Super Powereds: Year 3

by Drew Hayes

  “Glad they still make thugs as dumb as they used to.” Titan glanced down at Roy, who was watching the fight as much to take his mind off the pain as out of curiosity. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this guy in no time, and we’ll get you to a healer.”

  “No need to rush on my account,” Roy said.

  Before they could banter any more, the man with the warped skin and strange spikes barreled forward, rearing back and slamming Titan’s face with a blow so strong Roy could hear it connect. To his surprise, to his shock, Roy then saw something he’d never witnessed in all of his father’s fights. Titan actually took a step back from the force of the blow.

  “God damn, you are pretty strong,” Titan remarked before he returned the blow, punching his opponent right in the shoulder. Unlike Titan, the strongman didn’t merely step back; he was hurled ten feet through the grass. “Looks like you can’t take it quite as well as you give it though. Too bad for you; since you tried to kill my boys, I’m not exactly in the mood to hold back.”

  The man was scrambling to his feet when Titan drove another fist into his back, sending him several inches deep into the grass. Titan reached down and lifted the ultra-dense man up by the shoulder as easily as he’d hold a sack of groceries. He held him aloft, then proceeded to slam a fist into his torso. Even from several feet away, Roy could hear the sickening crack of the man’s ribs.

  “Being a Super is a lot like playing rock-paper-scissors on a grand scale,” Titan lectured as he cracked his opponent’s sternum with another punch. “For example, no matter how strong you might be, a good mental attack would still put you down. I bet there are students here that could have beaten you, no problem, just because they had paper to your rock. That’s why none of us are truly invincible, you see. Not you, not my boy over there, not even me. Someone out there always has a trump card that beats our power.”

  Titan reached down and grabbed the man’s leg, squeezing it like Roy’s bat had been squeezed only moments prior. Unlike the bat, the leg made a sickening series of pops and cracks as it was distorted out of shape.

  “That said, in a contest of rock versus rock, it all comes down to which one is stronger. And too bad for you, dipshit, I’m always the strongest rock.” Titan reared back and delivered a straight jab right to the man’s face. The body went limp in his hand as he passed out, but Titan had managed to avoid killing him. Crude and cruel a method as it was, snapping bones let him see how much damage his opponent could take, and allowed him to deliver knockout punches instead of killing ones.

  He flipped the man over his shoulder and headed back to his son, still lying in the grass. “How’s the shoulder?”

  “Going to need a healer or a few hours to be usable again,” Roy admitted. He hefted himself off the ground, picking up his now-deformed bat as he did. His shoulder groaned in pain, but Roy ignored it. He refused to show weakness, especially in front of his father, of all people.

  “Lucky thing I saw that guy’s dirt cloud. I was up here looking for you and decided to check it out.”

  “Yeah . . . thanks, I guess.” Roy grit his teeth and used even more willpower than he’d have thought he possessed, turning to look his father in the eyes. “I mean, thank you. For saving my life. Whatever else is between us, you protected me, and I appreciate it.”

  Titan appraised his son carefully, taking in the sight of him facing the father he hated and offering genuine thanks for what he’d done. He’d kept careful tabs on his boys since they entered the HCP, and he knew how far each of them had come in terms of power and achievements. But even being keenly aware of every challenge they’d overcome, he couldn’t think of a single time he’d been more proud of Roy than in that moment.

  “This place has really helped you grow up,” Titan said at last.

  “Had to happen sooner or later. Now, let’s find a healer already.” Roy turned and began walking through campus, the legendary Titan and his most recent victim following several steps behind.

  250.

  “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t figure it out.” Nathaniel stepped from the building’s shadow as he saw Nick enter the open area in front of the Business building. Nearby was the bench where Nathaniel had first confronted him all those months ago. Once Nick had figured out the general location, knowing the exact spot had been child’s play, and that was before his little meeting with Globe.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Nick replied. “I’ve known where to find you for a while now. But I had to make sure I got the timing right.”

