Super Powereds: Year 3

by Drew Hayes

  “Chad’s right. Adam, you can mimic me if you want,” Vince said, stepping forward.

  “Well, we are friends, I guess I can give you this,” Allen said. “I know Terrance would offer too, if he weren’t in the infirmary.”

  In the end, Adam had Chad, Vince, Allen, Roy, Adam, Thomas, and Violet. More certainly would have volunteered, but after seeing so many of the heavy hitters go up, it seemed almost pointless. Besides, not a lot of the women were terribly keen on the idea of lending an acquaintance their body, even if it was only temporary.

  Adam took his time in choosing the right fit. Chad seemed the obvious pick, but his assessment had been spot on: Chad’s power wasn’t nearly as useful to someone without his training and knowledge. Vince was a tempting pick too, but since it seemed unlikely that Adam would also mimic his store of energy, it was a dangerous gambit. Roy and Violet were straight brawlers, and this exam had shown their limitation in engaging with stealth. In the end, it was between Allen and Thomas, and Adam had to go with the one who’d put on the best show so far.

  Adam gently put his hand on the back of Thomas’s arm, and within a few seconds, Thomas was staring at an identical copy of himself, albeit one whose clothes didn’t quite fit properly. Thomas did have a few inches of height and wider shoulders than Adam, after all.

  “I really appreciate this,” Thomas-Adam said.

  “It is the proper thing to do,” Thomas replied. “Now, do my powers proud. I wish you luck . . . just not too much.”

  134.

  Adam, with the obvious help of having Thomas’s body, was able to put on a strong showing. It wasn’t quite as good as Thomas had done with his own abilities; however, it still put him ahead of the weakest members of the class.

  After he returned, immediately resuming his own form, Selena Wilkins was called to take on the exam. Whatever bouts of hesitation and kindness she might have shown Alex during their matches was entirely absent as she stepped into the building. The sound for her match was muted in advance, meaning the students could only see her mouth hanging open as she flooded the area with an entrancing song. The Sims began powering down, one by one, as she strode confidently through the halls. In the end, only two were able to resist her song of slumber, and both were in the cluster room. Selena’s face grew hard, and her melody clearly changed. Instead of falling asleep, the two remaining Sims began to fight one another, delivering blow after blow until both were too broken to continue.

  Selena returned to wide, uncertain eyes gazing at her, along with a bit of dull applause. It was easy to forget how potent an enchantress could really be when she put her mind to it. This day had put the capabilities of many students into perspective, and the exam still had three students to go.

  “Camille Belden,” Dean Blaine called, the jar having come back around to him. “You’re next.”

  Camille took a deep breath, managing to push away her natural shy tendencies, and stepped forward. Though still clad in her standard gray HCP uniform, the new outfit Will had designed for her was underneath. She knew she’d have to shed the outer layer soon, but she wanted to delay that part for as long as possible.

  “Will there be a place for me to get changed down there?” Camille asked.

  “Yes, you’ll have several moments to yourself while the course is being reset,” Dean Blaine said. “Would you like to get any weaponry before you go?”

  To the surprise of nearly everyone in the room, Camille gave a quick nod and headed over to the weapons rack. She pulled off a sleeve of throwing daggers like the ones Chad had used, as well as a small knife with a sheath and belt. With those resting in her arms, she walked back over to Dean Blaine.

  “I see you’ve already guessed what I was going to tell you.” He gazed down at the diminutive girl, whose eyes showed none of the uncertainty her body refused to entirely mask.

  “Seemed obvious, if we’re doing real-life situations,” Camille said.

  The rest of the class stared at the two of them, and Dean Blaine shot her a questioning look. Camille replied with the softest tilt of her head, permission to explain the part of the trial that would apply only to her.

  “Though the Sims are all robot parts, the criminals they are portraying are not. They would be flesh and blood, and with flesh and blood comes modesty. To that effect, for Ms. Belden’s trial the Sims will be clothed in T-shirts, jeans, and footwear.”

  “Why only clothe them for hers?” Rich asked.

  “Because she is the only one for whom it matters. Just as we told you the Sims will react to your eyes, and you saw them taken out by Ms. Wilkins song, they will also be affected by Ms. Belden’s touch. That touch requires specific conditions, and as with all of you, we are striving to create a situation that is as realistic as possible.” Dean Blaine turned back to Camille, who was waiting patiently. “If you’re ready, we can go down.”

  “I’m ready.” Camille cast one last glance over to her friends as she was heading out the door. Thomas and Violet were giving her thumbs-up signs, while Jill and Will were silently smiling. The Melbrook crew was more demonstrative in their affections—Alex and Mary both clapping loudly, while Roy let out a wolf-whistle, which earned him a punch in the arm from Alice. As for Vince, he met her eyes in that brief glance, smiled widely, and mouthed three words just as she passed through the door and into the stairwell.

  She and Dean Blaine walked slowly down as he outlined the rules for her, being just as detailed and careful as he had with Will so many matches ago. Though it was undeniably repetitive, it was also a crucial part of his duty as dean. Each student’s exam was important, just as each student was important. They all deserved the best shot they could get.

