Super Powereds: Year 2

by Drew Hayes

  “Who said anything about one use? Our captain is a telepath. So far as anyone knows she’ll be the one making the plays and giving the orders.”

  “Cunning. How long do you think you can keep up the charade?”

  “Until the day I can’t,” Nick said honestly. “No reason to greet that day any sooner than I have to.”

  “You’re an odd one, Nick,” Professor Pendleton said, slipping off his chair and walking slowly about the room. “Normally someone with your history and way of thinking would be on the opposite side of the Hero and criminal equation.”

  “You’re the expert,” Nick shot back.

  Professor Pendleton paused his walk, then resumed. “Found out about that already?”

  “It wasn’t exactly hard,” Nick told him.

  “I guess it wouldn’t be,” Professor Pendleton admitted. “Well, Nick, I find myself with my own dilemma. You see, I want to evaluate and educate you like the rest of the class, but I know you’ll keep tanking anything I throw at you on purpose. And while in any other class that would be career suicide, in this instance it happens to be an outstanding example of what Subtlety should be.”

  “Quite a pickle,” Nick agreed.

  “I suppose I could tell you to start performing up to your potential or I’ll fail you out.”

  “You could.”

  “Or I could judge your performance purely on the exams that will come throughout the year.”

  “Also viable.”

  “I think there’s another solution,” Professor Pendleton said, sitting back down in the chair. “Every Wednesday at five, you and I are going to meet in this room. I’ll have some class material for you and we’ll review the week’s teachings. The only difference is that while you’re in here, you’re honest. No ducking, no tricking, no pretending. I’m putting out a lot of extra effort by doing this so I expect you to come ready to better yourself.”

  “That’s fair,” Nick said.

  “One more thing: no tanking tests. When we do a practical exercise in my class I expect you to bring your A-game. I don’t care how you sell it to the others, but those are an integral part of Subtlety and I can’t replicate them one on one.”

  “I think I can manage that,” Nick agreed. “I do have one question before I sign on. This honesty thing, does it go both ways?”

  “To an extent,” Professor Pendleton said.

  “Then I want to know why you’re bothering with the extra effort. I’m smart, I’m crafty, and I’ve got ability, but you and I both know that with the contenders in this class there is no way I’m graduating in the final ten.”

  “Probably not,” Professor Pendleton concurred. “But it’s my job to help you as best I can anyway, no matter how slim the odds of you walking out of here with a cape. Besides, let’s just say I know what it’s like to be surrounded by people with way more power than one’s own.”

  “That part I can believe,” Nick said.

  “Anything else you wanted to ask?”

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  “Then let’s get to class. I’ve got some other students to teach and you have to pretend you couldn’t solve the puzzle and show up late,” Professor Pendleton said.

  “You catch on quickly,” Nick complimented.

  28.

  “Good work, everyone,” Professor Fletcher said to the battered and beaten students before him. Camille was already making the rounds to heal her classmates, but there were many to go before everyone would be back to normal. That was the thing about a Close Combat class: getting beaten senseless was pretty much a requirement day in and day out.

  “I’ll see you all tomorrow. Class dismissed. Vince, can you hang back for a moment?”

  “Sure, Professor,” Vince said agreeably. He’d already been healed up as soon as the sparring had ended. Professor Fletcher fleetingly wondered if the boy had ever noticed that his teammate always healed him before everyone else. Somehow, he doubted it.

  Professor Fletcher waited until the rest of the class had finished filing out before speaking. “Vince, I’ve noticed that while you use fire for both long- and short-ranged attacks, you seem to only use electricity when in grappling distance of an opponent. I just wanted to ask why that was. I mean, if you can use one type of energy at a distance, you should be able to use others as well.”

  “Oh, well, I can, sort of. It’s complicated,” Vince said, shifting awkwardly in place.

  “Let me guess: every time you try and shoot it too far it splinters off and careens out of control?”

  “Right. I mean, exactly, precisely right,” Vince said. “How did you know?”

  “Aside from it being my element and my specialty? Electricity is one of the hardest energies to control out there. Everyone who uses it has those same problems initially,” Professor Fletcher explained. “They aren’t insurmountable.”

  “I’d hoped not, but after Coa- George and I spent so much time working on it without results, I sort of resigned myself to only using it when I was right by my opponent.”

  “George tried to teach you how to direct a ranged lighting shot? No wonder you didn’t get anywhere.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “George, all other things aside, is a very strong Super. That said, his understanding of electricity is only as a power source. He never appreciated it as the wild, living force of nature that it is. That’s why he couldn’t teach you to aim it.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, that and he lacked any experience actually using it himself. A flaw that I certainly don’t share,” Professor Fletcher said.

  “I see. So you think you could help me?” Vince asked hopefully.

  “Generally, teaching ranged mastery would fall into Professor Baker’s domain,” Professor Fletcher noted. “But given the circumstances, I’ll talk with her and see if we can’t set up some special sessions with you and me to help bring that particular skill along.”

  “That would be awesome,” Vince said. “Thank you, Professor.”

