tried to make it that way. All I thought about was my own comfort. Really, how selfish could I have been? I cry for hours when I get dumped. Those families will cry for years because they can never get the people they loved back."

"We should've stopped them. We should've been able to stop them. Why didn't we?" He stood up suddenly and let out a heart-wrenching scream. Every loose object went flying away from him. He lowered his arms and sat back down. "I'm . . . I'm sorry."

"That boy who looked like me . . . I saw him die. Die. Can you understand that?" He didn't even notice that he was screaming now. "Do you know what it's like? People died. I saw them gunned down like they were nothing more than worthless puppets. And I will never, never be able to un-see that."

He tapped a finger each time he listed off a victim. "The five year boy was the first in line. His name was Archer."

"There was a girl only a few years younger than me. Jacqueline. Her mom told me she wanted to be a journalist someday."

"There was that middle-aged lady named Felicia. She just moved here from Poland. From what I heard, she didn't speak a word of English. Her name means happy. I wonder how happy she was during those last few moments."

"That boy . . . his name was Nate. His dad told me that he was great at science. Maybe he would've been Davenport Industries's next top scientist. We'll never know now."

"There was an older guy too. Edwin Stocks. His daughter told us that he served in World War II. Maybe he was old, but he still deserved to live. Or at least . . . not die like that."

"They killed a ten year old girl." She squeezed her eyes shut. "Annica. Who kills a ten year old girl?"

"They weren't really killed for any reason. Terrorism is what everyone's calling it. But . . . that doesn't feel right to say. It was too personal to be terrorism. It was too personal to me. To be there and see it. . . . It's not just terrorism. It's human depravity at its worst."

He clenched his fists and scowled. "I hope they get the death penalty for what they've done. Six innocents. Complete innocents."

"We can blame those guys." He twirled a loose thread on his shirt around his finger. "And sure, they actually did the killing. But we were supposed to help."

"For the first time ever, we couldn't do it." A tear rolled down her cheek and she stubbornly wiped it away.

"Our team fell apart. We were fighting, and we didn't even pay attention. We got there too late. We . . . failed."

"I will never forget this day." He pursed his lips and slammed his fist into the arm of the chair. "And I will make sure it never happens again.

"Six people died today because I wasn't strong enough."

"Six people died today because I wasn't fast enough."

"Six people died today because I wasn't smart enough."

"Six people died today because I wasn't enough."

"Next time, I will be enough."

Sorry if I scarred you for life. Hey, I warned you. It's up to you guys to figure out the context of this. Fit the pieces together. I'm sure you can do it.

Quick question to ponder: Who do you think they were talking to? A specific character (or characters)? Each other? Themselves? You, the reader? I'm just curious about what you think; how you read it.

I'm actually pretty proud, because I didn't use a single dialogue tag in this whole thing. That's a literary accomplishment for me.

Reviews are appreciated, if you're still sane. Sorry about that. I've been studying World War II in history, and I think some of that creepiness might have crept in. Thanks for reading anyway. Bye.