Wei Zhen's hands wouldn't stop shaking.

  He sat in the living room of their modest Monterey Park apartment, staring at the business card the agent had left. Heavy stock paper, embossed lettering. "National Superhuman Response Agency." A phone number with an East Coast area code. The woman who'd handed it to him - Agent Kaplan - had worn a dark suit and spoke with practiced gentleness, as if delivering news to the terminally ill.

  "We have reason to believe we've located your daughter," she had said, standing awkwardly in their doorway. "Daisy Zhen."

  Five years. Five years since a man in a black car had taken their little girl. Five years of police reports, private investigators, dead ends. Five years of Xiuying lighting incense at the small shrine in their bedroom, praying to find Daisy or at least learn what happened to her.

  And now this woman appeared at their door on a Tuesday afternoon with those impossible words.

  "Wei? Are you still sitting there?"

  Xiuying emerged from the bedroom, a half-packed suitcase on the bed behind her. Her eyes were red-rimmed but dry. She had done her crying in private, as always.

  "They'll be here in an hour," she said, switching to Cantonese. It felt safer somehow, more private. "You should pack something."

  Wei nodded but didn't move. "What do you pack," he asked, "when going to see a ghost?"

  Xiuying crossed the room and took his hands in hers, steadying them.

  "Not a ghost," she said firmly. "Our daughter."

  The government jet was nothing like the commercial flights Wei had taken for his rare business trips. Just six plush seats, a small galley, and two NSRA agents who spoke in hushed tones and offered them bottled water and prepackaged sandwiches.

  "I don't understand," Xiuying said, her voice low enough that only Wei could hear. "Why all this? A private plane? Agents? Daisy is just a little girl."

  Wei squeezed her hand. They had been told only the bare minimum: Daisy was alive. She was being held at a facility called Daedalus. She had abilities. Dangerous ones.

  "Mr. and Mrs. Zhen?" Agent Kaplan slid into the seat across from them. "We'll be landing in about forty minutes. I'd like to prepare you for what to expect."

  She opened a slim laptop and turned it toward them. On the screen was a document with "CONFIDENTIAL" stamped across the top in red.

  "Your daughter is currently classified as a high-risk metahuman," she began, her tone clinically detached. "She possesses a rare ability we classify as 'dynamimesis' - she can copy other people's superpowers."

  Wei felt Xiuying's hand tighten around his.

  "I don't understand," he said. "Daisy was a normal child. How could she--"

  "We believe her abilities were artificially activated," Agent Kaplan cut in. "The people who took her... there's evidence they were experimenting with forced activation events. We don't know much, only that it was called 'Project Hollywood' and that it is no longer operational."

  Xiuying made a small, wounded sound.

  "What did they do to her?" she demanded, her accent thickening with emotion. "Who are these people?"

  Agent Kaplan's expression softened slightly. "We're still investigating the organization responsible. What we do know is that your daughter was eventually transferred to a group called the Philly Phreaks, who used her in several criminal activities, including a terrorist attack on a courthouse."

  Wei felt the world tilt sideways. The words "terrorist attack" seemed to echo in the cabin, drowning out the drone of the engines.

  "No," Xiuying said, shaking her head. "Not our Daisy. She wouldn't--"

  "Mrs. Zhen," Agent Kaplan said gently, "you need to understand that your daughter has been through severe trauma. She's been conditioned, manipulated. She currently refers to herself as 'Deathgirl' and has shown extreme hostility toward authority figures."

  Wei stared out the window at the clouds below. Somewhere down there was America, the land of opportunity that had promised them so much. The country where they'd decided to raise their daughter, believing it would give her a better life than they'd had.

  "We want to see her," he said finally. "Whatever she's done, whatever's happened to her. She's our daughter."

  Agent Kaplan nodded. "That's why we've brought you. The rehabilitation team believes that reconnecting with her past - with you - might be crucial to her recovery."

  Recovery. As if Daisy had the flu, not... whatever had been done to her.

  "Will she remember us?" Xiuying asked, her voice small.

  Agent Kaplan closed her laptop. "That's what we're going to find out."

  The Daedalus Correctional Facility loomed against the gray upstate New York sky like something from a nightmare. Concrete and steel, surrounded by fences topped with razor wire. Guard towers. Armed personnel in tactical gear.

  "This is a prison," Wei said as they passed through the third security checkpoint. They had surrendered their phones, watches, jewelry - anything metal - and walked through scanners more sophisticated than any he'd seen at an airport.

  "It's a specialized containment facility," corrected Dr. Novak, the facility's head of metahuman containment who had met them at the entrance. He was a tall man with thinning hair and tired eyes. "For individuals whose abilities pose significant risks."

