Super Powereds: Year 4

by Hayes, Drew

  “I promise, next time I need interns I’ll show up for as many of the Sizemore trials as I can,” Titan said. “On the subject of the school, though, I was wondering… how’s she doing?”

  There was no need to say who he was talking about; they were both fully aware that there was only one student enrolled at Sizemore that Titan had any interest in. “She’s doing well. The first of the year was tough, she struggled to find her footing in the class and I think she felt out of place. Over time, though, she’s settled in, even made a few friends. And combat-wise, those summons of hers are keeping everyone on their toes. I’d say she’s all but a lock to move on to sophomore year, and I’m quite eager to see how she does once we shift to team events. Given her background, I expect she’ll be something to see.”

  “I’m sure she will,” Titan agreed. He’d tried not to pester Hexcellent – now Hannah – too much about her freshman year, but he still wanted to keep tabs on the former-corpie when he could. If she made it to senior year, there were already plenty of Heroes gunning to make her an intern after the show she’d put on in Brewster. While that was still a long way off, Titan had a strong feeling that she’d make the cut. She was a tough one with a lot to prove, not to mention a rabbit that redefined what it was to be a summoner.

  Much as he might have liked to ask more, the screens flickered to life, showing a combat cell with two students slowly walking in. A hush rippled through the room as Victor picked up his microphone once more.

  “Students: you will start on my signal and not before. If at any time I halt a match, you are expected to freeze in place that instant. Keep in mind that while we’re all looking forward to watching some hard-fought battles, any attempts to legitimately kill one another are banned. Violate any of these stipulations and prepare to be disqualified. As for victory, you’ll win your fights with the same conditions you’ve been training with this year: capture the enemy for three minutes, make them surrender, knock them unconscious, or score a hypothetical deathblow. If we encounter anything that falls outside those parameters, we’ll deal with it on a case-by-case basis. Now, begin by introducing yourselves: real names, your major, and your chosen Hero name if you have one and wish to share it.”

  255.

  Her equipment was the first thing that caught Chad’s eye. She was loaded down: body armor, guns (presumably with rubber bullets), tasers, knives, and a few gadgets Chad didn’t recognize. Brenda had covered herself in so much equipment that it was hard to even see her uniform. That much weight should slow her down, but the fact that her class had sent her to this event surely meant this was an erroneous assumption. She likely either had a Super trait that gave her the strength to handle such weight or had trained hard enough to negate the issue. There was certainly confidence and grace in her motions as she carefully readjusted her stance.

  “Brenda Sellers, Weapons major. My codename will be Militia.”

  Interesting. The major was no surprise given her gear, yet the name had many possible interpretations. It could be a reference to her weaponry, or her tactical preferences, or a myriad of other things. Chad put the speculation out of his head. Soon the fight would start and he’d have real evidence to work with. Filling his mind with pointless guessing offered no advantage.

  “Chad Taylor, Close Combat major. Upon graduation, I will take the name Intra.”

  Brenda’s eyes widened, just a hair, in surprise. Chad imagined there were similar reactions occurring amidst many of the spectators. That name carried a lot of baggage in the Hero world, a dark reminder of a horrible stain on their reputation. Such would not always be the case, though. The rehabilitation of his father’s name started today, with this match. When it was done, there would be a new reason to talk about the name Intra.

  From the hidden speakers all over the cell, static crackled just before Victor’s voice emanated. “Your match begins… now!”

  Chad sprinted forward, hoping to catch Brenda off-guard. Most people who relied on tools needed an extra few seconds to get them ready, and he planned to use that moment of vulnerability to its fullest. If he was quick and fortunate, he might be able to finish this bout in record time. To his surprise, Brenda wasn’t reaching for any of her gear, though. Instead, she’d taken a deep breath and tensed briefly.

  The copies appeared so quickly that even his amplified mind could barely see them form into existence. When Julia had been around, Chad could watch as she released and shaped the energy, but Brenda was worlds faster. For a normal person, the whole endeavor would have passed in less than a blink: that was how quickly Chad went from one opponent to what seemed north of two dozen.

