Super Powereds: Year 2

by Drew Hayes

  “Or The Fumbler.”

  “Spilltacular,” Joshua said with a chuckle. Blaine laughed too, if only because he couldn’t really think of anything else to do. “On that note, have you given any thought to your actual Hero name? We’ll have to register them right after the White Cape ceremony.”

  “I’ve got a couple of ideas I’ve been kicking around. You?”

  “Honestly? I’ve got an idea, but I keep waffling back and forth on if I should come up with something better.”

  “You’ve still got a month,” Blaine said.

  “True. Hopefully I’ll find some inspiration. Tell me one of yours, maybe it will get the creative juices flowing.”

  “Well, I haven’t found one that seems perfect yet, but there are a few near the top. For example, you know how my ability affects an area around my body?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I was thinking of doing a play on that,” Blaine explained. “At first I considered Radius or Sphere, but those sounded too mathematical. Then one day I was sitting in class and it hit me. The perfect name for how my power encircles me: Globe.”

  68.

  Thomas hunched over his kitchen table, a large piece of paper with multiple written entries to his side and a laptop directly in front of him. His other roommates were there as well, their own checklists present, however they had not brought out personal computers.

  “Okay,” Thomas said with a deep breath. “So we’ve found a good deal on some kegs, we’ve located a place two towns over that sells plastic cups in bulk, and we’ve alerted our neighbors to the impending disturbance. What’s next?”

  “Food,” Stella replied.

  “We have to feed them too?” Will asked.

  “You guys really haven’t been to many parties,” Violet commented. It was one point that she mentioned at least once an hour. She’d been shocked when Thomas told her he’d been tasked with throwing the party the freshmen were invited to, and even more floored when he said he’d decided to do it. Despite having dated him for a few months, there were times when Violet felt she never really knew her tan-skinned friend. He’d approached it with his usual meticulous voracity, and now that they didn’t have a midterm to worry about, it seemed like they’d be able to get it on track in a matter of weeks.

  “Food is there to help people sober up if they overshoot their limits,” Violet explained. “You make it things like pretzels and bread to help soak up the booze.”

  “That’s actually a common myth,” Will corrected. “Food existing in the stomach before alcohol is introduced can affect the rate of absorption; however, once the alcohol has been ingested, new food would have no discernible effect. It is simple biology.”

  “Fair enough, but you just said yourself it’s a commonly held myth, right?” Violet asked.

  “Indeed.”

  “Then people who believe it will help calm their stomachs and make them less intoxicated could very likely see those effects since they’re expecting them. Same as sugar pills in place of painkillers.”

  “Ah, you’re referencing the Placebo Effect.”

  “It is simple psychology.”

  “Point taken,” Will said. Other men of his intelligence might have balked at being bested by a girl who specialized in brawn over brains, but Will had long ago learned that intelligence in one area didn’t make him infallible in others. He was a mechanic: he looked at the body like a machine and often forgot the less tangible components the mind could present. “I believe we can get sandwiches from The Mayo Hut at a sizable discount thanks to the owner’s infatuation with my sister.”

  “Pimping your own sister to the cause, that’s dedication.” Stella said.

  “It is something of a family tradition to place one another in uncomfortable positions,” Will replied. “Besides, with as much patronage as she gives that establishment, I’d think it only good business to provide her preferential treatment.”

  “Jill does love her sandwiches,” Thomas agreed. “So we’ll let her take care of that and I can pick up a few jumbo bags of pretzels from the same place from which we’re getting the cups.” Thomas scratched a long line through one of the items on his paper as Will jotted down the details of his new task. “What’s next?”

  “Guest list,” Violet said.

  Thomas shook his head. “I don’t think we pick and choose. I’ll just spread the word through the freshmen and anyone who is brave enough to show up is welcome. That’s how Angela did it and I feel it worked quite well.”

  “I’d agree, but I wasn’t talking about the freshmen.” Violet looked at her friends and carefully framed her next words. “Look, there’s a bit of an elephant in the room here that none of us has brought up. We need to talk about it. Are we going to invite the Powereds to this thing?”

  “They’re not-”

  “I know they aren’t, Thomas, but you get what I mean.”

  “I thought we agreed at the beginning of the year to treat them with the same friendship they’ve shown us,” Thomas pointed out. Stella and Will nodded in agreement.

  “We did, and I still think we should, but despite the fact that we’re throwing it, this party isn’t really about us. It’s about the freshmen, and introducing them to the Lander community as a whole.”

  “All the more reason to show them that we are accepting of people who may come from different backgrounds than ourselves,” Thomas rebutted. “We will set the standard for them to look to.”

  “We are accepting - ‘we’ being the key word,” Violet said, softening her voice so as not to seem aggressive. “Not everyone else is, and they may not want to socialize with people who started life as Powereds. It’s prejudiced and ignorant, but there’s a lot of unspoken dislike and hate for those five even if we choose to ignore it. Now, if this were just us putting together a shindig, I’d say fuck ‘em if they don’t like our friends. But again, this is about the freshmen, and what impression do you think they’ll take from a party populated solely by the people who live in the house and the school’s pariahs?”

