《Hero High [Book One Complete]》


 1.1: An Extremely Important Day

    In some computer programs, there were processes that would tick over and return to 0 when the counter exceeded a certain number.


    I figured my nervousness had gone through something similar. The past few weeks had been a blur of worry and anxiety, a never ending storm raging in my head; I¡¯d struggled to sleep, my hands would start shaking and I¡¯d suddenly find it hard to breathe at random moments, and I had been in a constant battle to think about anything other than the looming spectre of the future, fighting off wave after wave of what if questions.


    What if I failed? What if I got found out? What if I ended up being one of the 0.2% of hopeful students who got grievously injured during the infamous physical section of the open admission tests?


    What if I could never become a superhero after all?


    And yet here I was on the day I¡¯d been stressing over, and my mind was tranquil as a still pond. Maybe I was just sailing through the eye of the storm right now, but I¡¯d take what I could get.


    Maybe this was all a clue as to my revelation. I doubted it, but it was possible.


    The train lurched a little as it began to pick up speed, and I was forced to snatch an overhead handle to keep my balance. From the faint reflection in the window, I could see I wasn¡¯t the only one, though I was definitely in the minority. The sparkling clean standing car was packed with teenagers around my age, and I was pretty confident we were all headed to the same place.


    Beside me, Ashika snorted. Even standing with her hands stuffed in the pockets of her black tracksuit and one ankle crossed over the other, she hadn¡¯t even been budged by the train¡¯s sudden movement. She had the decency to give no further comment, at least. Instead, she pointed at a speck zipping across the distant sky, this one vaguely distinguishable for its red nimbus and trail, like a shooting star.


    ¡°Pretty sure that¡¯s Scarlet Haze.¡± She gave me a wry look. ¡°She¡¯s gotta be a three-pointer, right?¡±


    ¡°No way,¡± I replied, and I was still shocked at how level my voice was. It felt like I hadn¡¯t been able to talk without my voice cracking in months. ¡°Scarlet Haze barely has a dozen arrests to her name. Practically a rookie, even if she¡¯s been getting a lot of attention recently.¡±


    ¡°Marketing,¡± Ashika spat the word like it was burning her tongue. ¡°Think she has some rich backers? Daddy bought her a superhero career?¡±


    I could only shrug. ¡°Who knows? She¡¯s pretty and charismatic enough that I can see it being organic.¡±


    ¡°Pft. Whatever. Two-pointer then?¡±


    ¡°One point. You won¡¯t find many articles about it, but her recent revelation was only her fifth.¡±


    I grimaced. It was a bit hypocritical of me to be disparaging a fifth revelation when I hadn¡¯t even had my first.


    ¡°Her ass is worth a point on its own!¡±


    ¡°Heroes aren¡¯t rated on the quality or quantity of their ass, unfortunately.¡±


    ¡°Really? That¡¯s a shame.¡± Ashika smirked. ¡°What about her tits?¡±


    I sighed. ¡°One point. Take it or leave it.¡±


    ¡°Well, aren¡¯t we driving a hard bargain today? I thought you¡¯d be a stuttering mess, Emmett.¡± She tossed her head to get her shoulder-length black hair out of her eyes then elbowed me in the side, soft enough I barely felt it, thankfully. God knows she could¡¯ve pulverised my torso if she really put her strength behind it. ¡°Ah, well. If I don¡¯t have to spend the whole morning keeping you from bursting into tears like the time Jenny Whatsherface dumped you, I can¡¯t complain. 9 - 8 to me then.¡±


    Ignoring her jab, I squinted out the window, searching for more specks flitting between the shining silver towers in the distance.


    Despite the cloudless day, I knew it was probably hopeless. We¡¯d been lucky to spot enough superheroes to rack up a collective score of 17 points; while Foresight was generally known as the cape capital of the country, it wasn¡¯t as if there were constant battles raging, superheroes flying hinder and yon to deal with the next crisis in a series of endless calamities and cataclysms. Not like the news would want you to think, at least.


    That and the fact that only a tiny minority of people could fly. Something like 1 in 10,000? I couldn¡¯t remember the precise number, but suffice to say powers involving flight were extremely uncommon, though the ratio was rising. There were many theories as to why that was. None particularly compelling.


    So I found myself more taking in the sights of Foresight¡¯s skyline than actually scanning for superheroes, not that I could really complain. There were certainly worse ways to spend a train ride on the way to the most important event of your life, and it was a rare occasion that I actually got the opportunity to do this; there had always been something else to focus on, a task to get done, a plan to be made. How often did I get to stop and appreciate the beauty of this city from a distance?


    And it was beautiful. Some people swore by the classic aesthetic of New York and its Empire State building, but I¡¯d always argue in favour of retro futurism, and luckily whoever built Foresight Arcology fifteen years ago had agreed with me wholeheartedly. Not every architect had hewed to the arcology¡¯s creative vision afterward, but enough had to give the city a skyline that couldn¡¯t be matched anywhere else in the world.


    Viewed from the outskirts, the city looked like a gleaming silver-and-white forest divided into districts by a vast lattice of raised train tracks. More towers than one could ever hope to count by sight surrounded the ziggurat-like arcology that marked the city¡¯s centre and origin. Each tower was a wonder of engineering and design; corps and agencies and even foreign embassies had worked their asses off to outdo each other.


    None of them could match the arcology itself.


    The building that graciously shared its name with the city was a sloped ziggurat that dwarfed the distant mountains before you even got to the towers that sprung up just before its four curved walls could meet at a point, like it was a pyramid firing a beam at the heavens. It gleamed pearly white, yet somehow didn¡¯t glare in the sun. It absorbed light, stored it and converted it to power a thousand times more efficiently than our leading scientists¡¯ best efforts¡ªsome claimed it powered the whole city by itself.


    It had appeared seemingly out of nowhere fifteen years ago, and no one had claimed credit for it. Rumours abounded, but ultimately the behemoth of a building was still a mystery. A lot of people were sceptical of it, calling it a trap despite over a decade of evidence to the contrary. Many refused to set foot in the place.


    The Olympians, of course, were not counted among them.


    I watched in wide-eyed disbelief as seven tiny specks peeled away from the very top of Foresight Tower. They floated in the air for an endless moment, then streaked across the sky, almost in the total opposite direction to where I was watching from. From so far away it was impossible to tell which members had just headed out, but there was no doubting they were The Olympians.


    The train car had gone silent as the grave. Those looking out the windows had seen it for themselves, and others were no doubt glued to the little screens that usually cycled through advertisements and commuter information above the train¡¯s doors.


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    They showed the vast arcology from a much closer angle, looking up from what had to be close to its very base. The view zoomed all the way to near the top of the tower, playing a loop of seven figures flying away. I was disappointed to see their identities weren¡¯t any clearer on the TV, just blurry silhouettes. Text scrolled across the bottom of the screen.


    ¡®BREAKING: Olympians abruptly called to action! New crisis? Foresight City Council and Hero Association yet to comment.¡¯


    Ashika huffed a breathless laugh. ¡°How many points are you gonna count that as?¡±


    ¡°A million,¡± I said after a moment of thought.


    ¡°Bullshit. If a Level 5 Hero is one point, a bunch of 8s and 9s can¡¯t be more than, what? Five each? You scammer.¡± She snorted, then patted me on the shoulder hard enough I would have lost my balance if I wasn¡¯t already gripping a handhold. ¡°Well, you win either way. Good job.¡±


    In other circumstances, I might have tried harder to rub it in. It wasn¡¯t often I got one over on her, after all. In my defence, I was still a little shell-shocked. Even as someone who¡¯d lived in Foresight City for his whole life, I¡¯d never seen the Olympians deploy multiple members at once like that. They were said to have multiple teleporters in their ranks. What was going on?


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I managed to murmur.


    ¡°Ugh. You fanboy.¡± Ashika¡¯s gaze flicked up to the TV screens. ¡°Pretty quick response time from the news.¡±


    ¡°They have people waiting outside the arcology literally 24/7. There¡¯s livestreams and everything.¡±


    ¡°Really? Who would even want to watch that?¡±


    Me. But I wasn¡¯t exactly going to admit to that now.


    ¡°I¡¯m more interested in what the Hero Association will have to say about this. Must be something pretty serious to have guys like them rushing off out of the blue.¡±


    Ashika grimaced. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    We lapsed into silence on that grim thought.


    The train continued on, steadily filling with anxious energy. Worries about the upcoming exam mingled with the new concern about what the Olympians were suddenly dealing with, and it made for a strained atmosphere in the standing car. I could hear a few people trying to strike up conversation, but most of it fizzled out quickly. There was even a remarkably pretty girl whispering urgently to her blue-haired friend, who was in turn staring at her phone with horror.


    I found myself focusing back out the window. I¡¯d travelled this route a thousand times, to the point I could probably recreate it from memory if I tried. Across the Dover Bridge, which my mom had made me run back and forth over when I acted up as a kid. Past the fields where the first soccer tournament without dad around took place. Around the stadium where I¡¯d heard Valiant¡¯s familiar voice and decided, then and there, that I couldn¡¯t be anything else but a superhero.


    The tension in the air only increased as we reached the next stop. Barely anyone got off. Only more people got on. We didn¡¯t end up packed in like sardines or anything, but I no longer had a half-metre bubble of space around me.


    The tannoy system crackled to life. I tuned most of the announcement out, picking up only on the name of the station.


    ¡°This is Little Dublin.¡±


    Two more stops and we¡¯d be at the end of the line: Haslow Park Station. From there it was barely a five minute walk to my date with destiny.


    Superheroes were ubiquitous in the United States. We went crazy for them. Movies, music, books, and even the news; every popular piece of media you could name was dominated by capes and their exploits, so there were no prizes for guessing the most coveted career in the country.


    Problem was, it wasn¡¯t so simple as pulling on a costume and going out to fight crime. There were laws, regulations. Expectations that every superhero had to uphold, lest they be labelled a vigilante or, worse, a villain.


    Every human being on Earth above the age of 13 had a superpower. Society had learned early on that didn¡¯t mean they knew how to use them responsibly.


    The government ensured there were countless avenues one could explore to learn about their superhuman abilities. Boot camps and summer schools and crash courses aplenty, on top of the mandatory classes even those who had no interest in being upholders of justice were expected to take, just to ensure they could learn to control their abilities in a safe environment.


    For some people, simply learning basic discipline wasn¡¯t enough. Some people wanted more.


    That¡¯s where licensed hero schools came in, and Ashika and I were aiming for the best of the best. Out of the hundreds that had sprung up across the United States, there was one that everyone, no matter how little rival institutions wanted to admit it, knew was far and away the best.


    Tens of thousands of people from all over the world applied for less than a hundred spots every year even though Foresight City alone had a dozen hero schools. Technically, anyone could get in if you proved to the examiners you had what it takes.


    They called it Hero High. The Super School. The alma mater of the Olympians, The League of Eleven, and The Valkyries. Founded by one of the most revered and respected heroes in the world.


    Aegis Academy. That was where I was going to learn to become a superhero.


    Even if my signal was so weak I hadn¡¯t even had my first revelation yet. We couldn¡¯t even guess what it did. Not even a vague theme.


    The train started moving once more, and Ashika nudged me in the side. When she didn¡¯t immediately speak, I gave her a questioning look.


    She stared back at me for a long moment, a frown on her lips and her brow furrowed. After a moment, her frown turned upside down and she gave me a nod.


    ¡°We¡¯ve fuckin¡¯ got this,¡± she said. She held up a fist that demanded to be bumped.


    I smiled back and opened my mouth to reply.


    That was when I saw it.


    Maybe it was because everyone else was too absorbed in their nerves while I was so anxious I¡¯d topped out and circled all the way back around to feeling calm. Maybe I was just more diligent than the average prospective hero. It was even possible that my power had just manifested as the ability to spot things before anyone else did¡ªthough I rather doubted that.


    Whatever the case, I was fairly sure I was the first one to notice the man in the trench coat who definitely hadn¡¯t stepped onto the train at the last station, nor had he been present before we¡¯d arrived at that station. His head was bowed, a black cap casting a shadow over his face, serving to highlight the infernal red glow of his eyes. He pulled his clawed hands from his pockets, and my heart dropped through my stomach until it felt like it was jackhammering between my feet.


    I was already expecting it when I felt the familiar buzz of a power activating. ¡®Sensing¡¯ power use was an uncommon but not unheard of ability for people with low-rank power, and I was particularly sensitive because I hadn¡¯t even found my first revelation yet. One theory scientists had was that people with low power were feeling the mildly magnetic signal of the powers themselves. Once they unlocked their own power, it drowned out other signals. I hoped that would happen for me one day.


    Mine was more fine-tuned than anyone I¡¯d read about, simply because no one else had one for as long as I did. I¡¯d tried training it, but there wasn¡¯t really anything to train. It was a feeling in the emotional sense, a vague sensation of unease. When I really concentrated, I could discern vague impressions of the power, and pick out different ones based on some feeling I couldn¡¯t explain. I likened it to different pitches or frequencies when the power guys asked, but it wasn¡¯t that. Not really.


    It was always a mildly disturbing feeling, like a fly buzzing around my ear, and it always gave my heart a brief lurch as if I¡¯d just woken up from a nightmare. It had taken a lot of getting used to, but I¡¯d somewhat adapted, and somehow the high-pitched drone translated into vague and indistinct impressions like half-remembered dreams.


    The man¡¯s power signal was sharp, precise, and fast, a honed blade that was crammed into a space smaller than it was supposed to be and desperately desired to expand. It was ready to cut.


    My hand had been halfway to returning Ashika¡¯s fist bump, but instead passed it and landed on her shoulder, turning her around to face the same way I was. I didn¡¯t need to speak a word. Her muscles tensed beneath my touch, her own power signal flaring like a bonfire and growing as she started moving, and I knew she¡¯d be able to cross the distance between us and him in the blink of an eye.


    I also knew she wouldn¡¯t be fast enough.


    In the earliest comic books that existed before powers showed up in the real world, superheroes often went uncontested by supervillains. They were larger than life figures, but they spent a surprising amount of time engaged in mundane matters. Saving cats from trees, putting out fires, lifting heavy objects beneath which some poor fellow had been trapped. That sort of thing.


    It was unrealistic, of course. If just a small fraction of the population gained powers, the probability that they¡¯d all go to ¡®good people¡¯ was so low it might as well be zero.


    If every human being on the planet was destined to gain them?


    The man lashed out with his claws and there was a spray of red. Screams rose. People ran.


    ¡°Everyone get the fuck back,¡± he roared.


    In a world of superheroes, there were always going to be supervillains.

 1.2: Fight or Flight

    It¡¯s said that conflict reveals your true character. In times of crisis, the choices you make define who you are as a person. Even the subconscious ones.


    Ashika slipped out from under my hands and launched herself toward the villain without a word, her power signal surging higher and higher with her momentum.


    Faced with danger, some would fight.


    Unfortunately, there was little use for outrageous super strength when there was an ever-growing wall of panicking people between her and the villain. Ashika could be abrasive at times and had a violent streak a mile wide, but no way in hell was she callous enough to bat aside the fleeing crowd. She had to dart and dodge between them, and that would cost her precious seconds.


    Of course, the other side of the fight or flight equation was this: the vast majority of people would run for their fucking lives when blood started spraying.


    The train was in chaos. A cacophony of screams drowned out all other sound, driving piercing knives into my skull and sending my ears ringing. Dozens of power signals scrambled my senses, a mad mix I couldn¡¯t hope to parse. Everyone was shoving each other aside to try and escape the threat, and the tide of bodies was impossible to resist.


    I didn¡¯t stand a chance.


    I¡¯d like to say I fought with all I had. That I raged and resisted the people pressing on me from all sides, pushing me along the train car like the current of a raging river.


    There was a third option that often got left out when people talked about fight or flight.


    There are those who freeze.


    Any sense of calm had fled my body the moment the screaming started. My heart was thundering, my breaths coming too fast yet somehow not drawing in enough air. My body was running on autopilot, moving with the unstoppable flow of frenzied teenagers, as if my mind was totally overcome with indecision and had no capacity left to command my limbs.


    It was like my psyche had been split down the middle, and the two sides were at war.


    On one end was a cold, practical part of me. The part that said: today is the most important day of your life, a day you¡¯ve been working towards for so long you don¡¯t remember what life was like before it was your goal. You can¡¯t throw it away just for the sake of people you don¡¯t know.


    And what could you even do? You don¡¯t know what your power is. You¡¯re F-rank. Hell, maybe the other kids in school were right: you might not even have a power, and the scientists were being nice when they said you had a signal at all. That villain just cut someone down like it was nothing, and he¡¯d have no problem doing the same to you.


    The other kids on the train will hold him off¡ªsurely someone here has to have a strong power. Hell, you should leave it to the heroes. Or even the damn police. They¡¯re licensed and trained precisely for this kind of situation.


    You¡¯re not.


    The voice wasn¡¯t wrong. Every point it made was logically sound, with little room for debate.


    And yet, the other side needed only one question.


    Why did you want to become a hero in the first place?


    Because I wanted to save someone. Anyone. I owed the world that much.


    A voice that wasn¡¯t my own played back in my head.


    If you stand still, the world will pass you by. If you start running away, you¡¯ll never stop.


    I cursed under my breath. This route, or at least part of it, had been a daily fixture in my life for a decade, and not once had anything unusual happened. No crimes, no arguments, not even raised voices.


    Of all days, why did this have to happen today?


    People pressed in on me from all sides. I didn¡¯t have an inch of room to manoeuvre, could barely even see what was going on around me, let alone figure out what had happened to Ashika. I could feel her power still active among the mayhem, at least, but that told me little when so many were flaring up.


    It was that thought that scared me more than anything else. I remembered a burning building. Screaming children. Sirens in the distance, coming closer but not fast enough.


    Another time when I¡¯d stepped aside and waited for the outcome, powerless.


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    Back then, I¡¯d told myself I¡¯d never let it happen again. I wouldn¡¯t be able to live with myself.


    And yet here I was, my body unresponsive and numb as someone dear to me charged into a deadly situation.


    Fuck that. Fuck this. Fuck me.


    Why was I even trying to become a hero if I¡¯d just turn tail and run at the first sign of danger?


    In desperation, I reached out for a revelation, something that could define me and the power I was meant for.


    I want to save people.


    Nothing happened.


    I want to help.


    There was no ¡®click¡¯ as people described, no feeling of rightness.


    I want to be strong. I need to be strong.


    No change. No surge of power.


    But that didn¡¯t mean I was powerless.


    My hands snapped up, grabbing at two of the overhead handles. It took all my strength to haul myself upwards, out of the stampede, until my upper body was adjacent to the baggage compartment. My muscles screamed in protest as I turned the pull-up into an awkward muscle-up and dragged my torso onto the metal rack, sweeping bags out of the way as soon as I was relatively sure I wasn¡¯t going to immediately fall back down.


    Now I was on a strict time limit.


    When other people saw what I was doing, I¡¯d no doubt have plenty of imitators. There were probably more than a few people in serious pain down in that scrum, panicked power signals firing off, and it was only a matter of time before things got worse. It wasn¡¯t quite a crush yet, but it would get there.


    Gripping the bars, I pulled myself along. My work at the gym was a double-edged sword here¡ªI was blessed with the strength to army crawl at a decent clip without tiring myself out too much, but my shoulders were broad enough that it was a tight squeeze that hampered my movements. If I was a few years older, I probably wouldn¡¯t have been able to cram myself in at all.


    The rush had pushed me halfway down the car, and it took me an agonising minute to shuffle myself along until I was in a position to be able to assess the situation with the villain without luggage or a sea of heads blocking my view.


    Four people had stayed back to confront the villain, Ashika included, their signals roaring in defiance of the threat. That much I¡¯d anticipated. Of the hundreds of teens on this train, there were bound to be a few that had no problem confronting a supervillain. Relished the chance, even. We were all hoping to take our first steps to becoming superheroes today.


    The villain himself hadn¡¯t budged an inch from his position, power unactivated but ready, his signal a low, anticipatory hum, standing with a tensed posture and his obsidian claws extended over one of his blood-soaked victims. I was shocked to find I recognised her.


    It was the blue-haired girl I¡¯d noticed scrolling her phone, her hair now purple where it mixed with blood. The front of her plain white shirt was torn and stained red, angry gashes visible on her stomach. The girl who''d been whispering to her was nowhere to be seen.


    The villain¡¯s gaze was constantly panning from side to side, one hand in front of him, the other behind, watching his opponents as they circled around him like a pack of wolves. I wanted to call out, to tell them it was misdirection and attacking from the blind spot would be useless, but held back. There was no telling what he would do if his ruse was discovered.


    If he¡¯d been able to fight four people off effortlessly while holding back, I didn¡¯t want to consider how things would play out if he started fighting for real. Seasoned heroes had been cut down by this guy¡¯s claws, after all.


    I¡¯d known who he was from the moment I¡¯d seen them. To anyone who followed cape news as closely as I did, they were a dead giveaway.


    Jason Maxwell. 32 years old. Bounty set at one million US dollars. Wanted on three counts of murder and suspected of many more besides. In the villain community he went by Slash, a name that deliberately called attention to how he liked to use his claws, and that was a running theme in his infamous career. Styling himself as a murderous brute, relying on no strategy but the impossibly sharp black blades he could project in place of his fingers to cut through anything that stood in his way.


    It was working a charm here. Ashika and the others were far too wary of his claws to approach him from the front, so they were constantly trying to get at his flanks. But with the way he was turning non-stop to keep them all in sight, it was tough for them to find a good opening. They¡¯d feint to test his defences, and he¡¯d react every time, moving faster than they could hope to dodge if they got too close, swiping with blades that had evidently parted one of the train¡¯s metal railings like butter.


    He was selling himself as a man with superhuman reactions, and they were buying it.


    I couldn¡¯t help feeling frustrated. He was dangerous, but beatable. If just one of those who¡¯d stayed to confront him kept up with the latest research, let alone the news, they¡¯d have been able to see through him instantly and changed strategy.


    It was a common misconception that the ¡®revelations¡¯ and ¡®Levels¡¯ meant people could have limitless unique powers, but that wasn¡¯t quite true. From a certain perspective, they were indeed different, but when you studied them, they were all part of a greater whole, building and expanding on the foundation laid by the first revelation. Each Level was a new aspect, a new way of using their power.


    Take Graviton for example. At the most basic Level his power was telekinesis. It started with lifting objects around him, but with a later revelation came the ability to grab hold of his costume and lift himself to give the appearance of flight. You could call it a new power or an expansion on the old depending on how you looked at it, but he described it as a ¡®second sight¡¯ that let him visualise the ¡®gravity waves¡¯ around him and manipulate them for his desired effect, where before he¡¯d only been able to mentally target objects. It made keeping a secret identity stressful enough that he¡¯d given up trying.


    Because power-granted senses came with a visual cue when in use. No exceptions.


    In Graviton¡¯s case, it was a faint golden ring over his eyes that almost looked like a pair of lensless hipster glasses.


    For Jason Maxwell, it was the scarlet glow in his irises.


    I needed a plan.

 1.3: Hatching A Plan

    The potential to manifest superpowers began at some point after a person¡¯s thirteenth birthday, at which time one¡¯s body started giving off a signal that no scientist had ever been able to reproduce.


    Believe me, they¡¯d tried.


    Countless experiments and studies had been run on the phenomenon, with very little to show for their efforts. The signal resisted all attempts to manipulate or change it, let alone reproduce it artificially. Even recording and logging its unique pattern at all was hard work. There wasn¡¯t even a consensus on what part of the body the signal originated from, or if it originated from us at all.


    Measuring its strength, however, was as simple as waving a magnet over someone¡¯s body and seeing how much it was repulsed.


    (Accurate readings were more complicated than that, but followed the same basic principle.)


    Teachers tended to do it in Science class for fun. Like measuring the students'' height progress on a door jamb.


    Just as no one on earth had ever manifested the exact same power as another, no two people¡¯s signals were the same. As far as anyone could tell, the strength of the signal was arbitrary, and it helpfully corresponded to the strength of the ability that person could bring to bear, regardless of how many Levels they had¡ªLevels were another matter entirely and far more frustrating to the scientists.


    A cryokinetic power ranked F on the Shimada Scale would break a sweat creating a snowflake. Justin ¡°Ice Age¡± Pinkerton, a British villain who¡¯d been S-rank at the time of his imprisonment, had been a natural disaster truly worthy of his name; the pictures of the frozen town left behind after his rampage had been harrowing.


    If not for the fact it was universally agreed that power level could grow from use and with age, if not for the example set by countless heroes out there that one could do good even without an ability that could move mountains or cure plagues, if not for the sure knowledge that there was nothing else I could imagine doing with my life, I might have given in to despair at the ranking that had burdened me for the last few months.


    It had been the second worst day of my life, and nearly three years on it hadn¡¯t lost its spot. People had been asking questions already¡ªit was exceptionally rare for an individual¡¯s signal to have failed to manifest nine months after their thirteenth birthday, and it was especially strange for the progeny of two people with powerful abilities to be such a late bloomer.


    I¡¯d been telling myself it was okay, refusing to worry. Even if my ranking turned out to be low, I was determined to make do. The path of the hero was the only one in front of me, no matter what.


    They¡¯d taken me to an experimental facility, giving me a more refined Shimada Scale test just to be sure, and they¡¯d found that my signal was already there after all, it was just so weak they hadn¡¯t been able to measure it without the new equipment.


    I was below F-rank. An existence almost unheard of, a statistical anomaly. I became a curiosity for scientists to poke at, a freak show for the other kids, and the shame of my extended family all at once.


    It hit me hard. I¡¯m not sure how many weeks I went without speaking a word to anyone after the incident. Taunts and insults washed over me. I was numb, hollowed out.


    Then Ashika had punched me in the face hard enough to shock me out of my self-pity and asked me if I was going to give up that quickly.


    The answer was easy:


    ¡°Hell fucking no!¡± I had roared at her.


    If I was going to be starting with a handicap, I¡¯d just have to work harder. Be better.


    If I was weak, I¡¯d get stronger. If I was slow, I¡¯d get faster. If I was frail, I¡¯d get tougher.


    If I didn¡¯t know something, I¡¯d learn it. I¡¯d think harder, read every article I could get my hands on, research every aspect of cape life until I knew it all like the back of my hand.


    I was at a disadvantage, but I¡¯d do whatever it took to close the gap. If there was one thing Dad had taught me, it was the value of working a thousand times harder than everyone else.


    Maybe I didn¡¯t have a power that would let me roll over Slash with ease.


    That didn¡¯t mean there was nothing I could do.


    I watched from my vantage point atop the luggage rack, drinking in every bit of information I could, barely daring to blink as four young prospective heroes circled the murderous villain.


    ¡°Let her go,¡± Ashika said, moving into Slash¡¯s supposed blind spot. Her power was building momentum, growing with her every movement. My heart lurched, but thankfully she didn¡¯t attack. Not yet.


    Slash had evidently shown enough to instil caution in his opponents. Gouges scored the floor, metal bars split like bamboo, and cracks spider-webbed every window in range. Taking in the damage, the debris, the bloody footprints, and combining it all with my best guesses of what superpowers were on display here, I was forming a mental picture of how things had gone down so far.


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    I figured the boy with blue fire dancing over his skin had moved to attack first. The fury in his eyes burning as hot as his flames spoke of a quick temper, and people ruled by anger were very rarely given to restraint. His power burned to my senses, an inferno. Judging by the patterns of the scorch-marks on the ground, the shallow gouges on the boy¡¯s arms, and the criss-crossing tears on his grey hoodie, he probably lacked the ability to use his flames at range, and had quickly learned that getting close to Slash was a losing strategy.