  “Impressive,” he said. “Unfortunately, I’ve fought a duplicator before.”

  “If you think my power is all that defines me, then you’ve already lost this fight.” This came from three of the Brendas near the front, just before each and every one of them sprang into action. They scattered, spreading like a net to ensnare Chad. Solid group tactics, certainly, but it wouldn’t be enough to stop him.

  Just as he was drawing near the original Brenda, the assault began. Rubber bullets bounced off his back, stinging but otherwise not bothersome. The bolas that encircled his legs was a momentary distraction, though with his increased strength he was able to rip it apart rather than be tripped. However, in the brief moment of distraction of dealing with the bolas, four Brendas were able to come close enough to strike with electrified metal batons. Annoyance, again, but Chad still had to waste time breaking away. They retreated the moment he drew close, scurrying away without a second thought.

  When Chad turned back to his target, he found himself staring at a metal canister careening towards him, clearly thrown by another Brenda. If he’d been a human, it would have been disastrous, but Chad’s reaction speeds were not to be underestimated. His eyes snapped shut and pupils narrowed down to pinholes for good measure, all before the flash grenade detonated. Chad didn’t even bother to retreat; he could hear the footsteps giving him a wide berth. When the light finally faded, he opened his eyes once more. Only then did his mistake become clear.

  All of that, every bit of the attack, had been designed for one purpose: to make him lose track of the original Brenda. The clones were scattered around, all lowering dark goggles they’d used as shielding from their eyes. This complicated things greatly. Popping a duplicate back into energy was not an issue; however, Chad had to be careful. Too much force against the real Brenda and he could get himself disqualified. His attacks would have to be perfectly balanced: strong enough to dissipate a clone while not so potent as to put Brenda herself in real danger. In truth, it was an inconvenience more than anything, but Chad was beginning to see how enough of those lumped together could become problematic.

  “I see. The duplication is merely an aspect of your strategy; what you truly rely on is the coordination between selves. Having a hive mind permits you to use wordless, perfect teamwork.”

  The nearest Brenda flashed him a quick smirk, even as she holstered her gun. “Smart. Most people don’t put that together so quickly. And you’re clearly working with physical enhancements, given the way you ripped up my bolas and the fact that they didn’t end the match when my mock-bullets landed. I’d say standard strongman type if you didn’t move and react so quickly.”

  She was observant too, which made her all the more dangerous. Chad needed to decide whether he valued defense or agility more. The bone-armor made for a good show, and it would increase how much damage he could take, but lowering his speed might be folly. Against this many opponents, reaction time mattered a lot. Part of him wanted to doubt that she had a tool that would be able to hurt him in the first place, but Chad shoved that idiocy away. Roy’s punch freshman year, Nick’s lucky dodges when they were sophomores, even Professor Pendleton’s trickery during the mid-terms; he’d been given plenty of lessons in the dangers of underestimating opponents just because they seemed weaker. Brenda had a plan, probably a few, to deal with a strongman.

>   Ultimately, Chad opted to keep his speed until he understood her capabilities better. It was a risk, true, but to reveal all of his tricks to the strangers watching too early in the competition would be a risk as well. Besides, until he knew what she was planning he preferred speed and versatility over raw defense. The bone-armor could always come later, if need be.

  All of these thoughts blazed through his mind in less than a few seconds. The ability to stay calm and evaluate a situation carefully was one of Chad’s dearest gifts, one he didn’t plan to squander. With a slight shift of his feet, Chad picked a target and raced forward once again.

  It was time to start clearing out some clones.

  256.

  It took Chad two test punches before he figured out the correct amount of force. The task would have been far easier without the body armor, but he had to start on the side of caution to make sure he didn’t put Brenda in serious danger. The initial two blows knocked a clone back without unmaking them. Then on the third he heard the soft crack of a rib through the armor. Suddenly his target burst into a brief flash of light. Although there were still over twenty more to deal with, Chad calculated that his chances of winning had gone up. He had the punch to use; it was just a matter of hitting them all.

