Omega Superhero 1: Caped

by Darius Brasher

  Dad’s farm and all of his equipment I sold to Uncle Charles. Ms. Jenkins advised me that the amount Uncle Charles offered me was well under market value and that I could do much better if I found another buyer. I did not need her to tell me that Uncle Charles was cheating me. I knew. I did not care. After all, I was not going to farm the land myself. The sooner I could sell it, the sooner I could start my training and find that Metahuman murderer. Uncle Charles’ behavior did make me finally realize why he and Dad were never particularly close, despite the fact they had lived less than fifteen minutes away from each other. Dad never would have cheated anyone, much less a relative.

  The manual Doctor Martel gave me said the grounds of the Academy were known as Camp Avatar. The grounds had been named that shortly after Avatar’s death in his honor. Camp Avatar was in Oregon, right outside of Portland. I had never been to Oregon before, of course. I had never been much of anywhere. I used some of the money from the sale of the farm to buy a plane ticket to Oregon. I had thought about flying there using my powers, but I had discovered using my powers drained me. I did not think I could sustain a cross-country flight. At least not yet. Maybe one day.

  The flight to Oregon was my first plane ride. It was to be the first of many firsts.

  ***

  The bright overhead lights of the barracks flicked on. I had not gotten to Camp Avatar until late the night before. It felt like I had only been asleep for a few minutes.

  “Everybody up! Put your uniforms on and stand at attention!” a deep masculine voice cried out. The words barely registered on my consciousness. I was exhausted. Groaning, I rolled over. I pulled the cot’s sheets over my head to blot out the harsh lights. The cot was both hard and lumpy. If this was a dream, it sucked.

  A few seconds later, I found myself twisting and falling. Crying out in surprise, I caught myself with my hands, barely keeping myself from face-planting into the cold floor of the barracks.

  “What’s the big idea?” I said, still groggy. I looked up to see the retreating back of Carbon Copy, one of the assistant drill instructors at Hero Academy. He wore the black mask and costume all the drill instructors here wore, along with a short white cape that extended down to the middle of his back. If he had heard me, he gave no sign. He was too busy doing to other stragglers what he had done to me, namely tilting their cots up to dump them on the floor. Other versions of Carbon Copy were doing the same throughout the cavernous room.

  I got to my feet, relieved that Carbon Copy had not heard me. Even in the few short hours I had been at Camp Avatar, I had learned it was not a good idea to be lippy to the Heroes on staff. I opened the Academy-issued chest at the foot of my cot. It contained everything I owned in the world except for the money from the sale of the farm. That I had parked in my savings account until I figured out what else to do with it. I hurriedly tugged on the uniform the Academy had issued to me the day before when I arrived. It was a two-piece outfit that was red on top, black on the bottom. The colors reminded me of the uniforms Star Trek security officers wore in the original television series. Those officers always seemed to wind up dying within five minutes of showing up somewhere. I hoped the same would not happen to me.

  The Academy uniform unfortunately fit me like a glove. I say unfortunately because a lot of the other guys in the room made me feel like a child in light of how big and muscular they were. Like me, the other trainees—that was how they referred to those of us enrolled in the Academy when we had not done something to justify a less flattering name—were hastily getting dressed under the watchful eye of Carbon Copy. Well, “eyes” really since there were several versions of him stalking the room like a lion ready to pounce on a wounded deer.

  I already had my black mask on as I has slept in it. The mask was small, rounded, and only covered my eyes and the space between them. It was a domino mask, a term I had learned for the first time when I had been issued the mask along with my boots and uniform. My mask was so comfortable I had already mostly forgotten I had it on. I had no idea what held it onto my face. Fear of pissing off the drill instructors, maybe. I, like all the other trainees, had been instructed to always keep the mask on unless we wanted the other trainees to know we really looked like. Apparently there was some technology imbedded in the mask that obscured the true features of its wearer. What I needed was one that made me look like Brad Pitt.