    Presumably, the next assault had come from the pudgy blond boy with metal ball-bearings orbiting about an inch out from his head. His power felt like crackling electricity. Looking closer, I could see more ball-bearings on the floor that had been sliced neatly down the middle, but none of them were burned. There were little dents in the walls and I was starting to think the cracked windows were his doing, so evidently he could accelerate his projectiles to a decent clip. Fast enough to bruise.


    Not fast enough to trouble Slash.


    Ashika must have come in next, but the fight hadn¡¯t gone on long enough for her to get going, and her charge had been reset as a consequence.


    Ashika was a B-rank, which was really fucking impressive for a 16-year-old. Her power was strong enough to give her confidence, but flawed enough to make her vulnerable in the wrong circumstances. Her ability was all about momentum. Coming from a family of exercise nuts, her first revelation had been the abnormally complex ¡°keep moving forward and get stronger¡± ¡ªthey were usually basic shit like ¡°I like running¡±¡ªand her Aspects had built on that.


    At this point, she started at three or four times stronger, faster, and tougher than a girl her size should physically be capable of, and her stats only went up the longer she was able to keep moving and charging an internal battery. She could throw around trucks like they were made of cardboard if you gave her ten minutes to ramp up.


    Aside from the obvious weakness in her charge-up time, any interruption to her momentum reset her back to where she started. She had to keep building exponentially. Her potential was unimaginable, theoretically capable of going toe-to-toe with the very strongest given time, but vulnerable on her way there.


    I was still working on hammering that into her brain. Results hadn¡¯t been promising so far.


    Looking at the way she was moving right now, limping a little, far slower than I knew she could be capable of, Slash was a better teacher than me.


    The last girl left me puzzled. A young Latina in a crisp black trouser suit, her long hair immaculately straightened, she was pacing around him casually in time with her impromptu comrades, arms crossed. She looked unbothered, in no rush. Further, the only clue about what her powers might be was the faint red outline around her ears, nose, and eyes, and the feel of it was cold, neutral. Judging by how clean and unruffled she looked, I wondered if she¡¯d even participated in the fight so far at all.


    The carriage had almost emptied at this point, just a few stragglers trying to force themselves through the crush at the doorways at either end. The train itself hadn¡¯t stopped moving despite the alarm going off, I noted with a frown.


    The driverless trains in Foresight City were generally more reliable than the alternative, but they weren¡¯t flawless. I¡¯d seen a few reports of them missing stations or stopping way too far down the platform.


    But failing to stop when the emergency alarm was going off? Unheard of.


    A glitch, or something more sinister?


    I was willing to bet we were dealing with the latter. Working theory: someone had messed with the AI that oversaw the railway network, making sure the train kept going even with the emergency alarm going off to ensure Slash¡¯s target couldn¡¯t escape.


    With that in mind, I had the beginnings of a plan. It relied on an assumption born from very little evidence, and I could only cross my fingers and hope whoever had planned this out hadn¡¯t looked as deep into the train¡¯s systems as I had.


    But I had to try.


    ¡°You¡¯re out of your league, kids,¡± Slash said calmly, still turning on the spot, head swivelling from side to side, power still buzzing in my brain like a hornet. He held one hand out flat before him, the other behind his back like a fencer. His obsidian claws were splayed wide. ¡°But none of you need to die today. Stand aside.¡±


    ¡°Fucking scum,¡± flame-boy ground out through clenched teeth. He was so tense that veins were standing out on his neck and forehead. His power blazed internally, and the flames on his outstretched hands were turning white. ¡°You think you can do whatever you want and we¡¯ll just let you?¡±


    Slash¡¯s only reply was a smirk, and the boy seethed. He didn¡¯t attack, to my relief. Quite apart from my own hang-ups, I didn¡¯t see how a pyrokinetic could strike the villain while avoiding the unconscious girl at his feet, especially if he didn¡¯t have a ranged ability.


    The Latina girl spoke next, casual and business-like. ¡°You can¡¯t seriously think you¡¯ll get away with this? I recognise that girl you attacked.¡±


    ¡°Friends in high places don¡¯t mean much when you¡¯re this far down,¡± Slash said.


    ¡°Cute,¡± said the girl. ¡°But killing the daughter of a major hero will earn you attention you¡¯re not anywhere near strong enough to handle. You¡¯re surely aware that more than just Tempest will come after you? No hero wants to set the precedent that villains can get away with targeting their family members. You¡¯ll have the entire country out for your blood after this.¡±


    ¡°I can handle it, but I¡¯m not planning on killing her.¡±


    ¡°Your plans don¡¯t mean shit,¡± flame-boy cut in. ¡°They¡¯re gonna fail no matter what they are, shithead.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± pudgy boy said with a tremor in his voice. His ball-bearings quivered in the air.


    ¡°Give her up,¡± Ashika said.


    ¡°Make me,¡± Slash said, and I winced.


    Tension spiked.


    I could see the impatience in the wannabe heroes, how they were all weighing their desire to confront the villain with their healthy fear of his razor-sharp appendages. With every second that passed, it became more and more likely that the former would win over the latter.


    Knowing what I did, I couldn¡¯t let them make that mistake.


    I waited until Slash turned, putting me out of his line of sight, to make my move¡ªeveryone else had bought into his trick, and for now I needed to look like I¡¯d done the same.


    The Latina girl¡¯s gaze snapped to me, but quickly returned to the villain. Everyone else gaped as I lowered myself down from the luggage rack and straightened up. I took a moment to take off my jacket and pat down my shirt and joggers. Resting my jacket over my shoulder, I moved to lean casually against the window.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got one more chance to surrender,¡± I said.


    It was going to be really awkward if this didn¡¯t work.

 1.4: Taking the Stage

    I¡¯d never learned how to deal with being the centre of attention, on the rare occasions when it was forced on me. Stage fright had been a real problem as a kid, to the point that my teachers in elementary school had quickly learned not to waste time giving me any speaking parts in plays. Luckily, acting as a tree turned out to be a talent of mine.


    Seeing as attention was a fact of life for any superhero, I¡¯d done my best to work through it. Exposure therapy was the name of the game, and by my second year of middle school, I could at least give a class presentation with only a few awkward stutters. Still, I was far from comfortable under the spotlight.


    So I was surprised to find how unbothered I felt as Slash¡¯s scarlet stare landed on me. A classroom of kids my age had my throat closing up and my hands going clammy, but the scrutiny of a villain with a body count barely merited any physiological reaction at all.


    Oh, my heart was beating a little faster. Maybe my muscles were a mite tenser than they would be otherwise. And if you accused me of having a grin on my lips, I¡¯d be hard-pressed to deny it¡ªwouldn¡¯t be able to stop either, no matter how serious I knew this situation was.


    But I could only describe my current state as excited.


    It seemed my own emotions were going to keep surprising me today. There was no time to interrogate that feeling, though. Had to focus on the crisis at hand.


    My unexpected reaction was working to my advantage here.


    I wanted him to know I was planning something and I was utterly confident in it, unruffled by the tense atmosphere. Get him thinking about my scheme and keep him guessing. That was much easier to do when I wasn¡¯t scared out of my wits. I¡¯d been expecting to need the performance of my life.


    Ashika was giving me a searching look, lips pressed in a thin line. I didn¡¯t dare try to communicate anything to her. No doubt she¡¯d be furious at me for getting involved here, but I couldn¡¯t keep hiding behind her strength forever. I could only hope she¡¯d react fast enough when the time came.


    ¡°So?¡± I said. ¡°Gonna surrender?¡±


    ¡°You know that¡¯s not happening, kid,¡± Slash said. My appearance had stopped the four circling around him, but he was still turning, keeping up the illusion that he needed to be diligent of his surroundings. His signal was still like a wild animal smalling against the bars of its cage, just ready to be unleashed.


    My attention fell to his claws, kept at finger length. His profile on the USHA database claimed he could extend them up to two metres, but noted in red font that wasn¡¯t necessarily his maximum range and the details of his Aspects were unknown. His enemies here were well within his reach, but he was pretending they weren¡¯t.


    It was obvious he was holding back here, but why? He clearly had no compunctions about hurting kids. He¡¯d said he wasn¡¯t intending to kill the girl¡­ Did that extend to the rest of us? I couldn¡¯t reconcile that theory with what I knew of him.


    I tried to think back, searching through an endless catalogue of nights spent scrolling through webpages, scouring the net for any info I could find on the superhero community. It was a hobby that had later become a refuge, a distraction I could lose myself in on those nights when insomnia was really kicking my ass.


    Jason Maxwell. Slash. A villain with the power to project razor-sharp black claws in place of his fingers, able to extend them two (or more) metres in length. He was described as fast, strong, but not much of a tactical fighter. Temperamental, easy to rile up. A hotheaded brute.


    And a crusader. He considered himself a man on a righteous mission: knock the heroes down a peg. There was no information on his background or the motivations for his goal, but I could make a few good guesses.


    ¡°So what¡¯s this all about? Did Tempest cuck you or something?¡±


    Or I could just make something up that would annoy him.


    While Ashika boggled at me, Slash¡¯s nostrils flared. ¡°Don¡¯t get cocky just because I haven¡¯t cut down any of your little friends. It¡¯s not down to their skill that I haven¡¯t.¡±


    I knew that perfectly well.


    Time to take a risk.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you could beat up a bunch of teenagers if you wanted to. Will that make you feel better about being weaker than Tempest, though?¡±


    According to USHA researchers and psychologists, there was a correlation between ranking on the Shimada Scale and the importance people put in their own power.


    At the bottom of the scale, most people thought of themselves as weak and more often than not lived their lives as if they didn¡¯t have any power at all.


    At the very top, their immense power was just a fact of life. No different to the way anyone else thought about being able to walk. They had nothing to prove to anyone.


    In the middle was where egocentrism became prevalent.


    The thing was, something like 99% of humanity rated somewhere between F and D, and on the other end of the scale there¡¯d only been 23 S-ranks on record. It was all too common for a C-rank to find himself a big fish in a small pond and develop an ego out of it. If you were the undisputed strongest in your Midwest town, maybe you got used to being treated a certain way. Maybe you treat other people a certain way.


    Then you leave your pond and find out there¡¯s an ocean out there.


    There were problems with society and its relationship with superheroes, especially the strongest, but Slash didn¡¯t strike me as the type to be concerned with morals.


    If I had to put money on it, I¡¯d guess this guy hadn¡¯t liked the taste of humble pie, and he was trying to prove something. To himself, as much as anyone else.


    Sure enough, Slash took the bait like a starved barracuda. He stopped to glare at me for a moment. ¡°Watch yourself.¡±


    Got him.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t like feeling weak, huh?¡±


    Slash snorted, returning to his slow rotation. I noted that he kept one of his black claws pointed at me, and his signal was sharpening.


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    That probably should have been a terrifying realisation.


    Instead, my grin widened.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m far from weak,¡± Slash said. ¡°When I get my rematch and cut off Tempest¡¯s balls, we¡¯ll see how smug you are.¡±


    ¡°Sure thing, pal. I bet Tempest didn¡¯t even break a sweat when he beat your ass like a drum. You really think you¡¯ve gotten strong enough to challenge him since?¡± I looked pointedly at the girl at his feet. ¡°Seems even you don¡¯t believe that, if you¡¯re resorting to¡­ whatever this is.¡±


    ¡°Emmett,¡± Ashika hissed, eyes wide as they flicked between me and the villain. Her signal fluttered as she briefly slowed, probably wanting to make sure she could come between us if it came down to that.


    I ignored her. ¡°So you kidnap his daughter and call him out to fight, is that it? Are you counting on him being distracted enough you¡¯ll be able to close the gap between you? You¡¯re in for a rude awakening.¡±


    ¡°Clueless little shit,¡± Slash said.


    ¡°You¡¯re the one who¡¯s clueless. There are laws in place precisely for scenarios like this one. If a superhero thinks their family is in danger, their leeway for reasonable force gets quite a bit wider.¡±


    I would know. That particular federal law literally had my surname on it.


    ¡°You¡¯re pissing off a guy who can call down hurricanes,¡± I continued, ¡°and giving him permission not to hold back, you stupid fuck.¡±


    ¡°Cut the shit,¡± Slash said. ¡°Make your play and get it over with, you ginger prick.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°I¡¯m strawberry blonde, asshole.¡±


    ¡°Whatever. I¡¯m tired of listening to lectures from some bratty wannabe who doesn¡¯t know shit. Take your shot and I¡¯ll show you how weak I am.¡±


    ¡°I dunno. I¡¯m quite enjoying our chat, myself. Maybe I¡¯ll put it off a little while, get to know you some more.¡±


    ¡°Sure about that?¡± Slash smirked. ¡°Clock¡¯s ticking.¡±


    I paused, staring him down as he continued to turn in place. His power felt calm but ready.


    Was this a bluff? I¡¯d already figured he was waiting for the right moment to reveal the true extent of his ability, hoping to take down all his enemies in one go before he could get overwhelmed by superior numbers and unknown powers. Was there more to it than that?


    My eyes darted side to side, searching for any clues. There was nothing, only luggage and blood strewn across the floors, and the aftermath of the short initial scuffle prior to the current stalemate. The world was still rushing past outside the windows¡ªdid he have backup waiting for him further down the line?


    Movement on the ground drew my gaze.


    For a second I thought it had been my imagination, but then it happened again. As Slash turned in place, he was constantly readjusting his footing. Whether out of paranoia or whatever else, he never seemed to step in the exact same spot twice. For the most part, he walked a circuit around the blue-haired girl¡¯s¡ªTempest¡¯s daughter, apparently¡ªcurled up form.


    And when he strayed too close to her, she flinched.


    It was so minute I could barely see it, the tiniest hunch of the shoulders, a slight wince, but now that I was looking and fucking thinking it was obvious. How would someone lose consciousness so quickly from getting slashed across the chest and stomach? They wouldn¡¯t.


    The poor girl had been playing possum this entire time, while I¡¯d been bantering with Slash, telling myself I was stalling for time and waiting for the right moment, when really I¡¯d been caught up in the unfamiliar, heady feeling of confronting a villain head on. I should¡¯ve made my move the moment I¡¯d formed a plan.


    Fuck, I was an asshole.


    Pushing away from the window, I slipped my hand into my pocket and rummaged around until my fingers closed around cold metal, then removed it and held my clenched fist out in front of myself. The other still held the long jacket over my shoulder.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with,¡± I said.


    Everyone tensed, ready for whatever was to come. The five signals before me sang, rising to a crescendo. Slash stopped turning.


    Then I swung my arm around with all the strength I could put into it.


    The key clutched in my fist, sticking out between two knuckles, struck the window.


    The trains in Foresight City had reinforced windows to make sure no one was sliced to ribbons in the event of an accident. However, making them completely unbreakable would also stop people escaping, and that too was an unacceptable safety hazard. Thus, they had release points. Hit them in the right place hard enough, and they¡¯d pop out.


    Of course, if they were removed while the train was moving, something was obviously wrong. There was a mechanism in place that would tell the train to stop.


    And it was all mechanical. Pulleys, cogs, actuators, and motors. No software involved.


    The train heaved as the brakes slammed on. Everyone was thrown off their feet like rag dolls.


    Almost everyone.


    As the only one who¡¯d anticipated the sudden stop, I¡¯d already been diving straight for where I guessed Slash would fall, lashing my jacket out in front of me. There¡¯d barely been a few metres between us to begin with, and my leap was more than enough to cover the distance. From there it was a matter of simple hand eye coordination.


    Reflex training at the gym paid off.


    His signal erupted, but his claws were barely able to extend a foot before my jacket wrapped around them. I braced, half-expecting to have my torso torn to shreds as I threw myself atop it and put all my weight on holding the captured arm down, but felt little more than flesh.


    As expected, there was a sensory aspect to his power. I couldn¡¯t begin to guess at what visual feedback he actually got, but in some way he could see through his claws, presumably so that he could extend them wherever he wanted them to go, rather than just reaching out blindly.


    With his hand covered, his power was blind. Rendered useless. Restored to flesh and blood digits.


    There was only one problem, of course.


    Slash bucked, and I looked up just in time to see his other, uncovered, and very much still clawed hand pointed at my head. One of his eyes had returned to normal, but the other was still red.


    There was no sudden epiphany. No life flashing before my eyes. I didn¡¯t get the chance to think of more than one word as his claws started to extend.


    Shit.


    ¡°Fucker!¡±


    Then a dark blur struck him like a meteor, slamming his hand aside. Signal blazing, Ashika only came to a stop half-way down the car, and she kept moving to maintain her momentum before making a turn at the end and charging back toward us, moving fast enough to blur.


    Slash cried out in pain, but his punishment was only just beginning.


    Before he could react to the new threat, yet another returned. A grey shawl snapped out and wrapped around his disfigured hand before he could extend it. The Latina girl dived on his arm and held it down, following my example.


    With that, he was truly powerless.


    And Ashika wasn¡¯t the only one who looked ready to commit murder.


    Flame-boy roared as he charged back into the fray. Half of his upper body was on fire, but instead he lashed out with a savage kick that struck Slash on the top of the head. The villain went limp, but neither flame-boy nor Ashika looked done.


    ¡°Stop!¡± I shouted, my voice coming out nasally and thin. I tasted blood on my lips, pouring from my throbbing nose.


    Flame-boy had gotten another kick in by the time Ashika arrived to deliver one of her own.


    Hers was much harder, leaping through the air like something out of an old martial arts movie. Slash¡¯s ribs cracked. He wailed with pain, shrill.


    ¡°Stop!¡± I tried again, to no avail. I was dazed, a little woozy. Signals were blending together.


    Ashika reared back for another hit, and I saw no other choice.


    Sucking in a deep breath, I threw myself over Slash, using my body as a shield.


    ¡°STOP!¡± I roared at the top of my voice.


    Ashika aborted her hit half way, going wide-eyed. She looked at me, then down at Slash.


    ¡°If you kill him, you¡¯ll be a villain,¡± I wheezed out.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t¡­ I¡ª Fuck! Emmett!¡± She dropped to my side, peering close into my eyes. Moving more gently than I ever could have imagined from her, she prodded at my nose. ¡°What the hell were you doing smashing your face into the floor like that?¡±


    I grinned. I couldn''t help it.


    ¡°Saving the day,¡± I said.

 1.5: Aftermath

    ¡°Hold still, please,¡± the paramedic said, giving me an unimpressed look through the hologram-like 3D projection in front of her eyes.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I murmured. In my defence, the feeling of her power was really weird. Like some invisible strings were wiggling beneath the surface of my skin, probing at my nerves and leaving pins and needles in their wake. I¡¯d like to meet the man who wouldn¡¯t flinch with that on their face.


    Still, I supposed it was a bit better than the dull throbbing my nose had been subjected to for the last ten minutes. It couldn¡¯t do anything about the taste of my own blood lingering on my tongue, though.


    ¡°Could I get some water?¡± I asked, and one of the USHA officers hovering nearby gave a thumbs up and strode away, probably thankful to finally have something to do.


    They¡¯d arrived barely a few minutes after the train had stopped; apparently they¡¯d been following alongside while other units raced to the next station to try and cut it off. Things had been hectic for a bit, but Slash was quickly hauled off and the five of us who¡¯d confronted him were separated and led away to a hastily-emptied parking lot where the emergency services were in the midst of setting up their triage centre.


    A part of me had assumed they¡¯d want to question me right away, but instead they¡¯d followed protocol, leading me straight to the medical tent and to the no-nonsense paramedic with the weird prickly touch. Her signal felt like vibrating moonlight. It was really weird. These things tended to be.


    That they¡¯d managed to set up a tent big enough to house a good twenty beds was impressive, and it wasn¡¯t like they cut corners. I had my own bed behind a privacy curtain, and space enough that the USHA officers who¡¯d escorted me here could linger to one side without feeling overbearing.


    I¡¯d been one of the first in, but judging by the ever-rising din of chatter and more and more machines beeping to life, things were starting to get crowded.


    Worst of all was the excitement I was picking up among the people on other beds, in spite of their injuries. Heroes, they were saying, close enough to touch!


    I so badly wanted to be outside right now, to see who had shown up, if nothing else. Maybe get some autographs if I was lucky.


    Everything felt kind of surreal. Dream-like. I might have been tempted to pinch myself if I didn¡¯t think the paramedic would get mad at me for moving.


    I just couldn¡¯t quite believe I¡¯d done it. A dangerous villain was presumably on his way to prison where he couldn¡¯t hurt anyone else, and that was because of me. At least partially. I wasn¡¯t arrogant enough to think this was a solo effort or anything. In fact, I almost certainly would¡¯ve been skewered on those razor-sharp black claws without the others¡¯ help.


    It felt like something had been lifted from my shoulders. A weight I hadn¡¯t known was there. It wasn¡¯t gone¡ªI wasn¡¯t convinced a thousand victories like this would get rid of it.


    But it was lighter.


    If I¡¯d needed affirmation I was walking the right path, this was it.


    ¡°No sign of a concussion,¡± the paramedic said. Her fingertips ghosted over my skin, the tendrils of her pins-and-needles power vibrating my face. ¡°Your nose is definitely broken, but I can coax it so it doesn¡¯t end up crooked.¡±


    ¡°Got off lucky,¡± the remaining officer behind her said, a muscular black guy with a shaved head and striking golden eyes. He¡¯d introduced himself and his partner, but it had gone over my head a bit while I was still running high on adrenaline. I felt like his name started with a B? I felt no signal from him, suggesting his eyes were natural, which was interesting.


    ¡°Very much so,¡± the paramedic agreed. ¡°I hear the guy you took down wasn¡¯t known for treating his enemies gently.¡±


    ¡°Well, I did this myself, to be fair,¡± I said.


    The paramedic raised one dark eyebrow.


    ¡°Not on purpose,¡± I hastened to add. ¡°I was just so focused on catching him that I didn¡¯t have any hands free to break my fall.¡±


    ¡°So you decided to use your face instead,¡± she said.


    ¡°Not on purpose,¡± I repeated, feeling a little stupid now. ¡°It worked, didn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Better than anyone could have hoped,¡± the officer said, his voice sombre. ¡°When we got the call that a villain was attacking a train full of schoolkids, I thought I was going to have a very, very bad day. Only a handful of people injured? Miracle.¡±


    His words should¡¯ve been encouraging, but instead my stomach turned.


    ¡°Is the girl okay?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t know yet.¡± The officer looked grim. Whether that was due to my change in tone or what he knew of the girl¡¯s state, I had no idea. I hoped it was the former, but I wasn¡¯t prone to optimism, given how life had gone in recent years. ¡°She got whisked away by some superhero I didn¡¯t recognise before our guys could get her halfway to the medical tent. From what I hear, they¡¯re taking her to the ICU at Foresight Tower itself.¡±


    My good mood evaporated, the high of victory dispersing like it was never there.


    ¡°I messed up,¡± I said.


    The officer frowned and stood from where he¡¯d been leaning against an empty bed, approaching. ¡°Don¡¯t do that to yourself, kid.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°I was stalling, bantering with the villain while a girl was bleeding out on the ground. That¡¯s not heroic.¡±


    ¡°Bantering?¡±


    ¡°I wanted to rile him up, hoping he¡¯d be less focused that way so we could better get the jump on him when the moment came. Used what I read on his file to get in his head.¡±


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    ¡°His file?¡±


    ¡°On the USHA database.¡±


    The officer¡¯s eyebrows climbed. ¡°Haven¡¯t heard of many kids who read the dry-ass reports on there, let alone remember stuff from them.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s impressive,¡± the paramedic chimed in, focused on whatever she was doing with my nose, which I was trying to ignore.


    ¡°It¡¯s not, really. Guy like me has to have some kind of edge.¡± I swallowed. ¡°Knowledge is power, as they say. Figured I can be a better hero if I have as much info as possible. Then when it actually comes down to it, I break protocol. You¡¯re supposed to prioritise retrieving any injured persons from the danger zone¡ª¡±


    ¡°Only if you believe you can do so safely,¡± the paramedic cut in.


    The second officer returned with my water, and the paramedic moved so I could get the plastic cup to my lips without disturbing her work.


    I merely held it in my hands, unable to bring myself to take a sip.


    The two officers exchanged a look, then the first let out a sigh.


    ¡°Think you¡¯re up to telling us what happened, Emmett?¡± he asked, pulling out a voice recorder and placing it on the bed beside me.


    I nodded.


    I relayed my actions from the beginning, making sure to include my thought process. It only served to highlight to myself how poor my performance was.


    Freezing up in the first place was unacceptable. From the very beginning, I should have been right behind Ashika, backing her up. I¡¯d cost myself precious minutes in my pathetic panic. Minutes that meant a hell of a lot when someone had an open wound.


    Knowing what I did about Slash, I would have been able to form a better plan, communicate things to Ashika so she could be in on it. Slash had caught her off guard and reset her charge, but if she¡¯d known to be more wary of him, she might not have rushed in so fast. With a little longer to build up her strength, she might have been able to shrug off hits from his claws and overpower him.


    But that was a useless hypothetical. The real problem was getting caught up in my emotions, riding the adrenaline and relying on that unexpected feeling of excitement to carry me through. An instinct that could have proved costly. Maybe it had. Didn¡¯t know yet.


    Heroes couldn¡¯t afford to get lost in the moment like that. They had to be level-headed. Calm and collected. Ready for anything and prepared to do whatever it took at a moment¡¯s notice. Distracting a villain with taunts and quips was all well and good when the stakes were lower, but not when there were lives on the line.


    I was supposed to know better than that. Be better.


    If that girl died, I didn¡¯t know what I¡¯d do.


    My fists were clenched so hard my knuckles were popping by the time I was done recounting my version of events.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be better next time,¡± I said, furious with myself. It wasn¡¯t a revelation, but it felt like a new Aspect appeared in my soul anyway.


    ¡°Sounds like you did pretty well to me,¡± the second officer said. He¡¯d reintroduced himself as Hawkins during my story, a slender man with tan skinned, curly brown hair, and kind eyes.


    ¡°You made mistakes,¡± the black officer¡ªOfficer Brady¡ªsaid with a more neutral expression. ¡°But that¡¯s par for the course when you have no official training. Considering the circumstances, I doubt anyone¡¯s gonna chew you out.¡±


    ¡°Well. Technically what you did is vigilantism and we¡¯re legally obligated to give you a good telling off for it, but yeah, what Officer Brady said. No one will be willing to actually pursue any punishment for you.¡±


    ¡°Foresight City DA is probably the most sympathetic to superheroes in the country.¡±


    ¡°And you took down a villain, for crying out loud!¡± Officer Hawkins grinned at me. He moved to clap my shoulder, but a glare from the paramedic stopped him in place. ¡°That guy had a bounty with USHA. You guys are gonna be flush with cash.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°You need an officially recognised licence for that.¡±


    ¡°Bzzt.¡± Officer Hawkins crossed his arms in an X. ¡°The money will be put in a trust until you¡¯ve got your licence. Between you and me, kid? Someone as smart and brave as you is a sure thing for getting one. It¡¯ll be like a nice graduation present from your past self.¡±


    I smiled despite myself. The faith in me was nice, but I wondered if he¡¯d still be singing that tune if he saw my Shimada Scale test ranking.


    ¡°You were on your way to Aegis, right? For the admissions exams?¡± Officer Brady asked.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. Feeling was starting to return in my face, and my eyes were watering from the steadily growing stench of ammonia.


    God, I hate hospitals.


    ¡°See? You¡¯ll be a fine hero in no time, Emmett,¡± Officer Hawkins said, smiling.


    ¡°Maybe.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no maybe about it,¡± the paramedic said. Her face was still covered, but her eyes gave away her smile. ¡°You¡¯re gonna go far. Trust me. Now brace yourself. Withdrawing my power can be uncomfortable.¡±


    She tapped my face lightly, her signal cut out, and feeling rushed back to me in a torrent. The smell of ammonia hit me like a wall of acid, forcing its way into my sinuses and down my throat. I coughed and snorted, but to no avail. All I could do was sit and gasp in pain, probably looking like an utter lunatic to an outside observer.


