Super Powereds: Year 3

by Drew Hayes

  “Sasha Foster’s body has been taken home by her family, where they will bury her with her ancestors. In their grief, they have requested that none of our students, not even those of you close to her, attend that ceremony. I know many of you loved her, but I will ask that you all respect those wishes. They must mourn her in their own way, just as we will mourn her in ours.”

  Overhead, the screen lit up, showing a collage of pictures, all of them of Sasha. Group photos with her friends, snapshots that had been taken mid-match, images of her in all the ways they had known her.

  “I will not presume to speak to you all about who Sasha Foster truly was. She was a human, which is to say she had many sides and ways to be loved. Many of you knew her as a friend. Some as more. All knew her as a peer, or perhaps a rival. Anyone who has ever gone against her in combat knew her as a fierce warrior. As the dean of this school, I only knew Sasha as a student. But even in that small window I peeked through to see the person within, I could tell she was an extraordinary being.”

  The screen flickered, changing to a new set of pictures. This time, there were more of her mid-fight, a determined expression set in her eyes as she was caught racing about the battlefield.

  “Sasha Foster was willful, dedicated, and relentless on the battlefield. She was also kind and loyal to the ones she held close. Sasha was not perfect, as none of us are, but she was always striving to do better. To be better. She never forgot what it was we are all working toward here—the ideals of being a Hero. It was how she lived in her time with us at this program, and it was how she died: protecting a fellow student.”

  A few gazes turned to Alex, but found he was composed, with nary a single tear in his eye. Alex had cried over Sasha’s corpse for hours the night she died, and hours more after it was taken from him. Their relationship had been new, untested, but she’d still been a friend long before that. So many of those tears had been drawn out by guilt over his own weakness that had ultimately cost Sasha her life. But Alex was done with crying. He wouldn’t weep futilely anymore. Sasha had given her life for his. He intended to live it, and to be strong enough that no one else would ever have to make such a sacrifice.

  “Sasha Foster is not the first student I have lost,” Dean Blaine continued. “The Hero world is a dangerous one. You understand that in a way no class before you has, and in a way I pray no class after you will. She is not even the first I have lost before they achieved graduation, as disease and accidents are tragedies that even we must bear. Sasha Foster is, however, the first uncertified student I have ever lost who managed to still die in the line of Hero duty. Most of you know that when a Hero is killed in the field, there is a public ceremony held by the city they protected. The ones they love hold smaller events like this one, akin to normal funerals. And at the school they graduated from, in a room just like this one, their name is inscribed on a wall like the one you see behind me. Not their code name, mind you, their real one. Here is where we mourn and honor the person under the mask.”

  Behind him, Professor Fletcher walked over to the wall and crackled lightning between his fingers, illuminating a name that had been etched into the dark marble. Not everyone could make it out, but they all understood whose name it was.

  “Sasha Foster died a Hero’s death, and we have chosen to honor her as we would any other. It is a futile, impotent gesture that in no way encapsulates the bravery that young woman showed, but I’m afraid it’s all we as a school can do. As people, as her friends and teachers, we can honor her better. We can carry the memory of her with us, a reminder of those who have given their very lives in service to keeping this world, and the people in it, safe.”

  Dean Blaine paused, and the sound of softly muffled sobs filled the air. His students were mourning more than just one of their own; they were grieved by the loss of their own idyllic innocence. Most Heroes had time to see the field and prepare for the inevitable loss of a friend. For these children, it had come out of nowhere, and they couldn’t unlearn the truth laid out cold before them.

  “I am sure many of you are scared about what the future holds. For yourselves, for our program, for Lander as a whole. I don’t have many answers to give right now. All I can do is promise you that I will do everything in my power to ensure that Lander rises from the ashes of this tragedy, even if it’s a single brick at a time. I refuse to let those killers get what they wanted. I will not see the potential of so many future Heroes derailed. And, most importantly of all, I refuse to let Sasha Foster’s death be in vain.”