  Nathaniel’s eyes glowed even more brightly than the flames still flickering overhead. He couldn’t see Nick’s eyes through his ridiculous night vision glasses, but he could tell by the relaxed grin on his old enemy’s face that Nick wasn’t taking this seriously. No doubt he expected to win their confrontation as he had so many before. Nathaniel allowed himself a smile of his own. This was one surprise Nick Campbell wouldn’t see coming.

  “The timing? What, wanted to die at a certain hour?”

  “Nothing quite that dramatic. I just needed to wait until Zero and Wisp got your headquarters’ location out of that energy blaster girl. Now, they’re storming up there, with the other professors following. In a few seconds, they’ll take out the people keeping us locked on campus, but your head honcho friend has over a ninety-nine percent chance of getting away, thanks to a teleporter he keeps nearby at all times. If I came much earlier than this, there was a chance they’d find a way to take you along, too. But now, you’re out of reach.”

  “Nice bluff, Nicholas, but not even you can predict what’s going on that well.”

  “Maybe you’re right, Nathaniel. Maybe I’m bluffing. Maybe I didn’t choose this moment because it’s the only window where you can’t get away, and the Heroes have yet to arrive. Doesn’t matter, though, does it? You went along with all of this just so you could kill me. Sorry, beat me and kill me. After all, no one can pin the blame on your family if I die during a Hero hate-group’s attack on the whole campus, right?”

  Nathaniel reached down to the well of power that currently resided in him. The time for talk was almost done. Much as he wanted to savor the moment of victory, it was best to make sure he achieved it first. “Guess you figured it out, Nicholas. I’m breaking apart from my family, building an empire all my own. Your death was the last piece of Vegas business I had to handle, and I didn’t want it to cause trouble for the people I was leaving behind. No need to burn bridges just yet.”

  “It’s a stupid plan, Nathaniel. It’s stupid for so very many reasons, but the most important one has been in front of you the entire time: I can use this opportunity to kill you just as easily as you could use it to kill me.”

  A loud crackling sound filled the air, and suddenly, the yellow dome that had blotted out the sky flickered once and disappeared entirely. Nathaniel didn’t have any more time to waste. He reached out to Nick’s psyche, ready to grab the deepest, most primal fear he had and twist it around himself.

  “Stupid, huh? Well, let me tell you a secret, Nicholas Campbell. Right now, I’m more powerful than you’ve ever seen me. I can do more than just make your fears into hallucinations, I can make them real. I’m going to wear the forms of your deepest terrors like a cloak and tear you limb from limb.”

  Nathaniel stretched his awareness into Nick’s mind, waiting for the flood of fears to come rushing forth, filling him with power and strength. Instead, he felt . . . nothing. There was no fear at all in Nick’s mind. It was almost perfectly serene.

  “H-How?”

  “Believe it or not, Nathaniel, we’re meeting each other on even ground. I got myself a little booster shot too. Right now, fear is a foreign concept to me, because fear’s most basic core is rooted in the unknown. For just a bit longer, I don’t have unknowns. I can see the flow of everything around us. I can watch the lines of cause and effect as they blur into one another, and I can even turn the changeable factors in my favor. For example, this knife.” Nick unsheathed a blade fr
om a holster at his side. With a single flick, he sent it through the air, where it lodged in Nathaniel’s stomach.

  “There was about a seventy percent chance it would kill you when I threw, but I made it fall into the thirty, where you don’t die.”

  “What the fuck?” Nathaniel spat. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Not at all. He was supposed to be unstoppable against this . . . this . . . Powered.

  “I’ve got limits, of course. I can’t push an outcome that doesn’t at least have a chance of happening. Like, right now, there’s no chance that a piece of space debris will crush your foot, so I can’t make it happen.” Nick walked forward calmly, pulling another knife free. “But I can make my own outcomes. We’re not slaves to luck or fate. We can create new situations of our own.”

