Super Powereds: Year 2

by Drew Hayes

  “Living the rails?”

  “I wasn’t exactly anyone’s first choice for adoption as a child. I ran away from the foster system as soon as I could. He found me one night digging through a restaurant dumpster for food.” Vince’s eyes weren’t looking at his book anymore; they were staring beyond its starched white pages into an alley of the past, gazing at a silver-haired child gagging down rotten fruit because he was too hungry to pass it up. “Father took me in. He taught me how to live on the streets safely and with integrity. We never stole. We worked where we could and foraged whenever possible. Does that sound like a man hiding abilities to you?”

  “Only if he were working very hard to hide them,” Chad admitted. “But it’s still not impossible.”

  “I can turn this bench into cinders with a thought. You could lift that statue from across the lawn and throw it half a block past the end of campus. We have a very skewed sense of what is and isn’t impossible.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “I’ll probably never completely convince you that the man who raised me isn’t the same as the one who killed your dad,” Vince said slowly. “Not beyond any doubt. But I’ll never believe he did anything like that, either. So we have a homeless man with enough compassion to raise someone else’s freak of a kid until he dies in an explosion when I’m thirteen. If you prefer to think of him as a murdering former Hero in disguise then I can’t stop you; I can only tell you that there isn’t one shred of evidence in my memories to support that theory.”

  “I thought you said thirteen was the age he gave you the watch.”

  “On my found-day. We didn’t know when I was born, so that was what we used to mark the passing of years. He died a few months later.”

  “I’m sorry,” Chad replied. “Sincerely. Even if it was him, I’m sorry you had to lose your father.”

  “Same to you,” Vince echoed.

  “I think you’re right. I don’t know anything for sure. The watch is a damning piece of evidence, but it alone doesn’t prove anything. Globe’s body was never found; however, that doesn’t mean nothing of him survived.”

  “Globe died?” Vince asked.

  “His teammates killed him after he killed my father. Nick and Alice did a presentation on all of this last year for class.”

  “I missed a few of them. Coach George called me into his office on one of the presentation days,” Vince explained.

  Chad rifled through his memory. Sure enough, Vince had been yanked out that day. “You were gone for it. The summary is that Globe killed Intra, and then was killed off by the remainder of his team when he turned on them as well. Black Hole was the Hero who brought him down, and a side effect of his ability was that it didn’t leave a body behind, so some people have always wondered whether Globe was truly gone or not.” Chad didn’t mention how prominent a member of ‘some people’ he was. His actions over the past week already told that story too clearly.

  “He sounds like a bastard.”

  “Agreed.”

  “I’m sorry he killed your dad.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Is that why you train so hard? Because you’re afraid someone will turn on you?”

  Chad shook his head. “My father was one of the greatest Heroes who ever lived. He was strong, pure, and effective. Yet all anyone knows him for is being Globe’s victim. No one talks about the people he saved or the lives he impacted. They only talk about the way he died.”

  He stood up from the bench and stretched, feeling the shift of every muscle in his body as he re-centered them to perfect alignment.

  “I intend to redeem my father’s abilities. I am going to show the world just how strong he really was, by showing everyone what these powers can do.” Chad turned and found Vince looking at him, the first meeting of one another’s eyes during their conversation. “I am going to become the strongest Hero this world has ever seen. I’ll surpass everyone, no matter what it takes.”

  In that moment, watching the slow dip of the sun ring Chad’s blonde hair with orange light, Vince had no trouble believing him.

  “I don’t think I’ll be in your way,” Vince said.

  “We’ll see. If we ever do go against one another, it won’t be with any bad blood between us. I’m going to choose to believe you about your father.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Vince slid the book to his side and stood up. He and Chad were nearly the same height, two taller-than-average fellows with much greater-than-average potential. He stuck out his hand, letting it jut into open air. “Friends?”

  Chad accepted it and shook. “Allies.”

  “Allies,” Vince agreed. “And, in next week’s match, competitors.”

