Super Powereds: Year 2

by Drew Hayes

  “Hey, Alice,” Nick called as the girls reached the door.

  “Yeah?”

  “If you win, I’ll clean your bathroom.”

  Alice smiled in spite of herself. The boy had a talent for lightening moods, no one could dispute that.

  “Screw that. If I win I want something better.”

  “Like what?”

  “You have to answer one question with complete honesty.”

  Nick paused for a half of a heartbeat. “Deal,” he said. Alice liked that pause; it meant he’d had to think about it. It meant he might even keep his word. She and Mary resumed their walk. It wasn’t until they were in the cell that Mary spoke, and when she did her tone was filled with mock annoyance.

  “You know, you might have asked me before turning down the cleaning offer. I bet we could have gotten him to at least throw in the girls’ lounge.”

  117.

  Julia and Jill stared at Mary and Alice from across the room. Unlike the previous fights, this one wasn’t beginning with anything more than a cursory greeting as they waited for permission to start. All four girls were on pleasant enough terms, though Mary and Alice tended to see more of Jill than Julia, especially after the cessation of her and Roy’s carnal acrobatics. They liked each other and in a pinch would probably sit at the same table in a lunch room should they spot an open seat. It wasn’t devout friendship, only amiable enjoyment. And now they had to beat the hell out of one another. No one knew exactly what to say in that sort of situation, so they’d defaulted to nothing. It was what worked best for everyone.

  “Are you ready to begin?” All four girls visibly relaxed at the sound of Professor Fletcher’s voice. Horrible as battle might be, it was still preferable to standing around anticipating the carnage.

  “We’re ready,” Mary replied confidently.

  “As are we,” Julia added.

  “Then this match has begun.”

  The sound had barely subsided from the loudspeaker when everyone leapt into action. Julia produced four clones in the span of a second, all of them charging at Alice. Jill activated an electrical blaster bracer worn around her forearm and lined up a shot on Mary. Mary slammed a blast of telekinetic force into the stampeding Julias, scattering them like blonde bowling pins back toward their creator. Alice hopped into the air and tried to look like she were merely terrified while in truth she was focusing on increasing the gravity around her opponents. She managed to pull it off and only barely in time. The sudden increase of force dropped Julia to the ground but only took Jill to her knees. It was enough to make her shot go wild; a crackling ball of energy crashed to the concrete only a few feet away from Mary’s vulnerable form.

  “Damn,” Jill swore from under her helmet as she struggled to pull herself up. The only thing keeping her in this fight was her patchwork suit’s muscle enhancers valiantly straining to stop her from becoming effectively pinned. She said a mental prayer of thanks to Will; if he hadn’t augmented them last month, there was no way she could have handled this level of strain. Julia was useless in this situation: any clones she produced were just as powerless as her original form. What Jill, mistakenly, believed to be Mary’s technique was exceptionally effective. She’d known battling the small girl would be tough but had hoped Alice’s uselessness would give them a two on one advantage.

  “You’re beaten,” Mary said in a matter-of-fact tone. She wasn’t trying to taunt or goad her opponents; she was only conveying what she saw as the truth of the matter. Jill was having a hard time disagreeing with her, too. The girl in the gizmo suit slowly raised her right arm, trying to line it up for another shot. If Mary was using her power to push them down, then she might not be able to dodge, at least not without letting up on the assault some.

  Jill succeeded in getting her arm halfway up before the intensity of the force knocking her downward increased. Suddenly it was too much, and the delicate balance she’d managed to retain was shattered. Jill tumbled to the floor, and no amount of straining would allow her to lift a limb. The most she could hope for was to fire off a few rounds and pray one ricocheted into Mary. For a brief moment she contemplated it then decided otherwise. No one in the other teams knew that Will had found a way to make her blasts bounce off inanimate objects yet. She didn’t want to squander a surprise like that on a battle that was pretty much already lost anyway. Years later, when looking back at this particular match and understanding what had truly been going on, Jill would appreciate the humor of that train of thought. In the actual moment, there was only one thing she could really do.