    Luckily, the sensation quickly subsided, leaving me in a cold sweat, feeling groggy.


    ¡°Uncomfortable,¡± I repeated. ¡°Yeah, you could say that.¡±


    She winced. ¡°Sorry. Not a lot I can do about it.¡±


    ¡°What even is your power? If you don¡¯t mind telling me, that is.¡±


    ¡°Manipulating living cells in a small area. And I mean really small. Measured in micrometres if I¡¯m pushing myself. The life of a Level 3 D-rank. C¡¯est la vie.¡±


    I leaned forward. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean the area you can see within people is that small. Seemed like you were looking at my entire skull at once, or at least a big part of it. That¡¯s gotta be good for diagnosis, right?¡±


    The paramedic blinked. ¡°That¡¯s what I do more often than not, yes.¡±


    ¡°Good observation,¡± Officer Brady said. ¡°A lot of people don¡¯t bother to think about Aspects like that.¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°Like I said, I research a lot. Gotta keep up with the powerhouses somehow.¡±


    ¡°Hear, hear,¡± Officer Hawkins said. ¡°If only more wannabe heroes were like you, Shaw.¡±


    If more people were like me, there wouldn¡¯t be any heroes at all.


    I could only smile awkwardly.


    Silence lingered for a moment, and the paramedic stood. ¡°If there¡¯s nothing else you guys need?¡±


    ¡°Is there anyone who might know how the girl¡ª¡± I cut myself off as a new signal stormed into the tent. I froze in place, wide-eyed.


    The signal was the most powerful I¡¯d ever felt. It was overwhelming, to the point I couldn¡¯t comprehend how someone¡¯s power could be so vast. It was a raging storm, a hurricane, a tornado. Gargantuan waves crashed against behemothic rocks. Thunder rolled and boomed. It filled the space and drowned everything else out.


    The paramedic opened her mouth to speak, concern furrowing her brows, but was cut off by the privacy curtain suddenly jerking aside. My heart leapt to my throat, half-expecting to see Slash standing there, powered up somehow and with murder in his eyes.


    What I found instead was almost worse.


    The cloak that covered him from shoulder to toe was a roiling ocean in the midst of a biblical storm, waves crashing together and sending spray high into the air. Monstrously large and yet impossibly small whirlpools spun above his shoulders, churning out massive torrents of water that curled around his body, feeding into the already absurd squall. His head was covered by an angry storm cloud, grey and foreboding. Only his eyes were visible, lightning flashing in his dark irises.


    His gaze was fixed on me.


    ¡°I believe I can help you there, young man,¡± Tempest, the S-rank whose Level was so high he claimed to have lost count, said.

 1.6: Tempestuous

    On social media sites dedicated to cape news like Capebook and Superverse, there was a common theme among people who populated Signal Sensitivity sub-forums when they talked about people at the upper echelons of superpower.


    Presence.


    They talked about it as if it was a physical thing. As if the top superheroes were larger than life in more than just the metaphorical sense. As if you could feel the sheer power at their fingertips like it was a living thing in its own right, desperate to be unleashed like a great beast straining against its adamantine chains.


    It was known as the S-Effect, because it was theorised that when someone got a high enough rating on the Shimada Scale and Levelled up high, their signal was so powerful that it started to manifest in the physical world. People claimed to have touched Runemaiden¡¯s powersign.


    It was humbling to feel it for myself. The way people talked about it online didn¡¯t do it justice. Not even close.


    The air was thicker this close to him, denser. Like I¡¯d just stepped into the steam room at the gym¡¯s sauna, except the vapour in the air was electrified somehow. At the same time, there was a weight to it, vast and overbearing. An irresistible pull.


    My hair stood on end. Goosebumps prickled as static crawled over my skin. I felt smothered.


    But not afraid. There was nothing intimidating about Tempest¡¯s signal once I knew whose it was. If anything, it was relieving. Soothing. It exuded two clear messages. First, a warning to anyone who¡¯d be stupid enough to mean him harm. To anyone else?


    It was an assurance of safety.


    I could see the reactions his presence elicited in the people here behind him, the way everyone seemed to relax, tense shoulders loosening and rushed steps slowing down.


    So this is what an S-rank is like.


    ¡°Sir,¡± I began, but found myself at a loss for words.


    What could I possibly say to this man when I¡¯d left his daughter on the ground so I could live out my stupid fantasy of smack-talking a villain?


    ¡°I¡¯d like a word with Mr Shaw in private, if you¡¯d be so kind?¡± Tempest said, turning his attention to the two USHA officers and the shell-shocked paramedic for the first time.


    ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be a problem. We¡¯ve already got his statement anyway,¡± Officer Brady said, but he paused to give me a questioning look.


    I nodded back. No point trying to delay the inevitable. There were always going to be consequences for how I handled things today.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be just outside,¡± Officer Brady said, moving to leave.


    Officer Hawkins just gave a cheeky grin before ambling off, pulling the curtain closed behind him.


    ¡°Don¡¯t leave the tent until you¡¯ve been checked over by another paramedic and given the okay to go,¡± the paramedic said before following them out. She pulled the curtain closed as she left.


    Then I was alone with Tempest, and I didn¡¯t have the first clue where to even begin. I knew I had to apologise, but how? What combination of words could possibly come close to redeeming myself in his eyes?


    I couldn¡¯t claim to know anything about his relationship with his daughter, but I had to assume they were on good terms if Slash¡¯s plan involved using her as a distraction for something. That I¡¯d wasted so much time surely had him furious. Honestly, I was expecting him to go ballistic at me at any moment.


    Instead, he drifted around to the other end of the bed I was sitting on. His movement was eerie, more like he was gliding than actually walking. His ocean storm cloak trailed along the floor, but didn¡¯t leave any hint of a wet patch in his wake.


    Despite the situation, I couldn¡¯t help wondering how that worked. Was he sucking up any water left behind? Or was his control so fine that there was no residue in the first place?


    The storm on his body parted like the red sea at the chest, and a brown file binder emerged from abyssal depths, held by an arm made of churning black water. It flicked open, and Tempest turned his gaze to it. The sight of lightning flashing in his eyes as he scanned the text might have been comical in other circumstances.


    God, that was so fucking cool.


    Yet my stomach was doing flips. It took all my will to keep from fidgeting as I waited for him to speak. It was hard to think, so close to his overpowered signal.


    It would be a lie to say Tempest was my all-time favourite superhero¡ªthere was no room for his posters on my walls with so much space taken up by the more flashy guys like Mr Gold, Runemaiden, and Merlin, not to even mention Valiant¡ªbut that didn¡¯t mean I wasn¡¯t a huge admirer of the man. His list of achievements was staggering, countless villains put behind bars, innumerable lives saved, the world always made a better place because of his existence. He was the real deal. World-class.


    I couldn¡¯t stand the idea of him thinking low of me.


    There were murmurs of conversation beyond the curtain, all excited whispers. I dearly wished I could share in their enthusiasm.


    ¡°It¡¯s really him!¡±


    ¡°One of the top heroes¡­¡±


    ¡°Wonder what he¡¯s doing here¡­¡±


    ¡°... whole thing was targeted at him, according to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Someone got hurt¡­¡±


    I couldn¡¯t take it any more.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I blurted out, ducking my head. It was cowardly, but I couldn¡¯t bring myself to witness his reaction. ¡°I know my performance today was unacceptable. I delayed and wasted time when your daughter was injured, and I can¡¯t even begin to make up for that¡ª¡±


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Alanna will be fine,¡± Tempest cut in.


    I blinked, thrown off. ¡°That¡¯s not¡ª¡±


    ¡°Look at me, Mr Shaw,¡± he said.


    What else could I do but obey?


    Tempest had moved a bit closer and lowered himself to my eye level¡ªmy mind immediately set to wondering whether he¡¯d kneeled down beneath his cloak, or if he¡¯d merged himself with the living storm like so-called insiders on Capebook said he could, or if he¡¯d maybe sunk himself into a portal that led to the ocean and was really standing up straight. There were so many possibilities with a Level as high as his, so many Aspects available to him. He had to know so much about his power, about himself.


    ¡°Alanna will be fine,¡± Tempest said, snatching me from my spiralling thoughts. ¡°One of Herakles¡¯ proteges got her to Iaso, and she¡¯ll have my daughter healed in no time.¡±


    ¡°Iaso? I wasn¡¯t sure she¡¯d be around¡­¡±


    ¡°Hm? Oh, you¡¯re referring to the Olympians¡¯ emergency deployment this morning? As I¡¯m sure you know, Iaso isn¡¯t exactly suited to rapid response. Besides, I got there before them and dealt with it, so they returned.¡±


    ¡°What was the situation?¡± I asked, unable to help myself.


    ¡°Just some villains causing a ruckus. They wanted to draw out the Olympians in particular, so they targeted a family member, I¡¯ve been told.¡± He paused. ¡°I¡¯m entertaining the possibility that these incidents are connected.¡±


    ¡°A distraction,¡± I realised, eyes widening.


    ¡°Indeed. I heard this¡­ Slash, was it? Wanted a rematch with me, thus his attack on my daughter. I didn¡¯t stop to listen to what those other idiots were saying, but they had similar motivations, apparently.¡±


    ¡°Is¡­ do you think this might be a new villain team, sir?¡±


    That was always bad news.


    ¡°Possibly,¡± Tempest said. ¡°But that¡¯s not for you to worry about.¡±


    I had to disagree, but I wasn¡¯t going to say it to his face. ¡°I want to apologise to Alanna.¡±


    ¡°Apologise? My boy, you rescued her.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not¡ª¡±


    ¡°Forgive me, but I¡¯ve been listening in for a while now. I heard your story, as well as those of the others who contributed to her rescue, and I think I''ve gathered the full picture. I came here to thank you.¡±


    There was a lump in my throat. The idea of one of the world¡¯s greatest superheroes thanking me for my actions was ludicrous, something I¡¯d been dreaming about since I was a little kid. It should¡¯ve sent me over the moon. By all rights, this was supposed to be a life-changing moment.


    And yet.


    ¡°But I left her,¡± I said with a tremor in my voice.


    Tempest was quiet for a long moment, lightning eyes taking me in. Then his gaze strayed to the brown file he¡¯d been reading from, and he let out a sigh. ¡°Ah. I think I see the issue now.¡±


    A lattice of lightning flashed across the cloud surrounding his head, and it started to lose its stormy darkness. Distant thunder rumbled. Hurricane winds blew apart the stormy skies, blowing away the last wisps of vapour. The whirlpools at his shoulders started spinning the other way, and the raging waters over his body receded upwards like the tide going out.


    It struck me how normal the man looked. Greying black hair with a widow¡¯s peak, brown eyes with drooping bags beneath them, a bit of sag to his cheeks. His grey suit was a little too big for him, unfitted, and his yellow-and-white striped tie was clearly a clip-on.


    With a huff, he pushed against his knees to stand up straight¡ªhe¡¯d been crouching after all¡ªonly to immediately sit on the bed beside me with a heavy thump. He let out a long, tired breath. His signal went quiet, but it wasn¡¯t off completely. Calm like the eye of the storm.


    ¡°I worked with your father a few times,¡± he said, and I boggled at him. I might have been less shocked if he¡¯d revealed Alanna was born from an illicit affair between him and Baba Yaga.


    ¡°He was one of the bravest heroes I ever had the privilege of calling my ally,¡± he continued. He wasn¡¯t a very expressive man, I noted. I wondered how much time he spent with his face obscured by dark clouds. ¡°He was selfless to a fault, stubborn as a mule, and completely blind to the nuance that could so often raise its ugly head in our line of work. To him, everything was black and white.¡± Tempest shook his head with a nostalgic smile on his lips. ¡°But the world is a far worse place without him. I truly admired the man.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I choked out. My vision was starting to blur. ¡°So did I.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I wasn¡¯t there on that night, Mr Shaw. Emmett. There are many times I ask myself what if, and that mistake comes up more often than most.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know what to say to that. Wasn¡¯t sure any words could have got past the lump in my throat anyway.


    ¡°I read the files. Watched the security footage. Listened to every interview and watched every documentary. Everyone emphasises his heroism, his sacrifice. How many lives were saved. It¡¯s understandable, USHA doesn¡¯t want people thinking too hard about how badly things can go if someone with a strong power goes villain, so of course they¡¯re going to spin it that way. I¡¯m more than accustomed to finding a silver lining in a stormy cloud.¡±


    I swallowed with some effort. ¡°But they don¡¯t dwell on the survivors,¡± I said. ¡°Just that they survived.¡±


    ¡°Quite,¡± Tempest agreed. ¡°I was insensitive earlier. I wanted to encourage you, but I was too casual about Alanna¡¯s state. Be assured I¡¯m not an amateur, Emmett. I know encounters such as the one my daughter faced today are traumatising. Her care will not stop after getting healed by Iaso. I promise you that.¡±


    ¡°Might have been less traumatising if I didn¡¯t leave her there on the ground while trading barbs with the guy who¡¯d just cut her open,¡± I said, some heat in my voice.


    A small part of me screamed in despair at showing anything less than perfect courtesy to one of the world¡¯s greatest heroes, but I was feeling miserable enough it barely got any purchase in my mind.


    ¡°Your actions weren¡¯t perfect. Your lack of training showed. But I¡¯ll tell you a secret about hero work: the result matters most. Laws and protocols are there to guide you when you¡¯re starting out and inexperienced, unsure of the best way to operate. As you deal with more and more crises over months and years, you¡¯ll come to realise that nothing, nothing is more important than saving lives.¡± His brows furrowed, the most expressive I¡¯d seen him. ¡°Don¡¯t tell Herakles I said that.¡±


    I gave him a look. ¡°When am I ever going to talk to Herakles?¡±


    ¡°When you attend Aegis Academy, of course. He¡¯s far from a stickler for the rules, but Herakles believes in gradually building his students and proteges up to the realisation that the law is just a suggestion. He won¡¯t ever put it that way, of course. But he¡¯s been doing this as long as I have. He knows the truth.¡±


    That was¡­ what even was this conversation?


    ¡°You¡¯re making a lot of assumptions,¡± I managed.


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°How much does that file there say about me?¡±


    ¡°About as much as can be gleaned from power testing without violating privacy laws.¡±


    My brow twitched. That was something to come back to later.


    ¡°So you know I¡¯m below even F-rank? That I¡¯m 16 and haven¡¯t even had my first revelation yet? That I don¡¯t even have a basic foundation, let alone an Aspect?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a pretty determined guy. I¡¯ve worked my ass off to prepare for this; you wouldn¡¯t believe how many sleepless nights I¡¯ve had studying and researching. How many hours I¡¯ve put into the gym, refining myself. It¡¯s ruled my life for months.¡± I took a deep breath. ¡°But I know the odds are still stacked against me. I¡¯m practically a baseline human, and most of the candidates there are going to be like Ashika. Prodigies, I mean. Powerhouses. People with high ranks despite their age and abilities almost made for heroism. And a lot of them will have been working just as hard as I have. Why are you so confident I¡¯ll get in over all of them?¡±


    ¡°Because you¡¯re not going to be taking the test,¡± Tempest said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.


    Whatever reply I¡¯d been expecting, it wasn¡¯t that. I had no retort to that beyond a ¡°huh¡± sound that would¡¯ve been called terrible acting if it was in a hollywood movie.


    Tempest smirked.


    ¡°I intend to sponsor you for a spot in Aegis Academy.¡±

 1.7: Detours and Statues

    Even after hundreds of visits, I¡¯d never gotten used to the sheer size of Aegis Academy¡¯s front gates. Looming at four stories tall, they seemed almost ready for war. I wondered what they thought they might have to guard against that the rippling, ivory-white metal needed to be a metre-and-a-half thick.


    It looked a bit silly when the walls on either side stood at a pretty typical two metres or so, and I knew that they mostly stayed that way around the entire perimeter, barring a few exceptions like the smaller secondary entrances. Granted, the real preventative measure for trespassers was the invisible forcefield, but still. I always thought that the man who insisted that his hero team all style themselves like either Greek gods or classical heroes would be more stubborn about the aesthetic of his school. Maybe practicality won out.


    Huge crowds were streaming in through the front gates, an endless tide of people flowing towards the (also absurdly massive) domed gymnasium visible in the distance. Hundreds of power signals mixed, dizzying. The long road to the day¡¯s destination was flanked on both sides by regimented rows of gleaming silver statues, each one depicting the likeness of a hero who had some connection to the school. The signs called it ¡°Lady Silver¡¯s Long Walk of Remembrance and Tribute.¡±


    Most people called it the Silver Road.


    How many times had I walked down that same pathway, babbling questions about each figure? How many times had the man escorting me patiently indulged my childish curiosity? How many times had his explanations gone in one ear and out the other as my attention strayed to the next statue that looked even cooler than the last?


    And yet it felt like I was here for the first time, drinking in the sight before me as if it was totally new.


    Truth be told, it may as well have been.


    Back then, I was just a kid with stars in his eyes and not a care in the world. Superheroes hadn¡¯t truly felt real to me back then¡ªall I saw of the cape world was the sparkly image they showed on TV. The colourful costumes and the witty quips. The heroic poses and the cool powers.


    I was older now, wiser. I was someone about to take his first step to becoming a hero for real. Aegis Academy wasn¡¯t a childhood memory anymore. It was a dream, a goal. I was here with purpose, and if anything that just meant I could appreciate the grandeur of this place even more.


    Still had stars in my eyes, admittedly.


    ¡°Finally here,¡± Ashika spoke beside me.


    ¡°We¡¯ve been before,¡± I said absently, even though I¡¯d been thinking basically the same thing.


    ¡°You know what I mean.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Ashika grinned. She was bouncing on her feet like a kid. ¡°We¡¯ve been looking forward to this for so long. It kinda doesn¡¯t feel real.¡±


    ¡°In my dreams I walked down the road alone, at least.¡±


    ¡°Damn, that would¡¯a been nice and theatrical, huh? Like something out of a movie.¡± She adopted a thinking pose, squinting at the gates. ¡°I can picture it. A stoic hero walking the lonely road to his destination, the soundtrack from some cheesy cowboy movie playing softly in the background. It would suit you, Mr Drama Queen.¡±


    ¡°Drama Queen?! Me?!¡± I threw my head back and swooned, not at all dramatically. ¡°Oh, to be insulted so cruelly by my best friend! How could this have happened?¡±


    Ashika¡¯s laugh was like music. ¡°Yeah, the kid who used to run around school with a blanket tied around his neck and arrest other kids for eating outside the cafeteria at lunchtime isn¡¯t at all dramatic. I remember when you tackled Martin Green.¡±


    ¡°Good times,¡± I said.


    ¡°Getting suspended at eight-years-old is a good memory for you?¡±


    ¡°Good times,¡± I repeated more forcefully.


    We fell silent for a moment, staring each other down. I couldn¡¯t tell you who laughed first, but my sides were hurting by the time we both managed to stop. It wasn¡¯t even that funny, really.


    But I felt better about everything, and I guessed she did too. That was what counted.


    ¡°Shall we go in?¡± I asked.


    Ashika smiled grimly. ¡°Might be late otherwise. Gonna take forever to get there with the way this crowd¡¯s going.¡±


    I stood on my tiptoes to get a look over people¡¯s heads, and yeah, she wasn¡¯t wrong.


    The problem with the statues reared its head on days like this. Throughout most of the year, the school probably played host to a thousand people at most, though usually far less, and they were here almost every day, more than used to the spectacle of the walk down Silver Road.


    For people who were likely seeing it for the first time, it was awe-inspiring. Every step you took placed you in front of a new wonder of art, each with a story to tell that surely had to be fascinating to anyone who had hopes of becoming a hero themselves. I couldn¡¯t blame them for walking slowly, head-swivelling from side to side as they tried to take it all in. Hell, even stopping to gawk was understandable.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Still, it was a pain in the ass right now.


    ¡°Let¡¯s take a detour,¡± I said, and started walking.


    ¡°Sure about that?¡± Ashika quickly followed, sticking close to my back. ¡°This place always seemed like a maze to me.¡±


    I smiled at her over my shoulder. ¡°Know it like the back of my hand.¡±


    Silver Road sliced through the academy¡¯s grounds all the way from the front gate to the gymnasium at the very centre of the complex, which was just under a mile away. As the only path to do so, it saw a lot of traffic, especially on busy days. That didn¡¯t necessarily mean it was the only route one could take, just the most direct.


    Passing through the massive front gates, we took a right after the first administrative building came to an end. The path was wide enough to easily fit a van through, but it felt claustrophobic compared to the main road that could fit a six-lane highway. We moved quickly, and soon we were delving into the labyrinth that was Aegis Academy.


    Ashika¡¯s concern was not unfounded. The school had started off much smaller than it currently was, a single brutalist building thrown together with little more than the founder¡¯s personal funds¡ªpretty sure it was still around somewhere, actually¡ªbut as it grew in renown it got more funding. As it got more funding, it grew.


    Unfortunately, it did not grow very well.


    At first, the plot of land it was built on seemed massive. They thought they¡¯d never be able to fill it up. Then they realised they needed training facilities, and lots of them. Regrettable events occurred, and a building for school lawyers popped up. Then a place for the counsellors and therapists. Then marketing. Security, first aid, equipment storage, and more.


    In your average school all that might have fit in one building, but superheroes were larger than life existences, and life often had to grow to accommodate them. A famous op-ed on Capebook once claimed that every superhero needed at least five lawyers, and that seemed to track with just about everything.


    Problem was, superhero schools were a relatively new thing even now. Aegis Academy was the first, in fact. They had no way of knowing they were eventually going to need all that. Surely they could just build stuff where and when they needed to, right?


    Suddenly, fifteen years had passed since the academy¡¯s founding, and the layout of the place was an absolute mess. Only experience could tell you that you could go around the legal building to find the little disused back alley that brought you before the underwater training facility. Not even the luckiest man would stumble on the tunnel that went under the admin offices¡ªwhat the hell was it even there for?¡ªand even I had only found the hidden staircase that brought you onto the roof of the firing range after hundreds of visits.


    But I wasn¡¯t complaining. For me, the nonsensical layout of the grounds only added to AA¡¯s charm. Some of my happiest childhood memories were of exploring the place, squealing in excitement at my indulging father whenever I found some new shortcut.


    My heart was soaring with nostalgia as we cut a winding route through the forgotten paths of the academy. Past the mark I¡¯d made on a wall. Through a storage shed where I¡¯d hidden from a security guard. Across a roof where I made sure to be careful of the pipes, painfully aware of the time I¡¯d tripped over one and discovered that hot water mains were, in fact, rather hot.


    Neither of us spoke a word until we found ourselves on a wider street that led back to the Silver Road, the din of the crowd washing over us.


    ¡°I love this place,¡± I said, looking around. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯ll do if I don¡¯t get in. Another school¡­ it wouldn¡¯t be the same.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got this,¡± Ashika said. She gave me a light thump on the arm. (Light for her standards; I was sure it would leave a bruise.) ¡°You¡¯ve got the hell out of this. You¡¯ve got this more than anyone has ever got anything. Don¡¯t go doubting yourself now, dork.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not doubting. I¡¯m just¡­ I dunno.¡±


    ¡°Expressing your eternal and unaging adoration for a bunch of haphazardly arranged buildings?¡±


    I snapped my fingers and pointed at her. ¡°Bingo.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re such a dumbass.¡± Her smile took the sting out of the words. ¡°Wanna go back to the main path?¡±


    I nodded. She knew me too well.


    We walked in silence at a more subdued pace than the one I¡¯d been setting. Merging with the crowd, we only moved with the flow for a handful of steps before I stopped before one statue in particular.


    I¡¯d never actually seen it, not even in pictures, though I was sure I¡¯d been invited. I couldn¡¯t say why I¡¯d avoided it. Maybe I knew it could never live up to the real thing, never replace that hole in my life, no matter how brilliant it managed to be.


    It was brilliant, objectively speaking.


    Valiant¡¯s statue gleamed, polished so well I could see my reflection in it. There were no faults in the details: his long cape hung off the fasteners on his shoulders in the right place, the cuirass was the correct shape (smooth instead of the gaudy fake six-pack from the comics), and the roman-style war skirt fell to just above his knees as it was meant to. Even his polearm and the shield with his logo on it, locked together and held at his side, looked about the length and size that I remembered them being.


    The only disappointment, to my surprise, was the mask.


    It wasn¡¯t inaccurate or anything, far from it. In fact it was as meticulous as the rest; a Roman centurion¡¯s helm, complete with ruffles that made him look much taller than he actually was, an impressive feat when sculpting with the silver metal.


    I just wished I could see more of his face than the serious line of his mouth. It wasn¡¯t meant to be like that. He¡¯d been a man that loved to smile.


    As a child, I¡¯d had nightmares, horrific dreams that inflicted me with insomnia so bad it still flared up to this day. I¡¯d dreamt that every person was secretly a grotesque demon, and in my exhaustion those delusions had started to bleed into the waking world. It had turned me into a fearful, anxious child.


    Then I¡¯d told my dad about it, and he¡¯d smiled down at me and told me not to worry, and the dreams had stopped. That was the power of his smile.


    The statue was a fantastic representation of Valiant.


    But I couldn¡¯t find much of Colin Shaw in the image.


    Ashika¡¯s hand rested on my shoulder and squeezed. I wiped my eyes and gave her the best smile I could, though judging by the wetness in her own gaze it didn¡¯t do much to reassure her.


    I want to be like you.


    The words thrummed inside me, but no revelation came. That was fine.


    I took a shaky breath.


    Valiant¡¯s right hand was held up in a clenched fist, and I cupped my hand over it.


    ¡°Time to make you proud, old man,¡± I said.


    Then I put one foot in front of the other, and kept moving forward.

 1.8: Belief

    The crowd¡¯s pace picked up as we got closer to the gym, murmurs growing louder, signals spiking, excitement building with every step.


    I was no different. Despite telling myself over and over to keep my cool, it felt like I¡¯d break out into a sprint if I lost focus for even a second. There was a draw to this place that was near irresistible, and there were multiple factors to it.


    The closer you got to the gym, the more impressive¡ªand less practical¡ªthe buildings flanking Silver Road became. They took on more of a unified theme; lots of classical architecture that brought to mind Ancient Greece or Rome, pillars abounded, mixed curiously together with the retro-futurism vibes to match Foresight City¡¯s dominant aesthetic.


    It shouldn¡¯t have worked, but somehow did.


    The gym itself was the main event hall, boasting facilities and equipment that could comfortably host countless inexperienced superheroes. That didn¡¯t mean it was the only training facility on the school grounds, just the most eye-catching. Any of the stadiums, gymnasiums, towers, and myriad others surrounding it would have been the pride of any lesser school.


    Walking the Silver Road was a steady transition from the real world to one of fantasy, one of superheroes.


    And the effect was only pronounced by the actual, real superheroes who soon became visible on the balcony above the gym¡¯s front entrance.


    Three of them stood over the crowd, shouting instructions and encouragement as they tried to direct the flow of people in a way that wouldn¡¯t cause too much congestion. Their efforts were futile against the sheer number of people approaching, but it was admirable all the same.


    ¡°Go on,¡± Ashika said with a wry smile. ¡°Tell me who they are.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re assuming I know?¡±


    Ashika just rolled her eyes. She raised her hand, but seemed to think better of flipping me off at the last moment, awkwardly lowering it back to her side.


    I scoffed. ¡°This is a hero school, not a church.¡±


    ¡°Really? I heard Herakles was big on smiting sinners.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think policing rude hand signs is part of his jurisdiction,¡± I said. ¡°But I suppose it¡¯s good that you¡¯re learning. Maybe you won¡¯t struggle so badly in PR lessons after all.¡±


    ¡°I just didn¡¯t want to make a bad first impression,¡± Ashika said, frowning at the heroes ahead of us. She lifted her hand close to my face, raised her middle finger, then rubbed it around on my cheek.