  “Thank me if we succeed,” Professor Fletcher cautioned him. “I can teach you the techniques, but it’s going to be up to you to make them work. Electricity is one of the hardest types of energy to effectively utilize in combat. In contrast, however, it’s also one of the most effective.”

  “Yeah, I remember your opening day demonstration,” Vince said, rubbing the side of his head without noticing.

  “Good, then keep that memory attendant when you train. If you can get some real control over that part of your abilities you’ll become a far more powerful opponent,” Professor Fletcher told him.

  Somewhere in Vince’s mind the image of a Jack flitted across the landscape of his thoughts.

  “Don’t worry. If it’s even remotely possible for me then I’ll do whatever it takes to make it happen,” Vince said.

  Though normally one to doubt the hurried promises of other people, Professor Fletcher found himself believing the silver-haired youth’s determination. It was pure, strong, and unwavering. It reminded him of another pair of blue eyes he’d gazed upon so very many years ago, but those had calculation where Vince’s had honesty.

  “I’m sure you will,” Professor Fletcher said. “Now go to your next class. I’ll talk with Professor Baker and let you know how we’ll proceed tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir,” Vince said quickly, practically scampering out of the room and off to his next set of educational trials.

  * * *

  Shane Desoto was nearly at the lifts when a female hand closed around his shoulder. He sighed and tried not to shrug it off. He knew quite well it wouldn’t do any good.

  “I’ve got other classes to get to,” Shane said swiftly, playing the academic card.

  “You have geology at two and nothing until then,” Angela replied as she walked along with her brother.

  “Of course you know my schedule,” Shane said defeatedly.

  “Can’t a big sister take an interest in her little brother’s academic pursuit
s?”

  “I’d like to get lunch before class,” Shane said, breezing past her comment. “Let’s hurry this along. What do you want?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about your upcoming test. I heard you’re going against Chad’s team,” Angela said.

  “How did... never mind, it doesn’t matter. Yes, I’m going against Chad.”

  “So what is your strategy?” Angela asked.

  Shane sighed again. He didn’t want to get into this here, but he knew Angela wouldn’t let it, or him, go until he spoke up. “It will depend on the type of test we’re given; however, since my team has more people with martial specialties, our strategy will likely rely on forcing them into combat situations whenever possible.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that,” Angela replied. “Look, I know you think I’m a meddlesome, pain-in-the-ass sister, and you’re right, but this is one of those moments you need to put that aside and listen to me.”

  “Go on,” Shane said noncommittally.

  “It’s bad form to reveal things about someone’s abilities that happen in private matches, so I can’t really go into detail. Still, you remember last year when I promised Chad a sparring session?”

  Shane nodded.

  “Well, I won, but barely, and I mean by the skin of my teeth,” Angela said, looking her little brother dead in the eyes. “Do you understand what I’m saying? I’m telling you that kid was not only able to keep up with me, he was nearly able to overtake me.”

  “That is... impressive,” Shane admitted. What was more impressive was that Angela was admitting to such a close win. Chad must have left quite an impression on her.

  “No, dipshit, it’s not impressive, it’s insane. He was able to do that almost six months ago. I guarantee he’s gotten stronger since then.”

  “So?”

  “Sew buttons, bitch,” Angela retorted. “So don’t lean too heavily on a martial strategy. Think non-combat whenever possible because if any of your team goes against him, even together, they’ll be taken out.”

  “Thank you for the input,” Shane said, stepping away from his blonde sibling. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” He trekked off toward the lifts, more set than ever on using this test to show everyone that he was as good, if not better, a warrior than Chad.

  Angela watched him skulk off and gently shook her head. She already knew what was going through her brother’s mind, and she knew what the outcome would be.

  “Dumbass,” she muttered under her breath.

  29.

  Hershel sat in algebra that afternoon, his brain barely able to pay attention to the equations on the board. His mind was otherwise occupied, and not in a place it recently frequented. Hershel found himself worried about Roy (instead of by him) for a change. He knew he shouldn’t be; heck, if anything there was a time when Hershel would have killed for Roy to be this focused and controlled. Still, there was something in Roy’s thoughts that seemed off, dangerous even. Not to others, but to himself.

  Roy was set on becoming stronger at any cost. Weights, training, sparring, no one besides Hershel knew the amount of time Roy had already put in this year. He’d been fair about it, too, giving Hershel all the time for friends, study, and Mary that he wanted. When Roy’s time came, however, it was always given to training. He’d barely even seduced any girls since school started. Hershel couldn’t believe it, but he was beginning to think Roy really needed to cut loose and have a little fun.

  “Need help?” The voice asking came from Hershel’s side. It was his neighbor, Steve, with whom he’d been exchanging notes since the class’s first meeting. Steve was a nice guy, crew cut and large shoulders hinting at his post college ambitions, and had been a help for Hershel in documenting formulas even as Hershel helped him in understanding them.

  “Huh? No, no, just distracted.”

  “Good, because if this stuff is sending you off into la-la land then I’m hopelessly screwed,” Steve half-joked.

  “It’s not that bad once you grasp the basics,” Hershel assured him.

  “Then why the mental drifting?” Steve asked.

