by Hayes, Drew
Hallow, for all his practiced nonchalance, nearly tipped all the way back and fell from his chair. Captain Starlight. The Captain Starlight? The original Hero. The first publicly acknowledged Super; the one who had paved the groundwork for all of those who came after. That he was still alive was shocking enough, but to discover that the old man sitting across from him was the most famous Super to ever don the mantle of Hero… it was all he could do not to grab paper from Senator Malcolm’s desk and ask for an autograph.
“The chance to be young again?” Graham DeSoto looked at Hallow with renewed interest, then tipped his head back as if he were picturing how it would feel to have his strong, powerful body under his command once more. “It’s a kind gesture, and I truly appreciate it, but I’m going to have to take a hard pass on that one.”
“If you’re worried about getting back in the swing of things—”
“I’m not worried about jack shit,” Graham said, cutting off the senator. “If I took this offer, I’d be knocking people on their heads and kicking up a storm in no time. I’ve spent my whole life either fighting or teaching others to fight—getting rusty was never an option. But as much as I could do, I’m not going to. The time of Captain Starlight has passed. My own granddaughter helped me see that. There is always going to be trouble, always going to be danger circling the tenuous peace we’ve built between humans and Supers. It’s up to this generation of Heroes to keep it safe, just as all those who came before them did. It’s not my place to fix things. All I can do is pass on what I’ve learned and put my trust in the Heroes of today.”
“Guess that’s about as firm of a no as I’m going to get.” Senator Malcolm shook his head, though his disappointment was more for the sake of form than genuine. “I knew it was a long shot from the start, but you can’t blame me for trying. Hallow, I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
“Now, hang on a minute. I said I didn’t want to go all the way back to my prime. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to squeeze a few more years out of this old body.” Graham smiled, looking down at his cane. “I’ve hated this goddamn thing since the day I picked it up. Besides, I think I’d like to see how my grandkids fare. Something tells me they’ll have a few proud moments I’m going to want to be there for. Can you do that, Hallow? Can you just take me down a couple of decades?”
“Sir, it would be an honor.”
“Well, not a total bust then,” Senator Malcolm said. “And you know, if you ever want to share all that experience with more than just the ones who come to you for training, we can always use another teacher in the HCP.”
“Teaching, huh?” Graham paused, clearly rolling the idea around in his brain. “Maybe. I suppose that wouldn’t be such a bad idea; though, to be honest, I sort of had something else in mind.”
“Do I even want to know?” Senator Malcolm asked.
In response, Graham gave a wide grin as Hallow reached over and rested his fingers gently on the older man’s hand. A light glow began to spread from the point of contact, enveloping Graham DeSoto only moments after he gave his reply.
“I thought I might try my hand at politics.”
1.
Campus was nearly deserted as Vince stood outside Melbrook, watching the sun journey higher into the morning sky. Always an early riser, his time at camp had made sleep an even more infrequent activity than it previously was. The others seemed similarly affected; Chad and Hershel had already gone for their morning run, darting off into a campus where one could scarcely see any proof of the chaos that had transpired mere months before.
Every bombed and burned building was completely rebuilt so thoroughly that, unless one was looking, it was hard to spot the difference. This wasn’t the first time large-scale damage had occurred as the result of a Super battle, and the DVA—or, more accurately, the Supers they employed—knew how to handle cleanup quickly when there was proper motivation. Just by looking at it, Vince would never have been able to tell that this was a place that had been brutally attacked in the night. Lander had been wiped of its scars. The only ones remaining now lingered in its students.
Few of those students had arrived yet, as classes weren’t set to start for another few days, but those who had didn’t move with quite the same level of apathy about their surroundings as they had before. Eyes darted, nerves tensed, and any loud sound was cause for a sudden burst of adrenaline. Some handled it better than others; the worst were those who’d been present for the fight. For as many as had been on campus, that group still represented only a small percentage of Lander’s total students. Though, that was less true now.
Enrollment at Lander had dropped significantly, as Mr. Numbers had told his charges last night when they arrived. All HCP schools were seeing downward trends, but Lander had been hit the hardest by far. Former students were too scared to return, and relatively few new applicants wanted to come to the school now most famous for being attacked by madmen. Vince didn’t blame any of them; if he’d been looking at the world through their eyes, he very well might have made the same choice. Being a Super in the world of Heroes was terrifying enough; he couldn’t fathom what it would be like to step into it as a human.
At least the campus was peaceful, though soon it would liven up. They’d returned from camp a touch earlier than needed, wanting a few days to settle in to a world that was both familiar and completely foreign. Tomorrow would be the day when most students started arriving, as well as the day of orientation for those in the HCP. No one knew what it would—what it could—possibly entail after everything that had happened, though Vince was betting it wouldn’t be the usual meet and greet. They might have to go right into testing, since last year’s finals had been cancelled. It would be rough, but fair. And after a summer of hard training, part of Vince was slightly curious about where his skills now stood in relation to the rest of the class.