  "She's thirteen," Xiuying said, her voice sharp. "She should be in school, not prison."

  Dr. Novak sighed. "Mrs. Zhen, I understand your frustration. But your daughter's abilities make her extremely dangerous. She's already responsible for multiple deaths."

  The words hit Wei like physical blows. Deaths. Plural. Their little girl, their Daisy, who used to collect caterpillars in glass jars and release them when they became butterflies.

  "We're doing everything we can to help her," Dr. Novak continued as they walked down a sterile hallway. "She has daily therapy sessions, education, physical activity. We've developed specialized protocols for her particular abilities."

  "What does that mean?" Wei asked.

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  "It means we have safeguards in place," Dr. Novak explained. "Her therapy sessions are conducted remotely, for instance, to prevent her from copying powers from other metahumans."

  They stopped at a heavy door marked "Observation Room 3." Dr. Novak swiped a keycard and entered a six-digit code.

  "Before you see her," he said, "there's something you should know. We've only recently been able to get her to acknowledge her birth name. She's been conditioned to respond to 'Deathgirl' for years. And she may not... she may not react positively to seeing you."

  Xiuying straightened her spine, clutching the small photo album they'd been permitted to bring. "We understand."

  The room beyond was divided by a transparent partition. On their side: three chairs, a small table, a panic button. On the other: a single chair bolted to the floor.

  "She'll be brought in momentarily," Dr. Novak said, gesturing to the chairs. "I'll be monitoring from the next room. If at any point you feel unsafe or overwhelmed, press the button."

  When the door closed behind him, Wei and Xiuying exchanged a look that contained five years of shared grief.

  "No matter what happens," Wei said in Cantonese, "remember that it's not her fault."

  Xiuying nodded, tears finally spilling down her cheeks. "Our daughter is alive. That's what matters."

  A buzzer sounded, and a door on the other side of the partition slid open.

  Two guards entered first, followed by a small figure in light gray clothing. Wei's heart seized in his chest. Even with the changes—the choppy, uneven hair; the hardness in her eyes; the wary animal posture—he would know her anywhere.

  Daisy.

  The guards directed her to the chair and stepped back, remaining in the room. Daisy sat rigidly, her eyes darting around before finally settling on Wei and Xiuying. There was no recognition in that gaze. Only suspicion.

  "Daisy," Xiuying whispered, pressing her hand against the partition. "Bǎobèi, it's us."

  Wei couldn't speak. His throat had closed completely.

  Daisy's eyes flickered with something - a flash of recognition quickly buried beneath layers of wariness. She tilted her head slightly, studying them with the careful attention of a wounded animal assessing potential danger.

  "You..." Her voice trailed off, higher than Wei expected, a reminder of how young she still was despite everything. She shook her head as if clearing cobwebs. "I know your faces."

  "We're your parents," Xiuying said, her voice trembling with hope. "Your mother and father."

  Daisy's expression hardened suddenly. "They said my parents were dead. Or that they gave me away." She spoke with practiced flatness, but her fingers twitched against her leg. "That nobody wanted me."

  Wei found his voice at last. "They lied to you, Daisy. We've been looking for you. For five years, we've been searching. We never stopped."

  Daisy's gaze darted between them, something vulnerable briefly surfacing before being submerged again. "Everyone lies." She leaned forward slightly. "If you're really them, prove it."

  Xiuying opened the photo album with trembling hands. She held up a picture of the three of them at the beach, Daisy five years old and beaming, missing her front teeth, a sand castle behind them.

  "This was at Santa Monica," Xiuying said. "You collected seashells all day. Remember? You named them all."

  Daisy stared at the photo, her eyes widening almost imperceptibly. Her hand rose halfway, before dropping back to her lap.

  Another picture: Daisy in their kitchen, standing on a stool, helping Wei make dumplings, her small hands covered in flour.

  "You always wanted to help cook," Wei said, his voice thick. "Even when you were too small to reach the counter."

  Daisy blinked rapidly, her gaze fixed on the images. "I remember... the smell," she said hesitantly, as if admitting weakness. "Dough and... something green."

  "Chives," Wei said gently. "Your favorite. You would eat them raw from the cutting board."

  A flicker of something crossed her face before vanishing. She touched her collarbone, tracing an invisible line. "There was a necklace. Jade. Shaped like a--"

  "A butterfly," Xiuying finished, tears streaming freely now. "Your grandmother's necklace. We gave it to you for your fifth birthday."

  Daisy nodded slowly, her eyes distant. "I had it when... when they took me. The man in the car." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "They took it away at the facility. Said pretty things weren't for weapons."

  Wei leaned closer to the partition. "Can you tell us what happened that day, Daisy? Anything you remember?"