    ¡°So much for that,¡± I said, my voice slurring as she made sure to be as obnoxious with her ministrations as possible.


    Ashika gave me a gigawatt smile. She stopped mushing my cheek, but kept her finger firmly planted on my face.


    I resolved to ignore her. ¡°So the heroes you¡¯re making a horrible impression with¡ªI¡¯m sure they all hate you now and think you¡¯re going to become a villain, in fact they¡¯re probably getting ready to arrest you right now¡ªare, from left to right: Stargaze in the bodysuit with constellations on it, Palette with the robe that looks like it got covered in every tub of paint on earth, and Silverback is the gorilla dude.¡±


    ¡°Never heard of ¡®em.¡±


    I sputtered. ¡°Palette and Silverback I can understand. They¡¯re more involved in regular law enforcement stuff rather than headliner superhero news. But Stargaze?¡±


    Ashika shrugged.


    ¡°She¡¯s a solid B-lister! Come on, she¡¯s got one of the flashiest powers out there. Her lasers look like spiral galaxies.¡± I plucked her finger from my face and threw it down with disgust. ¡°I refuse to believe you were able to recognise Scarlet Haze from halfway across the city, but you don¡¯t know who Stargaze is. She¡¯s been in the gladiator circuit for half a decade. She got top 10 at the Austin Games.¡± I sniffed. ¡°Though she is more on the celebrity side of things.¡±


    ¡°Sorry I¡¯m not a cape geek like you,¡± Ashika said with a huff.


    ¡°Heathen,¡± I said. ¡°Hope you¡¯re feeling confident about the written test.¡±


    ¡°No problemo.¡±


    I squinted at her. ¡°Sure.¡±


    We fell quiet as we approached the entrance of the gym. In the end I could barely hear the three heroes above, though their instructions were clear enough. We entered the front doors side-by-side, and it was only because we¡¯d been here before¡ªif long ago¡ªthat I didn¡¯t pause upon entering the lobby.


    The room was big enough to fit at least two basketball courts and several tiers of seating besides. Giant screens covered the far wall, playing a video that had to be four stories tall, introductory trailers showing off the myriad achievements and merits of the academy. The din of conversation echoed off the black marble walls and floor.


    Dozens of lines had formed in front of registration tables at the back of the room, and we moved to join the nearest.


    About halfway there, I heard a familiar voice and let out a sigh. A moment later, the inevitable happened.


    ¡°Holy shit, is that Emmet?¡±


    Ashika tensed, and I laid a hand on her shoulder. ¡°Ignore him,¡± I said.


    ¡°Like hell,¡± Ashika hissed.


    ¡°Ignore him,¡± I repeated, and was unable to say any more before Lucas Paulson was a few metres in front of me.


    ¡°Ha! It is you. I can¡¯t believe you actually showed up,¡± he said. He grinned, hands stuffed in his pockets, all casual-like, like we were just a couple of pals catching up after a while without seeing each other.


    In fairness, he had changed a lot in just a few weeks. His coal black hair had been shoulder-length since kindergarten, but someone had evidently convinced him to get it shaved down to a stylish fade at the sides, leaving the top just long enough to style with some product. Gone was his omnipresent blue jeans and white shirt combo, replaced with a tailored black suit. Even his shoes were newly polished, and he¡¯d once sworn to me he would never put anything but combat boots on his feet.


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    A small part of me was curious what had brought on this change.


    The rest of me didn¡¯t want to hear a word he had to say.


    I stepped around him without even a glance of acknowledgement.


    His arm raised, blocking my path. Of course he wouldn¡¯t make it that easy.


    ¡°You wanna start something, Lucas?¡± Ashika growled. ¡°Feel free to give me an excuse.¡±


    He blinked innocently. ¡°What? Can¡¯t catch up with my old buddy?¡±


    ¡°No. Fuck off.¡±


    ¡°Well, that ain¡¯t a nice way to talk to your childhood friend.¡±


    ¡°If it bothers you so much, stop being a colossal dickhole. Find something better to do with your life than harassing Emmett.¡±


    ¡°Forgive me for being concerned about our dear Z-rank here, Ashika. Maybe you¡¯re okay with enabling his delusions and letting him get himself hurt, but I have more of a heart than that. Here¡¯s a revelation for you, Emmett: you¡¯re too weak for this.¡±


    I let out a sigh. To think there¡¯d been a time, however brief, when I might have believed that crap.


    Thing was, I¡¯d actually known Lucas longer than I¡¯d known Ashika, if only by a year or so. We¡¯d been inseparable as kids, brought together by family connection and bonded over a shared dream. In all my life, I¡¯d never met anyone else who understood like Lucas did, who worked as hard, who spent as much time researching.


    We¡¯d planned out hundreds of hypothetical careers for ourselves. Spent countless hours playing hero. Watched, read, and listened to every bit of cape media we could get our hands on.


    Then my special Shimada Scale test came along, and suddenly there was a gulf between us.


    I¡¯d never forget coming out of that clinic with my life crashing down around me. Lucas had been waiting, and that had buoyed me a little. The world was ending, but at least I had my best friend. Or so I thought.


    He¡¯d sneered at me. Genuinely disgusted. It hadn¡¯t been an act, no matter what he tried to claim.


    ¡°I thought we were the same,¡± he¡¯d said.


    So had I.


    Later, I found out he¡¯d made sure the whole school knew about my rank, and what they should think about it. He made me a pariah, an outcast. Treated like I was carrying a contagious disease. The only reason things hadn¡¯t escalated to outright bullying aside from Lucas¡¯ own taunts was Ashika. Getting on her bad side had been inadvisable even before she got ranked C six weeks before her thirteenth birthday. After? No one would dare.


    She¡¯d been my only friend for the last six months or so, and the cause of my suffering was right before me.


    I should¡¯ve been filled with anger, overflowing with hatred. There should¡¯ve been murderous fantasies flashing through my mind, a montage of ironic revenge.


    Instead, I was just bored with it all.


    ¡°Genuinely, I¡¯m confused here. Why are you two keeping up this bullshit?¡± Lucas was saying as I tuned back into his argument with Ashika.


    ¡°What bullshit? Emmett¡¯s gonna be a superhero, and that¡¯s that.¡±


    ¡°Come on. There¡¯s no way you actually believe that.¡±


    ¡°I believe in him more than I believe in you, asshole. This weird crusade you¡¯ve been on sounds like a villain origin story.¡±


    ¡°Good one. Maybe leave the jokes to your brother?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m serious. Do you actually think you¡¯re the good guy here? You¡¯re acting like some small town high school bully, and you don¡¯t even see it.¡±


    ¡°By stopping someone from getting themselves hurt, or worse? He¡¯s literally powerless!¡±


    ¡°Like that means anything.¡±


    Lucas scoffed, turned to me. ¡°Nothing to say, Emmett?¡±


    ¡°I hope you do well on your test, Lucas,¡± I said, and I shouldered past him.


    ¡°Hey,¡± he reached out for me, but I ducked his arm and power walked away, moving to join the back of a line further across the room. His signal, a feeling of air rushing in to fill a void, rang out behind me. I ignored it.


    Six months ago, his words would have devastated me. Honestly, even last week that confrontation might have dealt my confidence a serious blow.


    But mere hours ago, one of the greatest and most powerful superheroes on Earth had told me he believed in me.


    ~~~


    Tempest¡¯s lips twitched upwards. He shook his head. ¡°I had a feeling you might refuse. You¡¯re certainly your father¡¯s son.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, sir. I mean no disrespect, but¡ª¡±


    He waved me off. ¡°None taken. I understand your reasoning. It¡¯s admirable to want to forge your own path, win your achievements on your own merits. Between you and me, you¡¯re the second to refuse my offer recently.¡±


    ¡°... sir?¡±


    ¡°Alanna,¡± Tempest clarified. ¡°Her reasons were similar, though I think rooted in a different cause. Living in my shadow, as she calls it, has been difficult for her in recent times.¡±


    A memory flashed through my mind. Alanna on the ground, gashes torn through her torso, blood splattering the ground around her.


    ¡°I can imagine,¡± I said, a little nauseated.


    Tempest looked at me for a long moment. With a huff, he pushed himself back to his feet. ¡°Well, I had to make the offer. I still think it would do you good to accept, but I¡¯ll accept your wishes. It wouldn¡¯t have diminished your standing in my eyes if you¡¯d accepted, I hope you know?¡±


    I nodded slowly.


    It would¡¯ve diminished my standing in my own eyes, though.


    Tempest crossed to the curtains, where he paused. Twin whirlpools started spinning above his shoulders, spouting a deluge of water that rolled over his body like a tsunami. Storm clouds whirled back into existence around his head. Muffled thunder rolled. It was impossible to get used to the feeling of his signal, hitting me like a flash flood.


    ¡°I also hope,¡± he said, ¡°that my offer adequately communicated what I wanted it to. I am not a man who tolerates nepotism. I do not believe in giving out positions to those who do not deserve it, no matter what service they may have provided me or how I feel about them personally. If you believe my offer was a favour in exchange for saving my daughter¡¯s life, you were mistaken.¡±


    I swallowed. ¡°Sir¡ª¡±


    He turned then, fixing me in place with his lightning glare. ¡°I offered because I believe in you. I believe that you are capable of passing the test. I believe that you are capable of flourishing in the competitive environment Aegis Academy provides. I believe, Emmett Shaw, that you are capable of being a great superhero.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re an F-rank? So what?¡± He leaned forward, close enough I could see the debris caught up in the storm that covered his head. ¡°I¡¯ll let you in on a secret I¡¯m sure you would have heard from the man himself, in a better, kinder world: Valiant was once as you are.¡±


    Words failed me. I gaped like a fish.


    ¡°Valiant was known to be low-powered before that horrible damned scale ever burdened us with its foul existence. If it existed when he was your age, I¡¯m sure he would have been given a similar result as you have. And yet¡­ Well, I¡¯m sure I don¡¯t need to tell you anything about his career. You¡¯ve probably forgotten more than I¡¯ll ever know.¡±


    ¡°No, sir,¡± I managed. ¡°I¡¯d never forget a thing about him.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll bet.¡± He placed a hand on my shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m sorry he never got to tell you this himself. I carry zero doubt he would have in time. But the world is an imperfect place, and so here I am as his inadequate stand-in.


    ¡°You can be a hero, Emmett. I believe in you, and I¡¯m certain Colin would as well.¡±


    I¡¯d been through a life-threatening, high-stress situation. I¡¯d dealt with the aftermath and the sinking disappointment of my inadequate performance. I¡¯d even got through a conversation mentioning my dad.


    But Tempest¡¯s words crashed through the dam, and I couldn¡¯t hold it back anymore.


    I burst into tears.

 1.9: Acing The Test

    While I knew the grounds of AA pretty damn well, the innards of the massive gym complex were as much a mystery to me as they were to any other first-time visitor. Windowless white corridors wound through the building in unintuitive ways. Another product of piss poor planning, I¡¯d bet.


    Luckily, the school had anticipated the problem.


    People thronged the halls, but there was no one stopping to gawp at their surroundings, hopelessly lost. No delays. No one scratched their heads as they turned a map this way and that, as if looking at it from a different angle would help them find their way. Instead, all they had to do was follow whichever painted line they were assigned to, and navigating to their destination was simplicity itself.


    Corresponding to the colour of the barcode stamped on my left wrist, I followed the orange line. It led me on a route I never would have guessed at on my own, and merely five minutes later I approached a door flanked by a group of friendly staff sporting the iconic black and gold shirt-and-trouser combo that was the Aegis Academy uniform, complete with the golden thunderbolt on the chest.


    They scanned the stamp on my wrist with a grin and a boisterous ¡®good luck¡¯, and then I was through into the corridor beyond.


    Tension permeated the hallway. Teenage examinees lined the wall on one side, no one daring to speak a word. Shoulders were hunched, hackles were raised, expressions were strained where they weren¡¯t outright hostile. Oddly, there were no active power signals.


    Only one person looked relaxed, leaning up against the wall with crossed arms and head lolled back, and I found that I recognised her. Her suit was still impeccable, somehow avoiding even the slightest bit of damage despite having been used to hold down Slash¡¯s other arm. Her make-up was perfectly contoured. Not a hair out of place on her head. It was almost impressive how put together she looked, given everything.


    Judging by the wide-eyed look I got on my entrance, the recognition was mutual. After a moment of regarding me with a curious expression, head tilted to one side, the girl shrugged, vacated her spot in the line, and made to approach.


    ¡°You¡¯re the guy from the train, right?¡± she asked as she neared. Her voice seemed impossibly loud in the silent room, and I was painfully conscious of the attention pointed our way. She seemed unaffected, though, casually offering me her hand. ¡°Julia Ramirez.¡±


    I held back a sigh as I shook it. ¡°Emmett Shaw. The USHA guys brought you here too?¡±


    ¡°Yes. They said it was a reward for doing a good deed. I was under the impression that vigilantism was frowned upon and I was in for a scolding, but I suppose there¡¯s more to things than that.¡±


    ¡°Results matter, apparently,¡± I said with a shrug. ¡°Enough that Ashika only got off with a light reprimand for kicking a villain when he was down.¡± I winced, then decided against continuing that line of discussion with so many ears listening in. ¡°Good work back there, by the way. Grabbing the villain¡¯s other hand, I mean.¡±


    ¡°I was only following your lead. That was smart of you. And brave. I had no idea something like that could work, and even if I had, I might not have tried it. How did you know?¡±


    Now I was fighting with all I had not to do something awkward like rub the back of my head. I wasn¡¯t used to compliments.


    ¡°I read up on this stuff a lot. I knew there was a visual component to his power by his glowing eyes. Visual phenomena like that are dead giveaways.¡±


    Julia gave a low hum. ¡°Interesting. If that comes up on the test, I¡¯ll have to thank you.¡±


    ¡°No need for that,¡± I said, then stopped to think about it. ¡°Well, if you do end up feeling like you owe me, I wouldn¡¯t complain about some backup in the practical test.¡±


    ¡°Me? What about that friend of yours? She seemed like a heavy hitter.¡±


    ¡°In a different group for the written exam. No way of knowing if we¡¯ll be doing the practical at the same time.¡±


    ¡°And her help will be a given if she is?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. One-hundred percent.¡±


    Julia paused for a moment, giving me a funny look. ¡°You seem awfully sure.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve known each other since we were kids,¡± I said slowly, ignoring the resentful pit in my soul that screamed Lucas¡¯ name.


    ¡°Huh.¡± She looked away, frowning. ¡°I get the feeling that won¡¯t be very common. Over fifty-thousand people from all over the world are competing for about a hundred spots, I read. There can¡¯t be many alliances going on.¡±


    My gaze strayed over the quiet corridor, taking in the tense atmosphere.


    Yeah, she wasn¡¯t wrong. There was a wide and diverse range of people in this batch of examinees alone, people from every corner of the globe visible even in a selection of maybe eighty people. Every single one of them was undoubtedly just as determined to get into AA as I was.


    There¡¯d be people in that group who¡¯d be ruthless. A competitive nature was almost a requirement to show up here today, going hand in hand with an unshakeable self-belief. Many people would¡¯ve contented themselves with applying for one of the dozen or so less prestigious but still world class hero schools hosted in Foresight City, but not these guys. They wanted the best.


    For that, I couldn¡¯t deny that an every man for himself mentality was probably the dominant ethos in attendance today.


    I could sympathise. I really could.


    And yet.


    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine doing it without Ashika,¡± I spoke the thought aloud the moment it surfaced.


    Julia smiled, but the expression didn¡¯t reach her eyes. ¡°That must be nice.¡±


    Silence fell, heavy and awkward. I didn¡¯t know what to say to that, so I decided to go with nothing. Sometimes that was best, in my experience.


    The quiet didn¡¯t last. A whooshing sound came from up ahead, and the wall at the end of the corridor parted. Three men stepped out, two of them staff in the AA uniform, flanking the tall man in the middle who drew all the attention.


    He wore a long, dark shawl with a barely visible runic pattern sewn in for a costume, covering his body almost entirely. A cowl and cap combined to hide everything but a letterbox opening around his hard eyes. His signal was muted, a prowling shadow. His gaze swept across the examinees as he strode into the corridor with loping steps.


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    It was strange to see Morphosis in costume, to be honest. Every interview he¡¯d ever given seemed to suggest he hated the practice, and generally refused to don it aside from the rare occasions where his old team, The Sacramento Navigators, got together for a reunion. After all these years, he was more known for his long leather trench coat. People even jokingly called him Morpheus, though I was sure he hated that just as much.


    ¡°You will enter as my associate calls the number on the stamp you received at registration,¡± Morphosis said, his voice projecting over the corridor despite his soft tone. ¡°This is not a matter of favouritism. The order of entry has been randomised. There is no seating arrangement, but that does not mean you will choose your seat; you will take the next available, row by row, until all places are filled. More information on the test will be provided when everyone is seated. Begin.¡±


    Without missing a beat, one of the staff spoke. ¡°1481927596.¡±


    An absurdly tall boy with spiky green hair stepped out of the line and made his way toward the exam hall. Before he was halfway there, another number was called. Soon, the line was thinning out as the staff rattled off numbers in quick succession.


    Only a few places ahead of me, an Asian girl with striking white eyes stopped to give me a smirk before heading off to the exam.


    I blinked after her, nonplussed.


    ¡°Friends of yours?¡± Julia asked.


    ¡°Never seen her before in my life.¡±


    ¡°Really? Weird.¡±


    My number was called only a little while after that, and I put the strange incident out of my mind.


    Anticipation built in me as I walked into the exam hall, but honestly this was the part of the admissions test I wasn¡¯t feeling too worried about. Even if I fell short on the power scale, my knowledge of everything related to powers and superheroes was, to put it as humbly as I possibly could, excellent. I¡¯d aced practice tests so many times, it was hard not to feel confident as I entered the exam hall and took it in.


    The 8x10 grid of single tables and wooden chairs was filled up about halfway at this point. I couldn¡¯t say what this room had been used for before, but the giant mural of Athena and her acolytes covering the entire raised ceiling surely made it an interesting experience. Or maybe the Goddess of Wisdom had only been added recently to grant some kind of divine inspiration to the hopeful candidates? No idea.


    I made my way to the next available chair as per Morphosis¡¯ orders, but paused mid-step halfway there.


    Now, I didn¡¯t want to be uncharitable or come across as racist or ableist or anything, but I felt any hearing-able and English-fluent individual surely couldn¡¯t have missed Morphosis¡¯ instructions to fill up the seats in order. That being said, the mystery of the white-eyed Asian girl who had smirked at me¡ªwas still smirking at me¡ªwas only growing. Why she thought she could get away with placing herself right at the back of the exam hall, I had no idea.


    Morphosis was known as a harsh teacher for a reason. Then again, most people didn¡¯t find trawling through hero student forums as interesting as I. More fool them. We¡¯d see who was the loser when I brought Lady Strange white-chocolate chip cookies and became her favourite student on day one.


    I shrugged. Ultimately, whatever the girl¡¯s deal was wasn¡¯t my problem. Taking my seat, I settled in to wait. The chair was surprisingly ergonomic, considering how it looked. Little latches shifted and interlocked, almost moulding itself to my body as I got comfortable.


    The perks of a sky-high budget, I supposed.


    It took about ten minutes for the rest of the examinees to enter the hall, and only then did Morphosis stride back into the room. He stopped at the very centre, and held up a hand. Wisps of shadow rolled out from within his sleeves as his signal roused, mingling together and forming a glossy ball that floated above his hand. It undulated in place for a moment, then smoothed out into a wide disk. More smoke joined it, embossing numbers around its sides, followed by three hands.


    He probably could¡¯ve just brought a clock, but I couldn¡¯t blame him. If I had a power like his, I¡¯d use it for dumb stuff like that, too.


    The staff moved down the rows, handing out test papers and clear plastic cases filled with a selection of pens, pencils, an eraser, and a sharpener.


    Morphosis spoke. ¡°Write your name and the number on your stamp in the allotted sections. Do not open your test¡ª¡±


    ¡°WAIT!¡±


    Footsteps boomed along the corridor outside, rumbling ever closer. Seconds later, a boy who seemed almost wider than he was tall came charging into the room like a rampaging elephant. His hair was long and greasy, and his sweat-stained clothes hung off him.


    An aura of disdain passed through the room like a Mexican wave.


    I just felt bad for the kid.


    He reddened under the attention of over a hundred people. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for being late, please don¡¯t disqualify me, I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Take the next seat at the back,¡± Morphosis said. ¡°The doors would have been closed if you were too late to take the test.¡±


    The boy practically ran to his seat, apologetically grabbing a test and utensil case from one of the staff along the way.


    Once he was seated, Morphosis continued. ¡°As I was saying: write your name and number in the boxes. Do not open your test until I say you can begin. Any power usage in this room from the moment your allotted time begins will result in disqualification. We are testing your knowledge at this juncture, not what answers your power can fetch you. Copying others, sabotaging others, distracting others: instant rejection. If you so much as use your power to warm your toes, you will be removed. You will not be able to sneak your power past me.¡±


    The shadow clock ticked over to 11, and his signal quieted. Morphosis closed his eyes and leaned against the wall.


    ¡°You have one hour. Your time starts now.¡±


    I picked up my pen and opened the paper. The first question brought a smile to my face, and by the time I¡¯d finished leafing through the test to gauge how long I should spend on each answer, I was outright grinning.


    Easy as pie.


    Taking a moment to stretch, I got started.


    When was the United States Hero Association founded?


    January 8th, 2003. Who wouldn¡¯t know that?


    What is the name of the system used to measure the strength of an individual power?


    The Shimada Scale. Easy. It was impossible for me to forget that one.


    According to USHA regulations, superheroes must get permission to fly over what height?


    1000 feet. It was right there on the website.


    A group of superheroes who wish to form a team must display what credentials?


    A hero licence, proof of US citizenship or appropriate VISA, and no criminal record for all members. I felt like that one was almost too obvious.


    What was the name of the first superhero team ever formed?


    The Golden Generation. A bit of a trick question, as many people would think of the other groups their members splintered off into, but anyone who wanted to be a hero surely had to know that one.


    This test was a joke.


    Time flew by as I blitzed through the questions, not a single one posing the slightest challenge.


    Towards the end, I leaned back a little to reposition my chair. The hall had long descended into silence, broken only by the shuffling of paper and the scratching of pencils and pens, everyone hunched over their tables and working furiously. There was another signal building now, building second by second, but I ignored it. If someone was using a power, they¡¯d get caught and that¡¯d be their loss. Besides, I didn¡¯t know if I¡¯d get called out for cheating myself for a passive sense, so whatever. A light breeze ruffled soothing fingers through my hair, and I luxuriated in the feeling of surety I was experiencing.


    I knew the rest of the day wasn¡¯t going to go anywhere near as easy as this. Better appreciate the calm while I had it.


    The breeze stirred the corner of my test a little, drawing my eye to the black splodge that peeked through.


    I stared at it, perplexed. I hadn¡¯t used a pen for the entire test. Best practice was always to go through with a pencil first so you could erase mistakes, then redo it with a pen if you had time at the end. More often than not, I tended to just leave my lines in pencil.


    It bore investigation, and so I lifted the corner of the page to check. I saw pretty much what I¡¯d expected, but my stomach still dropped.


    A page covered in ink blotches. Not a single question answered. I suspected most of the other pages would be the same.


    Suddenly, the second signal I was feeling was deafening.


    There were only ten minutes left of the test.

 1.10: Finding The Answers

    Dread settled over my shoulders like a physical weight. My stomach was doing flips, and I had to brace myself against the table to keep from shaking. I fought the urge to scream in frustration, and it was a close match.


    Morphosis hadn¡¯t moved from his position at the head of the room, his eyes still closed and head bowed, his signal muted. This had to have been going on for a while, yet he¡¯d shown no indication of having noticed. He was legendary for his strict and unyielding adherence to school rules, so I didn¡¯t believe for a second that he was letting it go willingly.


    It was strange to feel disappointed in a hero I looked up to. I wasn¡¯t used to it.


    If he hadn¡¯t noticed it happening in the first place, I had zero faith he¡¯d be able to find who was doing this. Maybe that was uncharitable. It was down to my low rank that I even had the signal sense to warn me a power was in use; what methods were open to him?


    I could see several scenarios playing out if I told the invigilators what was happening, and I liked none of them.


    Most likely, whoever was stealing my test answers would stop the moment they realised they¡¯d been found out. Probably as soon as I raised my hand to get the invigilators¡¯ attention. Maybe I¡¯d get my work back in that scenario, but in all likelihood they¡¯d still be able to copy down what they¡¯d seen.


    That didn¡¯t sit right with me. I didn¡¯t want a cheater to succeed.


    Even worse, they could turn their attention to someone else¡ªI couldn¡¯t be the only one in the room who was visibly breezing through the test. With so little time left, there was no chance of going back over even half the questions.


    I wasn¡¯t willing to sacrifice someone else to the answer thief. No way.


    A part of me knew there were other ways it could go. Maybe they¡¯d pause the test or postpone it, launching an investigation until the culprit was found. In that scenario, no doubt everything would get solved nice and neatly.


    Whether it was the confrontation with Lucas getting to me more than I thought or I was just in a vindictive mood, I wanted to deal with this myself.


    I focused on the feel of the signal. I could tell it was coming from somewhere behind and to my right, though I couldn¡¯t tell how far it was. It was a weak signal, and all I could feel was the vague, dream-like impression I tended to get. It buzzed at the back of my brain, made my stomach flip like I was falling.


    I thought I¡¯d conquered the distress that signals caused in me ages ago, but this situation was dredging that familiar dread back up. I took a deep breath. Had to beat it. Focus.


    Making sure to keep my body language casual, I focused back on my test, chewing on the end of my pen and frowning as if I was considering the next problem. I leaned forward a little, hunching over my desk like so many of my fellow examinees were doing.


    With my other hand, I lifted the paper a fraction, just enough to give me a view of the answers at the bottom of the previous page. Still there. I repeated the process, covertly leafing through the pages, until eventually I found what I was looking for.


    The effect was like the cross-fade transition they used to use in old movies. A blur was slowly rolling over the page, gradually replacing my answers with lazy ink blotches line by line. I leafed back a bit further, seeing the same black stains.


    A smile threatened to give me away, so I fought the urge.


    It was balance, taking something ¡®equal¡¯ and swapping it. What constituted equality here was beyond me, but I didn¡¯t need to know the details.


    Now I knew the method of the power at play here, it was just a matter of countering them.


    Letting out a quiet hiss, I ran my hands through my hair, affecting an air of frustration, then slumped over my desk. A few invigilators gave me the stink eye, but offered no rebuke.


    I counted to ten in my head, then sat back up, as if with renewed determination.


    Staying discreet, I lifted the corner of the page and checked the thief''s progress.


    This time, it was much harder to hold back a smile. Triumphant laughter was battering against the gates, and I was forced to duck my head to hide my face. My chest shook, but I managed to keep my shoulders still at least.


    As a general rule, powers defied any general rules we tried to assign to them. Any time a group came up with a new theory of The Way Powers Worked, a thousand exceptions would come out of the woodwork. revelations always tripped researchers up. Some claimed no one could truly know a power but its wielder.


    But that wasn¡¯t to say there weren¡¯t common themes. Power-granted senses, for example, did always have a giveaway, the sign just wasn¡¯t necessarily intuitive. Powers granting the ability to manipulate some kind of dangerous material almost always made the wielder at least partially immune to the dangers of said material even at the foundation level. More often than not, someone who could move at ludicrous speeds would have some level of protection from, say, the air resistance that would flay them if physics worked on them like it was supposed to.