Several buildings over, Vince could make out a pair of students with a paper map clutched in their hands, weaving about between buildings as they navigated the unfamiliar landscape. It was hard to imagine that only a few years before that had been him. Well, him and Nick, stumbling about, trying to find a cafeteria that Vince could now shut his eyes and walk to. They looked so young, though. Had he been like that when he first got to Lander? Seemed likely. Heck, he was probably worse. A life on the road, followed by months in a hospital bed that he could barely remember. It was amazing they’d ever let him into the HCP in the first place, let alone that he’d managed to last a week.
Vince smiled to think that perhaps these kids would be down there tomorrow, wearing black uniforms and looking terrified about the prospect of fighting one another. They had come to campus early, and anything was possible. One never knew the coincidences that might happen in a school full of Supers. Even on his first day, he’d seen Sasha in the cafeteria, noticing her before he knew they were both in the program.
The thought of his lost friend conjured a dull ache in the depths of Vince’s heart. Their time away had done little to numb the pain of losing one of their own, but it had given him the chance to find a measure of peace with it. Thoughts of her corpse no longer filled him with the slow, burning rage that had taken hold that night. Now he largely felt only sadness, and that was, he imagined, as it was supposed to be.
In the end, Sasha was gone, but the rest of them still had much to do before their journeys were over. Vince turned his gaze from the searching students to the sun, which was still rising ever higher over Lander. One year left to go. One year to prove he deserved to wear the title of Hero. One year to learn, to struggle, to survive, and to make his way to graduation—hopefully. If the previous three years were any indication, things would only be harder this time around. To his surprise, Vince found himself glad at that realization. He wanted it to be harder, to push him up to and past every limit he had. After seeing what was living outside the protective shell of the HCP, Vince needed to be educated, to become as strong as he was capable of being.
Next time he was
in the field, when the stakes were real, he wouldn’t falter. He would be prepared, be trained, and be strong enough to keep a level head. There would be no mistakes. He would be powerful enough to do what was necessary and controlled enough to do nothing more. Vince wanted every bit of training Lander could throw at him, every bruise and cut and pain it could impart, so long as it made him stronger. He’d seen what the Hero world was like, and Vince was determined to be ready.
Next time, there would be no funerals after the battle.
2.
Dean Blaine walked slowly down the concrete hallways, examining every nook and scratch in the remodeled corridors. It was the day before his students would return, and he was determined to assess every inch of the place where they would be educated. Deep down, he knew that this was merely a way to keep his mind distracted, to quell the need for control that had been blooming in his chest since the attack, but he kept at it anyway. Better this than peering over his staff’s shoulders, making them just as nervous as he was. Besides, there was something to be said for a detailed inspection, regardless of what motivated it.
“If you’re wondering: yes, you do look like you’ve lost your mind.” Professor Pendleton had approached silently in the way that only Subtlety Heroes could and had clearly been watching his boss, his friend, stare at the walls.
“Minds were made to be lost,” Dean Blaine replied. “It’s how Heroes stay sane.”
“And now you’re quoting Dean Merrick, so I know you’ve really lost it.”
Dean Blaine chuckled slightly and turned away from the wall. “The longer I do this job, the more I understand why that curmudgeon was as surly as he was. Especially given the handful our class turned out to be. If I had to deal with another Victor and you, I’d likely lock myself in my office with a full bottle of scotch nightly.”
“Which, for all we know, Dean Merrick did,” Professor Pendleton pointed out. “And don’t go leaving yourself out of that statement. You raised hell on more than one occasion yourself.”
“I suppose I might have allowed a bit of youthful exuberance to run wild.” A smile flitted across Dean Blaine’s face, dissolving almost as soon as it appeared. “What I wouldn’t give to worry about nothing more than students and pranks.”
“Who says that’s all Merrick had to worry about?” Professor Pendleton silently walked over and put a careful hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Things were rough back then, too. That’s our world. That’s the life. It’s never perfect, or safe, or peaceful, but it’s the dean’s job to let the students feel that way. At least while they’re here. Truthfully, I can’t imagine why you took on a job like that in the first place.”
“Why do any of us do anything?” Dean Blaine replied.
It was a rhetorical question, one to which Sean Pendleton already knew the answer. Still, he replied all the same, not because he felt the need to prove himself, but because it seemed like Blaine would do well to hear the words spoken aloud.
“Because we can. Because we have the ability, and sometimes, we’re the only ones who do.”
“Look at that. Seems you didn’t entirely sleep through Dean Merrick’s lectures.” Dean Blaine glanced down at his watch, slight creases forming around his eyes. “Speaking of which, I need to finish getting my materials prepped. In light of last year’s events, I’ve added several new discussion points to the syllabus.”
“For the freshmen or the seniors?”
“Both, though largely the latter,” Dean Blaine said. “While I would be remiss not to talk about what happened with those entering the program, it’s with those who lived through it that I feel the most pertinent discussions can take place.”
“At least they’ll learn from it, if nothing else.” Professor Pendleton glanced down the hall, noting a few of the final DVA workers heading to test the lifts. The DVA would have a continued presence at Lander—and every other HCP school—for some time to come. It didn’t exactly fill Sean with warm fuzzies, but he didn’t hate it either. So long as it helped protect the students, he was on board with whatever changes needed to be made. “How’s the freshman crop looking this year, anyway?”