  My head was cold as I pulled on the black boots the camp had also issued me. I, like the other trainees in the room, was as bald as a cue ball. My head had been shaven right after I arrived at camp. I did not realize how much hair served to keep your head warm.

  Once we were all up and dressed, Carbon Copy ordered us to line up in two lines facing each other in the center of the barracks. He told us to make sure to stand a foot away from each other. There was much jostling as this was done, punctuated by the shouts and curses of the various forms of Carbon Copy. After we were all lined up, the door to the barracks opened. Above the door was emblazoned the Academy’s motto: Society Before Self.

  In trooped another group of trainees, all dressed as we were. They were all women. The tightness of their uniforms made their sex delightfully all too obvious. Most of them had short hair that was pinned up. The few with long hair had it up in various forms of buns as per the guidelines in the Academy manual. Females were housed in separate barracks across camp from the rest of us. I counted them as they marched in single-file and lined up along with the rest of us. Twenty-three total. There were more male trainees than female ones, certainly more than twice as many. I did not know exactly how many. Nor did I care. The guys did not have breasts, after all. We were far less interesting to look at and count.

  Once we were all lined up, the various versions of Carbon Copy went to the front of the barracks by the door. Once after another, they walked into another version of Carbon Copy standing there, soundlessly merging into him like a falling raindrop merges into a puddle of water. It was freaky to watch. Not that I needed it, but it was further proof I was not in South Carolina anymore.

  The door of the barracks opened again. Amazing Man strode in, dressed in his usual silver and chrome blue costume. It was the first time I had seen him in weeks. He was followed by two drill instructors in their standard black uniforms, one female, one male. The woman was pretty hot. The three of them stood near Carbon Copy, with Amazing Man at the front. Amazing Man was the tallest of the group. The drill instructors’ short white capes looked cool. I wondered if they would let me wear one with my uniform.

  There was the faint murmur of whispers up and down the line of trainees.

  “The next person who makes a sound will have his head twisted off and used as a toilet,” the female drill instructor said in a raised voice. She said it flatly and unemotionally, like she was telling us it was about to rain outside. Everyone shut up. Although no one had seen the woman before as far as I knew, there was something about her that commanded obedience. I immediately went from thinking the woman was hot to being wary of her. I liked my head right where it was, thanks very much.

  “As many of you know, my name is Amazing Man,” he said once everyone had quieted down. His voice carried throughout the barracks even though he did not seem to be speaking particularly loudly. “Welcome to Camp Avatar. I am the head of Hero Academy. The grounds of the Academy are named after one of the greatest Heroes the world has ever known, who as you know was recently killed. Every civilization throughout history has had elite fighters, men and women society calls on to protect and stand up for it in the darkest of times. And to die for it, if necessary, just as Avatar did. The Roman Empire had its legions. The Aztecs had the Jaguar Warriors. The Japanese had the samurai. The United States military has the Seals and the Green Berets. We have you. Or rather, who you aspire to be—Heroes. Our mission at the Academy is to train each of you to become a Hero, to give you the tools you will need to wrestle with an uncertain and dangerous world. Your path will not be easy. Nothing worthwhile ever is. But, if you work hard and
earn your place among us Heroes, I will be proud to call you my brothers and sisters.”

  With that, Amazing Man turned with a swirl of his long white cape. He left the barracks. For a bit, no one moved or said a word. You could have heard a pin drop, it was that quiet.

  Then, the masked female instructor Amazing Man had walked in with stepped forward. She started to walk slowly between the two lines of us trainees. She was tall for a woman, and her shoes made her taller still. Her high-heeled, almost knee-high boots clicked loudly against the hard floor. They were black, shiny, and sexy. I did not have a shoe fetish, but I could learn to have one looking at her. She had alabaster skin, with a build like a fitness model and the looks to match. Her long glossy black hair was done up in a sock bun. Like Carbon Copy, she had on an all-black costume; unlike him, she filled it out far more interestingly. Her black mask was shaped like mine was. Her short white cape was bordered with red.