  “You can’t do this! You don’t even have control of your power!” Nathaniel screeched as Nick continued advancing, moving closer with every step.

  “I’ve been a Super for three years, Nathaniel. The one advantage you had over me has been gone all this time. And right now, I’m in a category all my own. There are so many ways this moment can play out, so many probabilities at work. But you tried to hurt my friends, Nathaniel. More than that, you came after my real family. I’d have kept playing this game with you all our lives, if only you’d had a little self-control. You’re the one who upped the stakes. You’re the one who made this round for keeps.”

  Nick punched Nathaniel in the mouth, knife still gripped in his hand. In the moment of Nathaniel’s disorientation, Nick grabbed his hair and yanked it back, revealing Nathaniel’s exposed throat. The orange-eyed young man struggled vainly, tugging at Nick’s arms that had been strengthened by years of HCP training. In a last ditch effort, he smacked at Nick’s face, pulling away the goggles that kept his eyes protected. Nathaniel let out a gasp of shock.

  It was, technically, his last word. Nathaniel’s corpse fell to the ground as Nick picked up his goggles and set them back in place. The night vision function was turned off, but it wouldn’t do to have people getting a glimpse of his eyes until they returned to normal.

  He looked up at the sky, noticing the cornucopia of colors that had begun to fill it. Throughout campus, Heroes from across the nation appeared out of thin air, teleporting in with no idea what they were stepping into. Loud booms filled the air as Heroes running at super-speed finally came to a stop. It was official: the cavalry had arrived.

  At long last, the hellish night that would become known as Lander’s Crucible came to an end.

  251.

  “Blaine.”

  He could hear the voice, and he understood it was attached to a person, but for some reason, he couldn’t bear to lift his eyes from the paper in front of him. It was too much. All of this, it was more than he wanted to bear. He’d quit the Hero world for a reason, after all. Asking him to shoulder so much pain was unfair; it was downright cruel. Yet, he knew he was going to have to do exactly that. He’d have to raise his head, tear his eyes from the list on his desk, and bravely soldier forth. The blood, battle, and chaos weren’t the part that truly showed what people were made of. It was when the dust settled, and one had to carry the weight of what they’d seen, done, and failed to do, that the real test began. He couldn’t afford to fail it. Even if he did, the weight wouldn’t vanish. It would only fall on someone else to carry.

  “Blaine,” Professor Pendleton repeated. “The DVA committee is asking for you.”

  “Thank you, Sean.” Dean Blaine lifted his head up, turning away from the document he’d been staring at for the past several days. It was a list of every life, Super or human, that had been lost in the attack. The media had been in a frenzy, waffling between an outpouring of sympathy for the deceased, issuing a call to arms against the Sons of Progress, and blaming the HCP for not better protecting its campus. Students were leaving in droves, all final exams canceled in the wake of the tragedy. After conducting their own research, the DVA had moved on to interviewing the Lander staff, assessing if any fault lay with them.

  “For what it’s worth, Chapman hasn’t turned on us,” Professor Pendleton said. “He told the committee that he authorized the use of students and HCP grounds for evacuations. I was sort of expecting him to say he had no idea what we were talking about.”

  “Ralph Chapman has no reason to lie,” Dean Blaine replied. “For one thing, in a situation like this, telepaths will doubtlessly be employed if stories clash. For another, I’d be surprised if he isn’t up for a commendation. Regardless of how he might act toward one of our students, he paved the way for us to save countless lives that night. Ralph did nothing wrong. None of you did. Rest assured, the fault for what happened does not lie on any of your shoulders.”

  Dean Blaine left the room, heading toward the area the DVA had turned into a makeshift office. No matter what they said to him, he already knew the truth. He was the one charged with keeping this school, and, most importantly, its students safe.

  He was the one who had failed Lander.

