Super Powereds: Year 2

by Drew Hayes

  Britney sank her teeth into her lower lip. She had to get his attention off Alex or this was going to be bad. Unfortunately, she only knew one way to do that. She had to shift it elsewhere, to someone less likely to be immediately killed. She hoped that, if he were here, he’d understand.

  “Fine, you want to end this then go ahead. I just thought you were going after the big fish. I mean, Alex here is barely considered a combatant by anyone. Isn’t that why you had your sights set on Vince?”

  Slowly, so damned slowly, the tension in Michael’s arm decreased. He lowered it to his side. For a moment there was no sound except the slow drip of water running down the ice blocks encasing Alex.

  “Let’s go,” Michael said at last, stepping around Alex and walking forward without so much as a single glance backward. His armor began to disintegrate, falling away in chunks that littered the grass behind him. Britney let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. That had been far, far too close. If anyone besides herself had been here... she didn’t want to think about what might have happened to Alex. When this was over, she resolved herself to talk with Professor Fletcher or Dean Blaine. It didn’t matter if it weakened her team; Michael had no place in the HCP.

  She only hoped she could get them through this ordeal before he bloodily proved that to everyone.

  46.

  “Alex is gone,” Camille noticed as she and Vince arrived back at the flag.

  “He only would have left if other people were approaching,” Vince said. “The plan was always to have someone here if possible.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t be standing out in the open then, just in case,” Camille suggested.

  “Good idea,” Vince agreed. “If Alex comes back he’ll know we’re here. If someone else wanders by, well, we’ve already seen the value of surprise demonstrated today.”

  “I guess we have,” Camille said. The duo headed for the tree line where they blended in as best as their grey uniforms would allow.

  * * *

  “Hurry up,” Alice urged as Roy jogged behind her.

  “Look, Floaty, some of us have to actually navigate the terrain here,” Roy said as he leapt over a fallen log and quickened his pace. True, he didn’t have to deal with normal things like muscle fatigue or shortness of breath, but that still didn’t mean he could keep up with a girl zipping through the air.

  “Sorry, I’m just starting to get worried,” Alice said. “The longer we go without seeing anyone the more I think that they all went offensive and are headed toward our base.”

  “If they did then they did. Nothing we can do to help them out at this point.”

  “We can find their flag,” Alice pointed out.

  “Fine,” Roy said, stepping up his jog to a flat out run. “Fair warning, if we hurry our asses into an ambush, I’m blaming you.”

  “That’s fair,” Alice said. She lifted up higher into the air and surveyed the landscape, looking for the slightest hint of their objective.

  * * *

  Michael saw the flag first, dashing ahead to confirm what his eyes suspected was a piece of fabric being flicked by the wind. He stepped into the clearing and stopped, a sense of disappointment filling him. There it was, the goal, the objective, the game finisher. His team was going to win, but he hadn’t gotten the rematch he really wanted.

  “Fuck all,” Michael muttered under his breath. He started the slow, steady march toward the flag and his now inevitable victory.

  If his opponent had been anyone else, that would have been the end of Michael’s day. Roy, Alex, even Mary would have utilized the opportunity to strike without warning. They would have brought him down before he had a chance to react. They weren’t there, however, and so what next impacted Michael was a set of words rather than an attack.

  “I had a feeling you’d be on the offensive,” Vince said as he stepped out from the trees. He was slightly closer to the flag than Michael, but if the bald boy made a dash, it would be a close race. In his peripheral vision, Vince saw Camille edging along the side of the clearing. She was getting closer in case Vince needed help on the interception. He wished he could tell her to stay out of the way where it was safe. Michael was a dangerous opponent; it was best he kept all of his attention on Vince.

  “Happy birthday to me,” Michael said, showing a grin that flirted with deranged. He angled his body so that he was facing the silver-haired boy dead on. “I was hoping for this.” Fresh armor crackled over him as he spoke, splintering and fissuring in key places to allow movement. No surprise heat wave was going to stop him this time. Here, at last, they were facing each other on even ground for the first time since their initial fight all the back in freshman year. This was where Michael would finally prove that his win was no fluke, that he was and always would be the stronger warrior.