  As she walked, the woman looked at each of us as if we were dog turds she had found at the bottom of her shoes. She shook her head slowly and sorrowfully as she surveyed us.

  “I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve this,” she said. Her voice was deep and throaty. “Whatever it was, it must have been a doozy. I have never seen such a pathetic and unlikely group of wannabe Heroes in my life. Apparently the only Metas who want to become Heroes these days look like they have a combination of mental retardation and consumption. Oh well. You work with the raw material you’re given, even if it looks like raw sewage. God help me.” She said it all as if she was talking to herself, but her voice carried. I was sure everyone heard her. I knew I did. Her words made me feel even punier than I already did in my tight uniform.

  “My name is Athena,” the woman said in a louder voice. “But you haven’t earned the right to call me that yet. As far as you wet behind the ears infants are concerned, I have three names: ma’am, yes ma’am, and no ma’am. Is that understood?” A handful of people mumbled. Not me. I kept my trap shut. I had not forgotten that Athena had threatened to twist people’s heads off if they spoke.

  Athena shook her head at the tepid response. “You people make me believe in reincarnation. Nobody could learn to be this stupid in one lifetime.” She raised her voice to a roar. “I asked you infants if you understood.” The barracks thundered with “Yes ma’ams.” Mine was among the loudest now. I had no interest in being singled out for attention by this woman. I had gone from thinking Athena was hot to being wary of her to being absolutely terrified of her.

  “I am a licensed Hero,” she said loudly. “I am also the senior drill instructor here at the Academy. Amazing Man, as you have heard, is the head of the Academy. As far as you infants are concerned though, he is God and I am his chief prophet. Near the door are Carbon Copy and Sprint, two of the drill instructors here. You will know who the drill instructors are because we all wear the same black costume and the same short white capes. If we or Amazing Man tell you to do something, you had better be doing it before the words are completely out of our mouths. If you don’t, I will make you wish you had never been born. I will hurt you so badly that your ancestors will feel it. I will make your horny granddaddy rue the day he ever went into that two-dollar brothel to knock up your grandmother.” Athena glared at us balefully. I believed her.

  “Our mission here is to train each of you to become a Hero. In the very unlikely event you prove yourself worthy, most of you will leave here to apprentice with an already licensed Hero to complete your education and training. Most of you will not prove worthy. That is as it should be. Becoming a Hero is not a right. It is a privilege earned with blood, sweat, and tears. This is not the namby-pamby, soft, politically correct world you infants come from. There are no medals for participation here, no praise for merely showing up, no quotas, no grading on a curve because of what somebody’s ancestors did to your great-great-great grandfather, and certainly no affirmative action. I don’t care what color you are, what your religion is, who you sleep with, how much money you have, who your daddy is, or what a special snowflake your momma wrongfully told you you are. You’re all equally worthless here until you’ve put in the work to prove to me you’re worthy of wearing a Hero’s cape. The women and men who have earned their right to wear a Hero’s cape have fought off supervillains bent on world conquest, repulsed aliens who wanted to enslave humanity, averted catastrophes, and saved more people than you can ever count. You will not sully that proud tradition by either word or deed. A Hero never lies, cheats, steals, compromises, or quits. And neither will you. If you do, I will shove my foot so far up your butt you will think you’re having anal sex with a sequoia. I will—” She stopped, suddenly shoving her face into mine. “Is something funny infant?” she yelled into my face. A bit of her spit hit my face. I realized with a start I had grinned at her sequoia remark.

  I wiped the grin off my face, but not the spittle. I knew better.

  “No,” I said. “Uh, I mean no ma’am.”

  “What is your name infant?” She had to bend down a bit to put her face into mine. I felt like the infant she called me.

  “Theodore—” I closed my mouth abruptly. I had almost added my last name. I remembered reading in the Academy manual how I should not reveal my real name. Most of the people in the Academy would not become Heroes, and we trainees were supposed to keep our real names private. “My friends call me Theo,” I added instead, immediately regretting it. It sounded lame, even to me.