  A shadow passed over her face, and her posture stiffened. "Why does it matter now?" Her voice had an edge to it, but beneath it Wei could hear a tremor of pain. "You weren't there. You didn't find me."

  The accusation cut deeper than any knife. Wei felt his eyes burn with tears.

  "We tried," he said. "Every day for five years. Police, private investigators, missing child networks--"

  "Then why didn't it work?" Daisy interrupted, anger flaring suddenly. "Why did they get to keep me? Why did I have to--" She stopped abruptly, her hands clenching into fists. Her breathing quickened, and for a moment Wei thought he saw something strange happen to her skin, a rippling beneath the surface.

  One of the guards stepped forward, hand moving to his waist. "Daisy, remember your techniques. Five things you can see."

  To Wei's surprise, Daisy closed her eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose. "Chair. Light. Window. Floor. Hands," she recited mechanically. Then, "Four things I can touch. Three I can hear. Two I can smell. One I can taste." With each category, her breathing slowed.

  When she opened her eyes again, they were clearer, the fury receded. Wei recognized the grounding technique from the anxiety management classes he'd taken after Daisy's disappearance.

  "I remember some things," she admitted quietly, not meeting their eyes. "Not everything. The doctors said I "dissociated". To protect myself." She said the word carefully, like something recently learned. "They showed pictures of you before. To help me remember."

  "We're here now," Xiuying said, pressing her palm against the partition. "And we're not going anywhere."

  Daisy looked down at her hands. "They won't let me leave this place," she said matter-of-factly. "Not after what happened at the courthouse. Not with what I can do."

  "Dr. Novak explained your... abilities," Wei said carefully. "And the incident in Philadelphia."

  Daisy's expression closed off immediately. "Did they tell you how many people I killed?" Her voice was deliberately flat, provocative, testing their reaction. "Did they show you the videos?"

  Wei maintained steady eye contact. "They told us what happened. And that you were under the influence of people who had been... conditioning you for years."

  "That doesn't bring them back," Daisy said, a hint of rawness breaking through her carefully constructed facade. "Nothing does."

  "No," Wei agreed quietly. "But that doesn't mean there's no future for you, Daisy."

  She flinched slightly at the name. "My name is Deathgirl," she said, but it sounded rehearsed, almost halfhearted. "That's who I am now."

  "No," Xiuying said firmly. "That's who they tried to make you. But underneath, you're still Daisy Zhen. Our daughter. The girl who named seashells and helped make dumplings and wore her grandmother's jade butterfly."

  Wei pressed his palm against the partition, matching the position of her smaller hand on the other side.

  "You don't have to be the same Daisy from before," he said gently. "No one expects that. We just want to help you find who you want to be now."

  It was quiet. They looked at each other for a long time.

  The buzzer sounded, and Dr. Novak's voice came through a speaker: "Five more minutes."

  Xiuying quickly turned more pages in the album, showing Daisy pictures of their old home, of the park where she used to play, of the dog that lived next door that she had loved to pet.

  Daisy looked at each one with unexpected attentiveness, occasionally nodding slightly as if confirming something to herself. When she reached a photo of herself in a ballet costume, her breath caught audibly.

  "I remember this," she said, leaning forward. "The tutu was scratchy."

  "Yes!" Xiuying confirmed eagerly. "You complained about it every time, but you refused to wear anything else for class."

  "Miss Chen," Daisy said slowly, the name emerging from some buried recess of memory. "She smelled like jasmine tea. And she always said..." She frowned, trying to grasp the elusive memory.

  "'Chin up, toes pointed, heart open,'" Wei supplied gently.

  Daisy's eyes widened slightly. "Yes," she whispered. "That's it." For a moment, she looked exactly like the eight-year-old they'd lost - vulnerable, wondering, unguarded.

  The buzzer sounded again, and the spell broke. Daisy's walls came back up, her posture stiffening as the guards moved toward her.

  "We're going to find an apartment in Albany," Wei said quickly, seeing their time running out. "We can visit twice a week, if that's okay with you."

  Daisy stood, her face carefully neutral again. "You're really staying? In New York?" The question contained a fragile thread of hope beneath the skepticism.

  "Yes," Wei said without hesitation. "For as long as it takes. We'll make it work."

  Before she could respond, one of the guards touched her shoulder. "Time to go, Daisy."

  She allowed them to escort her toward the door, but just before exiting, she looked back.

  Dr. Novak was waiting for them in the hallway, his expression cautiously optimistic.

  "That went better than expected," he said. "Much better. She's never spoken that much in a single session before."

  Wei couldn't respond, his emotions too raw, too close to the surface. Xiuying asked the question they both needed answered:

  "Can she get better? Really better?"

  Dr. Novak gestured for them to follow him down the corridor. "There's something I'd like to show you."