  Unfortunately, Brenda wasn’t sitting on her thumbs while Chad punched the clones nearest to him. The rest of the group had encircled him, and just as he’d finished dispatching the first duplicate of the day, there came a clanking noise from behind. On instinct, Chad leapt up into the air, flipping over so he could see a rapidly-spreading net sweep over the area he’d been standing in. How had she gotten a net-gun that was small enough to lug around? It was a sound question, but one that was rendered less important as Chad heard the clanking noise again.

  Standing on either side of him were two more Brendas, each taking aim with net-guns of their own. The first had been intended to make him dodge so that they could catch him with the follow-ups. If not for his enhanced brain and senses, he likely never even would have seen the secondary attacks coming. Both nets fired, one centered on him, another slightly lower in case he tried to dive out of the way. With nothing to push off of, he was stuck in the air, a sitting duck. Chad didn’t panic, however. Just because he couldn’t dodge an attack didn’t mean he couldn’t counter it. As the net struck and wrapped around him, Chad focused on shifting the shape of his forearm and shin bones. He didn’t draw them out all the way just yet, only letting the barest of tips press against his white uniform, where he hoped they would blend in.

  Despite being tangled up, Chad still came down on his feet. The five Brendas who were racing forward with stun batons drawn slowed slightly. They’d evidently expected him to be a little more helpless upon landing.

  “Those really are some crazy reflexes. You saw the attacks coming.” One of the Brendas with a stun baton was talking. No, she was stalling. Although she didn’t know he could hear it, Chad was fully aware of another Brenda contingency forming behind him. They wanted to catch him off-guard. That was fine. She wasn’t the only one who could use the element of surprise.

  “Yet I still couldn’t avoid the shots. They were perfectly timed and executed. Your capacity for coordination is truly extraordinary. And your weaponry is quite impressive as well.” Chad’s ears were perked, taking in every sound. There was no doubt they’d attack; the only question was if it would be at range or up close. His next move would depend on that tactical choice, so it was vital he figured it out before they had a chance to strike.

  “Yeah, well, I may not be one of those genius Supers, but you’d be amazed how much learning and building I can get done with this many hands and eyes. The hardest part was getting enough of that net material. It’s got so much stretch and durability that most strongmen can’t pull it apart, at least not quickly.”

  Although Brenda’s eyes never left Chad, he knew she was coordinating with the clones behind him. Their footsteps were soft, well-practiced movement, undetectable with normal perception, masked seamlessly by their casual conversation. The clones were picking up the pace and drawing closer as well. She was going with melee, then. That was the more difficult option, but it had the upside of giving him a chance to clear out ample opponents.

  “Pity most mundane weaponry is also useless on those with strongman endurance.” He needed her to think he was still unaware, for just a few seconds more. She didn’t fully grasp the extent of his capabilities yet, and after this it would be difficult to lure a large number of duplicates in all at once again. Chad was going to have to make this one count.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. Between electricity, gas, and other specialized tools, there are plenty of ways to hurt a strongman.” Brenda allowed a brief moment of triumph to ripple across her face and her mouth opened, no doubt to deliver a well-chosen line while her fellow clones descended on Chad.

  To Chad’s eyes, though, her jaw twitched in slow motion. His brain sped up past its usual amplified speeds. This level of over-clocking was dangerous for prolonged periods of time, but by Chad’s estimates he wouldn’t need more than about ten seconds at the most. The bone blades in his arms and shins shot out, cleaving through the net around him in no time. Chad spun in place, his body doing its best to keep up with his hyper-speed brain – and failing. That was tolerable, at least for this fight. He was more than fast enough to get the job done. What mattered here was precision above all else, making every movement count.