“It’s… interesting,” Dean Blaine admitted. “As expected, several of the ones to whom we offered admission chose instead to accept offers from the other HCPs. However, several of our top-tier candidates did opt to come here. In fact, after the events of last May, it seems many of the applicants switched from their originally desired school to apply here. We’re seen as more dangerous, and while that deters some, it also lures in others.”
“So, we’ve got a freshman class that’s smaller than normal, but filled with people who are either brave or stupid,” Professor Pendleton surmised.
“Yes, but also quite strong. Word of students helping turn back the attackers has given many the impression that Lander has the strongest crop around. Some want to be trained here, others want to test themselves against the students we have. Either way, it brought in a few legacies from other schools I’d never have expected to get. Looking at averages, this may be one of the more powerful classes we’ve had in a while. Coupled with the brave and stupid aspects, I imagine I’ll have my hands quite full once the semester begins.”
“Stronger than the ones we’ve got now?” Professor Pendleton was half-skeptical, half-curious. He’d taught surprisingly powerful Supers in his two years of freedom, but living in the Hero world had shown him how quickly one’s idea of strength could change.
“Comparing seniors to freshmen is like comparing butterflies to caterpillars. These have potential, which is more than I was letting myself hope for after what our school endured.” The sly tug of a smirk pulled at the edge of Dean Blaine’s lips. “Though I will say, Dean Jackson sent quite the email when he learned some of his choice picks had come here instead of Sizemore. I daresay they’ll be out for blood at Intramurals this year.”
“Let’s hope not,” Professor Pendleton replied. “At the rate these kids are growing, if they come looking for blood, they just might get it.”
“That’s why it’s our job to teach them better.” Dean Blaine headed back to his office, Professor Pendleton still following a few steps behind. “Don’t you have your own work to do?”
“Why? My syllabus hasn’t changed. Besides, you mentioned scotch earlier, and this is our last day not officially on duty as teachers…”
Dean Blaine rolled his eyes but made no verbal objection to the idea. Having Sean around helped him take his mind off everything else threatening his sense of sanity. One glass of scotch was a relatively small price to pay for such a luxury.
3.
“I would like it noted that you two are here against my formally registered protests.” Despite his un-neighborly words, Nick still held the door open as Jerome and Eliza strode through, the latter immediately settling onto his couch while the former stood in the center of the room.
“Your protests were heard and overruled,” Eliza replied from her sprawled position on the sofa. No sooner had she landed on it did she spread out in a way that made her seem more like she’d been spilled there than sat down intentionally. “The Evers family is making nice, and it seems like the incident is going to pass without reprisal, but you know as well as we do that it could all be a front.”
“Somehow I doubt even the Evers are foolish enough to start a war between Families in the current climate.” Nick shut the door soundly behind him, engaging each lock it had with a few precise flicks of his hand. “The Heroes are stomping down everything that pops up at the moment. The last thing anyone in Vegas needs is attention being drawn to us.”
“Which is why Ms. Pips only sent us.” Eliza pulled herself up into a half-seated, half-reclined position that Nick was certain could not possibly be comfortable. “Normally, in this situation, you’d never be allowed to leave, or if you were, it would be with at least a dozen people to watch over you.”
“Or perhaps she thought you two would benefit from being around my intellectual graces,”
Nick countered.
A wry, dangerous look danced across Eliza’s face. “Don’t make me tell Mary you’re being a pompous dick.”
“Your threats hold no power here.” Both Jerome and Eliza noticed that, despite his assertion, Nick did seem to pull himself up a bit straighter at the mention of the telepathic powerhouse. “Anyway, what are you two going to do with yourselves? There’s no Nathaniel to track, no overt threats against my life, and hopefully no more amateur sleuths. Seems like you’ll have an abundance of free time on your hands.”
“We do have classes,” Jerome interjected.
“Ms. Pips is making you get that deep undercover?”
“Actually, she’s making us get degrees,” Eliza said. “Since she’s already paying room and board for us to be out here, she told us she may as well get something to show for it. I’m sure we’ll have to transfer to a college in Vegas after you graduate, but for now, we’re Lander students in actuality. I’m going to get an art degree!”
“I expressed fear that we were too old, but she assured us that plenty of people get a late start on their higher education,” Jerome said.
“She’s not wrong; you’ll be older than most freshmen, but nowhere near the most ancient person in any given class.” Nick looked his two cohorts up and down more carefully. It wasn’t something she advertised, but Ms. Pips had required many people in the Family to get various degrees. Having subordinates with appropriate qualifications let her fill positions without arousing too much suspicion from outside parties. Even Gerry had a Bachelor’s in Statistics. Still, it wasn’t something she did often, and generally the ones she sent to college were those she had bigger plans for down the line. Given that last year Jerome and Eliza had been watchers and this year they were students, it was clear Nick hadn’t been the only one to impress Ms. Pips with how things had gone down.