He safed his weapon, removing the magazine as well as the round in the chamber, then set them both down as he waited for the Citadel Support guy to return. The gun's barrel was pointed down range. The last step was always safety.
"Not bad, kid." John Soans was a big man in his forties.
He had the kind of bulk that meant he used to have a lot of muscle and had let it turn to fat. He also had the air of no-nonsense competence that meant he'd been a range master for some time and hadn't let any stupid teenagers hurt themselves or others. Hector appreciated the latter quality a great deal.
"You passed, barely. Most people don't do so well on their first time."
"Great! So that means I can check out a weapon for duty use? Including training matches?" Hector asked, smiling.
"Yep. That includes training matches. Same rules for lethal force as shooting lasers out of your toenails or whatever.
"Is there a limit to how many I can have out?"
"Just what you can use, son."
Wax on. Wax off. Heh. He never got tired of that.
Hector's smile got bigger.
* * *
Instruction Area, Citadel Hub
Hector had to fight to keep the smile off his faces. He was pretty sure Instructor Catherine wouldn't appreciate it. He sat in the chair, next to Mom's bed. They were watching TV together. Given what she was describing, it might bug the other guys, too.
"'After practicing on animals and the homeless enough to master my powers, I would join the Citadel.'" No one was laughing at this one. "'Once I was accepted, I would act like a regular trainee or operative. During the first Class One or higher event for which I am at the Citadel proper, I would murder the assembled personnel. After that, I would make my way to the Battlegrounds.’"
He let the outside door shut and went looking for the phone. The restaurant's manager, Rick, was not going to be happy about this.
"’The confusion caused by the unchecked event should provide enough distraction to let me get away. Killing any Citadel Operatives or law enforcement that I encounter on the way makes sense, but I would not go out of my way to do so. When I have reached a city within the Battlegrounds, not a Border city but one well established, I would contact the Lord and petition to join him in a position of power and respect.'"
Instructor Catherine looked up, when she was finished reading that one. "I have my doubts about the subject's ability to make it through the application process. As you will remember, the screenings are quite thorough. That said, the subject has gone through the same thing.
It might be doable. If it is, I'd rate that as a Class One or even an Extinction level threat. Depends on what the crisis is, when he makes his move. Please note, the powerset involved wouldn't rate more than a Class Three, at most, under other circumstances.
I'm not bothering to read the thirty or so variations on 'rob a bank.' Does anyone notice a common theme?" She looked around the room, waiting for an answer. "You. Anna Insight I believe?"
"Yes ma'am."
She looked vaguely familiar. His car sparkled in the early morning sun. It might be just a little economy model, but to him it was a thing of beauty. The girl who'd fought Jason on the first day?
"Planning and scope, ma'am. The majority of the scenarios described spur of the moment crimes. There was very little planning or forethought. Those that did mention preparation, tended to be on such a grand scale that the likely response from Citadel, or other law enforcement, would all but guarantee their death or capture shortly afterwards. Is that correct?"
"Yes. That's not quite universal, here or in the real world. However, most Empowered criminals tend to assume nothing can stop them. They just attack whatever target seems most appropriate to them. A bank or police station, something high profile and impressive.
“On the other extreme, you get what the media insists on calling supervillains. Empowered that realize they can be beaten in a straight fight, but think they can take on the world if they have the right plan. They tend not to think of the consequences of success. There is one more thing. Did anyone notice it?" Instructor Catherine searched the class for another volunteer as Anna sat down. "Go ahead."
"The response." Jason said. It took the cops almost an hour to show up. While they were waiting, Rick had him call the rest of the staff and tell them not to come in for the day.
"When the scenario failed to mention taking bystander survival into account, or when the described goal was essentially murderous, you always emphasized lethal force as the probable response. If it was something small scale, and the description included a sense of caution regarding civilian casualties, you rarely mentioned lethal force and emphasized arrest or capture." He sat down after he'd finished speaking.
"Exactly. Again, not a universal, but very common. You'll get a better explanation next week, during your Procedures training, but that's basically right."
Hector didn't like the mood of the crowd, as the trainees filed out of the room. The only conversations were quiet and intense. All around him, faces were grim. Apparently, he was the only one who hadn't been taking the scenes Instructor Catherine described seriously.
* * *
Training Area
The attitude in Physical Conditioning today was totally different. Everyone with physical enhancements, the ones who could run a marathon without effort or bench press a car, seemed bored. They just moved onto the track and started running when Coach Achala told them to.
There was a little grumbling from the folks with less conventional abilities, but nothing like yesterday. It seemed like a lot of people had spent some time figuring out how to make it easier. Hector saw one guy, heavily tanned, with dark brown hair, raise his arms and let loose some kind of black mist. Maybe it was a powder?
Tendrils, of whatever it was, reached up and anchored themselves in the ceiling, at the center of the track. Then the guy just took off at a jog. Hector was pretty sure he was using the tendrils to support himself, but didn't have a clue how they worked.
