Super Powereds: Year 2

by Drew Hayes

  “But-”

  “And that’s not even mentioning how long it took you to actually start using your power. Even now I bet you’ve only got that leftover forest fire and maybe a car battery’s worth of electricity inside you. Then there’s your supposedly new weapon, kinetic energy. Have you done any training that I didn’t lead you in? I’ll take anything, even a game of catch against a wall. Anything?”

  “I... no. I haven’t.”

  “I know you haven’t because I know you.” Nick ran his hands through his hair again, giving the illusion that he was calming himself down. “Vince, you’re one of my best friends and you’re probably the most selfless and loyal person I’ve ever met, but you’re always fucking terrified of going all out. From day one you might have been one of the strongest people here, yet your record is shit because while the rest of us are pushing our limits, you haven’t even tested yours. And that’s why I tell you all this now. You need to push yourself. I need you to push yourself. Because this last match is going to be the big one, and if we fall short, I’m positive that this dormitory will have some vacancies next year.”

  Vince’s gaze had been drifting toward the floor, but at Nick’s final words, his demeanor grew stiff and his eyes rose. “Why? Our team has a win and a tie.”

  “By hook, crook, and skin of our teeth. We’ve done well, but not amazing. And remember, they don’t move us up as a team. A few of us would get through, but as for the others, they’re at risk. If we don’t kick as much ass as physically possible on that last match then that will be the end for some of our friends. We can’t be good anymore. We have to be goddamn unstoppable.”

  Nick analyzed his friend’s posture carefully, noticing the gentle gripping of his fists and the way his feet naturally shifted into a balanced stance. He’d seen it a precious few times before: it was the stance Vince took when he was pushed far enough to get serious. Of course, he would only reach that point when his friends were in danger, hence Nick's theatrics. He needn’t have bothered with all the analytical effort. The depth of Vince’s resolve spilled out from his voice in glorious waves.

  “Tell me what we need to do.”

  146.

  “Welcome, all, to this week’s meeting of The Loyal Order of the Water Buffaloes.” Nick stood before his teammates, hands spread open in a welcoming manner. They were huddled in the common room, their default meeting place, for what Nick had called a “necessary tactics overview conclave.” Mary had sent the texts and the people had rallied. Nick stood there, waiting for some reaction to his announcement, before finally giving up and dropping his arms.

  “Really? No one here watched The Flintstones as a kid? I’m the only one?”

  “Hermit,” Mary said with a shrug.

  “Wanderer,” Vince added.

  “My parents didn’t have cable,” Alex chimed in.

  Nick turned to the remaining three, who stared right back at him.

  “What?” Alice said at last. “Not everybody remembers random details from cartoons in their childhood. So yes, you are the weirdo.”

  “Well damn. Fine then, since you all want to be spoilsports, I guess we’ll actually get right down to business.” Nick’s tone was flippant but he still looked oddly disappointed that no one had gotten his joke. “I’m sure you all noticed the notice this morning, and have all come to the conclusion that a lack of listed matches means we have no idea what to expect. I’ve given the matter ample thought, and after speaking to our dear telekinetic captain for approval, have designed a training regimen that I feel will best prepare us for whatever the challenge might be.”

  “This ought to be interesting,” Roy chuckled. “You going to pull out more playing cards?”

  “No need. The concept for this two-month stretch is simple enough that it requires no visual illustration. To put it simply, we will be training in pairs. You, for example, will be spending your free time fighting Vince.”

  “Whoa now, I’ve already got a lot of training to catch up on, and no offense, but I don’t think fighting him would be as beneficial.”

  “As beneficial as what? Weight lifting? I’m glad you found a way to advance yourself, but you do realize you were already able to pick up more than almost anyone else in our class, right? Raw hitting power is an important part of your arsenal, but it’s not the piece that’s most lacking right now,” Nick countered.

  “Then what is?”

  “Control. You’re so goddamned strong that we can’t fully utilize you. You ever wonder why surgeons don’t use a katana to operate? In terms of sheer cutting it’s far more effective than a scalpel.”

  “Because they need precision,” Roy said, his lips thin. He didn’t like being talked down to, but Roy was astute enough to know that Nick rarely went on these tangents without a point.

  “Exactly. The only people you really can fight against are ones like Chad, who you don’t have to hold back against. Everyone else is just a matter of you catching them and breaking their limbs. It’s fine for some one on one, but eventually you’ll need to take on multiple people and be able to punch just hard enough to take them down without killing them. That’s why you’ll be sparring Vince. He’s a better fighter than you, but if you hit too hard you can seriously hurt him. For his part, training against someone with your strength will put real risk on the line, so hopefully he’ll get his shit together with the kinetic absorption.”

  Roy glanced over at Vince. He hadn’t taken into account the risk his teammate would be taking by training with someone like him. Roy expected to see uncertainty or worry in his friend’s crisp blue eyes. All he found was restless determination. Vince wasn’t afraid to spar Roy: he was excited about it. He looked like he would start fighting right now if Nick gave the go ahead. Roy had seen Vince when he got serious; it meant the taller boy shouldn’t take their matches lightly.