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    (Their clothes often didn¡¯t receive such protections, unfortunately.)


    Point was, categorising powers could be useful, even if there were always special cases.


    A few years ago, a team in Germany had set out to study what they called¡ªroughly translated¡ªincremental phase transition and substitution abilities. Their conclusions were long-winded, dry as the desert as one might expect from an academic paper, and quickly proven wrong in many cases by peer review. C¡¯est la vie¡ªor whatever the German version of the phrase was.


    But there was one part that had, at the time I read it, yet to be proven wrong:


    Incremental substitution powers requiring line of sight to switch two or more objects would reverse if the connection between the two or more objects was interrupted. In almost all cases, the powered individual had to end the swap themselves while both objects were still visible.


    Best of all, the reversal was usually much faster than the swap.


    Whoever you are, I thought, fuck you.


    Of course I knew things were going to be competitive. That people were going to be out for themselves above all else and offering help to another student would be, from a certain perspective, jeopardising one¡¯s own chances. I got it. I respected it, even, to a degree.


    But actively trying to screw over other students for one''s own gain?


    No way was I going to let that go.


    Prioritising one¡¯s own interests was one thing, but this was still supposed to be a place for superheroes, for paragons of good and upholders of justice. What kind of hero would the person who was willing to do something like this going to become? The type that entered the cut-throat world of Los Angeles and ended up in prison for murdering another hero? Another corpo scumbag whose face ended up all over the news for helping their employers steal someone else¡¯s tech?


    An evil piece of shit that would let a known murderer attack a shopping mall to hurt a rival¡¯s rep?


    Fuck you, I thought again, my pencil cracking in my grip. Fuck you three times over.


    I had to take long, deep breaths to calm down. Needed to keep my cool here. If I was going to screw this bastard over, there could be no indication that anything was wrong.


    Their signal was still going, undaunted.


    Checking my paper once more, I found that the swap had progressed again. I made a mental note of where it had progressed to, then rested my head in my hand, leaning over to block the view from behind and to the right. I searched my memory, trying to recall the faces I¡¯d spotted in that direction. When I thought of it, the only person who¡¯d been further back than me when I¡¯d entered the room had been the smirking Asian girl, with the only other option being the greasy kid who arrived late, and I hadn¡¯t had any reason to look behind me since, focused on the test.


    Suspicion rose, but there was nothing I could do with it. Whether it was one of those two or not, it changed nothing. My strategy here was going to be the same.


    Sitting up straight, I focused back on the paper before me. There were barely a dozen answers left in the test, and I flew through them as fast as I possibly could, sacrificing accuracy where I felt it was necessary.


    Then I closed the test, placed my pencil down atop it, and slumped over so anyone sitting behind me and to my right would have no line of sight to my table.


    It grated to leave a whole test in pencil without going back over it, but I was too high on vindictive satisfaction to worry about it too much. If everything worked out how I thought it would, if I¡¯d calculated the speed of the substitution power¡¯s reversal correctly, if they¡¯d been unable to cancel the reversal of their substitution without line of sight like I theorised, I¡¯d get at least 70% of my answers back, leaving me with what I was confident was an 85% score. An easy pass for the written exam.


    The little cheater, on the other hand, would be lucky if they had 15%, and nowhere near enough time to copy an adequate number of answers off another student. Scanning around, no one seemed to be struggling too hard. Hopefully, there was too little time left for the thief to screw over someone else¡¯s score, even if they couldn¡¯t salvage their own.


    Regardless, my stomach was still doing flips by the time Morphosis opened his eyes and straightened up, instantly alert. ¡°Your time is up,¡± he said, and the shadow clock vanished with a huff of displaced air. ¡°You will put down your pencils and pens, and close your tests.¡±


    Everyone who hadn¡¯t done so already hastened to obey. I sat up straight, hugging my test to my chest. I needed to keep my test out of the thief¡¯s line of sight for as long as possible.


    ¡°The invigilators will collect your tests. You will remain seated until they have taken yours, at which point you will exit in an orderly fashion. You will then wait in the corridor outside. You will keep quiet throughout this process, as other tests are going on nearby.¡±


    My heart was pounding as the staff moved along the rows. I was trying not to doubt my conclusions, telling myself that my plan fit with all the relevant research. But the temptation to open my test and look inside despite the risk of disqualification was so strong it was almost physically painful. In theory, my plan should have succeeded. Almost the entirety of my answers should have been returned, leaving me more than enough to pass.


    But there was no way of knowing for sure. I wouldn¡¯t know the result for days or even weeks.


    I was shaking with nerves as I handed the invigilator my test and rose to my feet. I moved as if in a lucid dream to the front of the hall.


    When I reached the door, I turned to survey the room.


    In an instant, all my worries melted away.


    It was strange to feel so good under the attention of a truly murderous glare. If the Asian girl from earlier had the power to shoot lasers from her eyes, I would have surely been reduced to a smouldering pile of ash.


    Unfortunately for her, it seemed she only had the power to substitute matter via line of sight. A part of me wanted to ask her how it worked; it had to be a very interesting and precise power to literally swap ink and pencil she couldn¡¯t actually see right out of a stack of papers.


    The rest of me took vicious pleasure from giving her my most shit-eating smirk as I left the exam hall, revelling in the silence as her signal died out.

 1.11: Testing, Testing

    Knowledge of superheroes and cape culture was undoubtedly my greatest strength. That didn¡¯t mean I was lacking in other areas.


    There was only so much work a teenager could put in at the gym without a detrimental effect on their still-growing body, but I¡¯d long been testing those limits as much as I could under the watchful eye of my local fitness centre¡¯s staff. Taking my youth into account, my average 5 km time was respectable, my personal bests on the core weightlifting exercises were nothing to scoff at, and I liked to think I was a good student in every martial arts and self-defence class I could cram into my schedule.


    That was to say: I was in pretty good shape, especially compared to the average person.


    The examinees today were not average, and I couldn¡¯t help finding it all a bit unfair.


    My feet pounded on the treadmill in a steady rhythm. I made sure to keep my breathing steady, my movements smooth, following the techniques that had been drilled into my head. Running was far from my favourite exercise¡ªthe pump one got from lifting weights couldn¡¯t be beat, in my mind¡ªbut I could still appreciate it. It was a workout that let you turn off your brain and just exist. It was almost meditative.


    It was hard to fall into that zen state, given the circumstances. That feeling would probably be forever out of my reach when I could see other students powering along at thrice my pace with a fourth of the effort. There was even a girl whose upper body was unmoving, her arms crossed over her chest and a bored expression on her face even as her legs were blurring.


    The same story repeated all across the massive room. Hundreds of testing stations had been set up, with treadmills like the one I was occupying, resistance machines for strength, padded areas that seemed to be for reflexes, and more. Not a single one went unoccupied for more than a handful of seconds, students constantly rotating through the course.


    They¡¯d led us straight to some locker rooms immediately after the exam and had us change into some simple grey tracksuits with breathable white shirts and white running shoes. Morphosis¡¯ explanation had been brief: follow the instructions of the scientists, complete the tests, then gather at the door with an orange mark above it. Simple enough.


    He hadn¡¯t mentioned our group would be mixed with several others. It was a little intimidating to look around and see literally hundreds of powers on display, ranging from simple body enhancement abilities that pushed their users toward absurd physical scores, all the way to the weird stuff like a girl a few stations along from me who was apparently having trouble using the treadmill because her body became steadily more intangible the faster she moved. There was even a guy who seemed to be made of light doing reflex tests on the other side of the giant hall. The scientists around his station were merely staring at him with wide-eyed bafflement as he side-stepped across the mat so fast he seemed to become a solid wall of light. The number of signals ringing out made me feel nauseous. It was impossible to distinguish between them.


    I wondered if the ones monitoring me envied or pitied their colleagues. If nothing else, the kids with strange powers like that surely had to be more interesting than running tests on a candidate who was in good shape but far from abnormally so. Either way, they gave no indication. Pure professionalism.


    ¡°You can stop now, Emmett,¡± one of the scientists said. A pale, petite woman with bone-white hair and spectacles that seemed almost too stereotypical, she¡¯d spoken more words to me in that single sentence than the other two scientists combined. She was also the only one who¡¯d introduced herself: Maria.


    The treadmill¡¯s pace started to slow, and I matched it. I¡¯d worked up a decent sweat, but it only took me a minute or so to get my breath back once the machine had gone still. There were crates of energy drinks, and I took the time to down one. The two nameless scientists flitted around me, removing electrical pads that I¡¯d had stuck to various places on my body.


    ¡°How¡¯d I do?¡± I asked Maria while they worked.


    Maria didn¡¯t bother to look up from a row of monitors she was studying. ¡°I think you passed. Unless anyone picked up any problems I missed?¡±


    She¡¯d directed the question at her colleagues, and they both shook their heads.


    ¡°Then you¡¯ve almost certainly passed this section, at least.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°That easy?¡±


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    Maria shot me a dry look before she went back to whatever data she was sorting through. ¡°You¡¯re not doing an exam right now. Or, well, you are. But not like that. This is a medical test, not a competition with the other students. We¡¯re here to make sure you¡¯re fit to take the physical portion of the preliminary exam.¡±


    Huh. Some things made more sense now. But, ¡°What did I submit my medical history for, then?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not unheard of for prospective students to submit false or forged documents in order to gain entry to Aegis.¡± She sighed, pausing for a moment to tap at the keyboard. With a final click, she turned her full attention to me. ¡°I can admire dedication, and I can appreciate not wanting medical issues to affect your ambitions. However, the fact of the matter is the practical tests are designed to be difficult, and sixteen-year-olds with pre-existing conditions can find themselves in very big trouble, very quickly.¡±


    ¡°I guess things have gone wrong in the past, huh?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Maria said, her eyes darkening.


    I figured I¡¯d get no further elaboration on that subject.


    ¡°Well, for what it¡¯s worth, I promise I have no medical issues. That I know of, at least.¡± I tilted my head to one side, then admitted, ¡°Apart from being, ah, very weak as far as superpowers go.¡±


    ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, I believe you. But logic, experience, and protocol born from said experience dictate that we can¡¯t take your word for it.¡± Seeing that her colleagues had finished decoupling me from the monitoring equipment, she turned and gestured for me to follow. ¡°You¡¯re on the resistance machines next. To be clear: we¡¯re not testing your strength, but seeing if there are any weaknesses you may not know about until your body is under stress.¡±


    ¡°Fine by me.¡± I shrugged, confident they¡¯d find nothing on that front. We left, another examinee and their chaperoning scientists taking our place almost immediately.


    Maria led me through the maze of gym machines with the surety of someone who¡¯d done this a hundred times before¡ªin fact, she might have done it hundreds of times just over the last week. A harrowing thought. She exchanged nods and waves of greeting but no words with a few colleagues along the way, and soon we reached one of the fancy machines lined up at the back wall of the cavernous room.


    I¡¯d been getting an uncanny valley vibe from the place. A liminal space that wasn¡¯t quite a gym, but not a research facility either. As I approached the machine and the scientists swooped in to cover me in monitoring equipment once more, it came to me.


    ¡°There are no mirrors in here,¡± I said.


    ¡°You¡¯re not here to admire yourself,¡± Maria replied.


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t¡ª¡± I cut myself off with a sigh. ¡°Never mind.¡±


    Maria busied herself with typing away on the monitors immediately beside my new testing station, and the other two weren¡¯t exactly conversationalists, so I found myself with little to do as I waited for the next test. My gaze wondered, but it didn¡¯t have to go far to find something of interest.


    On the next station over, a boy I recognised was laid back on a bench in the bench press position, his face wine-red and his eyes boggling. He was straining against a bar that didn¡¯t appear inclined to move. It didn¡¯t take a genius to guess he had some kind of enhanced strength. Two scientists stood on either side of him, watching like hawks, while another oversaw his readings on another row of monitors.


    I couldn¡¯t see much of the data from here, but I did see a number that measured in the thousands and was slowly climbing. Before I could figure it out, a red light flashed and the scientists called a stop.


    The boy sat up, breathing hard, and our eyes met. Recognition lit up the boy¡¯s face, and he gave a small wave.


    A little awkward, I waved back. I hadn¡¯t actually talked to the boy who¡¯d arrived so late to the written exam, but I supposed we¡¯d been in general proximity to each other between there and the changing room.


    His handlers gave him a moment to recover while they conferred among themselves, and he approached. Cables trailed behind him, earning a few exasperated looks. None of them gave a reprimand, though.


    ¡°Hey, man. I¡¯m Billy. Billy Poole.¡± His voice was a little hoarse, and I got the feeling it would¡¯ve still been that way even if he wasn¡¯t being put through his paces. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow, a flush to his pudgy cheeks, and up close¡­ The nicest way I could put it was that his hair didn¡¯t look as greasy as it had from a distance. In all, not exactly a guy that was going to have corpo teams lining up for his signature.


    Still, books and covers. I¡¯d always hated the concept of judging people by their appearance, whether it was something under their control or otherwise. Some people would say that appearance said a lot about a person; background, personality, interests, et cetera.


    It was bullshit. There was no way of knowing someone¡¯s circumstances until you heard it from their own mouths. Any number of factors could explain a ratty shirt or an unfortunate hairstyle.


    That, and I definitely wasn¡¯t imagining the difference between the boy who¡¯d come thundering into the exam hall and the guy before me. It was subtle, but his face was marginally less round, his torso leaner.


    A power thing, most likely.


    ¡°Emmett Shaw,¡± I replied. ¡°Nice to meet you.¡±


    Silence lingered. Billy stared. I stared back.


    Just when the awkwardness was starting to dig its claws into my spine, Billy spoke in a stage whisper.


    ¡°So hey, uh. You seem smart and stuff. Could you help me out? I think someone is sabotaging me here.¡±

 1.12: Searching For a Saboteur

    I strained against the bar. Feet planted, shoulders flat, and arms parallel, I pushed with all my righteous indignation behind me, giving it everything I had and more.


    A personal best hadn¡¯t been in my plans when I started, but the way I was feeling right now, since Billy¡¯s words had settled like a burning coal in my gut, it wouldn¡¯t come as a surprise if I smashed through it¡ªI¡¯d welcome it, even. Records always seemed to come when I was experiencing heightened emotion.


    Reassuring, given how so many capes said the same thing about their powers. A fantasy of finding my first revelation right here, right now, flashed through my mind, but I dismissed it. Needed to focus on the matter at hand.


    It was perhaps naive of me to assume the incident back at the written exam was an isolated one. I¡¯d felt the cheater¡¯s glare on my back the whole way from there to here, and there were still moments when I¡¯d catch a glimpse of seething white eyes across the room. With that attention on me, I¡¯d told myself I was the only one falling victim to another examinee¡¯s overly competitive nature.


    But the fact of the matter was, it was exceedingly unlikely that the girl¡¯s power could pull off the sabotage as Billy had described it.


    While most powers trended towards relatively simple effects, some superhuman abilities could be¡­ out there. Powers started out defying logic at a base level, and they could get very, very weird.


    The Asian girl who¡¯d attempted to steal my test clearly had one of the more bizarre powers. She¡¯d been able to swap my pencilled answers for the ink blots she¡¯d left on her own exam, even though she hadn¡¯t been able to see my answers themselves. All she¡¯d needed was a line of sight to my paper and, presumably, some vague definition of the answers I was writing down, and she was good to go.


    When powers dealt in concepts in that way, that was when things got funky. It was entirely possible she could swap muscle mass. Or muscle memory. Or the idea of the strength within those muscles without actually manipulating anything physical at all.


    It might have been easy to take that as the answer. It would have been nice and neat, and my faith in my fellow candidates could have stayed unshaken.


    But she needed line of sight. And, as aforementioned, I was pretty confident her glare hadn¡¯t strayed from my august person since the moment I¡¯d foiled her scheme back in the written exam, because fuck me for not allowing myself to get screwed over and fail the test, right? I tried not to pay attention to the side of me that was taking so much satisfaction from her rage.


    Regardless, the truth here was a simple, frustrating one:


    She was not the only one willing to screw over her peers.


    Maybe it was more a matter of idealism than naivete. I¡¯d wanted to believe she was the odd one out, that the rest of the students here saw the path to heroism the same way I did: if you didn¡¯t do it honestly, what was the point? In my mind, superheroes were supposed to be virtuous and honourable, and any self-respecting hero-in-training would do their level best to embody that ideal.


    Of course, I was wrong. I should¡¯ve known better, seeing as a guy like Lucas was taking part today, somewhere in this very same building. It felt like a moment that should¡¯ve been a revelation, but nothing came to mind, and I wasn¡¯t sure I would¡¯ve wanted that kind of foundation if it did.


    I still couldn¡¯t help feeling a bit betrayed by it all.


    A buzzer sounded, and a red light twinkled in my eye. The resistance from the bar slowly faded, until I was able to push it up and out of the way effortlessly. I sat up.


    ¡°No problems there?¡± Maria asked.


    The other two shook their heads.


    ¡°Excellent. Reconfigure for overhead press, if you would.¡±


    They moved to obey, scooting me off of the bench and directing me to stand aside while they worked. As I waited, I scanned the room, trying my best to keep it casual.


    There were hundreds of people in here, each one of them with an unknown superpower. Anyone could have been the saboteur. A needle in a haystack.


    But I wasn''t going to let that daunt me. The idea of some cheater prospering off the misfortune of another student was enraging like few things I¡¯d ever felt before. I refused to let it happen.


    Billy had moved away to another station, but it didn¡¯t take long to find him through the crowd. He was at the reflex testing area now, dodging gracefully for one his size as a machine fired foam balls at him. The determination in his eyes was visible even from here.


    As was the occasional hitch in his step. For the most part, he dodged the balls with ease. With that level of control over his own body, the exercise should¡¯ve been a cakewalk for him. But now and then, there¡¯d be a moment¡¯s hesitation, a stumble, or a flinch, and the ball would strike him.


    It wouldn¡¯t hurt his scores, because there was nothing to score. This was no competition.


    That just made it worse. There wasn¡¯t even any need for sabotage here, unless you were so selfish you¡¯d be willing to get another student disqualified before they could even compete, potentially believing they¡¯d been living with an undiagnosed medical issue.


    That was something that could be life-changing. For anyone who wasn¡¯t me, failing the written or practical test wasn¡¯t the end of the world; they could just try again at one of the other major schools. Failing the medicals? You could easily have someone thinking their career was over before it could ever begin.


    I grit my teeth, keeping up my search.


    ~~~


    ¡°What makes you say that?¡± I asked, trying to keep my voice level.


    If Billy¡¯s nervous shuffling was any indication, I¡¯d failed. ¡°Well, uh. My power is¡ª¡± he stopped, eyes going wide. ¡°My friend said I shouldn¡¯t share the details of my power with anyone in the exams.¡±


    ¡°He was probably right,¡± I hated to admit. ¡°I think I have an idea, though.¡±


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    ¡°You do?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve clearly lost some weight since I last saw you in the exam hall. My guess is your power cannibalises your own body for a physical or mental boost. I assume that comes with some kind of special awareness of yourself?¡±


    Billy stared, gaping.


    ¡°Got it in one?¡± Now it was a struggle to keep the pride from my voice. If the twitch in his brow was any indication, I was two strikes down. I waved him off with a nervous chuckle. ¡°Everyone gets lucky sometimes.¡±


    He swallowed. ¡°Is that your power? Super luck?¡±


    My discomfort deepened. ¡°No. Sorry. It was just an educated guess.¡±


    ¡°Well, you were basically right. My crappy power lets me burn fat for strength. C-rank Level 2. My doctor said there¡¯s some kind of formula to it, but I don¡¯t remember that stuff. They say I can be really strong though, with more Aspects.¡±


    ¡°You call that crappy?¡±


    Billy looked at me like I¡¯d just grown a second head. ¡°Are you kidding me, dude? I have to eat constantly to store up fat, or my power has to use muscle or even frickin¡¯ bone. That shit hurts, let me tell ya. Also, I end up looking like this.¡± With a heavy roll of his eyes, he swept a hand across his huge torso, thrice as wide as mine. ¡°Whatever, the point is I have complete control over my body. I know what every little part of me is doing down to the cellular level. And someone¡¯s messing with me, bro!¡±


    ¡°Messing with you how?¡±


    ¡°I dunno! It¡¯s like¡­ do you play video games?¡±


    ¡°Not much, but I¡¯m familiar enough.¡±


    ¡°Uh. Same here. Heh. But you know what lag is, right?¡±


    ¡°I get you. So you feel like your body isn¡¯t responding as fast as it should?¡±


    ¡°Exactly! Nothing was wrong on the treadmill. That kind of shit¡¯s easy for me, so I got through it super fast. But ever since I got to the weights thingie¡­ It¡¯s subtle. Comes at random. Lasts a fraction of a second. If my power wasn¡¯t the way it is, I might not have even noticed it. But sometimes my brain will forget how to send commands to my body for just a second. Not really a problem here, but you can see how that could super hyper mess me the fuck up on one of the other tests, right?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Why haven¡¯t you told one of the scientists?¡±


    Billy froze up.


    ¡°You hadn¡¯t considered it?¡±


    I¡¯d been expecting some embarrassment, but instead his eyes darkened. ¡°Snitching never works.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t know¡ª¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t wanna help, just say so. I¡¯ll ask somebody else.¡±


    ¡°I want to help you. I do. I was just making sure you¡¯d considered the options.¡±


    Billy closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. When he opened them once more, he slumped, eyelids drooping and shoulder hunching like gravity had suddenly doubled. ¡°These guys will barely look at me. They¡¯re disgusted by me. Like, because I¡¯m fat I¡¯m not even fucking human to them. It¡¯s always the same, most people are like this. I¡¯ve tried to go to people like them before, Emmett. I¡¯ve learned my lesson.¡± He sighed, and the motion seemed to deflate him. ¡°If I need anything, I gotta search the crowd for the one person who doesn¡¯t look like they wanna spit on me. In here, so far that¡¯s only you. If you could find a way to help me out, I¡¯d appreciate it.¡±


    One of his handlers called out to him, and he walked away without another word.


    ~~~


    Observing the other tests going on was starting to make me paranoid. Did that girl trip naturally, or did someone sabotage her too? Did a group of scientists rush over to stop a guy¡¯s test because something was genuinely wrong, or had they been tricked? Was that limp a pre-existing condition that only came to light today, or had someone done that to them just now?


    The wondering was making my head spin. I almost missed it when I finished up with the resistance test, and Maria seemed unimpressed when I asked her what I¡¯d scored. I imagined only her sense of professional decorum had held her back from calling me a meathead, but the look she gave me betrayed her thoughts regardless.


    But even so, I was still watching the other candidates as we moved on to the next part of my medical. It didn¡¯t take me long to notice the pattern.


    In a high-stakes situation like this, people were always going to mess up. It was only natural that a few mishaps would be brushed off as accidents. You¡¯d think they might be more diligent in looking out for foul play, but Morphosis had already given me a taste of how much the staff running these tests could be relied on there.


    I tried to comfort myself with the knowledge that they were processing tens of thousands of hopeful applicants over the course of a week or two, but it helped little.


    So people were going to mess up. Without Billy¡¯s level of literal self-awareness, they¡¯d maybe think it was just their own mistake. Staff were going to brush it off as they tried their best to rush through applicants. Okay.


    But why was it that students who had been putting in high performances were so frequently messing up on the very next exercise?


    The girl I¡¯d seen earlier with the blurring legs and gyroscope-like perfectly balanced upper body was on the ground with her head in her hands, a scientist by her side awkwardly trying to comfort her. The light boy seemed unable to work up a rhythm on the treadmill.


    And, of course, Billy. It didn¡¯t look like the sabotage had derailed him too badly just yet, but there was always a chance that things could go wrong. This wasn¡¯t a competition. It didn¡¯t matter if he scored badly.


    That didn¡¯t mean he, or anyone else, couldn¡¯t get hurt.


    My teeth were audibly grinding together as we arrived at the next testing station, and it took a conscious effort to stop it. My palms stung as I slowly managed to unclench my fists.


    Why did people have to suck so much, sometimes?


    ¡°Are you ready for the next round, Emmett?¡± Maria called, drawing my attention. She looked calm as she stood at the ready beside yet another set of monitors, but her colleagues were about a second away from glaring. I considered stalling, just to see if they¡¯d actually deign to speak to me.


    I put that petty side of me in a box and sealed it shut. It was time to see if my theory was right.


    ¡°So how¡¯s this one gonna work?¡± I asked as I approached, eyeing the equipment. A bunch of coloured baskets had been laid out on a padded mat about the size of a boxing ring, surrounded by a ring of sleek grey monoliths with circular openings sticking out the top. Several expensive-looking cameras were trained on the scene.


    ¡°It¡¯s a pretty simple one. Hand-eye coordination. You stand in the middle, and a buzzer will sound when one of the launchers is about to activate. Catch the coloured ball it throws, then drop it in the corresponding hole at your feet.¡±


    ¡°Sounds competitive.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a minimum score here, but not a high score. We don¡¯t care if you can get 100%, as long as you show enough to convince us you¡¯re not colour blind, hard of hearing, or visually impaired.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°That sounds discriminatory.¡±


    ¡°Disability requires special considerations. Having one does not amount to instant failure, despite what many may think.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I said. The other two looked like they were going to throttle me, so I stepped into the ring and moved to stand on the faint mark in the centre. ¡°No monitoring equipment this time?¡±


    ¡°The cameras are fine for what readings we need. Ready?¡±


    I nodded, and Maria wasted no time in starting the test. A buzz came from behind me almost instantly, and I spun to meet it. I caught the ball that popped out easily and, after a glance, dropped it in the correct hole.


    Silence fell, and I listened with rapt attention. Another buzz from directly behind me, another spin, another easy catch. Two more went the same way, and then they started mixing it up, launching at different intervals and more awkward angles.


    I¡¯d been going for a few minutes, just starting to enjoy myself, when it happened.


    It was just as Billy said; if I hadn¡¯t been looking for it, hyperfocused on the movements of my body, I wouldn¡¯t have had a hope of noticing it. I¡¯d have no reason to doubt my slow reaction, watching helplessly as the ball bounced off my open palm, my fingers closing half a second too late.


    I was both flattered and relieved.


    The former, because the saboteur had evidently thought my performance on the resistance test was impressive enough to make me worth worrying about.


    The latter, because that was exactly what I had wanted.

 1.13: Laying Bait

    The same story played out repeatedly throughout the hand-eye coordination test. For the most part, I was left free to perform how I¡¯d expect of myself. The machine would buzz, a ball would launch, I¡¯d catch it and drop it in the correct basket. It was a simple test.


    But sporadically, that same mental disconnect would occur. My mind would stutter, leaving my body out of sync with my thoughts. My fingers would close too late. I¡¯d turn too slow. My timing would slip, dropping balls into the wrong basket.


    Ultimately, the test only went on for a few minutes and the sabotage ended up feeling more like a petty annoyance than an actual threat to my success. The only frustrating part was that it didn¡¯t occur often enough to gather any concrete data on it. My best guess was around half a second of mental lag, but that was hardly accurate. I started noticing a tiny pulse in my brain towards the end, like the throb of a migraine without the pain, but it was so faint I wasn¡¯t sure if I imagined it.


    Worse, I had no clue who the perpetrator was. The room was too chaotic, too full of people moving around, myriad voices blending into a cacophony of power signals underscored by the whirring and whining of the testing machines.


    I was watchful as we moved on to the next test, but it again amounted to nothing. My only hope was that they still targeted me, so I could keep getting a feel for what their power was doing.