  “Just a little worried about my brother,” Hershel said carefully. He didn’t want to give too much away about his and Roy’s particular circumstances.

  “Ah, going through a rough patch?”

  “You could say that. More that he’s been pretty focused on his work lately, to the point of neglecting things that usually matter to him,” Hershel explained.

  “Such as?”

  “Women and drinking.”

  Steve laughed. “Well, seeing as neither of those ever held much appeal for me, I’m not sure how to help you rekindle his interest. I’ll just say this: letting go of some of one’s more unsavory pastimes and putting that energy into self-betterment is a big part of growing up.”

  “It is; it just seems like... I don’t know. Too much, too fast.”

  “If you’re that worried why not invite him out with me and my friends one weekend? I may not be a drinker but they’ve been known to shut down a bar or two on occasion,” Steve offered.

  “I appreciate it, but he lives out of state,” Hershel lied quickly.

  “Gotcha,” Steve said. “Well, the offer stands for just you and your friends. Lord knows after all your help the least I can do is buy you a beer.”

  “I just might take you up on that one weekend,” Hershel said. They turned their attention back to the professor as he began working on a new set of problems. Hershel’s mind wouldn’t stay focused for long, unfortunately. His thoughts kept swirling back to Roy. He knew it was futile to worry, yet all the same he kept remembering the night last summer when George had kidnapped Mary and him. He remembered how angry Roy had been when he’d taken over, angry that someone would hurt his brother that badly. Hershel remembered the days when they were younger, the days when Roy was always ready to appear and fight to defend his sniveling sibling.

  Even if he couldn’t do much, Hershel felt himself resolve to do something, anything, to help Roy stay balanced.

  * * *

  Britney had a fly in her team’s ointment. Or rather, an ice cube. Michael had been belligerent, uncooperative, and generally subversive ever since she’d first formed her team. It was clear he felt he should have been one of the captains, and honestly, even with his high rank, Britney would have given anything to go back in time and trade him for another student. At this point she’d even take the practically powerless Powered Nick over Michael. There was no undoing what was done, not until some Super was born with time-travel powers, so as Michael sauntered into the practice room that evening, Britney steeled herself to press forward.

  “Am I early?” Michael asked, already preparing himself to leave and come back later.

  “No, you’re late as usual,” Britney informed him. “But this meeting is just for you and me. I called the others and cancelled.”

  “Oh, so this is one of those meetings,” Michael said with a greasy smile. “I can’t say I haven’t noticed how you look at me, so I had a feeling we’d get here eventually.”

  “Wow. No. Christ, no. I cannot emphasize enough how wrong you are. I called you here so we could talk about your attitude,” Britney said, doing her best to remain composed.

  “What attitude? Just because I call you out-”

  “You’re obnoxious, disruptive, and a disgrace to have on my team,” Britney interrupted. “So let’s cut the bullshit. You know what a pain in the ass you are. My question is, what is it going to take for you to fly right?”

  “I want to be captain,” Michael replied immediately.

  “Never going to happen,” Britney snapped back. “Even if it was in my power, which it isn’t, you’ve blown all credibility with the team by acting out since day one. No one would trust you; they’d all look to me and it would split the already-fragile command dynamic.”

  “It’s what I want,” Michael said.

  “Funny, here I thought you wanted to win,” Britney replied.

&n
bsp; That one gave Michael pause. He did want to - need to, really - win this first match. It was against the freak team, and it was his chance to remind Vince of who the stronger one in their rivalry was. He owed him for the surprise heat wave a few weeks ago and he was fully prepared to deliver a payload of hurt. Still, it wouldn’t do to just hurt Vince anymore. Now Michael had to crush his friends as well, and totally destroying them in the match was a very convenient way to do it.

  “Let me handle the combat training,” Michael said after some thought. “It’s deferring to me on what actually is my specialty, and most of the people with fighting capabilities are already partially with me anyway.”

  “Fine, as long as you use your combat strategies only in compliance with the overall plan I produce,” Britney stipulated.

  “I can work with that,” Michael agreed. He stepped forward and offered his hand. Britney hesitated, then grasped it and shook to seal their deal.

  “There is one more thing,” Michal said as they were still clasped.

  “Of course there is. What?”

  “When the match starts, I’ll comply with any plan you put out. But you need to know that if the opportunity for me to fight Vince comes up, I’m going to take it, all strategy be damned.”

  Britney stared into Michael’s chilly blue eyes and suppressed a shiver. She didn’t know what was going on between these two, and she didn’t really care to. Vince had always been nice to her, nice to everyone as far as she knew. Still, it was better that he be the target of Michael’s aggression than her team. God forgive her.

  “It’s a deal.”

  30.

  Friday has always been the blessed child of Time. It’s admired, looked forward to, and savored with each occurrence. Sure, the other days get to host occasional holidays or birthday parties that make them pleasant, though poor Monday seems always to come up with the short end of the stick, but none have the consistent excitement and magic attached to them that Friday does. It is then all the more powerful a statement that there was little joy to be found in the HCP students on the Friday before Monday’s test. Most were worried, some were excited, but a genuine sentiment of joy was quite the rarity.