Star Child: Places of Power

by Leonard Petracci

  He trudged forward with the car door, his legs straining as it gained weight, while Anthony appeared ready to wet himself. But two-thirds of the way across the arena, Slugger tripped on something, though there was nothing but bare earth beneath him. And there, so faint I could barely see it and appearing only for a split second, was a spark just under one of his feet as he careened forward.

  The car door slammed down on top of him, the mass enhanced, and his guard raised a hand to generate a force field only after his body bore most of the blow. The door rolled off, revealing Slugger’s face to be splattered with blood that rushed from his nose and was lapped up by the earth, staring back at the spot where he had tripped with disbelief as the buzzer sounded.

  “Congratulations to Anthony, the winner!” announced Siri as she smiled. “Remember, students, humility is a virtue! And as we watch you grow, we will be sure to nurture the virtues necessary for you to thrive. For what is a vine without a trellis, or a bush without pruning? Let the next match begin, and may the winner be deserving of the prize!”

  Chapter 45

  Of Lucio, Darian, and myself, my match came first. And after watching all the physical techniques of the Bottoms, I felt ready – I knew their top moves, their throws, how they set up a punch. While at first it had seemed near mystical, now I realized there were less than five combinations, which made perfect sense considering the short amount of time they had to train. And each of the combinations had an equally as simple counter – a side step, a twist of the hips, a dodge. So long as the move was recognized before full implementation, it would be trivial to evade it.

  But for those who had no foresight, it was deadly.

  “Match seven!” called Siri, and I stood, walking down the bleachers to the arena below. Each of my steps seemed to echo off the far wall as I descended, and from the corner of my eye, I saw a figure keeping pace. Both he and I reached the judges; table at the same time, waiting to be assigned to a corner. Next to me, I felt the heat radiating from his body in pulses that could only be a heartbeat, and straightened my shoulders while raising my chin, making a point to make my body as large as possible to combat the space occupied by his power.

  Then we walked to opposite ends as I felt the earth crunching under my feet in the still dry regions, and passed several new obstacles that had been added after Slugger’s fight – a fresh car door, a new pole in the place of the one he had ripped out, and the scattered granite stepping stones realigned in their place.

  I looked up when I arrived at my position, meeting Fino’s eyes, the ever present fury flaring up just behind them. I steadied my breath, taking account of the terrain, preparing my muscles to leap into action. And I remembered Linns’ lesson on Fino’s power type, Furnaces.

  Often emotionally driven, untrained Furnaces face problems with containment – too easily do they let their power boil over, their embers turn to wildfires. At that point, they lose control, and are as much of a danger to themselves as they are to you. So remember, the more power they use, the less ability they have to direct it with precision.

  Siri’s finger rested on the buzzer, and the crowd took a collective breath, knowing that this was no Bottom against Average fight. And aside from the Bottoms, none of us had seen the extent of Fino’s power since the first day. But with strategy, quick reactions, and Linns’ advice, I should be able to counter it.

  Then the buzzer sounded, and I saw Fino’s power before I felt it. Hands raised, he screamed with rage, his face as red as the flames that licked up from his feet, smoke billowing away from the pillar on his left as the paint crinkled and bubbled. The air warped, shimmering like the layer just above pavement on a triple-digit day, and blossoming towards me in a visible shock wave that expanded outwards to cover my entire side of the arena.

  Reaching ahead with two force points, I took hold of both the car doors at opposite ends of the arena, dragging them backwards and together just in front of me, the glass shattering as metal twisted together at the center seam. Crouching, I ducked under the metal, driving the edge of the doors into the dirt to form a small mound in front as the heat wave struck, the structure becoming a shield.

  The faded leather on the interior of the doors cracked instantly just as the remaining glass in the side mirrors exploded, sending not shards but powder raining down in a cloud. Above, I felt the heat reaching down to attack my eyebrows, threatening to burn them clean off, while the tips of the metal on the outside of the door already glowed a faint orange. Any moisture left in the dirt fizzled away behind me, the mud splitting open as steam billowed upwards, any organic matter immediately turning to ash.

  Then the blast was over, like opening and shutting a grill for only a second, the remaining heat dissipating into the rest of the gym. Hearing nothing, I stood, chancing a look over the lip of the doors and meeting Fino’s eyes once more.

  Ahead, in the direct line of the blast, there was only char and destruction – nothing remained intact, even the granite stones were chipped at the edges. And Fino had not moved, his hands still outstretched, his eyes widening as I entered his view, and launching a second blast that rolled towards me like an ocean wave.

  Diving back down, I weathered the second blast, hearing his shout of anger as the car doors held. I thought of my next move, remembering Linns’ advice to spur a Furnace on until they lost control.

  And I realized Fino was long past that point without my intervention.

  Chapter 46

  “Coward!” I heard Blake shouting from above as the third blast came, closer this time, and I huddled under the door again to escape. “Get up and fight!”

  Only twenty seconds had passed since the buzzer, but I knew I had to move. I readied myself, gritting my teeth as I realized my black spheres would cut directly through Fino’s heat, likely absorbing it on their path, and would constitute at a kill strike before he had a chance to move. But using the spheres would expose my power, and therefore expose me. This fight would have to be won as a Telekinetic.