  “Okay. I’m in,” Roy said at last.

  “Glad to hear it,” Nick said, turning back to the room at large. “Next up will be Alex, Mary, and Alice. I know I said pairs, but there’s seven of us so one team had to be bigger.”

  “Why us three? Not objecting, just wondering what I’m supposed to be focusing on,” Alice said.

  “A fair question. You three are put together because you and Mary need to work on your delicacy. Both of you have ample force in your powers, but neither of you have anything near the level of precision that Alex does. For his part, he needs to up his force a good bit, and training against a pair of people that can accidently tear him limb from limb should improve his raw power considerably.”

  “Hang on, if those are the teams then doesn’t that make the last one you and Camille?” Vince said, the process of elimination making the last pairing quite clear.

  “Indeed,” Nick confirmed. “She and I are similar in that we both fight from a place of weakness. Neither of us is particularly tall or strong, at least in relation to other people in the HCP. We have different styles, however, so sparring and learning from one another should significantly expand both of our repertories.”

  “If Vince is in constant risk of getting his bones broken, shouldn’t I be somewhere on hand when they fight?” Camille pointed out.

  “Absolutely not. The whole point of their training is to gain understanding about the consequences of failure. Roy will seriously hurt a friend if he hits too hard. Vince will get significant injuries if he doesn’t learn to absorb blows. If we remove pain as an instructor, we reduce the effectiveness of their efforts.”

  “Don’t worry,” Vince told her. “I’m not going to get hurt.”

  “You? I’m fighting the strongest girl in the class and someone who can bend gravity to their will,” Alex pointed out. “How about a little concern over here?”

  “Yeah, I’m more worried about taking on two people with a lifetime practicing their power instead of months,” Alice joined in.

  “Listen everyone, I know this seems a little intense, and in truth it probably will be.” Mary stood from her seat
to address her team, not that it made much difference. “I had a long talk with Nick before I agreed to this and I had those same concerns. The truth of the matter is that he’s right. Fighting people who have what we lack will be the fastest path to rounding each one of us out. Since we have no idea what the last test will be, increasing our various skills will give us an element of surprise and the ability to splinter off as needed.”

  Mary took a breath to steady herself. It had been jarring that afternoon when Nick told her what was really on the line. “We’re going to win. We’re going to show everyone that we belong here.” Her eyes might have flicked tellingly to Vince, but if so, no one other than Nick noticed.

  “We have to.”

  147.

  Fighting Vince was infuriating. In his time at Lander, Roy had fought people who were more skilled than he was, faster than he was, and had unexpected talents he couldn’t utilize, but he’d never encountered someone quite like Vince. For one thing, the silver-haired young man could predict movements with startling accuracy. It was different than Chad’s method, where he reacted instantly thanks to his accelerated brain. Vince didn’t seem to react at all: instead he anticipated. By the time Roy’s attacks were close enough to touch him, Vince had already deflected or dodged them and begun a counter. He’d talked about being trained since he was a child, but Roy had never taken the time to appreciate just how much ability came with that sort of dedication. By the end of the first day it was clear that, from a technical perspective, Vince’s level of skill was something Roy would likely never achieve.

  Of course, none of that mattered in a real fight, where Vince’s deflections and attacks would fail miserably against his opponent’s ridiculous strength. That was the even more annoying part for Roy, knowing that if he let loose he could win, and then having to hold himself back. Not that his attempts were entirely successful; within the first week he accidently broke Vince’s right arm twice and cracked a few of his ribs.

  Camille had not been pleased.

  By the time the third week rolled around, Roy’s control had progressed enough to where fractured bones were more exception than expectation, though Camille was still taking a lot of bruises off Vince at the end of each session. Roy had to admit, despite his initial hesitance to spend what little free time he had in this endeavor, it was generating noticeable results. He was getting better at fighting someone who wasn’t super tough, and he was slowly learning how to take on yet another type of opponent. The training was paying off... for him.

  “Oooof.” Vince’s breath flew out of him as Roy punched a little too hard, broke his guard, and sent a fist deep into his torso. The smaller boy collapsed to the ground as he struggled to get air into his lungs. Roy took a few steps back so as to allow his friend time to recover. He’d gotten the wind knocked out of him a few times by Chad, he knew it was a very unpleasant experience.

  “You okay?” Roy asked once Vince’s frantic gasping had become less shallow.

  “Been... better,” Vince panted. “Been... worse... too.”

  “I hear that.” Roy hunkered into a squatting position while he waited; it seemed like Vince was still going to need a bit before he was ready to go again. “I have to ask something, and for once I don’t mean to be an ass about it. Are you sure you can absorb punches?”

  “In theory,” Vince replied, his words steadying along with his inhalation of oxygen. “I’ve gotten a tennis ball or two.”

  “Yeah, but a fist is a fair bit stronger. Especially mine. I just felt like I should bring it up, because it’s been nearly a month and you haven’t absorbed even one yet.”

  “I know. Trust me, I know. I’m still trying to figure out the knack for it.”

  “The knack?”

  Vince nodded, rocking back to a sitting position instead of staying on his hands and knees. “Every type of energy is a little different. When I absorb or shoot something unintentionally it’s all instinct, but to do it with reliability, I have to find out what strategy works best.”