  “I guess telling you this is pointless would be a waste of my breath,” Vince sighed. He wasn’t looking forward to what was coming next.

  “I don’t know about a waste. I find begging to be a fine pre-fight appetizer. But let’s be honest, both of us are really here for the main course.” Michael let fly with a series of punches, sending blue bolts hurtling across the clearing. Vince took off running, going the opposite direction of Camille, keeping barely a few steps ahead of Michael’s attacks. Most of them struck the ground uselessly, but one particular blast seemed to stop in mid-air only a few yards away from Michael. It formed into an ice encasement and hung there, swaying gently from side to side. It only took that long for Vince to understand.

  “Britney is here! Stall her, Camille!”

  Camille hurtled forward, coming to a stop with the hovering ice at her front and flag at her back.

  “Well, since my cover is blown, do you mind freezing the healer so I can grab the flag?” Britney’s voice posed the query from near Michael.

  In response Michael turned to the sound and let fly two quick blasts to the ground. New mini-glaciers formed, these seeming as though a set of legs were bound in them.

  “What the hell!?!” Britney screamed, shimmering into view. She was clearly stuck in place, rooted to the ground by her ally.

  “If you grab the flag it’s over,” Michael said flatly. “I’m not letting anyone interrupt this.”

  “You are out of your fucking mind,” Britney said, not in shock or outrage, but in a slow, fearful acceptance.

  “You’re the one who made the deal,” Michael reminded her. He turned back to Vince and began slowly advancing. “Now, let’s pick this back up. I hope you can put up a better fight than your last friend. He was pathetic.”

  “So Alex did catch up to you,” Vince said, trying to keep himself calm. There were rules to this test, people watching. Michael couldn’t have done anything too bad.

  “Be careful, Vince,” Britney called, all semblance of camaraderie abandoned. “He’s not stable. He beat Alex half to death.”

  “Is that true?” Vince asked as the distance between him and Michael grew smaller and smaller.

  “Not my fault he can’t take a punch. Kind of reminds me of you. Maybe when we’re done here I’ll go back and see if he’s awake. Or I can work out the rest of my energy on your little friend by the flag,” Michael said. His face was hidden behind the ice, but the madness of his voice made it clear that the unseen smile had gone from merely flirting with derangement to a full-blown grope fest.

  “I see.” If some of the other Melbrook residents had been there, they would have recognized that tone. It was the voice that had come from Vince when he dealt with George last year. It was a vocal vibration that marked the end of his seemingly infinite patience and kindness. It was a set of harmonic undulations that broadcast a single message with crisp efficiency: Vince was pissed, and that did not bode well for those who had brought him to this point.

  Michael didn’t notice any of this, however. He was too busy sending multiple bursts of freezing energy toward Vince at very short range. To his mild surprise, his opponent didn’t even try to dodge
. Instead Vince stood there as the forming ice engulfed him, sealing him from head to toe in a solid block within the span of a few seconds. There was the series of small pops and crackles as the frozen jail finished growing, and then a brief silence descended over the field.

  “Anticlimactic, but I guess that’s the best I can expect from you,” Michael chuckled, turning around and looking to Camille, his last remaining opponent on the field.

  47.

  “Aren’t you curious how the fight is going?” Mary asked as she and Nick trudged through the grass, the taller boy finally able to shamble along under his own power.

  “Nah. It’s Vince and Camille versus Britney and Michael. There are only two ways it can go. Either Britney sneaks past and grabs the flag, or they manage to stall and incapacitate her.”

  “And what about Michael?”

  Nick snorted. “Come on, you know why I paired up Vince with Camille.”

  “Because they represented both combat and non-combat abilities of high level,” Mary said. “Also because she’s in love with him, so I’m guessing that will make her work harder to help him.”