  I waited, listening, holding my breath for the fourth wave. Then, just as it passed overhead, I slammed two force points past the car doors, flinging them open and hurling them at Fino. They spun through the air like cards, the outside glowing red from the heat, the interior an ashy black, churning through the heat while gaining speed. And Fino, his chest rising and falling with exertion, had no time to move.

  They smashed into the force field generated by one of the guards, the energy on impact enough to split them into several pieces, the metal brittle from cycling heat and an exterior oxidizing layer. But without the protection, they would have hit Fino directly.

  “Point one!” shouted a voice in the stands, and I turned to see Lucio with a finger raised even before the buzzer sounded. “Not too average for an Average!”

  Darian nodded beside him as Fino turned his back to walk towards his starting position and wait for the next round, the shimmering air around him turning into a frenzy as he held in the heat. With each step, it surged, seeming to be corralled in just barely by force of will, and eager to be released.

  “Not bad!” shouted Blake from the stands, a smile forming over his face that made warning bells go off in my mind. “But let’s see how you perform without a shield!”

  Chills ran down my spine as I turned, looking to the remains of the two car doors on the ground in front of Fino, now nearly entirely disintegrated. And as Fino followed my gaze, a smile raced across his lips, matching Blake’s while his laugh shrieked across the gap between us.

  Seconds later, Siri pressed the buzzer, and I dove to the earth as the first heat wave struck with no time to develop a better plan. Immediately, the guard generated a field above me as the heat came crashing down, and the buzzer sounded again a mere five seconds after the round began.

  One point Fino, one point me.

  The next round, I flung the granite stones at Fino, hurling them like comets towards him – but while he could dodge the stones, the wave he propelled was as w
ide as the arena, and there was no dodging its breadth. Instead, it caught me head on with no defense, and the blast of hot air burned my arms before the guard generated a shield.

  Two points Fino.

  For the final round, I tried lifting the earth in a shield, my powers pulling upwards at flecks of dirt in two tornadoes to form an insulating wall, heaving the mass upwards with the strongest force points I could muster and bringing the stream water with it. But the earth broke apart in clumps as the gravity took hold, and the stream water turned to steam by Fino’s third wave. With both points focused on maintaining the wall, I had nothing left to utilize in an attack – and when the fourth heat wave came, it flew through my cloud like water through a strainer, completely unaffected as thoughts raced through my mind, last-second possibilities that came too late. And I realized that today, I would only be fighting once.

  That as the buzzer sounded, I’d be making my way back to the bleachers.

  And I’d be watching the rest of the fights from the Bottom seats.

  Chapter 47

  “Sorry SC,” whispered Darian as he brushed past me, walking the aisle between the Average and Bottom bleachers. “But I’m not going to spend the rest of my time here scrubbing toilets, as short as it may be.”

  “Darian,” I hissed back. “No matter what happens, don’t use my power, or we’ll actually be stuck here. It’s our only way out, understood?”

  He paused, looking back towards me from where he had continued walking down the steps, and nodded.

  “Understood,” he answered. “Besides, I wouldn't need it until the next round anyways. Not like I’m about to lose to a Bottom.”

  Eleven minutes later, I rubbed the blisters forming on my forearms while Darian sulked next to me, his scowl deep enough for both of us, maintaining silence for the next four matches.

  “It’s absolute bullshit,” he outburst eventually, slamming a fist down on the seat next to him. “She should have clarified the rules before the match. I sat in the front row for your battle to absorb Fino’s power, I spent twenty minutes this morning picking up Flamethrowing from Josh. It should have been over in an instant.”

  “Looks like we’re sticking together, then,” I said, “depending upon the outcome of Lucio’s match.”

  Beside me, Darian huffed, and I suppressed a smile recalling the details of his match – or rather, the detail that mattered.

  “Remember,” said Siri, shortly before the match began and staring directly at him, “all interference is strictly forbidden.” She smiled, and her tone took on a light quality as realization dawned across his face. “Of course, that includes the powers of others outside the arena. Ready? Begin!”

  She slammed her hand down on the buzzer as Darian stood, stunned, and his opponent tore across the arena towards him. And in the entirety of the match, no powers were used, the Bottom relying solely on physical combat techniques. Techniques that Darian had utterly no training in using.

  Darian managed to score a single point with a rogue punch, catching his opponent off guard, but the remaining three were scored against him – with no power to absorb, he too was powerless, and even worse, unprepared. And though he walked away from the arena with no injuries, his face was still bright red when he sat next to me, and he avoided eye contact with the rest of the students, including Lucio as he was called to the arena and his own fight began.

  “You better be watching!” Lucio had said the night before, scribbling on a piece of paper before bed. “It’s going to be a real show!”

  “Just make sure you win,” Darian had lectured.

  “Eh, I’m not too concerned about that. Besides, Darian, I want to be a movie director, not a warrior! How about you judge this off of the entertainment value?”

  “Just know I’m not waiting for your ass if you lose,” Darian had answered and jumped into his bed. “All that matters in the end is the score.”