  “I give up,” Jill acknowledged.

  “Guess that means I do too,” Julia huffed out from the floor. She had merely been holding out in case Jill came up with a way to turn things around. The clones dissolved back into formless energy, leaving only the two real girls still stuck on the floor.

  “The winners of this match are Mary Smith and Alice Adair.”

  Alice floated down and grabbed Mary in a big hug. Jill and Julia felt the force binding them vanish, and both slowly rose to their feet.

  “I’d say good fight, but it would feel like a lie,” Jill admitted to the victors. “We went down without much of a showing at all. Nice technique, by the way.”

  “If Alex hadn’t given me the idea, this might have been a very different outcome,” Mary lied graciously. “Striking first was the only way we had a shot. That blaster of yours seems pretty nasty.”

  “It gets the job done. I have to say, your team has done surprisingly well today.”

  “You’ve also done well, but it’s not really a surprise.”

  “Tell me about it,” Julia mumbled. “I’m just annoyed I had to be on the sacrificial team.”

  “The what?” Alice asked.

  “She means we were picked because Chad knew we would lose,” Jill explained.

  “I see; he took Nick’s lesson to heart then,” Mary noted.

  “That he did. So, like I said, good job so far today. It’s almost too bad you’ve got no way to win the next two matches.” Jill headed out the door after making sure Julia was close by.

  Mary and Alice waited a few moments before following suit, taking a different path once they’d left the cell, one that led back to their own observation room.

  “Do you think she’s right?”

  “There are two people left on Chad’s team: Selena and Rich. Both use an ability that renders their opponent unable to fight back. What we’ve got left is Vince and Roy, both of whom rely on physical abilities to defeat anyone they face,” Mary surmised.

  “So, we’re screwed?”

  “It sure looks that way.”

  “Good,” Alice said, a wicked smile curving across her pleasant face. “If it looks like we’ve got no chance of winning that just means we’re exactly where Nick wants us to be.”

  “Unquestionably. Now we just have to hope he’s as smart as he thinks he is.”

  “Oooooh. If we’re banking on that then we really might be screwed.”

  The girls were still laughing about that little joke by the time they made it back to the room.

  118.

  Selena didn’t have to wait long for Vince to enter the cell. She was a little surprised: when Chad had nominated her, she’d been certain they’d send down Roy and hope his ability would let him resist her song. It wouldn’t, of course; Selena had tested herself against those like Roy before she’d even hit her teens. They might be able to walk away from a speeding car crash without a scrape, but it did them no good once Selena Wilkins had them under her spell.

  Vince looked determined as he moved carefully to the opposite side of the cell. She waved a hand to greet him, and he returned the gesture. Selena avoided speaking before battles so no one could accuse her of using her power before things officially kicked off. Vince’s reason for silence was much simpler than that: he merely couldn’t think of what to say. He knew he had to win, he knew his team was counting on him, and at the same time he wasn’t sure how he was go
ing to do any of it. Selena’s considerable abilities aside, she was physically a normal girl. Stronger and leaner than most her age, but still quite vulnerable by HCP standards. At least Camille was in Close Combat training. Beating up Selena would leave a sick taste in Vince’s mouth, and that was assuming he could even find a way to do it. He had one idea; however, even he knew it was something of a long shot.

  “Are you ready to begin?”

  “I am,” Vince said immediately. A long shot was better than no shot. He narrowed his eyes and focused with all he had. No matter which way it went, this fight would be over in less than a minute.

  “I’m ready.” Selena’s vibrant voice was devoid of melody, yet it still held an almost musical quality. Vince wasn’t the only one poised for action. Her tongue darted briefly across her lips, a sign of nervousness and a preparation for the impending musical onslaught all rolled into one almost imperceptible motion.