  “I look forward to it,” Chad said with a grin. Vince smiled right back. He was getting excited about the upcoming battle, too.

  110.

  Nick sat in the boys’ lounge, pretending to read a book on statistics. The others would gather soon and he’d have to begin his strategy meeting. It was an event that would likely be unpleasant. They were going up against Chad’s team, a proposition which meant that from the outset Nick knew he would have to throw a Hail Mary. It was a long shot, and while Nick was comfortable with the idea of high-risk high-reward scenarios, that didn’t mean he was particularly looking forward to selling his team on it. Mary had been hard enough, and she had the sturdiest head on her shoulders out of the lot. Of course, that was only true because Nick had failed to account for another member of their team. Fortunately, that other team member had not forgotten to account for Nick.

  “Nervous?”

  Nick glanced up to see Hershel standing by the dart board. The hefty boy didn’t move with much grace or speed, but he was unobtrusive enough to come and go without raising more than peripheral awareness.

  “Me? Nah, I’m a wiz with numbers. This class won’t know what hit it.”

  “You’re not in a statistics class this semester,” Hershel replied. “And even if you were, it’s not like you need to study.”

  There was a gentle rustling of pages as Nick shut his book. “What makes you think I’m not in a statistics class?”

  “Because you’re not the only one who knows the value of listening when people talk.” Hershel took a few steps forward and sank into a chair opposite of Nick. “You’re also not the only one here with experience as a tactician.”

  “I see. So you’ve figured out our next move?”

  “That’s why I asked if you were nervous. Not going to be easy to convince those guys to go along with that sort of plan.”

  “Enlighten me. What plan have you assumed I formulated?”

  “You want us to lose,” Hershel said simply.

  “Please elaborate.”

  “You want us to play defensively, not take risks, and do nothing more than run the clock on whatever trial they subject us to.”

  “Okay,” Nick said. “Let’s presume you’re correct. I want us to give this match away. Why would I do that?” He leaned back in his chair a bit, giving Hershel more space to think. It turned out to be unneeded.

  “Because you and I know both understand the gap between this team and Chad’s team. It’s a match that we can’t hope to win, regardless of the rules they give us.”

  “We have the element of surprise,” Nick pointed out. “Alice’s new gravitational power is coming along at a steady rate, and Vince has successfully managed to absorb the kinetic energy of two tennis balls I’ve thrown at him.”

  “Two out of how many?”

  A small frown tugged at the corners of Nick’s mouth. “One hundred and thirty four.”

  “I figured as much. If he was doing it reliably you would have asked Roy to join in the training. He could fill Vince with far more kinetic power than some tennis ball. That’s why you’re still on beginner exercises, and that’s also why you want us to lose. Right now we have two trump cards, two people who can do things no one else suspects. They’re still relatively new, however. If we blow them on a
match we’re going to lose then we waste the chance to surprise another team.”

  “So you think it’s better to let our hidden cards evolve into Aces before setting them on the table?”

  “A child thinks only about the battle; a General considers the war as a whole. Losing this match covertly gives us a much better chance of winning our third one,” Hershel explained. “And I know you reached the same conclusion.”

  “I won’t deny that. If the situation was as you described it then losing without giving our all truly would be the best idea. However, you’ve got a few facts incorrect,” Nick said. He inched forward toward the edge of his seat, reclaiming the space he had previously abandoned.

  “I do?”

  “Indeed. First off, we have three surprise cards, not two. Despite their indignation at the loss, it seems Allen and Hector have stayed quiet about Camille’s capacity for laying the hand-to-hand smack down. I’ve had Mary keeping mental tabs on them and neither has spilled the beans.” Part of Nick would have liked to have discussed Camille’s real power with Hershel, instead of the fighting skill they were pretending she had, however he didn’t quite trust Roy to keep her secret.

  “Why would they do that?”