  “And then you’ll go through the door. Any questions?”

  “Just one. Professor Stone told you about my new outfit, right?” Camille had taken no chances in the days leading up to the exam, going so far as to have her Focus professor verify that she was still able to use her ability through the fabric of her special suit. At the time, she’d felt a bit paranoid, but as soon as she laid eyes on the robots, she’d felt a huge wave of relief about the preparation.

  “She did, and we’ve accounted for it in the Sims reaction programming,” Dean Blaine said. “Any touch, even ones on your fabric, will trigger a reaction, just as if you’d used your ability on them. The same is obviously not true for their clothing, however.”

  “So I gathered. Thank you, that’s all I needed.” Camille walked into the door without any more discussion, taking note of the message on the screen to wait. That was fine by her. She started the process of removing her outer uniform, revealing the blue material beneath. When that was done, she attached the throwing knives around her left bicep and slung the belt across her hips so that the dagger was resting against her right leg. This way, she hoped, even if one arm was pinned, she would still be able to get to a weapon.

  When she was at last dressed down and geared up, the message telling her to wait was still there, meaning she had to sit and stew until it was go time. Her mind went back, unbidden, to that final moment leaving the room. Her friends were cheering for her sincerely, something that still amazed Camille in this environment where one person’s success meant another’s failure. The longer she thought about them, the more she was unable to keep from seeing Vince and his parting words.

  In all her time at Lander, Camille had been holding herself back. For strategy, most of the time, and partly out of fear that Vince would recognize her. This exam was the first time that she had neither excuse to use. The whole class knew about the other side of her abilities, Vince had figured out her identity, and she was going against beings where there was no cause to worry about hurting anyone. This was the first exam in her Lander career where her only viable strategy was to go all out, using her offense to its fullest. She’d only realized that earlier in the day, when the trial was announced. Evidently, it had struck Vince as well, judging by what he’d mouthed to her.

  She’d expect
ed something like “do your best,” or “believe in yourself,” but neither of those were what Vince had said. Instead, he’d given the sort of encouragement that he would only show someone whose fighting abilities he truly respected:

  “Kick some ass.”

  Camille hadn’t needed to be told such a thing; she’d already planned on going in and doing exactly that. It did fill her with a bit of pride and excitement though, and she held on to those feelings as the screen changed and her trial began in earnest. No more subterfuge, no more hiding. Today, Camille Belden was going to show the entire class what her powers were fully capable of.

  135.

  Camille’s movements were nearly soundless, her small body finally working to her advantage as she padded along the hallway in her bare feet. Briefly, she’d considered keeping her boots on, since she was unlikely to touch someone with her feet anyway, and broken glass or stepped-on toes were a serious hazard in a situation like this. Ultimately, she’d decided to risk it, both for the benefit of silent movement and because “unlikely” wasn’t the same as “impossible.” Smashed feet, she could heal, but a missed opportunity was gone forever.

  Without any sort of detection abilities, Camille was flying blind as she treaded carefully along. At every sound, her heart jumped a few inches closer to her throat, only to sink down again when no threat materialized. Moving her hand slowly, she pulled out one of the throwing knives from the sheath on her arm. There was zero chance that she could replicate Chad’s strategy of smashing the lights, though. She had better odds of smashing through the roof like Roy had. Still, she did have a bit of a long-shot idea, if it came down to it.

  A corner loomed on the horizon, and Camille approached it at the achingly slow speed of bureaucracy. Using the reflective surface of the small knife, she angled it and peeked into the new territory. Sure enough, there was a Sim only a few feet ahead of her, yellow light blazing in its chest. The upside was that it didn’t seem aware of her presence, but the downside was that it was facing her direction and showed no signs of turning.

  Pulling back the blade, Camille weighed her options. She could try and find another route and sneak around behind it, but that risked both time and the possibility of encountering another Sim. If she took it out here and now, then it was gone, and that was one less opponent to worry about. If she tried to leave it for later, then she might accidentally raise a ruckus and see it come to her. No, her best bet was to handle the Sim now. Without the element of surprise, and with no clue what its power was, she’d need to find a way to close the gap.

  In the blade’s reflection, a curiously wicked smile could be seen on Camille’s face. She hadn’t managed to keep her true power a secret for so long without being good at subterfuge. After all the matches she’d watched so far, she’d learned one very important detail: they didn’t know the Sims’ powers, but it was clear the Sims didn’t know theirs either.

  Camille dashed around the corner, running at full speed toward the Sim in front of her. It was wearing a tank-top and jeans, leaving its large arms entirely exposed. It registered her presence and prepared to attack, but Camille struck before it got the chance.

  “Explosion Blade!” Camille said, keeping her voice loud enough to be heard, but soft enough that she hoped it wouldn’t echo. As she spoke, she hurled the throwing knife in her hand at her opponent. She might not be able to take out a target as small as a light, but a six-foot-tall robot was well within her skills. The knife hurtled forward, right on target, until the Sim leapt aside. It wasn’t a giant amount of movement, but it was enough to let a small, springing girl draw in a little too close.