  The first punch hit a Brenda with some sort of spray canister in hand, striking with the exact same amount of force he’d used to dissipate the first clone. The next strike took out a Brenda wearing a gas mask and holding a glass vial of something. There were more gas-masked ones around her, and Chad made a point of taking them all out in rapid succession. He didn’t want to find out what was in those vials unless it was strictly necessary. Making his way through the horde that had come for him, Chad dodged various stun batons and knuckle tasers as they tried to fight back, but it was hardly a contest.

  At last, Chad reached the back of the attacking crowd and let his brain recede to normal activity levels. He hadn’t gotten every single Brenda that came near him, but he’d carved a path of rapid destruction that easily halved her overall number. More than that, he’d done it in such a short span of time that there had been no chance to properly counter, even with her exceptional coordination.

  The remaining Brendas were backing up, forming ranks around one in the center. She was scared – and with good cause – which had led her to make a mistake. If the Brendas were all protecting one in the center, that had to be the master form. Taking her out would end the rest of them before she had time to repopulate her ranks.

  Chad bolted forward, ready to leap up and over the protective bodies, when a different thought struck him. Perhaps it came from his time fighting Angela, or in the madness of living around the denizens of Melbrook, but no matter: it popped into his mind all the same. He didn’t change his pace at all, still racing forward, clearly preparing to leap.

  Only when it came time to jump, instead Chad hunkered down and shoved forward, cribbing a move from Roy’s playbook and plowing into the frontline of the defending Brendas. The first two popped into light when he struck, but the third let out a coughing gasp as her rib cracked. She tried to backpedal, but there was no escaping Chad in this proximity. Three more carefully controlled blows to the torso and she collapsed, the remainder of the Brendas vanishing like they’d never existed in the first place.

  “Thought I had you with that.” Her voice was strained as she looked up at him, but she refused to break eye contact, not until the match was officially done.

  “You almost did. It was a smart move. Lure me into a center mass that can pile atop me while you generate more clones. The only problem was that it hinged on me believing you were afraid and making a mistake. That didn’t line up with the way you’d fought so far.”

  Brenda wheezed out a breath that had to hurt, given the condition of her ribs. �
��That’s probably the nicest post-match smack talk I’ve heard in a while. I really want to keep going, but I don’t think making clones of me with this kind of injury will do much good. Looks like you win.”

  From above, Victor’s voice crackled through the speakers. “Brenda Sellers is no longer able to fight, and this round goes to Chad Taylor of Lander! Now, both combatants report for medical examinations and healing right away.”

  The last shot on the screen was of Chad helping Brenda to her feet and leaning her against his shoulder so he could help walk her to the medical facility.

  257.

  Adam was surprised to feel wistful as he left Lander for what would almost certainly be the last time. From the start, it was a means to an end – a way to help get access to the protected data first, and then to feed the others information as time wore on. He’d never actually planned on being a Hero. Even if they’d have taken someone like him, the real him, Adam knew too much. He’d seen the corruption of the system, the people left behind in its wake, and he had no desire to ever be part of that world. When this was all over, if he managed to get away (and deep down he knew that was a hell of an if) Adam imagined he’d slip away to another country out of the Heroes jurisdiction, somewhere he could live out a peaceful life with no more fighting or scheming.

  Yet, in spite of all that, he still felt an unexpected pang in his heart as he walked off Lander’s campus, climbed into his car, and drove out of town. Shimmerpath couldn’t pop a portal anywhere near the HCP without the DVA noticing, not on Intramurals day, so he had to get some distance. It was nice, though. One last drive through the town where he’d spent four years feeling closer to being a normal kid than he had since that day on the bridge. Part of him couldn’t help wondering how Lander was doing in the matches taking place below ground. Were they showing the same fighting spirit that had dragged them out of the safety of their underground campus in May, or did the other schools have stronger students to put an end to The Class of Nightmares nickname? It shouldn’t matter to him – he’d never really been a part of that class in the first place – but all the same he hoped they were doing well. No matter how hard he’d tried to fight it, Adam was connected to those people through years of effort and competition. It was impossible not to care a little.