  “They wouldn’t. They are worthless idiots. Britney, on the other hand, is a masterful competitor. She understands that now that they’ve lost to us there is nothing to gain by outing one of our member’s talents. If that knowledge were to allow other teams to beat us, then it makes us appear weak, and them even weaker since we beat them. That girl grasps the simple truth that from here on out, the better we do, the better they seem for having come so close to victory.”

  “Enemy of my enemy...” Hershel said.

  “Pretty much.”

  “Camille doesn’t change much.”

  “Camille’s fighting prowess does give us an unexpected advantage, in that no one realizes she’s a capable warrior. That said, I agree that she alone wouldn’t be enough to deviate from the plan of losing.”

  “So what else is there?”

  “A few things: how hungry Alice is to prove her worth, for one, or the rate at which Vince’s abilities accelerate in real combat for another. But all of them go toward a single issue that prevents us from giving up the match: feasibility of execution.”

  “You don’t think they could do it?”

  “I don’t. You and I both know that even with your memories of how logical a choice it is, Roy would be a longshot for such a plan.”

  “He’s not the one we have to worry about.”

  “Roy should always be worried about when constructing a plan. Especially when Chad is a factor. He has a soft spot for getting knocked senseless by that blonde adversary.”

  Hershel didn’t have a comeback for that one; he merely nodded his agreement.

  “Besides, I could sooner charm the entire female population of the HCP into a massive orgy than I could talk Vince into giving up. There is not one single ounce of Quit in that boy, no matter how smart a choice it might be. Where he goes, Camille will follow, of course, and by the time three of us are fighting wholeheartedly, Alice won’t be able to hold back any longer. She’s been sidelined so much, now that she feels she can contribute she’d obviously jump in. That of course means Mary will break formation to go keep her friend safe, and by this point the only people still playing it smart are myself and Alex.”

  “I think you underestimate how much they trust you. If you told them that was the plan, they’d go for it.”

  “I assure you - they would agree to anything, and in the moment they would mean it. A person’s nature in combat is not easily changed, however. No, they would never give away a victory, regardless of the odds against them. Too bad, because you were right about it being the smart play,” Nick conceded.

  “So if you can’t do the smart play, what’s left?”

  “I should think that’s obvious,” Nick replied, a smarmy grin spreading across his face. “If you can’t make a smart play, you make a batshit crazy one.”

  111.

  “I’m pleased to see everyone looking so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,” Professor Fletcher greeted. In truth, neither team was particularly befitting of either of those adjectives. This wasn’t due to any particular worry or case of the nerves: it was simply because all the super abilities in the world didn’t change the fact that college students hate being up early. Still, they’d accomplished their task of rousing and now stood in the gym with bleary but eager eyes.

  “As you know, today is a match between your teams. I think we all understand what’s at stake, so I won’t waste any time telling you to try your best or any other such nonsense. Instead I’ll jump right into the rules. Today’s match will be a test of how you use the resources of your teammates over a prolonged time. We’re going to be going to the cells and doing some combat matches.”

  Mary winced inwardly; everyone on Chad’s team except Will was either an experienced fighter or had an ability that would neutralize any skill brought against it. This was the system she’d been most afraid of.

  “Of course, it wouldn’t be much of a test if we just randomly threw you all in fights, so instead you will be deciding the lineup,” Professor Fletcher continued. “Each team will take turns deciding who they want to send into the cell. The other team then gets to pick which member or members to send against them.”

  The eyes of the students cleared as realization of his words dawned on them.

  “You heard me right: you can send in multiple people to fight one person, or send in one person to fight multiple people. There are no rules on the match ups,” Professor Fletcher explained. He paused for a moment, savoring the attentive atmosphere before continuing. “However, each team member can only fight one time. So if you blow all seven members on the first match then you automatically lose the next six.” This time his pause was less about dramatics and more about giving them time to let it all sink in. Once a few brows had unfurled Professor Fletcher felt it was safe to move on.