  The Sim felt a hand wrap around its forearm as the blade clattered harmlessly off the wall behind it. There was no explosion of any sort, and it stared down at the woman clutching its arm in temporary confusion.

  “Gotcha,” Camille said, giving it a pleasant grin. At that, the Sim powered down, and Camille had one less opponent on the field.

  * * *

  “Did she just fucking bluff a robot?” Roy said, mouth half-agape as he watched Camille sneak away in search of a new target. She did pause to pick up her throwing knife though, clearly intent on using that trick again, if needed.

  “It makes sense,” Alice said. “They went after Vince with electrical attacks because they didn’t know he could absorb them, at least at first. Sims kept trying to punch you, even though you were tougher than all of them. They don’t seem to know what our abilities are.”

  “Hmm. I suspect we will not have it so easy on future exams,” Chad speculated. He paused as, on screen, Camille managed to sneak up on the next Sim and power it down without a fight. “In the real world, Heroes are well-known and almost certainly tracked by criminals. This is the sort of advantage we would only have at the beginning of our careers.”

  “I wonder if they did it on purpose, so that anyone who doesn’t realize that will be caught by surprise the next time we take a test like this,” Vince said. He’d begun to understand that being in a constant state of uncertainty was evidently part of their training. After seeing the sort of situations they’d be facing, he could appreciate his teachers for building that into the curriculum.

  “Wouldn’t surprise me one bit,” Roy said. His eyes followed the small Super as she came upon a third guard. This one managed to get a punch off, but Camille grabbed on to its fist and forced it to power down. She seemed to be having trouble breathing when she stood back up, however, after a few moments, all signs of the injury vanished. “That healing ability comes in damn handy.”

  “It does,” Mary said. “I just hope it will be enough.”

  The others wordlessly agreed with her, as they watched Camille meander through the halls. She didn’t know it yet, but she wouldn’t find any more Sims filling the guard role. In every match, the numbers were randomized, placing some in the halls, while others waited in a central room. For those with no stealth, like Roy, having a high number of concentrated enemies was a good thing, but to the physically frail ones, it presented a large challenge. In that, Camille had gotten unlucky.

  She had six Sims all standing around in a room, waiting to beat the hell out of her.

  136.

  It didn’t take a brilliant mind to figure out that if there were only three Sims in the halls, then there had to be six waiting in the central room. Camille possessed more than enough intelligence to make that deduction, and as she surveyed the familiar hallway for the third time, she arrived at that inescapable conclusion. She’d actually found the entrance to the main room already, but rather than going in, she’d double-checked all the hallways first. Once the brawl began, her worst enemy was a Sim attacking from a distance. Plus, deep in her heart, she’d been hoping to encounter at least one more, so that her cluster number would be five. That hope slowly wasted away as hall after hall met her with felled opponents and empty space. In the end, there was no denying it: she was going up against six Sims simultaneously.

  By her count, four would be yellow-light Sims, and two would be red-light. Since her ability could harmlessly take down any of these opponents without registering a kill, that meant the lights would only affect her prioritization of targets. She pulled the dagger into her left hand and took a throwing knife in her right. The reds had to go first. If she could manage that, she should at least be able to post a decent score.

  Camille crept up to the room’s entrance and peeked around the corner. The Sims were spread out, but not overly so. There was a small group of three not too far from the door—one red and two yellows. If she could get to them first, taking out half the threats in the room, it would make handling the rest far easier. The trick would be to close the gap. Her same bluff wouldn’t work, they’d all dodge in different directions, making them harder to hit. No, for this one, she was going to have to lean on a classic.

  Clutching the throwing knife loosely in her hand, Camille leaned through the doorway and whipped it across the room. It landed in the far corner, pinging off the
wall and making a modest ruckus. The Sims eyes all instinctively turned toward the sound, and Camille took off, running toward the group as quickly as she could. As she sprinted, it occurred to her for the first time why running seemed to be such a sizable foundation of the HCP regime. In each of their exams, every student ended up doing a hell of a lot of it. She was grateful for all that training, though, as her legs pumped, speeding her across the rough, concrete floor. Camille was a flurry of bare footsteps and whipping short hair. She was as fast as she could hope to be.

  She just wasn’t fast enough.

  As she neared the group, the red-light Sim turned around and noticed her. If it had struck visibly, then she might have had time to dodge it. Unfortunately, this one replicated the abilities of an earth elementalist, and it activated remote machines beneath her feet. The concrete shattered as she was flung skyward, a large chunk of rock jutting up from where she’d been standing. Camille came down hard, fracturing her hip bone so badly it nearly took away her breath. Before she could recover, the red-light Sim was staring down at her, its large robotic hands raised high overhead as it prepared to crush her delicate body. The knife was gone, sent careening into who-knew-where when she was tripped, and the Sim had on thick boots and dark pants. Without any way to touch its outer shell, she was as helpless as a human.

  * * *

  “Get out of there, lil girl,” Roy said, fists clenched tight as he stared at the screen. “Roll, jump, do something.”

  “They won’t actually let that thing hurt her, right?” Alice asked.

  “Terrance got beaten half-senseless before they called his exam,” Mary reminded her. “They want to give us the chance to recover before they say we’re out.”