  “She makes a valid point,” Will said. “We’re supposed to be bringing them into the larger community of Supers. Inviting the residents of Melbrook could very well limit that community.”

  “I don’t like it, but I think I understand your concern,” Thomas admitted. “So what’s the right thing to do?”

  “I’m not sure,” Violet replied. “That’s why I brought it up. It seems like either decision is morally wrong in some aspect.”

  The four sat silently in contemplation for a few moments. Each was lost in a maelstrom of their own ethical quandaries, a tornado of possible decisions and uncertainty. Curiously, it was Stella who provided the insight that allowed them to move forward.

  “You know, you guys keep talking about how we’re bringing them into the Super community, but that’s not actually true,” Stella said, breaking the kitchen’s unhappy silence. “We’re not Supers, and we’re not a community of Supers. We’re a community of future Heroes. Of course not all of us will make it, but all of us are striving to earn the title. Heroes don’t cave to the pressures of hate. Heroes do what’s right, no matter what. So what if some people don’t show up? I say it’s more important to set the example of acceptance even when, no, especially when it’s an unpopular decision.”

  “That was... surprisingly eloquent,” Will said, mustering his own words through the fog of surprise.

  “I gots my moments,” Stella quipped back.

  “Right then; we invite everyone in our class, no exceptions,” Thomas said. “Agreed?” He received three nearly synchronized nods from his roommates. “Glad that’s settled. Next item of business: plastic sheeting for all the carpeted areas. Anyone have a clue where to get that stuff? Because otherwise I see no way we’ll be getting our security deposit back on this place.”

  69.

  “Professor Fletcher?” The voice came from his office door, which Carl had never gotten in the habit of closing. He felt an open door policy
should actually involve an open door. It was one of those pleasantries that seemed to have died away over time, and damn it, if he was going to be stuck in his golden years, he reserved the right to live in the past. Carl glanced up from the paperwork on his desk, a bit surprised to see Roy Daniels standing the doorway.

  “Come on in,” he said, giving a curt nod to the chair. Unlike the office’s previous tenant, Professor Fletcher was fastidious in keeping the place straight and minimizing clutter. Roy had no trouble navigating to the chair or dropping into a sitting position. Once there he did seem to have some trouble getting the conversation started. Professor Fletcher found himself curious; the Daniels boy never seemed to feel out of place. This must be something pretty interesting.

  “I assume you didn’t just come in here to admire my impressive office.”

  “No, sir.” Roy’s gaze was on the old wooden desk in front of him, so he missed the fleeting look of shock that dashed across the professor’s face. He couldn’t remember ever hearing Roy refer to anyone as ‘sir’ before.

  “So how can I help you?”

  “I’m not sure what’s wrong, not exactly,” Roy said. “But I, well, it seems like I’ve hit a wall.”

  “Damn it,” Professor Fletcher said, pulling out a form from the top drawer of his desk. “I wish you physical ability kids would learn to keep your shit under control. Okay, we’ll get a maintenance report in. Tell me where it was, and don’t you dare say it was above ground.”

  Roy paused for a moment as the words clicked into place. He wasn’t as smart as Hershel, but he put it together eventually. “No, I mean a figurative wall. With my strength.”

  “Ohhh, thank heavens.” Professor Fletcher put the paper away and let out a sigh of relief. He noticed the expression on his student’s face and felt compelled to explain. “Not to belittle your problems, it’s just that those forms can be a real pain in the ass if any damage occurs outside the HCP facility.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “So, tell me about this non-literal wall you’ve hit.”

  Roy explained about the ceiling of weights he’d been unable to break through, despite months of effort. Professor Fletcher listened attentively, nodding in the right places and keeping all his thoughts to himself. By the end, Roy was feeling more confident, trusting his professor would be able to help him get past this issue in no time at all.

  “Sounds like you’ve got a real problem,” Professor Fletcher commented once Roy was done.

  “Yes, sir. So what’s the solution?”

  “Hell if I know.”

  The collapse of Roy’s confidence was as visible as the airborne plummet of a Depression era stockbroker.

  “Wait, what?”

  “Listen, Roy, do you know how many of your classmates have super strength and durability?”

  Roy nodded. “Chad, Violet, Stella, and I have both. Others like Sasha have the enhanced endurance, but aren’t really the same.”

  “Very good,” Professor Fletcher said, moderately impressed that the boy actually paid that much attention to his surroundings. “So in just the sophomore class we have four people whose powers produce similar abilities. That said, each of those powers is wholly unique. Violet increasing her density is nothing like the way Stella shifts into steel or Chad continuously renovates his body. That’s three people who at first glance seem to be similar, but would have to approach training and improving themselves in completely different ways. That’s one class, in one college that offers the HCP, in one country, in the world.”

  “You’re saying helping me is too hard?”

  “I’m saying that each of you little bastards works in your own way. Now, you came to me for help, and I’m going to give you all I can. I just want you to understand upfront that I don’t have all the answers. We’ll try every method I can uncover, but there’s a chance we won’t find the one that helps you get stronger. Hell, it’s perfectly possible that this is simply as powerful as you are able to get.”