  * * *

  “How are they holding up?” Owen Daniels, sans his Titan mask, set a bag of take-out from a nearby Mexican restaurant on the Melbrook kitchen counter. He hadn’t felt up to returning to Brewster yet, not until he knew for certain that Hershel and Roy were safe. This paternal desire was somewhat complicated, however, by their lack of desire to see him.

  “As good as we can really hope for,” Mr. Transport said. “Alex has effectively moved in; he’s slept on the boys’ lounge couch every night since the incident happened. They’re all down, of course, but each is dealing with it in their own way. Roy and Hershel have been training non-stop; Chad went back to his usual routine. Vince, Mary, and Alice have mostly been sitting around, occasionally talking about what happened. Sometimes Thomas, Jill, and Will come as well. They’re processing this as best they can, I think. I wish classes weren’t canceled. It would help if they had something to take their mind off things.”

  “Summer break technically starts in a few days anyway. They were going to have to face boredom eventually,” Owen pointed out.

  “I know, I just want to help more,” Mr. Transport said. “Mr. Numbers is being used to try and track down whoever was leading the attack, but it’s a tall order. None of us even saw his face, and the only name people would give us is ‘Crispin.’ Assuming that’s a real name, it’s still not much to go on.”

  “Right now, every Hero in the world wants that guy’s head on a pike. And since the Sons of Progress were nice enough to claim credit for the attack, we know where to start asking questions.”

  “That’s all well and good for revenge, but I don’t know that it will help them move on,” Mr. Transport said.

  Owen nodded and began unpacking hot dishes from the paper sack. “Right now, they probably feel helpless. They’ve put in all this time training, and yet, when shit got real, they weren’t able to protect all those people. Some of them even got their first taste of what real defeat in the field is like. Truthfully, they don’t have any reason to feel ashamed. Those kids saved so many students that would have died without them, and those amped-up bastards were far out of their league. The one I took down managed to hurt me with just a punch. He probably could have effortlessly killed most other strongmen.”

  “The feeling of their actual accomplishments isn’t much compared to the weight of their perceived failures,” Mr. Transport said. “You speak like this happens to most Heroes at some point, though. How do you usually get through it?”

  “Normally, it doesn’t happen on this big of a scale,” Owen admitted. “And the truth is, some people don’t get through it. Facing the fact that no matter what you do, people will die, is enough to break certain folks. The ones who come to terms with it usually find solace in working harder, and train their asses off. The more powerful we become, the more people we feel like we can save. I won’t say it’s the healthiest mindset, but it lets a lot of us get out of bed in the morning. That’s something.”

  “P
erhaps there’s something we can do along those lines,” Mr. Transport said. “After tomorrow, I mean.”

  “Smart call. No sense in making progress before then.”

  252.

  For the first time in any of the student’s memories, there was not a single gray or white uniform to be seen in Lander’s underground halls. In fact, few people wore their uniforms at all. Most were dressed in dark clothing, many in black suits with matching ties. The only ones wearing their freshman black uniforms were the ones who hadn’t owned any other clothing somber enough for the occasion. No one would have judged them for showing up in what they had, but everyone, oldest senior to youngest freshman, wanted to be respectful. After what they’d seen and experienced, each student had a keen understanding for the importance of these ceremonies, and the likeliness of attending more in their futures.

  Today, the lifts didn’t stop at the main hub where the classrooms, gym, and combat cells were hosted. Nor did it bring them to one of the many training arenas that lived further underground. The platforms kept lowering them past all of that, deeper than any student had been before, finally coming to rest in a large room. It was made of the same tough concrete material as the rest of the underground world, though here, swaths of black cloth had been hung, running from ceiling to floor. In front of them was a small stage and podium with a large television screen above it. Behind that, they could see that the back wall of the room was different than the others, made of a material like dark marble.

  Students filed down the rows of chairs, finding seats as their professors watched from the sides. Dean Blaine stood at the podium in front of them, patiently waiting as they made their way into seats. Not until the last person was resting in a chair did he speak, and when he did, it was with more gravity than almost any student had heard before.