    My next test consisted of dodging foam balls from a launcher, as I¡¯d seen Billy do earlier. He¡¯d made it look easy for the most part, but it turned out to be challenging even without the mental lag periodically messing with me. The balls moved fairly fast, and it wasn¡¯t easy to discern their precise target until they¡¯d already crossed half the distance. It became a guessing game, slowly learning the trajectory, gauging the speed, adapting to how the balls travelled. It was hard not to enjoy myself, and I¡¯d almost forgotten I was supposed to be on guard when it happened.


    There was a pulse in my head, that painless throb I¡¯d noted before. I barely had a moment to register that before the launcher gave its tell, the shutter that actually fired the balls winking closed. It whined, and I knew it would fire at any moment.


    Time to put my theory to the test.


    The shutter opened. A blur shot out.


    I felt the mental lag as I moved to the side, my legs reacting a fraction of a second later than I meant them to, my torso leaning out of the way slower than I commanded.


    The ball zipped by my head and struck the net behind me with a soft thump.


    A grin split my lips, 20% taunting the saboteur and 80% because I felt like a fucking badass. I looked around, making sure that they, wherever they were, could see my challenge.


    Maria was looking at me like I was a maniac, which, y¡¯know, fair enough. But I ignored her. Had to focus.


    The reflex test was practically perfect for confirming my theories on the saboteur¡¯s power. It was all about figuring out the patterns, recognising the little tells that betrayed when the launcher was going to let loose, like the shutter. Figuring out where it was aiming wasn¡¯t entirely guesswork, though there was some luck involved; if you waited to see where the ball was positioned when the shutter opened, you¡¯d know where it was aimed. The trade-off was less time to dodge, but I felt it was worth it.


    With the saboteur¡¯s power having its own head-throbbing tell, adapting was a simple matter of guessing the timing of the lag. I thought I¡¯d actually moved a little too early, if anything, and mentally adjusted my estimate. A third of a second, maybe?


    Seconds passed as I waited for the next shot. This time, there was no disruption, and I made sure to keep my grin as obnoxious as possible as I dodged.


    I¡¯ve figured you out, I projected. You can¡¯t mess with me anymore.


    Naturally, they took the bait.


    The only reason I didn¡¯t regret mocking them was because I wouldn¡¯t wish the attack they hit me with next on anyone.


    The shutter clicked open, the blur appeared. I got ready to move.


    And a hot knife of agony speared into my frontal lobe, dug around a bit, then sliced out a chunk of my brain. It twisted as it pulled out, scraping against the underside of my skull, leaving a hole in my forehead that dribbled bits of grey matter onto the cold ground.


    Just as quick as the agony had started, it was gone as if it was never there, leaving not even an aftershock. I took a deep breath as I felt around the spot on my head, the only pain coming from the slight sting where the ball had hit me. I¡¯d been rendered dumb, unable to move.


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    And yet, I was still grinning.


    Maria seemed really concerned now, but I gave her a reassuring thumbs up. It didn¡¯t change her expression, but she didn¡¯t stop the test either. I counted that as a success.


    The shutter opened once more, and again there was no disruption. I dodged the ball easily.


    On the next launch, the pain returned, digging a pole covered in acid through my brain right down to the stem. But I was ready for it. The first time had taken me off guard, rooting me on the spot. This time, I willed my body to move despite the pain, twisting my torso to the side. The disconnect between my intent and action was still there, but I¡¯d accounted for that too.


    The ball hit only the empty air where my stomach had just been.


    I had to fight with all I had to stay on my feet. Every instinct screamed to collapse to the ground and cradle my burning skull, because even if it wasn¡¯t real it really fucking hurt and god damn it I was going to kick that kid¡¯s shit in when I got my hands on them.


    The rest of the test continued along those lines, and the saboteur had hit me a dozen times before it was done. Each time the pain got more intense, and the lag harder to fight through even after I figured out there was a five-second cooldown on their power. My ears rung, a high-pitched whine of a signal focusing the full weight of its attention on me. By the end they were hitting me as soon as they could, giving up on timing it to make me miss my dodge. They just wanted to hurt me.


    To their credit, they were succeeding.


    My head was pulsing. Every marginally loud sound was thunderous. Looking towards light raked acid-dripping claws over my cranium.


    If I wasn¡¯t careful, I might never be able to wipe the grin off my face again.


    I was no psychological professional, but I was starting to build a mental profile on the saboteur. My first data point had been inconclusive. Targeting the top examinees could have been down to any number of reasons, but I felt two options were the most likely: spite towards people who were better, or ruthless pragmatism to take out the competition.


    But the way they¡¯d escalated after I¡¯d brushed off their power that first time? That pointed to pride. The inability to accept that someone had won a small victory over them. Further, if they were ruthless, they would¡¯ve moved on. It made no sense to focus on one person if their goal was to try and eliminate as much competition as possible.


    So, prideful and spiteful. Self-important and vicious enough to not only take offence to someone daring to foil them, but to keep fucking with them afterward, to put them in their place, to punish them for their audacity. Petty enough, weak enough to be fucking with people in the first place.


    That narrowed things down significantly.


    We moved towards my next test as a group. Maria spoke to me, but her words went in one ear and out the other. The entirety of my focus was on the hall at large, searching for people who fit the description, trying to search through the white noise of signals to identify the one that was targeting me.


    A few candidates were considered and discarded. There was a guy who was struggling to catch a single ball at a hand-eye coordination station and shaking with rage about it, but it was the self-recriminating, insecure kind of fury. A girl was arguing loudly with her doctors, insisting that she couldn¡¯t possibly have gotten a lower score than such and such, but I figured she was more focused on her so-called rival to bother with anyone else. I even reconsidered my assumptions about the Asian girl, but she was now firmly focused on the resistance test right on the other side of the room, too occupied to mess with my last test even if she¡¯d had line of sight.


    When I found the saboteur, he was both exactly what I expected and nothing like my mental image at all.


    The glare that refused to stray from me was exactly as anticipated, combining with the grit teeth and his tight grip on the handles of his elliptical machine to leave me with no doubt he was my adversary. Pride oozed from his every pore as he refused to look away even after it became obvious I was staring right back. Spite burned in his eyes.


    Discovering him should¡¯ve been a moment of triumph. Instead, my grin slipped.


    The kid was all skin and bone. His hair was thin, wispy. A consistency I¡¯d expect to find on a pensioner, not a kid my age. Pale, gaunt cheeks gave his face a haunted look, like he was an angry ghost fighting to remain in the world of the living just to spite the universe one last time.


    If he wasn¡¯t still sick now, he clearly had been recently.


    The doctors surrounding him looked grim, like they were ready to call a stop to his test at any moment. One was constantly hovering nearby, not even bothering to assess the scores on the monitors, arms outstretched to catch the boy if he fell.


    I couldn¡¯t blame them. If I was in their position, I probably wouldn¡¯t have let him through the door.


    A lot of heroes had talked about situations like this. Sympathetic villains. Calling the kid a villain almost felt like a misnomer, just looking at his limbs shake even though his elliptical machine was clearly on the lowest setting, but that was the whole point: sometimes people had understandable (if twisted) reasons for doing bad things, reasons that made you want to go easy on them, let them off with a warning.


    Punishing them felt like kicking someone when they were down. You could easily imagine how someone in that situation might develop disdain for things like honour and fairness. It was easy to forget what he¡¯d done, pity fighting against common sense.


    But they¡¯d still done bad things, and statistics almost guaranteed they¡¯d continue to do so without intervention. More often than not, they¡¯d escalate. The boy¡¯s wretched state tugged on the heart strings, but I had to put that aside and think: if he continued down this path, what could he do? What could someone spiteful and selfish enough to sabotage other kids his age do with a power that let him cause excruciating pain with nothing more than a look?


    Just by looking at him, I could tell he wasn¡¯t going to pass the medical test regardless of his efforts. Even if he managed to make everyone in this room disqualify themselves somehow¡ªand I¡¯d yet to see anyone in here get disqualified at all¡ªthere was no way he was taking part in the practical. Some might say that was punishment enough.


    I started walking toward him.

 1.14: A Bitter Taste

    Supervillains weren¡¯t like regular criminals. For one thing, there was more to earning the label than simply committing a crime with superpowers. Using telekinesis to steal a candy bar wouldn¡¯t automatically condemn you to the Abyss.


    To put it simply: if you had a warrant out for your arrest but were too dangerous for a regular law-enforcement officer to confront, you were a supervillain.


    Once you were designated a supervillain, things changed drastically. Placing a bounty on your head that anyone with a hero licence could collect for capturing you was just the start. It meant you were destined for a specialised prison if captured. Any assets to your name (if it was known) were seized. Police would stand aside, leaving USHA and the heroes to attempt to arrest you if you were spotted in public. You became wanted, hunted.


    And the superheroes had a hell of a lot of leeway in how they could handle you.


    My dad always hated the way supervillains were dealt with. I was too young to really internalise much of his most common rant topic, but he was happy to monologue to anyone who¡¯d listen, especially after Mom¡¯s accident. There were common themes to his tirades though, appearing frequently enough to be a guiding light in my research years later.


    The problem, as he saw it, came down to one fundamental truth to the US criminal justice system: it was about punishment of criminals, not reforming them for the betterment of society.


    I wasn¡¯t sure how much I agreed even today¡ªthough I held no doubt I¡¯d develop equally strong opinions on the matter over the course of my own hero career¡ªbut Dad believed we, as a society, should endeavour to rehabilitate and reform supervillains wherever we could.


    In his mind, there were very few people who didn¡¯t deserve a second chance. Most villains didn¡¯t act out of some moustache-twirling, puppy-kicking blend of pure evil, they had reasons for their actions. For example, it was common for someone from a low-income family to turn to crime to fill a monetary need in their life, and extenuating circumstances like an undeserved criminal record prevented them from using their powers for superhero work. Before they knew it, they were on the USHA supervillain database, and their life was ruined.


    Valiant had got into a few controversies for letting villains go, to the point that he was apparently hearing sob stories and tales of woe after every encounter. It hurt his reputation, but he didn¡¯t stop listening to them. Never stopped sympathising, even as he remained one of the most effective superheroes out there.


    That was what I loved about Dad. He was always ready to hear what you had to say, no matter who you were or how old you were.


    I tried to keep all that in mind as I stormed across the room, the voices of angry scientists washing off my back. Rage was threatening to consume me. It felt like my nerves were on fire, burning my brain and tinting my vision white. I was trying to breathe deep, to calm myself, to think about this rationally.


    Much as I admired and, in some things, sought to emulate the man, I wasn¡¯t my dad. Two people with identical life experiences could end up with diametrically opposing views, and I had yet to have an encounter with one of the so-called sympathetic supervillains he¡¯d loved to soapbox about.


    I¡¯d only met the murderous ones. Forgive me if that tainted my view of things, a bit.


    This situation was a first for me, and I wasn¡¯t sure how I was going to handle it even as I approached the boy. No matter how many hazy memories of Dad¡¯s rants ran through my head, they were superseded by a much more recent recollection:


    The pain this little fucker had inflicted on me for having the nerve, the gall, the sheer unmitigated insolence, to counter his attempts to sabotage me. No matter how pitiful he looked, this was a boy willing to inflict excruciating pain on another person his own age.


    There was no justifying that.


    But did that mean he should be punished? It felt like that was a question bigger than me, and I didn¡¯t feel even close to finding an answer as time ran out.


    At the very least, I managed to cool down enough that my first action upon reaching the saboteur¡¯s station wasn¡¯t to immediately punch him in the face as hard as I could. It was a close thing, though, my clenched fist straining at my side.


    He¡¯d abandoned his task the moment he saw me approaching, the scientists at his station standing around confused behind him. Anyone else in the room might have been on the receiving end of a stern lecture by now. Evidently, they were sympathetic to him.


    I wondered how that would change.


    The kid¡¯s glare matched my own as I stopped in front of him. This close, it was even clearer how frail he was, his skin so pale it was almost translucent, veins and arteries easily visible beneath. He was so small and skinny it looked like the AC units might blow him over.


    And yet he held his head high as he spoke first, his voice a thin rasp. ¡°You have no proof of anything.¡±


    ¡°20/20 works at Aegis Academy as an instructor for the Investigation and Forensics class,¡± I replied through grit teeth. At the lack of comprehension in the boy¡¯s eyes, I added: ¡°She¡¯s a postcognitive with the ability to see the past states of someone¡¯s body, asshole.¡±


    He smirked. This close, I could pick out his signal among the noise. Liquid, acidic. What was he doing with it? ¡°So she¡¯ll be able to see how many times you jerked off this week. What¡¯s that got to do with me?¡±


    ¡°They know what your power is. You think pro heroes won¡¯t be able to put two and two together?¡±


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    ¡°I¡¯m not convinced superheroes can count that high.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes. Every second that went by, it got harder and harder not to punch this shithead.


    ¡°That¡¯s a weird thing to say for a guy who¡¯s here trying out to become a superhero,¡± I said.


    The kid wheezed a sound that almost sounded like laughter. He raised his arms to the side, shaking even from that little effort. ¡°Do I look like I¡¯m ever going to become a superhero?¡±


    It felt like a dark cloud had settled over me. ¡°You¡¯re not even trying to eliminate competition to better your own chances,¡± I voiced the realisation as it dawned. ¡°So, what? You¡¯re just here to fuck with people to make yourself feel better the shitty hand you got dealt?¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± he said without hesitation.


    I blinked, eyeing the scientists behind him. They¡¯d all frozen.


    ¡°Jeremy,¡± one of them whispered, disappointment oozing from her voice. She looked betrayed.


    Jeremy only grinned, his eyes blazing with challenge, as if daring me to make a scene of things.


    I¡¯d been using sympathetic villain in my mind because of the common use of the term, but really I¡¯d been working under the assumption I was dealing with some malicious little shit who was determined to become a hero by any means necessary, so embittered by his circumstances that hurting other people didn¡¯t even register to him as wrong.


    I¡¯d underestimated the level of spite I was dealing with. Vastly.


    The realisation should¡¯ve only made me more angry. By all rights, my fist should¡¯ve made acquaintance with his face the moment it became clear that, for this kid, fucking people over was the end, not the means.


    Instead, tension drained from my body. I unclenched my fists with no trouble, unfurrowed my brow without issue, and was able to loosen my posture as if I¡¯d just learned there was no danger before me at all.


    Honestly, this was just sad. Tragic in the way finding an abandoned dog that had turned vicious and hostile was.


    Dad¡¯s words came to me, unbidden:


    What does anyone gain from slamming a villain behind bars and leaving ¡®em there?


    But the bitter truth was, I was a powerless kid without power. I had no effect on the justice system.


    Maybe I could become some bigshot hero and campaign for change in a few decades, but right now I knew, deep in my bones, that Jeremy was going to be sent to a juvenile detention centre. Spend a few years there, maybe more if his tendency towards spite landed him in more trouble. He¡¯d stew in his anger, they¡¯d do little to nothing to change his views, and he¡¯d come out the other end even worse than he was now. Maybe with some connections made inside. Those places were like recruitment centres for the cartels, syndicates, and villain teams.


    I was looking at a future supervillain, and there was nothing I could do about it. The scientists had already heard my words, the cogs were already turning. I wouldn¡¯t have let him get away with it even if I could, but I still felt regret all the same.


    Regret for a life wasted, maybe.


    I felt deflated as I spoke. ¡°Did you get what you wanted out of all this, at least? Did it make you feel better?¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± Jeremy said, his smirk twisting into a sneer of disgust. ¡°Maybe if I¡¯d had a chance to make a few more of these delusional freaks fail out.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s delusional about wanting to become a hero?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no such thing as heroes, you idiot.¡± He had to stop to take a breath. Just speaking seemed to tire him out. ¡°Not in this room, not at this school, not in this entire fucking country.¡±


    I wanted to correct him, but I knew that was the wrong thing to do. ¡°Why do you think that?¡± I asked instead.


    Fury burned in Jeremy¡¯s eyes. ¡°Oh, there¡¯s people who run around in stupid costumes. Like old comic books. Catchy one-liners. Smiling for the camera. And there¡¯s plenty of people here who¡¯ll go on to do the same, I¡¯m sure. But I won¡¯t call anyone who upholds this society a hero. I refuse.¡±


    ¡°This society?¡± I prompted. One of the scientists was speaking into a phone now, while the other two eyed Jeremy. Before, they¡¯d seemed ready to catch him if he fell. Now, they looked prepared to capture him if he attacked. In my peripheral vision, Maria and the other two who¡¯d been escorting me around were also poised.


    ¡°This shithole country where a guy can get thrown to the Abyss for trying to pay for his kid¡¯s medical expenses. The fact the medical expenses are even a fucking thing in the first place¡ªfor anyone, let alone a child! No hero would let that happen. Every cape is just a dog of the status quo. And no one in this room is any different.¡±


    I hesitated before speaking, ¡°And you think becoming a villain yourself will make anything better?¡±


    His eyes flashed. I tensed, expecting pain, but none came.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather be a villain than a government dog,¡± he said.


    Explaining the complicated relationship between the superhero community and the US government felt like it would be counterproductive, so I suppressed the urge with all my willpower.


    ¡°You don¡¯t want to try and improve things?¡± I asked. ¡°Maybe if you reached a high enough position, you could negotiate with prosecutors.¡±


    Jeremy groaned and looked to the heavens. ¡°Was I so obvious that I got caught by a blind guy? Fucking look at me. Use those creepy eyes of yours. How would I ever have become a superhero?¡±


    ¡°Anyone can be a superhero,¡± I said firmly.


    ¡°Do you seriously believe that?¡±


    ¡°I have to.¡±


    He eyed me strangely, like I was a particularly odd animal. After a moment, he wheezed a chuckle. ¡°Even if you¡¯re delusional enough to believe that, you know you can¡¯t get a hero licence with a criminal record, right?¡±


    I winced. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ not completely impossible. You can come back from this. If someone like Marquise can get her record wiped and go on to become a great hero, anyone can.¡±


    Somehow, that was the wrong thing to say.


    ¡°Marquise,¡± he spat the word like a cobra ejecting venom. ¡°Don¡¯t fucking talk to me about Marquise, the hypocrite. She¡¯s the perfect example of what I¡¯m talking about. A woman takes over a State, runs a syndicate that ruins hundreds of thousands of people¡¯s lives, commits countless crimes, and yet she gets away with it all while petty thieves rot in prison.¡± His voice was growing louder with every word, more rushed. It looked like he barely had the breath in his lungs, but he was practically shouting as he continued. ¡°All because she happened to be a big hero¡¯s nemesis.¡±


    ¡°... you think she should have been punished instead?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    ¡°Even though she helped take down her own syndicate? And a dozen other major criminal organisations since? Think of all the good she¡¯s done, how hard she¡¯s worked to repent for her sins. You think she shouldn¡¯t have been given the chance to do all of that?¡±


    ¡°Is there some kind of fucking formula based off how many good or bad things people have done? If so, why is my dad still in prison for robbing liquor stores, never once hurting anyone, even though he worked most of his life at a nursing home?¡±


    I didn¡¯t know what to say to that.


    Jeremy opened his mouth to speak, but something caught his attention and his jaw clicked shut. I followed his gaze, and sighed.


    Speak of the devil.

 1.15: Practically A Joke

    My footsteps were heavy, soles striking the polished floor hard enough to send jolts up my legs. The corridor was endless white, only broken up at intermittent intervals by screens displaying looped animations, smiling superheroes striking poses. The gaudy text introducing their subjects made them look like movie posters.


    Out of the hundred or so people filing through the corridor, I would¡¯ve been surprised if I wasn¡¯t the only one discomfited by the sight.


    For a lot of people, superheroes were little different from movie stars or pop singers. Reality TV shows following capes were among the most popular in the entire world, elevating groups and individuals to dizzying levels of fame, gathering followings on social media that numbered in the hundreds of millions. There were dozens of hugely popular game shows that pitted superheroes together in a range of challenges, from adaptations of modern sports to stuff like battle royales and straight up gladiatorial combat.


    The general public loved their spectacle, and there was nothing more spectacular than capes, masks, gaudy colour, and a whole lot of impressive powers.


    I tried not to be disdainful of it all, I really did. Life was tough, who could begrudge people from losing themselves in some mindless media to escape from it all for a bit?


    But it never sat right with me, seeing these people with amazing abilities squander it all on worthless pageantry while real villains were running around using their amazing abilities to sow misery and mayhem. All the scandals and controversies that popped up every other day, besmirching what it meant to be a hero in the eyes of the world.


    That wasn¡¯t the way superheroes were supposed to be. In my mind, heroes were embodiments of an ideal, paragons of virtue. They put helping people and doing the right thing above all else. They brought hope to the world, not drama. They were noble. Honourable. Selfless, above all else. Shining examples.


    So I couldn¡¯t help feeling a little disappointed in Marquise. Rumours followed her everywhere, constantly dredging up whispers of her past. Speculation about her powers ran rampant, since she seemed committed to deflecting any questions about the issue, but I never paid any of it much attention. To me, her exemplary track record since switching sides spoke for itself. She had thousands of arrests to her name. She campaigned for and even wrote laws that transformed the landscape of the modern world. She was one of the highest ranking superheroes in USHA.


    Most of all, Herakles trusted her to act as vice-principal of Aegis Academy. If Herakles saw her as one of the good ones, who was I to question him?


    People said she was cold, ruthless. A hero in name only. That the last ten years were little more than a long-running scheme to undermine the heroes, or something.


    Honestly¡­


    ~~~


    ¡°Jeremy Palmer, son of Carl Palmer. Am I to consider this an act of petty revenge against me? If so, you¡¯ve done a pathetic job of it.¡±


    ¡°Got your attention, didn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d prefer this to be seen as a child¡¯s cry for attention? I thought you might possess more pride than that, but clearly I was wrong.¡±


    ¡°You¡ª¡±


    ¡°Enough. There¡¯s only so much we¡¯re willing to allow in the name of testing our candidates¡¯ character. You¡¯re already going to be arrested for multiple counts of using a superpower on other human beings without consent and with malice aforethought. However, despite what you may think, things can get worse for you. Attempt to use your power on me again, and the consequences will be severe. Trust me when I say that you have more to lose.¡±


    ~~~


    I was starting to understand where those conspiracy theories came from. The idea of her being some kind of undercover supervillain still seemed absurd, but if that was the way she acted all the time¡­ yeah, I got it.


    ¡°But what actually happened? Why did the kid start going off like that?¡± Julia asked for the third time, still wearing the same gym uniform I was. She¡¯d caught up with me on the way out of the medical testing hall, but I¡¯d been too livid to answer her questions at first, and my mood had changed little as Morphosis arrived to pick up our group and chaperone us along to the next testing area for our practical exam. It had fallen to Billy to fill her in some, but he didn¡¯t have the full picture.


    I could understand her curiosity. While things hadn¡¯t escalated into an all out fight, it had turned into enough of a scene that it felt like half the room¡¯s attention was on us. Villain-esque rants in the middle of a hero school weren¡¯t exactly something you saw every day, and the infamous vice-principal herself showing up to escort the kid away must have sent the rumour mill into overdrive.


    If I was left out of it all, I¡¯d count myself lucky.


    All that being said, I really hoped she¡¯d take the hint some time soon. If someone didn¡¯t seem inclined to answer your questions, the decorous thing to do wasn¡¯t to keep rephrasing it over and over until they¡¯d explain just to shut you up.


    ¡°Gotta admit, I wanna know too,¡± Billy said hesitantly. He¡¯d already stoked Julia¡¯s curiosity with his over-the-top gratitude for finding the saboteur, and seemed determined to keep adding fuel to the fire. ¡°If you got yourself into trouble because of me, I¡¯d feel awful.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I said in a tone that I hoped was calm. ¡°It¡¯s handled. No trouble for me.¡±


    Julia squinted at me. ¡°Are you sure? The guys I was working with seemed like they¡¯d throttle me if I deviated from their schedule. Yours didn¡¯t look too happy either, from what I could tell.¡±


    I took a deep breath in through my nose. Counted to four. Slowly let it out through my mouth.


    ¡°They were understanding of the situation,¡± I said. ¡°Despite what that kid thought, no one wants false heroes attending this school. If anything, they were mad at him, not me. Catching a cheater was enough to exonerate me, I guess.¡±


    Results are what matter, Tempest had said. It''d proven true already.


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    ¡°They seemed pretty mad at you, too,¡± Billy added.


    Another breath. ¡°They thought I should¡¯ve told them, rather than take matters into my own hands.¡±


    Julia spoke. ¡°Look, I get why you confronted the guy; I would¡¯ve been pissed too. But you surely understand that wasn¡¯t the way you¡¯re supposed to do things, right?¡±


    I worked to unclench my jaw before I spoke. There was a low din of conversation echoing through the hall, students bragging about their scores and whatnot, but I still kept my voice low. ¡°Honestly, I just lost my temper. I find the idea of sabotaging other students to better your chances of admittance to Aegis infuriating¡ªthough obviously I turned out to be wrong about his motivations. It was me selfishly wanting to give the saboteur a piece of my mind, nothing more.¡±


    Julia winced. ¡°I told you things would be competitive.¡±


    ¡°I did expect people to be competitive,¡± I said. ¡°I didn¡¯t fucking expect to come face-to-face with some kid who¡¯s going to be a supervillain some day. According to Marquise, there¡¯s hundreds like him every year. That¡¯s insane.¡±


    ¡°People have different morals and values, and some will be willing to go further to get what they want. That¡¯s the way it is.¡±


    ¡°It shouldn''t be.¡±


    ¡°But it is.¡±


    I took a moment to breathe again. Fuck, I hated people who argued like this so much.


    ¡°I¡¯m allowed to be disappointed. I¡¯m allowed to be pissed. I¡¯m allowed to think that people should be better than this.¡±


    ¡°You are. Your feelings are valid,¡± Julia said with a nod. She linked her hands behind her back, her gaze straying as we passed a long row of windows. Clouds had blocked out the sun at some point, rendering the world outside a pencil sketch. ¡°There¡¯s nothing you can do about it, though. There¡¯s always going to be people of a different moral fibre.¡±


    ¡°People suck,¡± Billy agreed, glaring at nothing. ¡°Honestly? I bet that there¡¯s more that we don¡¯t even know about. Not outright villains, but people who¡¯re willing to be dicks in order to get into the school. There are probably plenty of students studying at Aegis right now who¡¯re complete asshats.¡±


    I thought of the written exam, how Morphosis hadn¡¯t seemed to notice the cheating going on despite his dire warning at the start. If it had been left up to him, that girl would¡¯ve got off scot free.


    Then Marquise¡¯s words came back to me.


    ¡°There¡¯s only so much we¡¯re willing to allow in the name of testing our candidates¡¯ character.¡±


    The sentence turned over and over in my mind like a pig on a spit. I looked at them from every angle, trying to find the perspective that would let me interpret it positively.


    ¡°Only so much.¡±


    ¡°Fuck that,¡± I said, a little louder than I¡¯d intended. A few people turned to stare, but I ignored them.


    There shouldn¡¯t have been any leeway at all.


    ¡°Aegis Academy is supposed to be a place for students who want to learn how to be superheroes,¡± I said. ¡°Real superheroes, not these fakers and villains. If people think they can lie, cheat, and steal their way through the exam, they¡¯ve got another thing coming. I won¡¯t let them ruin the integrity of this place.¡±


    I won¡¯t let them tarnish Dad¡¯s legacy.


    Julia gave me a sad smile. ¡°Yeah? You¡¯re gonna stop them all?¡±


    ¡°No. I know I can¡¯t do that,¡± I admitted. ¡°I can only stop what¡¯s in front of me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be rooting for you,¡± Billy said. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll have any significant effect on things, but, well, good luck all the same, I guess.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll find a way,¡± I said.


    Progress was slow as our group trailed Morphosis through the corridors in a long line, corralled by a few other members of staff. Somehow, the murmurs of conversation were twice as tense as the silence outside the written exam had been. In any other situation it might have been heartening, I might have been clueless enough to believe that I was witnessing some camaraderie form between the competing candidates.