  “Oh.” Roy looked like he’d been told his dog had died. Professor Fletcher understood. The young people in this program had worked incredibly hard and progressed beyond what most Supers could ever do. Each one was easily in the top ten percent of his specialty. Unfortunately, that wasn’t good enough to be a Hero, and the closer they drew to graduation, more and more of them would discover where their limitations lay. Most would find a barrier they were physically incapable of passing, and it would be one of the hardest things they’d ever have to accept.

  “Look, I’m not saying you’re dead in the water here. If I can find a way to help you I’ll damn sure do it. I just want you to be ready to do a lot of work on your own time.”

  “I’ll work out all day every day, sir.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” Professor Fletcher leaned back in his chair. “We talked about why the others are strong. Steel body, ultra density, all that stuff. So what makes you strong?”

  “Me, I guess. I mean, when I’m Roy I’m just stronger and tougher.”

  “Just stronger and tougher,” Professor Fletcher repeated. “Roy, the key to improvement is understanding how your power works. I mean every last nuance. I’ll give you this much, you seem to have the shift down, but I think there’s more to your abilities than just a split personality and a good punch. You need to learn more about yourself. It’s the best shot you’ve got at breaking through this ceiling of yours.”

  “I’m, um, I’m not really good at that touchy feely stuff. That’s more Hershel’s rodeo.”

  “Then work with him. Between the two of you I bet you can figure something out. In the meantime, how about we start going through the basic techniques I’m well acquainted with? Maybe we’ll get lucky and hit a functional one right off the bat.”

  “I’d like to try that.”

  “Great; come by here when you finish your afternoon classes. We’ll work out a schedule that doesn’t conflict with my other duties.”

  “Yes, sir.” Roy rose from his seat, the consternation and frustration evident on his face. Professor Fletcher took those as good signs. You don’t get frustrated with things you’ve given up on. If you still cared enough to get pissed off it meant you still had hope. Hope was the difference between people who accepted their limitations and the ones who surpassed them. Professor Fletcher wasn’t sure which one Roy would be in the end, but he was definitely curious to find out.

  70.

  “Fall... the... hell... over.” Alice hissed the words through gritted teeth as she stared at the small particle board table. It was shoddily built and would lean to the side on its own. The weight of it was practically negligible and it couldn’t really be used to support much more than a whisper, let alone functionally hold up anything with tangible mass. Professor Hill had built it himself specifically so it fulfilled all of those specifications. Weak and barely stable was a good starting ground.

  “Let’s take a break,” Professor Hill said, handing his pupil a bottle of water. Alice accepted it and took a deep swig. She never would have guessed doing nothing could be so draining. This was her third private training session and she still hadn’t gotten the hang of her new abilities. Sometimes she could send the table tumbling multiple times in a row; other times she’d go for an hour producing not so much as a wobble. Professor Hill had been a surprisingly patient teacher, supportive during her failures as much as her successes. Alice felt she might have given up on the whole endeavor already if not for his encouragement.

  “I can’t seem to get it today,” Alice said, gulping down the rest of the bottle and setting it aside.

  “That’s okay; I told you on the first day you’re going to have steps back as well as forward until you get a stronger level of control.”

  “I remember, it’s just frustrating,” Alice admitted. “By the end of our work Wednesday I could knock it down no problem. Now it’s two days later and I’m getting zilch.”

  “It happens to nearly everyone in this situation. You’re still learning the
motions. It will get easier once you understand the coordination.”

  “You sort of lost me there.”

  Professor Hill gave her a reassuring smile. “Look at it like you’re learning a new exercise, like a jab. At first you just blindly slug away on the bag with all you’ve got. Some hits seem to make it move more, some barely get it to wiggle. If you keep punching long enough, you’ll stop paying attention to just the motion of your arm and start noticing other things your body is doing. You’ll feel the tension in your abs, you’ll catch the way your back swivels slightly, even your foot placement will become more obvious. You’ll keep taking in the details and realizing that altering these pieces makes a visible difference in how much the bag moves.”

  Alice could see what he was saying. When she’d first started doing her defense tapes she’d just been swatting at the air. After a few weeks she had gotten the form down. More than that, she found herself doing it without even focusing.

  “So you think once I learn how to do more than just turn it on, once I get the hang of all the factors that affect it, I’ll be able to use it more reliably. Right?”

  “Succinctly and intelligently put,” Professor Hill confirmed. “First you learn the motion, then you learn the system, then you can elevate both to higher levels. So let’s get at it.”

  “Sounds good.” Alice turned her attention back to the barely-balanced table and drew together her concentration. She’d tried tapping into her anger, the way she’d inadvertently done on Halloween, and found that while it drew some reactions, it was inconsistent. Applied concentration and an empty mind had been the best tools she’d uncovered so far. She wondered how anyone ever learned to use their powers as a child if this was the required effort. Perhaps it was like language: it simply came more easily in earlier stages of brain development. Even Powereds at least figured out how their abilities worked, even if they couldn’t willfully turn them on or off.