  Dean Blaine bowed his head, his own tears finally breaking through the self-control he’d been so ardently exercising.

  “My student gave her life to help protect this school. I can ask nothing less of myself.”

  253.

  Nick ignored the ringing of his phone as he stared at the ceiling. He’d made the necessary calls once things had calmed down: letting his friends know that he was safe being at the top of the list. There were also certain arrangements to make, followed by checking in with Jerome and Eliza, and then, of course, he’d had to phone Ms. Pips and drop the big news. Everyone else could think Nathaniel died in the attack on Lander, a victim of his own involvement with dangerous people. She had to know the truth, though. Nick might be willing to square off with armies, trained Supers, and sociopaths, but even he refused to try and deceive Ms. Pips.

  After everything was taken care of, he had come home and slept for fourteen hours straight. When he finally roused himself, Eliza was on the verge of calling a doctor to make sure he hadn’t dropped into another dream-coma. Nick wasn’t especially put out by the nap; he knew too well that all power came with a price. For what he’d been given, a day of extra strong rest didn’t seem like a bad trade.

  He closed his eyes and tried to remember the world as he’d been able to see it. The golden lines, the fluctuations in probability, all of chance laid out like a road map before him. Even remembering it gave his non-augmented brain a headache. Nick had seen enough drunks and junkies to recognize his behavior for what it was though. He was chasing a high. For a small fraction of his life, he’d been a real Super. The kind that could actually stand on par with his friends. It was tempting, so impossibly tempting, to try and run after that sensation. If that were his potential, perhaps, with enough training and effort, he could get there on his own.

  Nick rose from his bed and headed into his kitchen, grabbing a lukewarm pot of coffee as soon as he entered. There was no room in his life for thoughts of going after it; that was addict talk. Globe himself had said the kid pushed people beyond what their body could normally handle. Nick refused to waste years of his life chasing some power that was probably physically beyond his reach. Even if he managed to achieve a sloppy, bastardized version of it, everyone knew the first high was always the best. Each instance afterward was nothing more than a pale imitation.

  Taking a sip of his terrible coffee, Nick glanced at the newspaper, which was still covering the attack on Lander. He was waiting until the afternoon—when Sasha’s memorial was over—to go check on his friends. So far, they’d been holding up okay, but the uncertainty and restlessness was eating away at them. Nick had made it a point to come around and be just the right amount of annoying so as to keep their minds busy. After everything that had happened, no one seemed concerned that a wash-out was hanging around still enrolled students at their dorm. Priorities had, rightly, shifted.

  Summer would be the worst for them. Sitting around, thumbs up their asses, unable to do anything while wondering what would become of Lander. It was going to be torture, and not even Nick was sure how to handle it.

  There was a brisk knock on the door, and Nick went over to check through the peephole. He was surprised to see Mr. Transport there, mostly because he couldn’t really recall ever seeing the teleporter bother with a thing like knocking. Or doors.

  Nick eased open the door and invited his guest in. Whatever had brought Mr. Transport to his home, he knew it was at least going to be int
eresting.

  * * *

  Angela’s life had become boxes. Boxes littered her home as she changed after the funeral, slipping into a tank-top and shorts that matched the warm spring season. It had been a long time since she went to a memorial for someone dying in battle, but the old habits came rushing back as soon as she left the place. Comfy clothes, a glass of wine, and bad television that didn’t demand any thought from her heavy mind. Much as she hated to admit it, this was a routine she would probably need more in her future years.

  She’d been home for less than half an hour when there was a knock on her door. Angela hustled off the couch and pulled open the door without bothering to see who was on the other side. Chad stood there, not at all shocked by the door whipping open, looking as stoic as ever.

  “I hope I’m not bothering—” Chad was silenced as Angela leaned in and gave him a firm kiss, pulling him through the door and slamming it behind them.