    Instead, I was wondering if these were alliances forming. Battle lines being drawn. For all I knew, these were conspiracies forming before my eyes, aiming to target whoever appeared to be the biggest threat among our test group¡ªI wished I¡¯d been paying more attention to that during the medical.


    The thought made my blood boil.


    I said little as our group emerged from the long white corridor we¡¯d been following onto a massive staircase slashing down through the complex, seemingly heading deep underground. It was wide enough to easily fit a four lane highway, went on deep enough the bottom was shrouded in darkness, and it looked cavernous when it was devoid of people. Screens lined the walls, but they were all inactive.


    The group mostly fell silent, and I couldn¡¯t tell if it was because they were intimidated by the scale of the staircase or if they didn¡¯t want the acoustics to carry their plans to listening ears.


    ¡°Watch your step,¡± Morphosis¡¯ voice echoed from up ahead, dripping with disdain. ¡°I¡¯ve been repeatedly assured this ridiculous feature isn¡¯t a safety hazard, but accidents continue to occur.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just a long tunnel, teach. The staircase has landings, so it¡¯s not like you¡¯d fall far,¡± someone replied.


    ¡°Far enough to hurt yourself. You will all be careful.¡±


    With that, we started moving down as a group. There was little conversation, everyone focused on doing as Morphosis had commanded. Footsteps echoed like rolling thunder, filling in the silence.


    About a minute into our walk, an overhead sign came into view.


    ¡®Urban Combat Training Zone,¡¯ it read.


    Excited chatter erupted, even as my heart started racing.


    The UCTZ wasn¡¯t as famous as some of the other facilities in the school like the gym¡¯s main arena, but it had played host to plenty of events and earned a reputation in its own right.


    Boasting nine different ¡®zones¡¯ that each simulated, as one might expect from its name, an urban environment, it spent most of its time allowing students at Aegis to get some experience fighting in a place where collateral damage wasn¡¯t such a political and financial disaster. The early days of superheroes had seen obscene levels of property damage, so it was no surprise that a healthy amount of emphasis in hero training went in that direction, along with a lot of cash¡ªevidently it was cheaper to train superheroes not to blow things up than to replace the things they blew up.


    I was a little surprised to find we were using it. Quite apart from the fact enrolled students didn¡¯t set foot inside until third year unless they took a special elective offered only to a select few in second year, never mind that event organisers had to pay eye-watering fees to use it, forget that its maintenance staff numbered in the hundreds and my dad once said it took them days to clean up after an exercise, the fact news hadn¡¯t leaked was astonishing.


    The setup of AA¡¯s exams were kept strictly secret, aside from the vague instructions they posted online. Staff were under ironclad non-disclosure agreements, but that didn¡¯t mean students who took their preliminary tests earlier in the week had any obligation to keep mum about it once they were done. Tons of info was already online about this year¡¯s tests and how they were run, but there¡¯d been no word of the UCTZ.


    Soon enough we reached the bottom, the staircase opening out onto an enormous crescent-shaped observation room that boasted rows of spectator stands, the seats closer to something you¡¯d find in a cinema than a football stadium. Staff bustled through the room. The wall immediately ahead of us was entirely glass, overlooking the massive training complex below.


    And there was activity down there. Flashes of light, plumes of dust, glimpses of tracksuit-clad forms rushing around. Power signals sang.


    It sunk in. Evidently, we were going to be doing our practical exam in the UCTZ, and the candidates were clearly being pitted against each other.


    Well. I guess I¡¯m fucked.

 1.16: In Every Practical Sense

    It was hard to believe I felt so calm just a few hours ago. I found myself wondering what past me had been thinking, how he¡¯d kept such a cool head with this ahead of him. The endless anxiety of the past few weeks seemed more appropriate.


    It was coming back to me tenfold right now, like all my worries had been held back by a flimsy wall that had fallen down.


    Cheater aside, the written exam had been a breeze. I was never in doubt of my ability to pass it.


    The medical wasn¡¯t a competition in the first place. Saboteur notwithstanding, I was utterly confident in my physical health.


    The practical test was another matter entirely.


    I was frantically running through potential revelations in my head, really digging deep for unlikely options. Some people claimed these things had dramatic timing. If there was ever a moment for one to come to me, it was now.


    Nothing stuck out. Maybe my Z-rank rendered a revelation impossible after all.


    ¡°Your practical exam will take place in Zone 4. It was designed to emulate the kind of environment one might find in a European city in the wake of an evacuation, as superheroism is a global trend,¡± Morphosis spoke softly, but his voice projected across the room as if he was shouting. He was standing below us with the giant windows at his back, the entire group arrayed before and above him in the plush spectator seats. The undivided attention of almost a hundred teenagers didn¡¯t seem to affect him in the slightest.


    Comparing myself to a grown man, let alone a distinguished superhero, was obviously ridiculous, but I still envied him a little.


    He gestured, and an overlay was projected on the glass in faint blue lines. It shifted to highlight a specific part of the massive training area below.


    Each zone on the 3x3 grid boasted a different type of urban environment a superhero might be required to operate in. There was a zone of towers that looked like it could have been sliced straight out of New York and transplanted down there; another had been modelled to simulate suburban sprawl; there was even a zone that sat lower than the others, so that the ¡®river¡¯ winding through it wouldn¡¯t spill over. Half of them were already in use, ants skittering between the distant obstacles.


    I focused on the area we¡¯d be tested in, trying not to tremble in my seat.


    The most noticeable thing was how crammed together a city felt when nothing stood over four stories tall. Buildings constructed from white brick and red-brown tile infringed on one another¡¯s space with reckless abandon, jutting out like crooked teeth with bloody caps. Roads winded and twisted in seemingly random directions, oscillating in width and elevation, giving it a claustrophobic, labyrinthine feel even from this distance. Cars choked the streets, abandoned in gridlock. A blue dot appeared on the glass, which then expanded to highlight the tallest and most intact building of the lot.


    ¡°Your ultimate objective is to reach the tower in the middle of the zone. You do not need to climb it, as the finish line is on the bottom floor. The sooner you arrive, the higher your score. However, this is not solely a race. You will be given several other optional tasks to complete, ranging in difficulty depending on the level of skill we estimate you possess. Tasks are ranked from A to E, with A being most challenging, E being least. As you might imagine, the harder tasks will give you a higher score.¡± His eyes narrowed. ¡°If you were dishonest about your capabilities during the application process, this is the point where you will regret it.¡±


    Morphosis gestured, and the staff who¡¯d been hovering at the fringes of our group started moving along the rows, passing out clear plastic bags filled with a few bits of equipment.


    ¡°You will be given an armband,¡± Morphosis said, holding up his own. ¡°It contains a tracking device which will relay your position to observers of the test at all times. You will find that there are several buttons you can press. All of them do the same thing: call for help. If you find yourself in any danger, you will use it, and someone will arrive to assist you. Test it now. If it does not light up red and sound an alarm, raise your hand to receive another.¡±


    We all did as instructed. A few signals flared up, though I couldn¡¯t guess what anyone could be using their power for here. The band was bone white, made of a velvet-like material that seemed to constrict snugly to anything placed within it. Red dots circled it along the middle, and the entire thing turned red and whined when one was pressed.


    ¡°There is also a small tablet in your packs that will relay information to you. Scan your ID stamp on the front-facing camera, and it will give you your list of tasks. You will be expected to figure out the rest of its functionality for yourselves, and utilise it as you see fit.¡±


    I took a moment to check the palm-sized tablet, holding it tight in my hand so the screen wasn¡¯t shaking too much, more to gauge what kind of thing I¡¯d be dealing with than to actually start forming any plans. Waving my wrist over the camera yielded a quiet beep after a few tries, then the device blinked to life. After a brief welcoming message, it listed my tasks in white writing on a black background.


    TASKS TO BE COMPLETED:


    E: Retrieve a token from point E marked on your map app.


    D: Deliver the token to point D marked on your map app.


    C: Remove the obstruction blocking passage between Eden Park Av. and Torini Rd.


    B: Rescue Hostage A from Magnan Hotel, and bring it to the ending area undamaged.


    A: Repair the radio tower in the east of the zone and send a signal to the central tower.


    Doable. That was totally doable. Hardly easy or anything, but¡­ that seemed, okay? Being powerless, they obviously weren¡¯t going to give me anything super dangerous. It¡¯d take some planning; I¡¯d have to balance completing the tasks with reaching the tower in a relatively timely manner, but I figured I could probably get them all.


    If I was the only one in the arena.


    Morphosis was still speaking. ¡°To forestall complaints, I will inform you that a lot of work has gone into ensuring this exam is as fair as can be. You will all start in the same place, and your tasks are designed to take you all over the zone. As long as you have been honest about your capabilities, this test will challenge you no more or less than it will challenge any other examinee. You have thirty minutes to prepare.¡±


    And with that, he moved to lean against the giant window, eyes drooping shut. Just as he had during the first exam. I wondered if he had some power-granted senses to keep an eye on things, but there were no cues to give it away if he did.


    Honestly, I really hoped he didn¡¯t. Marquise¡¯s words were echoing in my mind, and the idea that Morphosis had stood there and done nothing while someone was trying to cheat me¡­ I didn¡¯t know what I¡¯d do if that was the case.


    Silence fell, and it lingered like a bad smell. A few people rooted around in their packs. Some got up and moved to another part of the room, though I couldn¡¯t guess what they were doing. One guy started jogging up and down the stairs between the rows of spectator seats.


    Most stayed where they were, and tension started to bleed into the room. Paranoia ran rampant. People were hunched over their tablets, trying to read their task list without revealing it to anyone else. Peeking into their packs, throwing suspicious looks. Signals rang out, shrill and defensive.


    I could see what was going to happen here, clear as day.


    Other candidates had tried to screw me over even when there wasn¡¯t even a direct competition, and I highly doubted that was an experience exclusive to me. This exam was where everyone was going to really show what they could do, and it was going to be an all-out clash. We¡¯d be down there on our own, thrown into a free-for-all. It was obvious that things were going to descend into a ruthless battle royale, everyone not just out for themselves but out to hurt others¡¯ scores. Even if the cheaters were a minority, that didn¡¯t matter when one didn¡¯t know who was dishonest.


    Any alliances or friendships that might have been forming were out the window now. No one spoke a word. The only sound in the room was the shuffling of packs, tapping on tablets, the little whines of the armbands. Even Billy and Julia, on either side of me, weren¡¯t saying a word.


    I gripped the armrests of my seat until the plastic creaked.


    My attention strayed to the training area far below. To the flashes of light, the clouds of dust, the muffled sound of distant thunder. It looked like a warzone down there. I supposed it was, in a way.


    How many ruthless bastards were going to walk out of that test with their heads held high and their scores even higher? How many honest, honourable candidates were going to give it their best shot only to find themselves stabbed in the back?


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    Julia had been right. I couldn¡¯t stop them all on my own. Hell, it was possible I wouldn¡¯t even be able to stop one of the examinees who¡¯d be willing to turn on their peers. Maybe my best would yield only failure. Maybe I couldn¡¯t even save one person.


    But who the hell said I had to do it on my own?


    It was time to gamble.


    I took a deep breath and a futile moment to quiet my protesting nerves, then stood up. ¡°I want to make a proposal.¡±


    Of course, that meant everyone in the room¡¯s attention snapped to me.


    My stomach did a flip, and wasn¡¯t content with just one.


    There¡¯d been few occasions in my life when I had so many eyes on me, and in not a single one of them was I the sole object of attention. Even with other kids on the stage, the scrutiny of over a hundred people had been enough to turn my hands clammy, my legs to jelly, my brain to soup. At those times, I¡¯d considered myself lucky if I could remember my own name.


    This scenario was a hundred times worse. All rational thought fled, my mind going utterly blank. My mouth flopped open, but no sound came out, leaving me gaping like a fish. Seconds passed, each more agonising than the last.


    Pathetic, Lucas¡¯ voice appeared in the back of my mind. Pathetic, another voice echoed, this one belonging to the USHA officer who¡¯d found me all those years ago. Pathetic, they repeated, overlapping.


    Among all the words in the English language, it was tough to think of one I hated more than that. Pathetic. Contemptibly inadequate. Worthy of nothing but pity or disdain, or even both. Disdain, I could handle.


    Pity? I didn¡¯t deserve it.


    Pathetic, Valiant said long ago, watching as I struggled back to my feet.


    Pathetic, I agreed in the present. I¡¯d acted without thinking, and now I looked like a total imbecile.


    Why was it that the attention of a villain had made me feel alive, but a hundred peers filled me with dread?


    All eyes were still on me, and with every second that felt like hours, I could see the scorn building in their eyes. Even Billy and Julia looked confused. What did the scene look like to them? A guy who spoke up, sounding all confident and assured, only to freeze in place when everyone turned to face him. It was probably confusing, if anything.


    What kind of hero shied away from mass attention? How could someone afraid of a crowd ever hope to save one?


    ¡°I want to make a proposal,¡± I said again, and I¡¯d forever be thankful to whatever higher power was out there that my voice didn¡¯t crack and I didn¡¯t stutter. I sounded so much more confident than I felt as I continued. ¡°Let¡¯s work together.¡±


    My thinking was simple: I was going to put faith in the people around me. I wanted to believe that the kind of people who¡¯d sabotage fellow candidates were in the minority, so I was going to go ahead and fucking believe it.


    The people here were competitive, of that I had no doubt. Every single one of them was determined to win a spot in Aegis¡¯ next freshman year. They would¡¯ve trained their asses off. Studied like mad. For most people here, this test was everything.


    But, ultimately, they wanted to be superheroes.


    And there were very, very few superheroes who worked alone.


    Tension filled the room like a physical force, bearing down on me with the weight of a hundred stares.


    Morphosis¡¯ eyes opened, fixing a sharp gaze on me.


    I stared back, daring him to have a problem with this. Cheating was apparently let slide in order to test people¡¯s moral character, but when had anyone ever said cooperating wasn¡¯t allowed here?


    After a few moments, Morphosis closed his eyes and relaxed once more.


    I didn¡¯t know how to take that, so I just kept going.


    ¡°We¡¯ll cooperate to make sure we all finish our tasks,¡± I said, trying my best to project my voice without it cracking. ¡°That should make up for taking longer to get to the goal. Hell, I bet our scores would be much better off for completing all our higher-ranked tasks than getting to the goal a little faster.¡± I paused. ¡°And if you don¡¯t want to do even that, how about we at least agree to a truce? No more sabotage. No more infighting. No more messing with each other for petty advantages.¡±


    Glances were exchanged. A few people shifted.


    I drew in a deep breath, slowly blew it out. ¡°I¡¯ve wanted to attend Aegis Academy since I was a little kid. My old man used to teach here, and he¡¯d bring me along to visit the campus whenever he could. This place defined my childhood. It was my second home. In some ways, it¡¯s the strongest connection I have to my father¡¯s memory. And yet.¡± My jaw clenched. I scanned the group, and I dearly hoped my expression matched my feelings. ¡°And yet, I wouldn¡¯t even think of screwing someone else over to get myself a spot. Because what the fuck would be the point of attending a hero school if I¡¯m not going to be a hero?¡±


    There were some offended looks at that. I tried to commit the faces to memory.


    ¡°So I propose we work together, because I believe that¡¯s the right way to do this. The heroic way to do this.¡±


    The ensuing silence was broken by a soft laugh. A few rows down, a girl stood, turning to face me with a sneer. It took me a moment to recognise her with her milky white eyes replaced by a dark brown. I hadn¡¯t been so close to her until now, so I hadn¡¯t had the chance to envy how flawless her appearance was. Poreless, smooth skin. Silky black hair that was too perfectly straight. Shadowed eyelids, cherry-red lips, a rosy tint to her cheeks. She looked like she¡¯d just left a photo shoot, not an arduous medical test.


    Instead of being impressed or intimidated by her beauty, I found myself wondering who she¡¯d imposed her imperfections on.


    ¡°I hope nobody¡¯s buying this kid¡¯s bullshit,¡± she said.


    ¡°Sooyoung,¡± another boy hissed from nearby, though I couldn¡¯t see who.


    ¡°I hope,¡± Sooyoung continued with a pointed edge to her voice, ¡°that nobody is naive enough to go through this truce, just to let this asshole do as he pleases.¡±


    ¡°Emmett,¡± I said.


    ¡°Asshole,¡± Sooyoung said, smiling sweetly. ¡°I¡¯ve seen your type before. Plotters. Manipulators. The only reason you want everyone singing kumbaya and holding hands is so it¡¯s easier for you to stab them in the back.¡±


    ¡°I would never.¡±


    ¡°And why should anyone here believe that? Why should anyone here put their entire future on the line just on your word? Sorry to break it to you, but not everyone has the luxury of treating this like some whimsical dream. For some of us, defeat is not an option.¡± She lifted an arm and swept it across the crowd, staring into my eyes all the while. ¡°We¡¯re all strangers here. You don¡¯t know anyone else¡¯s story. Success and failure could be life and death for some of these people, for all you know. And yet here you are, telling them they should carry you to victory.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what this is about. I want everyone here to succeed. Not just me.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Seems to me you¡¯re getting a lot more out of this than they are, though? If they hold back, it makes things so much easier for you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not telling anyone to hold back,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m telling them not to fuck anyone else over for their own gain. Big difference.¡±


    ¡°And aren¡¯t you fucking people over for your own gain right now?¡±


    ¡°No!¡±


    ¡°No?¡± She gave me a smile that almost looked sincere, betrayed only by the anger in her eyes. ¡°Who would benefit more from a pact of non-aggression than one who can¡¯t be aggressive?¡±


    I sighed. So that was her angle.


    ¡°For the sake of transparency, you should know I¡¯m an F-rank,¡± I said, raising my voice to be sure everyone heard. It was a mild deception, but I didn¡¯t want to stand here and explain that there was actually a lower rank made just for me. As expected, the shock in the room was a near-palpable force. Even Sooyoung¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°My body emits a signal. I can be measured on the Shimada Scale. It¡¯s just so weak I haven¡¯t been able to establish my foundation yet. Like a child, I guess. In theory, anyone here could absolutely screw me over with little effort, so it¡¯s in my best interests to try and ensure no one attempts to.


    ¡°But I¡¯ve been living and breathing superpowers for as long as I can remember. I¡¯ve kept up with all the news, read every magazine and journal I could get my hands on, and spent countless hours watching videos of superpowers in action. My parents were superheroes. My uncles, aunts, cousins, and my older sister; all superheroes. Even if I¡¯m powerless myself, I like to think I¡¯ve got a quasi-power of my own: I know powers. I know the theories, I know the studies. I know how people tend to use them, and I have some ideas on how to deal with them.


    ¡°In fact,¡± I continued with a smile. ¡°I already dealt with two people trying to mess with me today. I bet a few of you saw that kid yelling his heart out back in the medical test? He was one.¡± I looked at Sooyoung. ¡°And he was much more of a challenge than what I faced on the written exam.¡±


    Her eyes narrowed, and milky white started bleeding into her irises.


    I matched her gaze. ¡°I have no intention of trying to sabotage another student, and I have even less interest in using people to do my tasks for me. I¡¯ll prove it to you all with this: we¡¯ll leave my tasks until last. I¡¯ll do everything in my power to help complete everyone else¡¯s from A to E, and then I¡¯ll go and see about doing my tasks on my own. If anyone wants to help me at that point, they¡¯re welcome to. But I don¡¯t demand it.¡±


    ¡°Bullshit,¡± Sooyoung snarled.


    Before I could reply, Julia stood. ¡°Sounds good to me. Let¡¯s work together.¡±


    Billy was half a step behind her. ¡°Count me in. You helped me out earlier, so I gotta repay the favour.¡±


    Whether it was my words sinking in or the confidence of two other students, something gave the crowd the push they needed. Three more stood up at almost the same time. Those three inspired a few more. And like that, it became a cascade, more and more joining our group by the second. Soon, there were over forty people standing, ready to cooperate. An eclectic mix, tall and short, boys and girls of all races. It was less than half a class, but I couldn¡¯t bring myself to feel disappointed.


    Obviously, I was aware that at least some of them were doing this for selfish reasons, thinking that joining the group would get them more points than if they were on their own. That was fine. If they got all their tasks done then left, no problem. As long as they didn¡¯t try to sabotage the rest of us. But I wanted to believe that most of them were here because they wanted to help others.


    These were good people, I told myself.


    Naturally, these good people were all looking at me. For guidance. For instruction.


    The Z-rank. The guy who still didn¡¯t have any powers at sixteen. It was utterly ridiculous. Unimaginable.


    My heart was hammering in my chest. My hands were tensing up. It was a miracle my legs weren¡¯t wobbling.


    And yet, my voice came out steady.


    ¡°We have about twenty minutes left. Let¡¯s go make a plan,¡± I said.

 1.17: Being Practical

    Over one hundred students gathered at the starting line. The white wall before us was going to rise any minute now, but you could tell with just a glance that there was a clear division in the ranks.


    On one side, a faction of fifty or so had come together. They murmured among themselves as they pored over their tablets in smaller groups, scrolling through their tablets, coordinating all the little details of their tasks for the upcoming test. A frantic energy had been building as the start of the test loomed. I¡¯d thought organisation was going to be a nightmare, but a guy with blue hair that stood on end had managed to hack our tablets and network them together with incredibly precise use of his electrokinesis power.


    On the other end of the room, silence reigned. No one mingled. Talking had become verboten. Cooperation seemed utterly unattainable, and I couldn¡¯t help thinking it was a bit pathetic. Refusing to join our larger party was one thing, but I thought they¡¯d at least form their own pacts to try and bring us down or something.


    The air was humming and crackling with power signals, practically alive with it, too many to distinguish between them. Almost everyone had a visible power sign ready.


    I sighed, turning my attention away from them. A lot of those guys were going to try and cause problems, of that I had no doubt. But going it solo lowered their threat level drastically, so who was I to complain?


    Besides, I was having a hard enough time keeping our plan together in my head. When I¡¯d suggested cooperation, I hadn¡¯t exactly expected to be the one at the very heart of our efforts. Quite apart from being a lower-than-F-rank with no powers among prodigious superpowered teenagers, I couldn¡¯t remember being in charge of anything in my life. Anxiety had strangled any ambitions to take command in the cradle. I was surprising myself over and over today.


    Our plan was simple in explanation, but vexing in execution. After some debate, we¡¯d settled on navigating the test zone in a constricting circuit, starting on the outside and moving inwards, completing our tasks on the way. It sounded simple, but not every objective was automatically marked on the map application on the tablets they¡¯d provided us. Like mine, some tasks were given place names which we¡¯d have to track down, and there were a few that read more like riddles to solve. One guy¡¯s was written in some kind of algebraic formula I couldn¡¯t make heads or tails of, though he somehow understood it.


    More and more tasks were popping up on our shared map, to the point it was getting hard to actually see the map itself. Keeping track of it all was going to be a pain in the ass.


    And, despite myself, I was relishing the challenge.


    How many hours had I spent daydreaming about taking the lead in some great heroic effort? It had always seemed like something impossible. A fanciful fantasy. Yet here I was, and I hadn¡¯t even started hero school yet.


    My heart was filled with pride as I stood in the centre of the crowd, my tablet in my hands. Other examinees constantly approached, vying for my attention. Julia and Billy had taken to being my bodyguards of a sort, ensuring I could have at least some peace to strategize how we were going to tackle all these little dots. It was a futile effort, but I appreciated it all the same.


    At first, it seemed logical to go for the higher point tasks first. Knock off the A- and B-ranks as fast as possible, and it wouldn¡¯t be a total disaster if everything fell apart. Our people would still pass.


    The more dots appeared on the map, the less viable that looked. Not to mention the inevitable accusations of unfairness. At this point, I was leaning towards eschewing careful plans and just completing them in the order we¡¯d encounter them. It¡¯d be less efficient, but no plan survives contact with the enemy anyway¡ªonce we got out there, I was sure there¡¯d be complications.


    My eyes drifted over the golden pins on my map. My tasks. Or at least the ones I¡¯d had the time to figure out and mark down.


    Couldn¡¯t linger on them. If I started thinking about how my own performance in this task might end up looking, I wasn¡¯t sure I¡¯d be able to stop.


    Unfortunately, it seemed I wasn¡¯t the only one worrying about it.


    ¡°I think you should reconsider your plans,¡± Julia said at the precise moment there was a lull in conversation around me.


    I gave her a look. ¡°Are you ever going to give up on this?¡±


    ¡°No. In other circumstances, I might allow someone I see as competition to hurt their own chances. But I¡¯ve witnessed the strength of your character several times over today, and I think it would be a shame if you failed to get past the preliminaries out of stubbornness.¡±


    ¡°For one thing, I don¡¯t want to hear any talk of stubbornness from the girl who¡¯s brought this up three times despite my request to drop it. For another, what you call stubbornness, I call principles.¡±


    Julia smirked. ¡°Is there a difference?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t just ignore the first part.¡±


    ¡°The way I see it, you¡¯re placing excessive value in the importance of your word. You said you would forgo the completion of your tasks, and therefore that¡¯s what you¡¯re going to do.¡± She tilted her head to one side, observing me like I was a particularly strange specimen. ¡°What would you call valuing a promise to strangers over your own future?¡±


    ¡°Principles,¡± I repeated, holding up a finger.


    ¡°What are principles worth if they mean you finish last?¡±


    ¡°Virtue, honesty, honour,¡± I went on, ignoring her and counting on more fingers as I went. ¡°All traits a hero is generally expected to have, yeah?¡±


    Julia was unimpressed. ¡°How are you going to be a hero if you fail here today?¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t fail,¡± I said, trying my best to believe it. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure everyone has done their tasks, then I¡¯ll go and complete mine.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t seriously believe that will work? Your time will be so slow it¡¯ll cancel out the scores for the rest of your objectives, and I highly doubt you¡¯re going to get some special bonus points for rallying everyone after utterly ignoring your objectives until the last minute. It¡¯s hardly an inspiring display of heroism to leave a hostage to their fate.¡±


    My heart dropped. It was a low blow and I could tell she knew it, but it had struck home all the same.


    ¡°We¡¯re talking about a dummy here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure that excuse will go over well.¡± She shook her head. ¡°This isn¡¯t heroism, Emmett, it¡¯s martyrdom. It won¡¯t win you any sympathy. Stop being ridiculous.¡±


    I sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t have time for this.¡±


    A few people had gathered around while we¡¯d been arguing, but a raised hand from Julia had been enough to keep them from interrupting. I turned to the nearest one, but Julia stepped in the way.


    ¡°Please drop it,¡± I begged.


    It would¡¯ve been a much easier conversation if she wasn¡¯t at least partially right.


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    What I was doing was good, in the moral sense of the word. If we were here to display our potential as heroes, what better way could I show myself off than by helping people at my own expense?


    But I knew things weren¡¯t so ideal. A test was a test, the rules written and codified. If I failed to get a high enough score, I wasn¡¯t going to make it past the primaries.


    I had been succeeding in keeping my mind off that fact before Julia spoke up.


    ¡°Please,¡± I repeated.


    Julia stared at me for a long moment, expressionless. Eventually, she breathed out a sigh. ¡°Utterly ridiculous. Whatever ideas of heroism you¡¯ve had drilled into you, the world doesn¡¯t work that way. Harming yourself to help people is very noble, but it earns you little more than the right to pat yourself on the back. What use will you be if you sacrifice yourself at every turn? How long do you imagine you¡¯ll even survive? Living for the sake of others is a beautiful idea, but there¡¯s a reason it only works out in stories. I hope reality doesn¡¯t hit you too hard before you learn to prioritise yourself, Emmett.¡±


    Without waiting for a reply, she turned and strode away. I was left seething on the spot, glaring at her back. Maybe it was a good thing she left. I wasn¡¯t convinced my reply to that diatribe would¡¯ve been a productive one.