  “True, but there’s another reason. Camille is small statured, soft-spoken, kind, and gentle. Her only ability is to heal people and make them feel better. She comes off so decent even I want to feel protective of her, and I don’t really go in for any of that shit. Now, given that we know Vince is the kind of guy who only goes all out when other people are in danger, how hard do you think he’ll fight to keep someone like her safe?”

  “Oh, yeah, that won’t be pretty,” Mary concurred.

  “I don’t know about that,” Nick said. “I’d put down my money that before that fight is over there will be some truly stupendous fireworks.”

  * * *

  The thunderous cracking sound filled the field before Michael had made it more than two steps away. He turned around in time to see the ice splintering to the ground, falling away from Vince in rivers of steam and boiling water. The silver-haired boy stepped forth from his former frosty tomb without any overt effort. His blue eyes were locked on Michael, unwavering as he left the collapsing remains in his shadow.

  “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised you keep a little more heat in you after our last fight. I wonder how many times you can pull that trick,” Michael taunted.

  “Do you know why I told you this was pointless?” Vince asked calmly.

  “Yeah, you didn’t want me to beat the hell out of you,” Michael said, attacking with two more bolts. Vince caught both of them on his forearm, but this time the ice began to destruct as soon as it formed. Michael sucked in a breath of surprise. This didn’t seem to be taxing Vince nearly as much as it should have.

  “You can’t freeze me anymore,” Vince told him. “No matter what you throw, I can melt through it.”

  “Fine, I’ll just kick your ass the old-fashioned way,” Michael declared, charging forward. He opened with a combo of rights and a left hook designed to take Vince’s head clean from his shoulders. The freak might be able to break out of ice, but a fist wrapped in a few inches of it would still crunch his bones. At least, it would have if it connected. Instead, Vince moved around his punches easily, not even bothering to deflect, merely stepping aside as if to imply they weren’t worth the bother.

  “You were already a worse fighter than I am. You might have structured your shell to let you move, but it still slows you down. You’re no threat to me physically, either.”

  Something about that freak’s voice was really raising Michael’s ire. It was so distant, so unengaged. Like he really didn’t even care. Like Michael wasn’t worth his precious fucking effort. Adrenaline and rage roared through Michael’s veins. Who did this little pip-fuck think he was?

  “Kiss my ass!” Michael screamed, striking faster and more violently. His fists kept connecting with nothing but air while Vince’s smug expression stayed out of reach. Michael doubled his effort, his joints screaming in their sockets as he pushed them to their limits. “You’ll tire out eventually, and you can’t even hurt me! My win is inevitable!”

  Vince wove through his latest attacks and emerged several feet away. Michael paused to catch his breath, eyes never leaving his prey as he readied his body for the next flurry.

  “Where did you get the idea that I couldn’t hurt you?” Vince asked offhandedly. Michael braced himself for the torrent of flame and heat. If he could keep his armor regenerating faster than Vince could pour on the damage, Michael was certain he could run out his enemy’s reserves. This was what he’d been working toward. Once the absorber was empty, he’d be as helpless as always. All Michael had to do was outlast his fire.

  So it was that when the lightning erupted from Vince’s palm and struck Michael’s torso there was both a literal and emotional shock ripping through his system. His legs collapsed out from under him and he fell to the ground, muscles twitching but still conscious.

  “When did... electricity...” Michael was barely able to talk. His throat felt ragged and he couldn’t seem to focus. He was vaguely aware that the attack had damaged his armor, but repairing it was beyond his capacity at the moment. It took all of his effort just to pull himself up to his knees and look upon his opponent.

  “The reason I told you this was pointless is because it is,” Vince said, staring down at Michael as his defense slid away in jagged, icy chunks. “You can’t freeze me. You can’t hit me. You can’t even defend against me. You’re so far below me that beating you isn’t even a challenge. You’re nothing to me, Michael.”