  “You’re not bothering me at all,” Angela said when she finally released Chad from her grasp. “This is a happy surprise. I figured you’d be with your roommates until we pack up the truck tonight.”

  “It’s my intention to spend much of the day with them; however, I also wanted to see you. The knowledge that you are leaving soon fills me with a strange . . . . I’m going to miss you.” Chad gave up on trying to explain the exact sensation the thought of Angela leaving filled him with; he’d noticed that many people were happy with just a summary of what emotion was eliciting the response. “And, to be frank, after Sasha’s service, I find myself unnaturally preoccupied with worry over what might become of you out there.”

  “I’m going to die,” Angela said simply. “Maybe it will be in fifty years, with grandkids around me and a bottle of scotch in my hands. Maybe it will be next week, when some prick with more power than brains gets off a lucky shot. We’re all going to die, Chad, and Heroes go sooner than most. Don’t waste time worrying about when the end is coming, and just try to enjoy what you have right here and now.” She leaned in and kissed him again, but for once, it was not the fierce affection that defined her. It was gentle and firm, something to show that, under all the bluster, she really did care for Chad and his strangeness.

  “You take your mortality better than most.”

  “I’ve had a lifetime to make peace with it. But, if it makes you feel better, I’m interning under a real beast. Even I’m a little scared of Unseelie; she has a crazy reputation. I probably won’t die that quickly in her care. Besides, I’m pretty tough on my own.”

  “As one who has sparred against you, I am all too aware. I am glad to know the events of Lander’s attack didn’t derail your graduation or internship, though,” Chad said.

  “A few people tried to make a fuss, but since I was technically at gunpoint every time I used my power, and all the witnesses except Shane are dead, they couldn’t find anything to throw at me that had a chance of sticking. It probably helps that, after what happened, everyone wants a show of force, and I’m both a force and a show all rolled into one.”

  “I have no doubt that the criminal world will soon be filled with terrified whispers of Charon, the golden-suited warrior laying waste to all who oppose her.”

  “Keep talking that sexy and I’m not letting you go back to your dorm.” Angela pulled her boyfriend in close and held him there. After tonight, when she brought the few belongings she could to her new home and started her Hero life, nothing would be the same. Even things with Chad wouldn’t stay this sweet and simple. So, for the short time she still had, Angela hugged him tight.

  Even she needed a few moments of rest, now and again.

  254.

  Chad stepped through Melbrook’s front door to find a veritable crowd already gathered in the common room. Vince, Mary, Hershel, Nick, and Alice were there, as he’d expected them to be, joined by Alex, who’d become a regular fixture in their home. What surprised him was the presence of Thomas, Violet, Camille, Jill, Will, and Shane. They were scattered in seats throughout the room, all surrounding a small group of adults gathered in the room’s center. Mr. Transport and Mr. Numbers were adjacent to a large man that Chad had seen sparingly about since the attack. He’d learned this was Hershel and Roy’s father, as well as that he shouldn’t pry any deeper about the man’s presence. With them were Professor Fletcher, Dean Blaine, and a muscular, dark-skinned man that Chad had never encountered before. Most eyes turned to him as he entered, and Dean Blaine gestured for him to take a seat.

  “Hello, Chad. Now that you’re here, I think we can finally begin.”

  “I’m sorry, have I missed something?” Chad asked.

  “Not that I know of,” Shane said. “We were just asked to attend a meeting here. No one has told us what it’s about.”

  “It’s about your summer break,” Mr. Transport said, stepping slightly forward. Next to him, Mr. Numbers mirrored the movement. It was disconcerting for those who hadn’t dealt with these men before; though, for the Melbrook residents, it was almost oddly comforting.

  “In light of what’s happened, some of us thought that it might not be the best idea for everyone to go home over break. What you’ve been through is traumatic, and you may wish to stay in a group as part of the healing process. Beyond that, you might hate having to go about a normal life with the weight of these events still fresh in your mind. Some of you will surely want to go, and that’s perfectly fine; however, we wanted to offer another option to those who are averse to the idea of months of idleness and solitude,” Mr. Transport said.