  “Standard HCP fight rules apply. The loser is the first one to pass out, give up, or be similarly incapacitated. Intentional lethal force will get you disqualified. Any questions?”

  “How do we decide who nominates a fighter first?” Chad asked immediately. It was a sound question; the team sending a person into the cell was at a disadvantage since their opponent got to pick their combat reactively. With seven people per team, that meant if no one used double members in a match then the first team to send someone into the cell would have four nomination matches and only three reaction matches.

  “Well, normally we just flip a coin or something like that,” Professor Fletcher admitted. “That method is a little problematic, given the presence of Mr. Campbell.”

  “Oh really? The one way I can actually help my team and we’re going to make it sound shameful?” Nick protested, his tone pleading and hurt.

  “Strictly speaking, the only test of abilities here happens in the cells and in the decisions you make regarding them. Influencing the coin toss is technically cheating.”

  “Then how about this?” Mary interjected. “Let’s just assume we’ll win whatever game of chance you play and say that Chad’s team is going to nominate first.”

  “That is hardly-”

  “But,” she interrupted, “my team promises to do a two-person nomination one time. If they do the same then it reduces the total matches to six, which means no one really gets an advantage.” This wasn’t entirely true, since Mary and Nick understood the value of striking a victory early on and how it could impact morale.

  “I’ll agree to those terms,” Chad said. He knew the importance of a fearful first strike as well, but this was as good a situation as he could hope for against someone like Nick.

  “I suppose that settles it then. Okay, Team Two, who would you like to send into the cell for the first match?” Professor Fletcher asked.

  There was no discussion amidst the team, nor any need for it. Most of them were ju
st as Mary had assessed: seasoned fighters. They knew that dominating an opponent early on often broke their spirit and left them unable to rally. It was a principle rule of war, and one that made their choice effortless.

  “I’ll be first,” Chad declared.

  “Very well. You and your team come with me to the observation room. I’ll leave Team One here to deliberate until I return,” Professor Fletcher said. He led Chad down the concrete halls, with Rich, Julia, Sasha, Will, Jill, and Selena trailing just a few steps behind. The team didn’t bother with chit-chat. They were friends, and when this was over they would talk and laugh and celebrate a victory or mourn a loss. That was later. In this moment, all each of them saw was the battle at hand. This shared trait, more than any particular ability, is what made Team Two such a monstrous combatant.

  Chad was directed into a combat cell, one much like he’d been in back during his freshman trial. Of course he still used these for sparring and training - it was one of the only places people like him could really use all their strength - but the ones with observation rooms above them tended to be reserved for official events like this one. Chad’s eyes swept the room and took in the scant surroundings with a single glance. There were the usual microphone holes at the corner of one wall that allowed the PA system to be heard. Two walls opposite one another had long open slits at the top with a specially-reinforced clear material covering them. It was as easy to see through as glass, but given what that material could endure it was compositionally as far from actual glass as was possible. Chad did recognize that the presence of two viewing holes meant the teams would watch from separate rooms. It seemed this was a trial the HCP had used before.

  He was bored with the room and went to go stand in its center. A lesser fighter would have weighed the merits of ambushing his opponent when they walked through the door. That seemed like it would be grounds for disqualification, when one considered the challenge. Besides, Chad enjoyed most of the people on Team One. He saw no reason not to treat this fight with honor. As he watched his own teammates fill into their observation room, Chad idly wondered who they would send against him. Mary was the obvious choice: last time he’d defeated her she’d been unable to see him. A visually fair fight might be more interesting. Roy would likely lobby for the right of challenge, too. That was fine; it had been months since their last match. Chad knew his sparring buddy couldn’t win, but he still took a bit of pride in watching him get stronger. It was possible Vince would want to try his luck. He and the absorber had never been in any kind of official battle. It would be an interesting, if predictable, fight. By the time the door finally opened, Chad had run through just about every opponent scenario possible. Except, of course, for the one that turned out to be correct.