Others had their own tricks. Drew had lost at least another ten pounds and was running easily, now. Samantha was moving way too fast to be running normally, and her stride was much too long. He started picking up around one of his bedrooms. There was barely room to walk between the mattresses. Probably, she was just flying at ground level and pretending to run. Coach Achala didn't call her on it so Hector figured he was expecting that sort of thing. Good.
Hector finished his first lap, running all out, and switched off with one of the other five hims waiting by the start point. Normally, he'd complain about having to pick up after a bunch of slobs. When he was the slobs in question, that didn't work so well. No single body would have to run more than four and a half miles, with a nice break in between laps. In total though, Hector would have run the full length.
Jenny had a group formed up around her. They all seemed pretty cheerful. No tricks with them, though. Well, not tricks to make the run easier. Hector watched as, laughing, they did a single, simultaneous cartwheel. The group didn't even break their stride. He really had to figure out how her power worked.
That was when the him that had been at the shooting range got back. Without a word, he walked up to the group of Hectors waiting by the track and started handing things out. They each attached a holstered pistol and two magazine pouches to their belts. The newly arrived Hector left as soon as the one running had switched out and received his own equipment. He still had to get back to his room and arm the hims there.
* * *
Cafeteria
Hector hadn't tried to conceal the handoff or his new equipment, so it was no surprise that the other trainees noticed. Really, the strange part was that it took until lunch for someone to mention it. Duncan was the first to approach him about it.
"Where'd you get the guns?" asked Duncan Nightmare. Mom was out, the combination of medication and food. He reached over and dabbed at the drool leaking from the corner of her mouth. Hector smiled.
; "I just checked them out from the armory. I took the test while we were in Ethics this morning."
"Really, they just let you walk around the place with a pistol." he sneered. Duncan seemed to do that a lot.
"Have you paid any attention to the others?" Hector looked around for a moment. "I can see at least three people in the cafeteria carrying the same type of pistol." Duncan didn't even bother to look.
"Yeah, operatives. You're just a trainee."
"Duncan, look, I've got no idea what your power is, but just think about some of the people in our class. We've got a girl who can turn into a thirty foot long lizard, a guy that I know for a fact can put his fist through a person's chest, and someone who can lose better than twenty pounds in twenty four hours."
"Wait, what? What does losing weight have to do with...?" Confusion was a nice look on Duncan. Hector made a little vow to himself that from then on he'd do whatever it took to encourage that.
"They're all things that regular folks can't do. What's a Stark made pistol compared to that?"
"They let you have a Stark weapon?"
"Nine, actually." All four of the other Hector's that were eating lunch with the class got up and began moving closer.
"What the hell!? Who the fuck did you blow for that?"
He walked over to his computer and started up the search engine. Hector didn't have much on Duncan, but sometimes it didn't take a lot to track down an Empowered.
"Duncan. Shut up and walk away. Now." Hector was tired of the conversation.
"Listen to him, Duncan." said the little red haired girl that no one in their right mind would ever want to piss off, "I don't know what things were like for you back home, or why you've got such a shitty attitude, but no one here's impressed." When had she come over?
Duncan barely reacted to the building confrontation. His face relaxed a bit, going from sneer to a slightly sleepy smile.
"Fine, whatever. Watch your backs, though. It’s pretty obvious this little bastard is the wannabe bank robber and that creepy roommate of his is the genocide guy." On that note, Duncan turned to go.
"I will. I'm always watching my back." said all five of Hector. The other four had arrived and were blocking the angry Filipino's exit. "Now I'll be watching yours, too." Hector parted to let him go. No one else spoke until Duncan had left the cafeteria.
"Man, what the heck is that guy's problem?" asked Hectors’ would be rescuer.
"No idea. Thanks for the assist, Kerry." Hector replied. The cops were finally done. They'd taken statements from Hector and Rick, examined the doors, then left. He started to drift back to his abandoned meals, one of him pausing to pat her on the back as he left.
"Don't mention it. That guy's been giving everyone crap all week."
"Really?" Hector had noticed the way the guy was usually the first to argue with Coach Achala, but he hadn't noticed Duncan with any of the other trainees.
"Yep. You should've seen the way he went after my roommate, Drew, this morning. Basically accused the guy of using steroids or something." said the dragon girl.
"Well, to be fair, losing that much weight in a day is kind of weird."
Kerry snorted. "A day. You know what his power is?"
"I don't even know his full name."
"Drew Stasis. He can freeze time for himself. Doesn't need food or sleep or anything while it's frozen, but he can't move anything either."
"Whoah. That's pretty cool."
"Yeah, cool. He's basically spent two months getting into shape. It may've seemed like a day to us, but from the moment Achala said 'Go.' yesterday, Drew's been running laps by himself." Her face had gone stern. "Hours of running, staggering and sweating until he couldn't go on, then resting. All of that, on a track filled with statues that look like his classmates."
