Alcatraz Versus the Evil Librarians

instead.
    At that moment, my Talent proactively broke the spectacles’ frames. Both Lenses fell to the ground, one shattering as it hit the stones, the other bouncing away and falling facedown. It fired, blasting a stream of concentrated light into the stones beneath it.
    “Alcatraz!” Sing said desperately as his uzis ran out of bullets again. He dropped them, reaching over his shoulder to pull out the shotgun. He fired it with a loud boom. The Alivened’s chest exploded with a burst of paper, spraying confetti across the corridor.
    The creature stumbled, nearly falling as Sing hit it again. However, it righted itself and continued to walk toward him.
    I reached for the intact Firebringer’s Lens, but shied back from the heat. The Lens itself wasn’t hot, of course – that would make it fairly difficult to wear on the face. However, it was superheating the stones around it, and I couldn’t get close.
    I turned urgently to check on Bastille, and I was just in time to see her ram her crystal sword directly into her opponent’s chest. The Alivened, however, slammed its bulky arm into her, tossing her backward. The sword remained jutting ineffectively from its chest, and Bastille crashed into the stone wall of the corridor, crumpling.
    “Bastille!” I shouted.
    She did not move. The creature loomed over her.
    Now, as I’ve tried to explain, I wasn’t a particularly brave boy. But it has been my experience that doing something brave is much like saying something stupid.
    You rarely plan on it happening.
    I charged the Alivened monster. It turned toward me, stepping away from Bastille, and raised its arm to swing. I somehow managed to duck the blow. Stumbling, I reached up and grabbed the sword in the creature’s chest. I pulled it free.
    Or, rather, I pulled the hilt free.
    I stumbled back, raising the hilt to swing before I realized that the crystal blade was still sticking in the monster’s chest.
    Behind me, Sing’s shotgun began to click, out of ammunition.
    I lowered my hand, staring at the hilt. My Talent, unpredictable as always, had broken the sword. I stood for a long moment – far longer, undoubtedly, that I should have in those circumstances. I gripped the broken hilt.
    And began to grow angry.
    All my life, my Talent had ruled me. I’d pretended to go along with it, pretended that I was the one in control, but that had been a sham. I’d purposely driven my foster families away because I’d known that sooner or later, the Talent would do it for me – no matter what I wanted.
    It was my master. It defined who I was. I couldn’t be myself – whoever that was – because I was too busy getting into trouble for breaking things.
    Grandpa Smedry and the others called my Talent a blessing. Yet I had trouble seeing that. Even during the infiltration, it seemed like the Talent had been only accidentally useful. Power was nothing without control.
    The Alivened stepped forward, and I looked up, teeth clenched in frustration. I gripped the sword hilt tightly.
    I don’t want this, I thought. I never wanted any of this! Bastille wanted to be an Oculator… well, I just wanted one thing.
    To be normal!
    The hilt began to break in my hand, the carefully welded bits of steel falling free and clinking to the ground. “You want breaking?” I yelled at the Alivened. “You want destruction?”
    The creature swung at me, and I screamed, slamming my hand palm-forward to the floor. A surge of Talent electrified my body, focusing through my chest and then down my arm. It was a jolt of power like I’d never summoned before.
    The floor broke. Or perhaps shattered would be a more appropriate word. Exploded would have worked, except that I just used that one a bit earlier.
    The stone blocks shook violently. The Alivened stumbled, the floor beneath it surging like waves on an ocean. Then the blocks dropped. They fell away before me, tumbling toward the level beneath. Bookshelves in the massive library room below were smashed as blocks of stone rained down, accompanied by an enormous paper monster.
    The Alivened hit the ground, and there was a distinct shattering noise. It did not rise.
    I spun wildly, dropping the last bits of the sword hilt. Sing was furiously reloading the shotgun. I brushed by him, charging the second Alivened. I reached to touch the ground, but the massive beast jumped, moving quickly out of the way. It was obviously smart enough to see what I had just done to its companion.
    I raised a