  Athena rolled her eyes heavenward so hard I thought I could hear them moving.

  “Does it look like I want to be your friend, Theodore?” she yelled. The way she said my name, it sounded like a curse word.

  “No ma’am.”

  “Theodore means ‘gift of god’ in Greek,” she said. “Do you think you’re god’s gift to the rest of us?”

  “No ma’am.” I had not known that about my name.

  “Then why did you choose Theodore as a code name?”

  Too late I realized my mistake.

  “It’s not a code name ma’am. It’s my real name.” The look in her eyes made me think she already knew that. I had a sudden flash of suspicion that she knew all there was to know about me and everyone else in the room.

  “Didn’t you read in the manual you were given that you were supposed to select a code name?”

  “Yes ma’am. I forgot,” I said honestly. What with leaving home for the first time and all of the information packed in the Academy manual, I had not given any thought to what my code name should be. I suspected Athena was not interested in my excuses, so I did not elaborate on why I forgot.

  “You forgot?” Athena repeated mockingly, drawling the last word. She suddenly had a deep Southern accent. I realized she was imitating me. Did I really sound like that? “Where are you from, Theodore?” she drawled in the same mocking accent. I felt all of two inches tall.

  “South Carolina, ma’am.”

  “South Carolina, ma’am,” she repeated in the same accent. “Since you can’t be bothered to pick a code name on your own, I’m going to select one for you. For the duration of your training, your name is Carolina. Does that suit you, Carolina?” It did not, but I was certainly was not going to tell her that. Besides, I was starting to get irritated. I did not like being made fun of. I had gotten made fun of far too often in my life.

  “Does a bear shit in the woods?” I asked in response. There was a whisper of a smile of Athena’s face. It disappeared so quickly I thought I had imagined it, replaced by the same scowl she had been favoring me with since I had drawn attention to myself.

  “Carolina, report to my quarters at oh seven hundred hours tomorrow morning. Between now and then you will memorize the page of the manual that discusses how you were to select a code name. You will recite that page to me by heart. Perhaps that will aid in your reading comprehension. And, since you’re so interested in excrement, after that you will clean the men’s latrine. I want to be able to eat off the toilets by the time you’re fini
shed.”

  Athena moved on before I could get out a dismayed “Yes, ma’am.” She started to berate someone who had laughed at my bear comment. He was a light-skinned black guy a few people down from where I stood. He told Athena his name was Myth. I hoped she would make him help me clean the latrines.

  Misery loves company.

  CHAPTER 12

  Athena and the other drill instructors led us outside after Athena berated Myth and then finished giving the rest of us the world’s worst pep talk. The way she talked, we trainees were too stupid to come in out of the rain, much less to become Heroes.

  Outside, Camp Avatar looked exactly like that—a camp. It was as if someone had cut down a huge circle in the middle of a massive Oregon forest, and then plopped down several buildings in the middle of it. With much cursing and questioning of our intelligence, the instructors lined us up in rows in front of them, near the edge of the surrounding woods. Once we were finally in place, Athena surveyed us with her hands on her hips. She looked disdainful.

  “Well, you’ve already proven yourselves too stupid to line up properly,” she said. “I’ve half a mind to tell you all to go home and to start off fresh with a more likely group of trainees. Can any of you infants at least fight?” No one said anything. Everyone was so quiet, I could hear someone’s stomach rumbling. Athena’s face grew even more contemptuous. “Come on. Nobody? I’m not asking you to take on all the drill instructors at once. Just little ol’ me. Surely there’s somebody among you who’s not scared of a woman.”

  “I ain’t scared,” came a voice from behind me.

  “Oh good, someone who’s not a complete coward. I was starting to think I’d have to give you all a testosterone transfusion. Step up so I can see you,” Athena said. A hulk of a man squeezed from out of the lines and stood before Athena and the rest of us. Though he did not look to be much older than I, he was well over six feet and a half tall, and as broad as the side of a barn. He was a mountain of a guy. Even his muscles had muscles. He made the Three Horsemen look like malnourished children.