The Atlanta morning wrapped around Marcus like tactical armor as he ran through his hundredth mental rehearsal. Piedmont Park's running trails were still quiet this early, but his enhanced awareness caught each jogger and dog-walker long before they came into view. Not through his new precognition – that seemed limited to immediate threats – but through something else. An amplification of the situational awareness he'd developed through years of special operations.
Maya was already at their usual spot, shadow-boxing beneath a sprawling oak. Her SWAT training showed in every controlled movement. In another timeline, she'd been one of the last to fall when Atlanta burned. This time would be different.
"You look like you're heading to a mission brief, not morning PT," she said by way of greeting, catching his expression. "What's got you wearing your game face?"
Marcus scanned the area one more time. Three joggers on the main path, elderly couple walking their retriever, college kid sleeping off a hangover on a distant bench. No one within earshot.
"Need you to humor me for about five minutes," he said, keeping his voice neutral. "After that, if you want to call me crazy and walk away, I won't blame you."
Maya's eyes narrowed, combat instincts engaging. "This about that classified op you just got back from?"
"Something like that." Marcus squared up to the practice dummy they sometimes used for combatives training. "I'm going to show you something. Then we're going to have a conversation about what's coming in three months."
"What's coming in three—"
Marcus cut her off with a raised hand. "Watch first. Questions after."
He centered himself, focusing on the dummy. The first two attempts that morning had taught him that forcing the precognition was like trying to force night vision – the harder you tried, the less it worked. Instead, he let his combat mindset take over, treating the power like any other tactical tool.
The vision hit clean and clear. In three seconds, the dummy's arm would swing right, powered by the morning breeze. A simple event, but perfect for demonstration.
"Right swing incoming," he said calmly. "Three, two—"
The arm moved exactly as he'd seen. Maya's sharp intake of breath confirmed she'd caught the timing.
"Could be a lucky guess," she said, but her tone had shifted from skeptical to analytical. "Do it again."
Marcus complied, calling out three more movements before they happened. Each prediction landed with precision that would have made his old spotter jealous. By the fourth demonstration, sweat beaded his forehead – not from exertion, but from the mental strain of repeated use.
"Jesus Christ," Maya whispered. "That's not possible."
"Four years from now, I died in Afghanistan." Marcus kept his voice steady, professional. Mission briefing tone. "I was offered a chance to come back, to prevent something worse. Got a few upgrades in the bargain."
"Time travel and superpowers." Maya's hand unconsciously shifted toward where her sidearm would normally ride. "You know how this sounds?"
"Like I need a psych eval and a long vacation." He met her eyes. "But you've known me two years, Maya. Trained together, run ops together. You know I don't bullshit about mission-critical intel."
"And this is mission-critical?"
"In three months, a virus breaks out. Not natural. Not accidental. It spreads faster than anything we've seen, hits harder than anything we've trained for. Military containment fails within weeks. By month three, sixty percent of the population is either infected or dead."
Maya's tactical mind engaged visibly, profession overriding disbelief. "And these...abilities are supposed to help prevent that?"
"They're tools. Like night vision or thermal imaging. Limited application, specific weaknesses. The precog only works for immediate physical threats, burns energy like a sprint, and leaves a hell of a mental fatigue."
"But you've got more than just the future sight."
Marcus allowed himself a grim smile. She'd already shifted from questioning if it was real to analyzing capabilities. It's why he'd chosen to approach her first.
"Enhanced tactical processing. Better retention of combat knowledge. Some resistance to what's coming. Enough advantages to make a difference, not enough to guarantee anything."
"And you're telling me this because?"
"Because I'm building a team. Because in the original timeline, you died trying to save civilians when Atlanta fell. Because I need operators I can trust, and you're on a very short list."
Maya was silent for a long moment, eyes unfocused in the way operators get when running tactical scenarios.
"Show me again," she finally said. "Everything you can do. Then tell me exactly what we're up against and what your plan is."
Marcus nodded, already feeling the familiar weight of command settling back onto his shoulders. "Let's find somewhere more private. This is going to take a while."
The sun climbed higher over Atlanta as they walked, its warmth a reminder of time passing. Three months suddenly felt very short.