  It couldn’t be true. He was just a freak. He’d gotten in a lucky punch on their first day. All the attention he’d gotten, all the friendships he’d managed, all the reputation he’d accrued, it had all been a mistake. It had been unwarranted. Michael was the great one. Michael was the one people were supposed to admire, like they had before he got to Lander. He was going to prove it, prove it by soaking his knuckles in Vince’s blood. So why was he the one on the ground? Why wouldn’t his brain come together and let him function?

  “Normally I wouldn’t have been so cruel as to show you this bit of truth, but you just wouldn’t let it go. So try and learn the lesson this time, Michael, and keep it at the forefront of your mind. Because if you ever threaten or touch my goddamned friends again, I’ll show you what I can really do.” Vince turned around and walked away from Michael’s still struggling body.

  “You didn’t knock me out,” Michael called, his muddled mind finally forming words.

  “I know. Why would I bother? It isn’t as if you can do anything.”

  Those words, and the truth behind them, savaged Michael more than any of Vince’s attacks. Britney could see the devastation in her teammate’s face even as Vince walked toward her. It was strange; given what she’d just seen she should be afraid. After all, he still had to incapacitate her. The fear wouldn’t come; whether it was because she just didn’t see Vince being unnecessarily mean or because she was just too drained to conjure any more emotions, it wasn’t there. As it turned out, there was no need for it anyway.

  “Attention all students!” Dean Blaine’s voice seemed to echo from all around them, broadcasting from the sky itself. “The match between Teams One and Four has reached its end. Alice Adair of Team One has taken Team Four’s flag. Staff will be coming through for healing and extraction momentarily.”

  48.

  “How are you feeling?” Professor Pendleton asked.

  “I’ve got one of the best healers in the school on my team; she patched me up right away,” Nick reminded him. The two were in an infirmary office going over a post battle check-up. Healers or not, it would be irresponsible not to check a student’s mental and physical health after any combat situation. The professors handled this task not because of any extensive medical knowledge but because they knew all too well the tell-tale signs of a student hiding something that might be wearing on them. Such was not the case today, as Nick was in rather high spirits.

  “Still, el
ectricity can have some lingering effects. Tasing yourself was pretty dangerous.”

  “Not like it’s my first time on the shit end of an electrical charge. Besides, you only call something dangerous if it fails. When it succeeds, it’s called ‘innovative.’”

  Professor Pendleton suppressed a sigh. He wondered if he’d been this foolhardy and brash in his youth. Had any of his own instructors been present, they would have happily informed him that this young man in sunglasses had nothing on him in the way of moronic stunts. As it was, Professor Pendleton merely continued with the exam.

  “I suppose it was rather creative. I guess no one would have expected you to get the better of Gilbert in a one on one match.”

  “Yeah; in fairness, even I was only giving myself fifty percent odds.”

  “Yet you went ahead with such an uncertain strategy. Why?”

  “Because I’ll take fifty percent over zero,” Nick said simply.

  “There was another option. You could have let Mary handle both of them,” Professor Pendleton pointed out.

  “Gilbert’s power makes him difficult for her to deal with. We fought him last year and found that out firsthand. If he’d been distracting enough, Terrance might have gotten in a fluke shot.”

  “Why, Nick, you almost sound as though you were concerned about her.”

  “I was. Mary is our strongest member; if she got taken out it could have spelled a lot of trouble.”

  “A rather cold, if accurate, sentiment. At any rate, it’s hard to argue tactics with the one who triumphed,” Professor Pendleton said. He pulled out a folder from his briefcase and set in Nick’s lap. “You’re free to go. Consider this a parting gift. It’s a summation of what happened with each member of your team during the match. Normally it would go to the captain, but since you’re here and I have it, you can pass it along.”

  “I guess handing these out is standard?”

  “Only to the teams themselves. If you want to know about the others, you’ll have to rely on gossip and hearsay like everyone else,” Professor Pendleton said, his words half statement and half challenge.