  And now, in the arena, Lucio looked our way as Brianna prepared on the other side. Then both dropped into a sprinter’s crouch, their eyes turned towards Siri, and their muscles tensed. As soon as the wall of sound broke the silence, they launched themselves forwards in a dead sprint, their arms pumping and thighs straining for extra speed. But Brianna had the advantage – with her jumping power, a leaping start placed her slightly ahead of Lucio, tilting their collision course towards his side of the arena as they raced closer, neither slowing but rather speeding up with each step, their faces staring directly ahead.

  And just as the crowd winced, preparing for them to slam together with a sickening crunch, the opposite happened – they ran right past each other, barely brushing shoulders, until they arrived at opposite ends of the arena. Nearing the edge, Brianna jumped the last ten feet, sailing out of bounds past the painted line as she raised a triumphant hand.

  “Point one to me!” she shouted, beaming. “Never lost a race in my life. I knew I would win the racing round!”

  “Sneaky bastard,” whispered Darian as confused whispers broke out in the crowd.

  “Maybe you won the race, Brianna, but not the point!” answered Lucio, tapping his forehead as a blush formed across her face. “I’ll be taking this one!”

  “That’s cheating!” she protested. “That’s not fighting; that was a trick!”

  “I don’t recall saying anything. Maybe you should be a little less trusting of your memories. It’s quite easy for them to turn even the best of us into fools.”

  “Well, this time, it’s not happening again," she countered, raising a clenched fist. "I’ll hit you before you have the chance.”

  “Be my guest,” he said, sweeping an arm in front of him and bowing. “Just don’t miss.”

  With the start of the next round, he dove behind one of the car door obstacles and waited for Brianna to approach, staring into the mirror on the side to watch her movements. She crept forwards, then suddenly changed her path halfway across the arena, moving toward the second car door with nothing behind it, passing Lucio without a second glance and failing to see him where he hid.

  Tiptoeing, he maneuvered behind her and followed, exaggerating her steps as she prepared to pounce, his arms raised like a puppet master. In the crowd, giggles started to erupt as he pulled a face, and Brianna froze, sensing something was amiss.

  “Briaaaana!” he called, dragging out her name from right behind her as she jumped like a surprised cat, spinning in midair. But before she hit the ground, she recovered, lashing out with a punch that caught a force field just before Lucio’s face and scored her the point.

  “Rats,” he said, snapping his fingers from his fallen position on the ground. “Don’t know how I didn’t see that one coming. Guess I’m just too clumsy, aren’t I?”

  The next two points were scored in a similar fashion – each time, Lucio led Brianna around the arena as if she were blind, planting memories of false move combinations in her head that made her trip over her own feet or convincing her that she had already won the match to drop her guard. Each time, he came within striking distance, but not once did he move to attack, Siri's eyes narrowing as she noted each missed opportunity.

  “Now that was fun,” he said a few minutes later when he took a seat next to Darian and me in the Bottom section, the crowd laughing and applauding as he bowed after the match, though the scoreboard showed a clear loss. “Sorry to keep you waiting, and hope you enjoyed the show. I’ll be expecting critiques later! Anyways, I suppose I’m just not good enough to stay an Average, according to the score board. Worked out well, then, with the outcomes of your two matches, didn’t it?”

  Chapter 48

  The rest of the matches progressed over the next two hours, some devolving into little more than scrap fights while others showcased powers in a fashion that appeared more similar to dancing than pugnacious. Arial defeated her opponent to remain an average with little difficulty, simply lifting them into the air and dropping them, and several Uppers started to relax as their competition eliminated itself in the lo
wer brackets.

  When it was Connor’s turn, even Darian couldn't resist lightening up as waves of comfort and warmth washed over the assembly, the floating feeling displacing negative thoughts and brooding. Students slumped in the bleachers, relaxing and yawning, their thoughts turning to places and people far away. Together, Connor and his opponent skipped outside the arena twice to score him two points, and his opponent smiled from his position on the ground as Connor raised a granite block high into the air and dropped it directly on his face to win the third round.

  Then the day was over, as Siri stood in the center of the arena and the bleachers looked on with a mix of emotion. Some faces were crestfallen, others triumphant, and a minority neutral. Few were without cuts, scrapes, and sweat, though the shields from the guards had borne the brunt of the strikes. Still, a small line had formed to the onsite nurse at the right of the bleachers below, who had already sent two students to the on-campus infirmary consisting of three beds erected inside the old theater room, along with a smattering of medical equipment to immediately treat most varieties of mid-grade injuries.

  “New placements shall take place immediately,” announced Siri, her voice filling the gym. “Some of you should be proud of your actions. Others, quite the opposite.” She scanned the crowd, until her gaze found Mason, and spoke the next word in a somber, low note. “Ashamed.”

  He flinched backwards, the blood running from his face, and even from my position, I felt the impact of the word, my ears burning and my gaze avoiding contact with the other students. And the truth hit home – we had lost, while the others had won. We were exactly as our name implied – the Bottoms, those who couldn’t keep up and were dragging down the rest. We would have to try harder, we would have to become Uppers, to become perfect students.