  “We have secured the rights to an isolated strip of land,” Mr. Numbers said. “Makeshift accommodations have been created, and thanks to your parents and teachers, we’ve reached out to several experienced Heroes and Supers who are willing to volunteer their time. You now have the option of spending your summer training, rather than going home.”

  “Why only us?” Thomas asked. “Shouldn’t the entire class be invited?”

  “This is not an HCP event,” Mr. Numbers said. “It is funded and organized independently. The focus of the time will be training, bonding, and most of all, healing. Therefore, the only ones invited are the ones who have not made issue of our students’ former status as Powereds.”

  Violet stuck her hand in the air, but then began to talk before being called on. “Why is Nick coming? He’s not even supposed to know what everyone’s abilities are, let alone train with us.”

  “Yet that doesn’t preclude him from wanting, or needing, to become stronger,” Mr. Numbers replied.

  “This is all voluntary,” Mr. Transport said, jumping in quickly to smooth Mr. Numbers’s brash tone. “You don’t have to come and show your power to someone outside the program if you don’t want. But Nick was targeted in the attack, too; he has the right to become powerful enough to defend himself. So long as those madmen are loose, everyone who can be tied to the HCP is in some amount of danger.”

  “What sort of training would we be doing?” Vince asked from his seat near the front.

  “It would depend on who is around that week,” Mr. Transport said. “Lots of sparring, no doubt, but each teacher has their specialties. Mr. Rhodes, for example, is an expert on physical conditioning. He can find your body’s best natural structure and tailor workouts to fit that build.”

  The man that Chad had never seen nodded humbly, pausing only to give a quick look to Hershel. Hershel returned the look with a nod of his own, and Chad realized this man must have been the one who trained Hershel last summer. Given the once-husky boy’s rate of improvement, it made a strong case for how skilled Mr. Rhodes really was.

  “Mr. Daniels, on the other hand, will be teaching you the best ways to deal with an opponent who is much stronger than you,” Mr. Transport continued. “He’ll only be able to come once in a while, as he has his own Hero work to do, but there will always be someone around for specialized training. This is just an offer, though. No one has to come if they don’t want to, and they shouldn’t feel pressured to
do so. Everyone has their own way of moving through grief. We are here to present an option that may help some of you, nothing more.”

  “I’m in.” Alex rose from his seat on an ottoman, eyes sparking with life for the first time since Sasha’s death. “I can go right now if we need to. I want to get as strong as I possibly can.”

  “We’ll be leaving late tomorrow morning,” Mr. Transport said. “So you all have time to talk things over with your families.”

  “No need, put me down as on the list,” Alex insisted.

  “I’m coming too,” Vince said. “I’ve made a lot of progress, but that night, I realized my control still needs a lot of work.” He reached down and gently squeezed Camille’s hand, who returned the display of affection with a squeeze of her own.

  “Count me in,” Alice added. “I wasn’t going home for the summer anyway. And you can put Nick down too; he’s too lazy to have even shown up to this meeting if he wasn’t planning to come.”

  “Harsh,” Nick said, giving her a stiff glare. “But fair, I suppose. I’ll be joining you lot eventually. There are some matters I need to take care of at home before my summer is freed up.”

  “And since all of them are coming, that means I’m going along too,” Mary said. “Have to keep watch over these idiots, after all.”

  “I’ll be there,” Camille said, not that anyone had really questioned her attendance. Affection for Vince aside, Camille made a point of being where she was needed, and this was a situation rife with the potential for people to require healing.

  “Good to know there’s a crowd, but can we take some time to think about this?” Thomas asked.

  “By all means,” Mr. Transport said. “Talk it over with each other and your families. Make the choice that is right for you.”

  Shane edged slightly closer to Chad and whispered, “What are you thinking about this?”