Infinity, after all, was still a child. He didn't know that, he barely knew what 'child' meant, but he still was.

He didn't know his mother, or any biological parents at that. From what he knew, he could've easily appeared out of nowhere.

He may have, honestly. He was too powerful. That's what everyone at the Syndicate said. He was a danger, not only to society but also to himself. He believed half of that sentence.

They hadn't wanted to make children. He knew that after all these years. The children from the Infinity Project were nothing more than a plan B, a spare after they realized that they could never make a robot that had the same powers as Storms, Cybers, Sparks and Shadows at the same time. It was too much for it.

Nothing could handle controlling the weather, the electricity, the light and also be able to disguise it, and get out functioning.

Infinity, on the other hand, could very much handle it. He'd convinced himself of that long ago.

He'd been told since he was small that the other children from the Project had all died, that he was the only success. That they needed him.

He wasn't so sure, though. Would they hurt someone so precious, so unique this badly? Would they hurt someone so special to the point his body rotted alive and they had to replace it with robot parts? He didn't think so.

But he still obeyed. It hurt too much when he didn't.

So when the Director of the Syndicate ordered him to hunt down and kill you, a rebel, he very much did.

Except he couldn't kill you.

Why?

Because you'd controlled everything in your fight. You'd made it rain, you'd made the neon signs flicker, you'd shot a ray of light at him. And no one around you noticed.

You were like him.