  “Then this match has begun.”

  Selena threw herself to the side at the same time she allowed a thick, hearty series of notes to burst forth. To her surprise, she dodged nothing, as the fireball she’d been certain Vince was aiming at her never materialized. The tan girl rolled to her feet, song continuing to flow without so much as a pause, and looked at her opponent, who seemed frozen in place. Vince hadn’t so much as twitched since the battle began; he was still clearly standing in the same spot, not even looking at her.

  Selena shook her head. No, he wasn’t clear, not clear at all. In fact, the longer she stared at him, the more distorted he appeared to be, like someone had secretly drawn a wall of water between the two of them and was agitating it more and more with every passing moment. She figured it out almost a full two seconds before the heat struck her.

  The massive outpouring of thermal energy washed over her like a blanket made of lava. It burned at her eyes and grabbed at her nostrils. She didn’t immediately blister, but she had a feeling prolonged exposure to this environment would cook her from the inside out. Still, she kept singing, her rich lullaby cascading across the acoustically-ideal concrete walls, permeating Vince’s ears even as his endless heat scorched across her skin. She could barely make out his form anymore; the distortion of the air and the tears in her eyes were teaming together to make seeing a cause at the edge of hopelessness.

  Selena’s throat felt seared as she gasped for a breath. The air was thin and sizzled in her lungs. Had she been anyone else, the spasms wracking her chest would have become full-fledged coughs and all would have been lost. Her mind was a fog of pain, her tongue felt as if it had matches underneath it, but she knew she was still singing. The burning in her throat told her that even more clearly than the gorgeous notes still ringing in her ears. This was her last breath; the next one would be more than she could bear. Selena poured every bit of herself into her song, every thought, every sense, every emotion. It was a melody of peace, a song of slumber, and right now there was almost nothing in the world she wished for more.

  * * *

  It was taking a lot to stay conscious and keep pouring out the heat, but Vince wasn’t quite at his breaking point yet. He didn’t know if he’d gotten more mentally fortified or if the scalding temperature was somehow weakening the power of her song, but he’d managed to resist the ever-growing pull of sleep so far. It was getting harder; his eyes were beginning to stay closed a little bit longer with each blink. Still, Vince kept his focus aimed at the tan girl’s kneeling form.

  He could still change up his tactics. One blast of electricity and her medley would grow quiet. Throwing lightning was dangerous; it was so easy to send too much. Had he been in a more rational frame of mind, he never would have used it at all, even against Michael. Still, he knew it would work, it would definitely give them the win. Didn’t that make it worth the risk?

  His eyes lingered in the closed position for nearly five seconds this time. Vince shook his head to cast away some of the mental fog. When his eyes settled again, they found themselves looking down at his feet, at a smear of red that stained the concrete beneath him. Camille’s blood. They’d cleaned it well, but it would take a professional to coax the red liquid from the porous surface. She’d been hurt so badly trying to win for them. He needed to win this, for her.

  Vince looked away from the ground and back at his target. His right hand cupped as he shifted a bit of his focus. The trick to electricity had finally been revealed to him by Professor Fletcher. You didn’t aim it like fire; instead you visualized it coming back to you from the target, creating an imaginary circuit that the energy would naturally flow along. He visualized that central point on Selena’s shoulder, a safe distance away from her weary, straining face and her delicately slender torso. His stomach churned. She just looked so damn weak already. Maybe the heat would win out over the song. Maybe he didn’t have to risk hurting her like this.

  Vince took another long blink, but forced himself to reopen his eyes one last time. This time, in the initial bleariness that accompanied such an act, he swore that for a moment it was Camille herself he was staring at. His resolution tightened and he knew which attack path he had to take.