"Wow, that's still pretty cool, but it's also hardcore." Well, at least now Hector knew what his power was. Determination. That time freezing thing might be useful too. "Makes you wonder. If that's what the trainees are like, what about the actual operatives?"
They both turned to watch Coach Achala. He was eating alone, calmly and methodically. Each piece of chicken was sliced to the same size, chewed the same number of times, and followed with a sip of water. It should have looked mechanical, instead, it was serene.
* * *
Private Residence
Hector had spent the day doing research. Okay, he'd also attended Ethics and Physical Conditioning, gotten certified in pistols, gone to college level courses in mathematics, computer science, sociology and recent history. Multitasking was easier when you could be in more than one place at once.
This Hector had assigned himself two tasks for the day. First, learn as much about his instructors and classmates as possible. The incident with Isaac had shown him that what he didn't know, could hurt others. The incident with Duncan had shown him that if he did hurt others, he wanted it to be on purpose. His second task was both simpler and grander, maximize himself.
Hector had been able to certify with a pistol because there was a shooting range near his house that was sloppy about checking IDs. He'd spent at least three days there every week for the last year. That hadn't been because he'd known the skill would be valuable, it was just fun. Now he had to figure out every possible advantage he could.
The most important thing he'd thought of was also the simplest to accomplish: research everything. One of him was enrolled at UCLA. That one had split into three, and now at least one would always be in the school library. Student's access may not sound like much of a resource, but that was literally hundreds of specialized databases at his fingertips. He could find out any fact he might need to know with a little research.
Some goals were obvious. Increasing his proficiency with a pistol, adding larger firearms like shotguns and rifles, martial arts, knives, clubs, basically anything to do with fighting, there was training available to Citadel members that cost nothing but time. He had plenty of that.
Other goals were more subtle. Carrying a double course load was trivial for him, but the cost would add up. Auditing additional courses was a good option. He'd already laid out bare bones degree plans for himself that included psychology, applied chemistry, languages and health sciences. There had to be more that would be useful to him.
Hector was just a regular human. Okay, he was effectively a small army of regular humans. However, if there was one reason for the Citadel to exist, it was that regular people couldn't effectively control the actions of the Empowered.
If he was going to do his part, Hector had to find a way to push himself higher up the power scale. Becoming a small army of humans at peak physical conditioning, trained to the limit of the human mind, would be a small step in the right direction.
* * *
CHAPTER 4: PERSONAL TIME
* * *
Private Residence, Oceanside
The Director looked up from the evaluation results in her hands to consider the young man before her. They were seated at his family’s kitchen table. He wore his blond hair slicked back and a dark brown button-down shirt with black slacks.
There was enough wear on the clothes to indicate that they were in regular use, rather than only for special occasions. His posture was upright and alert, the very model of an upper-middle class, eager young student. The only contrast with this image were the dark sunglasses he was wearing indoors.
“Mr. Reed, why should I even consider allowing you to enter my program?”
The boy rocked back slightly, his eyebrows raised and his mouth opened in surprise. After a momentary pause, he leaned forward, his face and voice firm with determination.
“Ma’am, my academic history is well above average and my parents gave you a list of my extracurricular activities. I feel I should be well within the criteria of admittance.” There was a hint of anger in his otherwise controlled voice.
“Young man, your parents are no longer in the room. Anything disclosed during the course of these interviews is considered
confidential. You and I both know that my concerns have nothing to do with your grades. You will cease this act and tell me why you wish to be a Citadel operative, or your application will be denied here and now.”
The resulting change was subtle, but unmistakable to the Director. The boy still sat upright, but with a loose, relaxed manner rather than his previous pose of controlled eagerness. His face was smooth and she was sure it would have seemed unemotional even without the glasses. The most pronounced change was in the tone of his voice.
“There is no simple answer to that, Director Shift.” It was utterly monotone. “You know my family history. I desire to show that I can rise above it. Obviously, I also desire success and reward. Operatives earn both in sufficient quantity.
“I think, most of all, that my ability is the primary drive. There is no other socially acceptable avenue within which I can make full use of it. I realize restraint is necessary, but I have considered this for most of my life and I believe this is the best path for me.”
“The best path for you, perhaps. What about my other trainees?” Another woman might have been disconcerted, knowing the potential danger she was in. Melody Shift was not.
“I am not my mother, ma’am. I can control myself.” He answered.
She regarded him in silence, considering both his words and the change in persona.
“Fine. There may be a place for you in the Citadel, conditionally. You will not use your gift on any trainee, or staff member, without specific permission. Do otherwise and I’ll see you not only expelled, but executed. Understood?”
“Yes ma’am.” Despite the threat, his posture and tone remained unchanged.
“Then here’s your acceptance packet. Welcome to the Citadel, Jason.” The latter sentence was clearly delivered out of habit, but she handed over the thick manila envelope she’d brought with her anyway. She gave the odd young man a polite, if distant, smile and left. The Director’s mind was already on her next appointment.
Citadel (Book 1): Training in Necessity Page 6