  “You lost me.”

  “It’s hard to explain if you don’t have this type of ability, but electricity is probably the best example. Remember how I couldn’t get it to shoot straight over more than a few inches all last year?”

  “I remember you frying the electrical system during our first ranged training,” Roy reminded him.

  “Right. Well, in working with Professor Fletcher, I realized the problem was that I was trying to shoot it like I did fire. Flames are easy: you just point them and let rip. Electricity is trickier. If I just blast away then I get the splitting issue.”

  “So how do you shoot lighting?”

  “I picture the spot I want it to hit, focusing on all the electricity inside of me and how little there is in that object by comparison. I think of it as a giant imbalance, so when I strike all I’m doing is creating a link to achieve evenness.”

  “Huh. Sounds complicated.”

  “A little, but it’s what works for me. Others might do it differently. Anyway, the point is that every energy has a subtle variety, and finding the knack is just me figuring out how to interact with it.”

  “Not to rush your process, but you might want to step it up on figuring out kinetic energy. We don’t have a shitload of time left.”

  “I know,” Vince sighed. “I’ve been trying everything I can think of, but none of it is working. I still don’t know how I took the energy out of that table, or the tennis balls.”

  “No clue on the balls, but the table is obvious: instinct. You did it because you had to do it, otherwise it would have wrecked you.”

  “Probably,” Vince agreed. “Too bad I can’t get the same instinct when sparring.”

  “Maybe you can,” Roy said, standing back up. Vince followed suit and the two moved back toward the area they’d been training in. “I have an idea. Don’t fight me anymore, just block.”

  “What will that do?”

  “On its own, nothing,” Roy admitted. “But there’s another piece to this. I’m going to try and break your arms.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “That’s why I don’t want you dodging or deflecting. Take the blows. This is going to help me learn how strong my punches need to be to just barely break bone.”

  “I see. So either I absorb the energy, or I get a shattered arm.”

  “Yup. Let’s see if your self-preservation instinct kicks in after a few fractures.”

  Vince started to object, on grounds of basic sanity, then thought better of it. Roy was right: he didn’t have many weeks left, and mastering a new technique was time consuming. If he could do this, it would mean a whole new dimension to his fighting abilities. A skill like this could easily be the difference between a win and a loss. His team needed him to be stronger. Vince was not going to let one of his friends get booted, not because of him. He raised his arms into a basic guard position.

  “Whenever you’re ready.”

  148.

  “Are there any more questions?”

  The group fidgeted on the mismatched furniture, no one wanting to speak without having something important to say. They still lived in the seemingly abandoned building where they had been for nearly a year now, but it seemed that was soon to change. For some, like the dark-haired man with the sharp features, it was a welcome relief. Others, like the boy who couldn’t possibly be any older than twelve, were clearly dismayed by the sudden change.

  The next to speak was a slim blonde woman with elfin features and her blonde hair trimmed in a pixie cut. “I still don’t think it’s smart for you to travel in the open. You can stay holed up here until we’re ready to act, then let me transport you.”

  The dark-haired man in the red coat pressed his right ring and index finger to his temple. He rarely did anything with the left hand, the one concealed behind several layers of cloth and gloves, unless it was necessary.

  “Then how would we get away? Part of why we’re going now is to lay the ground work for our escape. And be
fore you offer to help with that too, let me remind you that at this stage we don’t want them to even know we have a teleporter, let alone that it’s you.”

  “They wouldn’t have to know.”

  “Shims, when this is over, we’re going to have a lot of people after us, and while you are effective as hell, you are also very distinctive.”

  The delicate-featured woman leaned back in her chair, unhappy but unable to think of another solid objection. Luckily, a different female, one whose hair was styled into short dark spikes, suffered no such obstacle.

  “I’d like to call bullshit on not bringing anyone besides yourself, Persephone, and Gerard. Why not let me into the lineup?”

  “Because no one knows about you either,” the man said, his tone surprisingly patient given the number of times he’d heard some manifestation of this argument. “Persephone was made in last year’s extraction attempts, George was given instructions to lead his interrogators down the path to Gerard’s involvement, and as for me, well, we’ve already been over this. I refuse to open it for debate once more.”

  “I could help.”

  “I know you could, Joan, and you will. This is one step in a long journey. Everyone here wants to pitch in or they wouldn’t have signed up. We have limited resources and opportunities, however, so the more we can keep close to the vest, the greater our options are in days that follow. Trust me.”

  Joan grumbled something unintelligible but allowed herself to fall silent. She did trust him. All of them did. He’d pulled them together, shown them they weren’t alone. He’d given them a purpose, traded all the bitter disappointment in their guts for a dream that burned brightly through their minds.

  “Okay, last chance for questions. Quentin? Gerard? Anything?”

  The sharp-faced man and the boy both shook their heads no.

  “Then with that I think we can call this meeting adjourned.” He rose from his seat quickly, strong legs lifting him into the air as though they couldn’t bear the idea of restrained for much longer. “I don’t know about you folks, but I’m going to get a head start on packing.”