  * * *

  She never heard him slump to the floor. The first indication Selena got that she’d won was when the next sweet gasp of oxygen felt only painful rather than torturous. Greedy gulps of air that were merely uncomfortable followed, and only after she’d pulled in all she could hold did she look across the cell to her opponent. He was sprawled out on the floor; a visible trickle of blood ran from under his temple. He must have fallen so hard that he struck the floor. Selena was impressed. That meant he hadn’t gone down gradually; he’d managed to stay standing until her spell overtook him entirely. Not many people had that kind of willpower.

  “The winner of this match is Selena Wilkins,” Professor Fletcher called through the room. His voice sounded strange, almost alien when contrasted to the beautiful song she’d been weaving around them. She pulled herself slowly to her feet, pausing for a moment to wonder just when she’d even fallen down, then walked over to check on Vince. His chest was rising and his breathing seemed steady. That was good; anything else could be fixed by the healers.

  * * *

  “Shit,” Mary swore under her breath. “He almost had her.”

  “No kidding. I can’t believe he got so close to winning,” Nick commented. “I underestimated that guy.”

  “You... you knew he would lose?”

  “Of course. Vince against Selena, anyone could have told you how that would end.”

  “Then why send him instead of Roy?”

  “Because it’s not that he lost, it’s how he lost. He did it without showing any more of his power than was absolutely necessary.”

  “Damn it, Nick, did you really think that was more important than us winning this thing?”

  “Don’t be silly, we were never going to win,” Nick chided her. “All I’ve been doing is making sure our losses were manageable.”

  “So that’s it? It’s all over?”

  “Certainly not. I’ve worked quite hard to manipulate them into giving us this final match-up.”

  “Rich versus Roy? He already beat him way back in the first year trials.”

  “That was a long time ago,” Roy rumbled from behind them. Both had heard him approach, but neither had felt the need to curb the conversation.

  “Quite right. I’m sure after all this time of having a defeat nagging at his ego, Roy has put more thought than any of us at just how to overcome someone like Rich.”

  “You’re damn right,” Roy agreed, flashing his teammate a dazzling grin before heading out the door. It wasn’t his usual smarmy smirk, nor was it his debonair cowboy charm smile. No, the smile on Roy’s face was like that of hunting dog that had finally been let off the leash. It spoke of eagerness, of hunger, and above all, of the thrill that was currently coursing through his excited bones.

  “Settle in, folks,” Nick called to the rest of the room. “I promise, this should
be one interesting show.”

  119.

  Rich was waiting patiently when Roy entered the cell; a confident smile rested just above his dark goatee. The taller combatant moved across the room slowly, eyes watching his opponent for any signs of aggression as he took his starting position.

  “Just like old times, huh?”

  Roy nodded curtly. “Looks like it.”

  “You folks really did an impressive job. More than any of us expected. I think we have a whole new level of respect for you all.”

  “Uh huh. But you still plan on winning.”

  “Well, obviously.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Is everyone ready to begin?” Professor Fletcher asked for the final time that day.

  Roy looked over at the small holes where sound entered the room. “I’m ready.”

  “I was born ready,” Rich raised.

  “Then this match has begun.”

  Roy whipped his head back in Rich’s direction and took off at a dead sprint. He reared up his arm in a clothesline that would have taken off Rich’s head, along with a healthy portion of his torso. The aggressive attack took Rich by surprise, leaving him no time to counter. His only bit of fortune was that Roy had telegraphed the charge so blatantly that he was able to throw himself to the side and roll back to his feet in a single motion. Roy’s charge kept right on going; the tall warrior never even stopped until he struck the concrete wall and bounced back. It was only after seeing this collision that Rich grasped exactly what was happening.

  “You’re fighting with your eyes closed.”

  “Bingo bucko.” Roy wasted not a single moment; he came running at Rich once more. This time Rich was more careful in his motions, moving to the side as quietly as possible but staying standing the entire time. Roy bounced off another wall and came to a stop. He didn’t merely stand in place after the impact; his entire body grew still as he worked to perceive the world around him without the benefit of vision.