    With her absence, the crowd converged on me, and I had no time to dwell on it any further. My world became a blur of maps, tasks, and plans. We took a census of all the powers available in our little alliance, and it was an awe-inspiring mix of abilities. Speed, strength, versatility, we had it all. We even had a Level 5 B-rank, a girl who could manipulate matter around her as long as she was holding a piece of it in her hand. Going down the list, it was hard to see how the tests would pose any challenge to us.


    But that was complacency talking. Aegis Academy was notorious for its stringent standards; only the truly lucky found themselves walking an easy road to admission, and I¡¯d never considered myself a fortunate guy.


    ¡°Two minutes,¡± Morphosis¡¯ voice drifted through a room like a ghostly spectre, leaving thick tension in its wake. I could see the jolts of fear: the oh fuck widening of the eyes, the nervous shakes, the stiffening of limbs. The power signals were practically screaming.


    In contrast, an odd sense of calm settled over me. Something like acceptance. Maybe I¡¯d just overloaded on worry at some point and cycled back around to zero again.


    ¡°Everyone ready up,¡± I called out. ¡°Remember: as long as we work together, we¡¯ll get all our tasks done and easily pass the practical. These objectives were all designed for one person. We¡¯ve got dozens. As long as we stay sharp, be vigilant, and follow the plan, we should have no problems.¡±


    A few nervous glances flicked to the front of the room, and I followed them.


    Morphosis was before the starting line, still as a statue. He was staring straight ahead with a bored gaze, looking for all the world like nothing untoward was happening.


    Leeway, I thought with disgust.


    ¡°Think about it this way: your chances with this group are so much higher than they would be on your own. You have support, back-up. People to bounce ideas off, who know things you might not know, and possess skills you had no idea could be needed. Have any of you seen the statistics about independent heroes versus those who join a team?¡±


    A few heads shook, but I noticed some grim expressions.


    ¡°Over 70% of solo superheroes fall victim to a major incident within the first six months of their debut¡ªand that includes everyone. Game Show capes, heroes for hire, local neighbourhood patrollers. Everyone. Unless you¡¯re already an A-rank when you graduate from hero school and get your licence, working alone is incredibly dangerous in comparison to joining a team. Where, by the way, you have less than a 10% chance of dealing with a major incident.¡±


    I looked over our group, meeting as many gazes as I could.


    I wondered what I looked like to them. My figure wasn¡¯t exactly an imposing one, compared to the larger than life heroes who you¡¯d usually imagine giving these sorts of speeches. I was relatively tall for sixteen years old, a respectable five-ten, and my shoulders were broad enough in my standard issue grey tracksuit that I was sure anyone looking would correctly assume I knew my way around the gym. But that was nothing even compared to a grump like Morphosis, let alone adonises like Herakles. Was the strawberry blond hair undermining me, or was it an exotic enough colour to be a point of interest?


    It probably didn¡¯t matter either way. Nothing could undermine me as much as the knowledge that I was an F-rank. What would they do if they found out even that was a lie, and I was actually lower?


    ¡°Work together,¡± I said, hammering the words into their heads in the bluntest way. ¡°Because that¡¯s what the best heroes in the real world do. Herakles has a team. Tempest has a team. Even Runemaiden, the most notorious proponent of solo heroism out there, actually has a team behind the scenes covering her back. Cooperation works. There¡¯s no better way to pass this test.¡±


    I turned to face the starting line, then moved through the group until I was at the front. The first one into the fray.


    There was another way of looking at things, I supposed. It was even believable.


    What kind of self-respecting superhero would stand by while an F-rank charged ahead of them?


    Deep breaths. In. Four seconds. Out. Four seconds.


    ¡°Thirty seconds,¡± Morphosis said.


    A low thud from the wall in front of us. It lifted barely an inch, spilling ochre light onto the pearly floor.


    I crouched into a starting position, ready to spring forward.


    One of my earliest memories was of floating above a roaring, adoring crowd in a sold-out stadium. I¡¯d been on someone¡¯s shoulders¡ªI couldn¡¯t remember whose¡ªto be able to see over the mass of humanity, giving me an unobstructed line of sight to the stage at the centre of it all. A hero had been giving a speech, and the thousands present had been lapping every word of it up like it was aural ambrosia. The sound was deafening.


    I¡¯d been a bit bored, in all honesty. Kids of that age were more into the megastar TV heroes like Moon Girl or American Dream, and I was no exception. This man hadn¡¯t been worthy of my attention, with his silly hat and his weird armour and dumb long spear. Where were the capes? The laser beams? The trucks lifted like they were made of styrofoam?


    I couldn¡¯t tell you when it actually clicked. From one moment to the next, he stopped being a loud hero with a boring costume, and instead became Dad.


    If my dream could be traced back to one moment, that was it. Every other possible path closed to me forever with the sound of a familiar voice bellowing his sermon to the faithful.


    We¡¯re all heroes, baby!


    Calling it a dream didn¡¯t do it justice. It was an obsession.


    Barely a day went by where I wasn¡¯t thinking, planning, fantasising. I made up names, designed costumes, imagined what powers I was going to get, debated what I wanted my revelation to be. A lot of people stumbled into theirs, barely interested, but I had been determined to give myself a good one. Every time a new hero showed up on the scene, I daydreamed about what I¡¯d do in their shoes. I consumed all things cape, and there was never enough. It was my everything.


    Not even some piddly detail like a lack of powers could stop me. Yeah, it didn¡¯t feel nice. For sure, it made me a bit of an outcast. Undoubtedly, things were going to be a lot harder for me until my dumb powers finally showed up.


    If they showed up.


    But moping wasn¡¯t the way of a hero. No one got anywhere by feeling bitter and resentful of the world. I was never the type to sit around and feel sorry for myself, stewing in my feelings.


    All I could do was my best. I couldn¡¯t imagine anything worse than standing in the ashes of my failure, looking back and wondering what could have been different if I¡¯d just worked harder.


    ¡°Five seconds,¡± Morphosis said, and a number twice the height of a two-story house made of oily shadow faded into existence in time with his words. It started counting down.


    The practical exam wasn¡¯t going to be easy. Not for me, at least. Julia wasn¡¯t wrong; the logical route would¡¯ve been to collect my tasks along with the rest of the group.


    Four.


    But what kind of superhero worried about boring shit like logic?


    Three.


    I was an F-minus-rank trying to become a superhero. Impossible wasn¡¯t in my vocabulary.


    Two.


    I¡¯d keep my word. And I¡¯d still pass this stupid exam. I had to.


    One.


    And hell, even if I didn¡¯t. Even in the totally preposterous scenario where I failed.


    Zero.


    At least I¡¯d know I did good.


    The wall lifted, light flooded in, and the practical test began.


    I charged forward, just as I always did.

 1.18: Put into Practical

    Our footsteps were rolling thunder. Fifty people weaved through an abandoned street, dodging discarded cars. The ground trembled from our passing, clouds of dust whirling into the air. The all out sprint from the starting line had barely lasted until our full numbers had made it out into the testing area, then we¡¯d taken a hard left, hugging the cavernous wall of the UCTZ while those outside of our alliance had rushed straight on into the concrete maze.


    Running at a decent clip was no problem for me, but barely a minute had passed and I could see more signs of distress every time I checked over my shoulder. The usual tells of the unfit and untrained; wheezing breaths, red faces, sheens of sweat. Even Billy looked a bit alarmed, and his power should¡¯ve let him keep this up for hours.


    Reluctantly, I slowed the pace, keeping an eye on my tablet and the red dots we were slowly approaching. The first would come up soon, and I wondered which lucky bastard had been given an A-rank objective so close to the start.


    My gaze strayed to the golden dots on my map, but I tore it away.


    Instead, I focused on the immediate problems, the ones I could solve. A few taps brought up the contents of the upcoming task, and I frowned.


    A: Locate and disable the villain hiding in a house on Algin Street.


    No more information was provided, and I grimaced. By the looks of things, the dot someone had added was actually marking an entire street, rather than a precise location. Frustrating, but it couldn¡¯t be helped. It would¡¯ve been a thousand times worse to do this one alone.


    ¡°Listen up,¡± I had to shout over the rumble of our jogging steps. ¡°We¡¯re going to spread out and search the houses along the street near the first task! Split into groups of three, and do not leave each other¡¯s side, even if it seems more expedient. There¡¯ll be some kind of fake villain in there, and we don¡¯t know if it¡¯ll be a prop or something that¡¯ll fight back. If you find it, call it out. If you hear someone else calling out, pass on the message. You all got that?¡±


    There were some murmurs of agreement, and I took that as the best I was going to get. Groups started forming, and Billy moved up to my side.


    ¡°Wanna team up?¡± he asked, only slightly out of breath.


    ¡°Sounds good to me,¡± I said, speeding up a little. ¡°We just need one more.¡±


    ¡°Julia?¡±


    I looked around, scanning the group until I spotted her, then let out a sigh. She was running alongside a neat blond boy with glasses who moved with inhumanly smooth motions, and a girl with a cold gaze who was floating a little off the floor with her arms crossed. They seemed to be chatting amicably, utterly unbothered by the situation. ¡°Seems she¡¯s already found a group for herself.¡±


    ¡°You two¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not important right now,¡± I cut him off. ¡°We need¡ª¡±


    ¡°A third,¡± a high-pitched voice piped up from my other side, and I spun to face it. A girl with catlike eyes and a Cheshire grin stared back at me, her orange-and-black hair flying way too wild for the mild wind we were running through.


    Occasionally, the wind would catch her hair just right to reveal the pair of fluffy ears poking out from the top of her head. Her power signal was active, and it felt like coarse fur.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to offer my services,¡± she purred.


    I decided not to comment, keeping my gaze firmly fixed to her own. ¡°What can you do?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a cat,¡± she said with a wink.


    ¡°I can see that. What are your powers?¡±


    ¡°Being a cat,¡± she said.


    I had a feeling I wasn¡¯t going to like this person.


    ¡°And what can a cat do?¡± I prompted, turning my attention back ahead and upping the pace a little.


    In lieu of a response, she started running on all fours. It looked so natural, I started questioning if that was the way human beings were supposed to be, forget all this two-legged nonsense. The thought burned through my neurons in a flash, leaving devastation in its wake.


    ¡°Anything else?¡± I asked, straining to keep anything from leaking into my voice.


    She gave me a sceptical look, like I was the weird one. ¡°Have you seriously never met a cat before? Look, if we find this villain in the house we search, I¡¯ll scratch them up real good. That¡¯s all you need to know.¡±


    ¡°Right. Any heightened senses or anything?¡±


    Her cat-like eyes rolled, her fluffy ears twitched beneath her mane of black hair, and her whiskered nose sniffed haughtily.


    ¡°Dumb question?¡± I asked.


    She nodded.


    ¡°Right.¡±


    For once, the world had mercy on me, and we arrived at Algin Street before I had to endure any more conversation with the girl. The street was about as straight as they got in this place, curving only slightly before it linked up with another road at the end. Detached houses flanked the road, nine on each side, sitting at two stories of pale brick capped with triangular roofs of brown-red tile. The place had an uncanny valley effect, the houses too identical. Unnervingly unreal.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you have a sense that lets you pick up where the ¡®villain¡¯ is?¡±


    The catgirl shook her head.


    I paused. Calling her catgirl in my head felt a bit¡­ I didn¡¯t know what it felt, but I didn¡¯t like it. ¡°Sorry, what¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Catherine,¡± she said. ¡°But please call me Cat.¡±


    I stared at her.


    She stared back.


    ¡°Of course,¡± I muttered, trying not to give in to despair.


    Superheroes could be eccentric types. You just had to deal with things like this, sometimes.


    Billy made a choking sound on my other side, but I studiously ignored him.


    Slowing until my pace was only a little faster than a casual walk, I started calling out orders, assigning groups to houses. We didn¡¯t quite have enough people to cover them all in one go, so I left the two houses at the far end of the road to my own group.


    When I stopped speaking, there was a pause. Trepidation filled the air. No doubt everyone was wondering if they were the ones who¡¯d end up dealing with some kind of villain, wondering whether it would be a genuine encounter, a challenge. It had been set up to provide an A-rank¡¯s worth of difficulty to someone in this crowd, and I wished we¡¯d had time to put names and powers to each task on our map.


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    Well. No use complaining about it now.


    ¡°Go,¡± I called, and everyone moved.


    I burst into an all-out sprint, Billy and Cat following a moment later. I¡¯d partially chosen the houses at the end for us because I was confident in our ability to cross the distance faster than most, and that faith proved founded. Billy¡¯s massive strides ate up the distance like it was nothing, and Cat was as swift on all-fours as a cheetah. They overtook me in seconds, and I had to push myself so they weren¡¯t left waiting for me at our goal.


    ¡°How do we want to do this?¡± Billy asked, voice low.


    I took a moment to think it over as I caught my breath, staring at the house. Two stories like all the others, windows standing in symmetry on either side of the front door, which was itself placed almost perfectly in the middle of the house. ¡°Approach from a blind spot as best we can. Scout around the perimeter, then check what we can see through the ground floor windows. Find a way in, then sweep the place, bottom to top.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good,¡± Cat said.


    Billy nodded in agreement, determinedly not looking at the girl.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I said.


    We circled the house first, keeping a distance. The rest of the house¡¯s faces were basically the same as the front; four windows, two on the ground floor and two on the first equidistant from each other, with a glass back door that matched the position of the front one. There wasn¡¯t really a perfect blind spot to conceal us if there was someone watching from within, but we approached the house from a diagonal anyway, aiming for the back right corner.


    Cat took the lead, slinking across the back lawn like she¡¯d done it a thousand times. Billy and I were clumsier, but it was hardly like stealth was the imperative objective. We reached the walls of the house without incident, at which point I took over and edged to the nearest window, down the house¡¯s side. Leaning over to keep my torso hidden, I peeked around the corner.


    No furnishings, no signs of life. Not even any electric wiring, as far as I could tell. It looked hastily thrown up, cheap. An empty shell. I got the impression these buildings were there more for the facade than anything else; the whole point of the UCTZ was providing an environment for prospective superheroes to train in avoiding collateral damage, after all. If you found yourself fighting inside a random house, you¡¯d thoroughly failed.


    All the same, it was a little creepy. The uncanny valley effect redoubled.


    ¡°Nothing inside,¡± I said.


    I vacated my spot to let the other two get a look. After a moment, Billy spoke, ¡°Do we still bother to go all the way around?¡±


    ¡°We should,¡± I began, but didn¡¯t get much further.


    ¡°Screw that,¡± Cat hissed. Without waiting for any input, she turned on a dime and bounded over to the door. After inspecting it for a moment, she held up a finger, the nail on the end extending into a feline claw. She smirked over her shoulder as she reached out.


    ¡°Collateral damage,¡± I said, but was summarily ignored.


    The glass shrieked as her claw scraped over it.


    ¡°Stealth,¡± I said, but my voice went unheeded.


    After a few seconds under her ministrations, there was a pop, and part of the glass panel started to fall away.


    ¡°Be careful,¡± I said, but I might as well have been a ghost.


    With strength impossible for her size, Cat lifted the glass over her head and held it there, staring me in the eyes.


    ¡°At least put it down gently,¡± I begged.


    Cat heaved it behind her, and the slab of glass went soaring to the other end of the lawn. It hit the ground edge-first with a heavy thud, and I almost thought it was going to stay that way.


    Then it promptly fell over and smashed into tiny bits.


    I sighed. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with.¡±


    Cat entered the house first, and I had to crouch down to follow her. The room was little different to the one we¡¯d glimpsed; a hard cement floor, bare walls that hadn¡¯t even been plastered, the floorboards exposed on the ceiling. There weren¡¯t even doors between the rooms.


    A little exploration revealed a straight set of wooden stairs leading up to the first floor.


    ¡°Do we have to?¡± Cat asked.


    ¡°Worth checking,¡± I said.


    Despite her doubt, Cat once again took the lead. Her steps made not a sound, silent as a tiger stalking its prey, but the wooden stair groaned in protest the moment I put my weight on it. The next few steps weren¡¯t much better, and the sound reverberated through the house. I¡¯d long given up on the element of surprise, but I still winced each time.


    I was halfway up the stairs when I realised I should''ve been hearing much worse from behind me. I looked over my shoulder.


    ¡°Maybe I should wait down here,¡± Billy offered with an awkward shrug.


    ¡°If the ¡®villain¡¯ is here, we¡¯re not getting the jump on them,¡± I said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think these stairs are gonna take my weight, Emmett.¡± He shuffled in place, eyes darting to anywhere that wasn¡¯t me. ¡°I¡¯ve fallen through things before. Fuckin¡¯ hurts, dude.¡±


    I nodded, then continued on my way. The stairs were so loud I ended up throwing caution to the wind, taking them two at a time and arriving at the first floor in a second. The first floor was similarly unfurnished to the ground floor below, with one key difference: doors. The top of the staircase opened out onto a corridor that cut through the centre of the house, and there were two doors on each side. They were simple slabs of wood, handleless, but the change spawned a need for caution.


    Because why would they install doors when they clearly cared so little about the interior of these houses?


    Cat awaited me, frozen halfway through the corridor, her gaze fixed ahead. ¡°Noise,¡± she whispered, all feline inflection gone from her voice.


    My heart rate spiked, suspicions all but confirmed. ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°Back right.¡±


    Lowering my centre of gravity, tensing to spring forward if I needed to, I started along the corridor. ¡°Back me up,¡± I murmured. ¡°Be ready for anything.¡±


    Cat nodded, creeping forward beside me.


    Seconds that felt like hours passed before I reached the door. I went still, stretching my senses to their limit, listening for any hint of what awaited us in that room. This close, even I could hear it. Something crunching, metal parts scraping, motors softly whirring.


    This was it.


    My heart was hammering in my chest, my fists kept clenching of their own accord, and there was a light feeling in my head, like I was floating.


    And I couldn¡¯t stop smiling.


    It always felt good when a prediction came true. I¡¯d thought it strange that an objective worth so many points had been located so close to the starting line. In fairness to the school, they probably just didn¡¯t want the A-rank tasks to all be too close to each other, so there was inevitably going to be some that could be easier to reach than others.


    That being said, if the exact location was going to be withheld, didn¡¯t it make sense that they¡¯d choose to place the test in the very last house? It was like a test within a test. If you went through searching the houses one by one, starting with the first, it¡¯d take forever and very likely negate the benefit of completing an A.


    But if you thought about it like I had, trying to predict how the organisers would set things up? Aegis didn¡¯t seem like the type of place to double-bluff, so starting at the end was the logical way to approach it.


    I took a deep breath in through my nose, let it out through my mouth.


    Of course, it went without saying that being right was only half the battle. We¡¯d found the ¡®villain¡¯. Now we had to defeat whatever was ahead of us.


    There was a force pulling on my body, something primal and intangible, urging me to act, and I indulged it.


    I lunged forward, grabbed the corner of the door, and wrenched it open. Before whoever was inside could react, I darted forward in a fighting stance.


    In the centre of the room, something rose.


    And kept rising.


    A mechanical construct like a cross between a bird and a mannequin with dozens of arms spread its wings wide enough that the tips touched each wall. The wings didn¡¯t beat, but there was a high-pitched whine and a wave of static in the air, and it floated off the ground. Its blank face fixed on me, and it approached with a dozen hands held up, palms facing forward.


    Plans roared through my mind as my eyes widened, barely daring to blink so as not to miss any little details. By the way its arms were tucked in, I guessed it was going to attack with thrusts. But that didn¡¯t mean I could discount the wings; they clearly weren¡¯t actually acting as propulsion, so I had to assume they could also be used to attack. It moved slowly, and there was no way it could get through the doorway without retracting its wings. That would have to be my plan: utilise my superior manoeuvrability, play keepaway until I figured out how to shut the thing down.


    Those thoughts flashed by in the span of a second, and I lowered myself, ready to dodge whatever the mannequin threw at me.


    Motors whirred, and I prepared for the villain¡¯s attack.


    Then Cat pounced over my shoulder and tackled the metal construct to the ground. Its motors screamed in protest as she pinned it. She lifted her hand, claws extended, and slashed at its face with ferocious strength and speed.


    Its head popped off and went soaring across the room. Its wings flopped to the ground, and its arms went limp.


    The ensuing silence was thick enough to drown a man.


    Cat stayed crouched and leaned back on her haunches, looking down her nose at the ¡®villain¡¯. After a moment, she turned to me.


    ¡°I feel like that was too easy,¡± she said.


    My eyebrow twitched.

 1.19: Practical Makes Perfect

    It turned out the task had been intended for a blond girl on the shorter side named Helga. A Level 3 C-rank, she had the power to turn herself into a cloud of acid-green gas that gave her a degree of control over any creature that breathed her in, so to speak. Quite apart from how long it would¡¯ve taken her to search all the houses and track down the villainous construct on her own, her power would have granted her no advantage over it. In the end, matters would have come down to her ability to fight the villain hand-to-hand, flesh-to-metal.


    Judging by the wince she gave when she set eyes on the mannequin bird thing, she had about as much faith in her ability to pass that test as I did.


    It had been designed to pose an extremely difficult trial, but to someone with a different power and set of skills, it was almost trivial. As we moved on, a light-hearted debate sprung up over who could¡¯ve passed it the fastest if they¡¯d been the one to find the villain, and there were multiple strong contenders. Most of them got hissed at by Cat for their hubris.


    All that being said, the vast majority of tasks didn¡¯t even provide that much of a challenge.


    ~~~


    From below, I could see all the way to a hole in the roof of what had once been a floor five levels above. Most of the floorboards had rotted away beneath it, leaving only the sturdier support beams and lonely platforms dotted around the skeletal interior of the building. On the other side of the wide building, maybe one in five planks remained in the staircase, and I wouldn¡¯t have been at all comfortable stepping on them if I weighed a third as much as I did.


    ¡°Man, how was I supposed to do this on my own?¡± a boy asked beside me. He had long black hair tied up in a bun with a scrunchie, and for reasons I couldn¡¯t fathom, he¡¯d opted for a tracksuit that appeared to be twice his size, forcing him to loop a cord around his waist to keep the bottoms from falling down.


    ¡°I have a few ideas,¡± I replied absently, watching the hints of movement far above. His Level 2 D-rank power currently granted him the ability to set glowing ¡®zones¡¯ in the ground, and within them, he decided how much sway gravity and friction held, rendering surfaces into air hockey tables.


    I pointed at the pile of abandoned scaffolding material that was hidden in one corner. ¡°I assume they wanted you to use your power to move a bunch of materials into a position that would let you climb up to the attic. See how all the platforms are conveniently placed?¡±


    The boy squinted. ¡°I guess I would¡¯ve figured that out eventually if I wasn¡¯t on a time limit.¡±


    ¡°It would¡¯ve taken a long time, and it would¡¯ve been dangerous to boot,¡± I said with a nod. ¡°Hence why it¡¯s an A-rank.¡±


    A girl appeared in the hole overhead, then leapt out. Her dark hair fanned out around her as she casually descended to ground level, a white box in her arms. ¡°Is this what you were looking for?¡± she asked with a frigid voice, icy blue eyes fixing the boy in place.


    It was indeed. Retrieving that box might have taken the boy hours and a lot of work.


    A girl who could fly had done it in seconds.


    ~~~


    Julia appeared at my side in a gap between tasks where we¡¯d slowed to a walk to let everyone recuperate, and she wasted no time.


    ¡°What are your plans if you fail to make it into Aegis Academy?¡± she asked.


    I shot her a dirty look. ¡°What makes you think I have any?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t? That seems like an odd lack of planning from a boy who¡¯s determined to throw his chances down the drain. I assumed you had backups ready.¡± She sighed dramatically. ¡°So little foresight in this city, considering its name.¡±


    ¡°Who needs a backup plan when I¡¯m not going to fail?¡±


    ¡°Cute, but I highly doubt even you believe that. At the very least, you¡¯re setting yourself up to get the lowest score in this batch of examinees.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I think my written test will make up for it.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Then why were you shaking like a leaf during Morphosis¡¯ briefing? That didn¡¯t seem like the demeanour of a man with iron belief.¡±


    ¡°Everyone gets nervous before a big event,¡± I snapped, turning to glare at her.


    Julia just smiled. ¡°I didn¡¯t take you for the delusional type, Emmett. And I¡¯m rarely wrong about these things.¡±


    ~~~


    We were breezing through the tasks, completing multiple every minute. It became a game of matching the right powers to the right task to get things done as efficiently as possible, splitting off into smaller groups that never strayed too far from the main horde. From E-ranks all the way to A-rank, we met practically no trouble.


    Every time there was a break in activity, I found my gaze straying to the observation windows high above. I wondered how many proctors were watching us right now, and how many among them were heroes.


    What would they be thinking of this? Would they see it as cheating? Would they be seething with jealousy that they hadn¡¯t thought to operate this way during their own exams at whatever school they¡¯d attended?


    People must have cooperated before. I wasn¡¯t under the impression I was some genius trailblazer, the first to ever come up with the ingenious concept of working together. But I had to doubt anything like this had ever happened in one of their practical tests. Half the class making a mockery of anything placed in their path? Surely unheard of.


    I smiled as I wondered if anyone up there was looking back at me.


    I hoped so.


    ~~~


    A crowd had gathered, debating among ourselves how to safely go about lifting a car in a way that the dummy underneath wouldn¡¯t be damaged. In the end, it was a moot point. A colossal boy with neon green hair walked up and, casual as you like, lifted the vehicle with one hand, leaving it resting on two wheels. The dummy looked none the worse for wear, the digital clock on its face still steadily counting down.


    ¡°I can hold this all day,¡± he said with a voice like he¡¯d been downing pints of gravel since he was a baby. To be fair to him, it looked like it was taking him as much effort as it would for me to lift a slightly awkward cardboard box. ¡°But I¡¯d rather not. Please grab the stupid dummy already.¡±


    The blond boy with the power to ¡°comprehend vectors¡±¡ªwhatever the hell that meant, he hadn¡¯t been interested in explaining the full breadth of his capabilities, not even his Level or rank¡ªflowed forward and snatched it away with hypnotically fluid movements. He stepped away from the car¡¯s range, holding the dummy in the crook of his arm like a child would a plush toy. He adjusted his thick-framed glasses so they caught the light. ¡°Thank you for your assistance. Though I had a solution in mind that I could have enacted by myself, it would have taken me fourteen minutes and thirty-five seconds longer to gather the necessary equipment. An unacceptable delay.¡±


    The green-haired boy said nothing, dropping the car without preamble. It hit the ground with a thud and crash, parts coming loose and spraying across the ground. With a grunt, he walked away.


    ¡°How would you have done it?¡± I asked out of curiosity.


    ¡°Leverage,¡± he said.


    I waited for him to elaborate, but he too walked away.


    ¡°Sociable fellows,¡± I said. No one replied.


    I turned to find that everyone else was walking away, too.


    ~~~


    We stopped for a water break in a small park, greedily gulping from the bottles that had been included in our packs. It was a rare moment of peace and quiet, no one approaching me to ask where they should be or what they should be doing. A respite was welcome.


    Then Julia sat down next to me.


    ¡°Have you ever heard of Loudmouth?¡±


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I grumbled, already seeing where this was going. ¡°We¡¯re having a break right now.¡±


    Julia waved me off and continued anyway. ¡°It¡¯s kinda twisted, isn¡¯t it? A guy so desperate to get his hit of saving the day that he¡¯d set up situations where he could play the big hero. Made millions off it, but somehow never brought himself to stop. What was it he got caught on? Paying someone to rob an old lady so he could catch them?¡±


    ¡°That was just one of the more famous charges because the lady turned out to be related to a big name in the Gladiator industry. He originally got caught because they found discrepancies in his tax reports, which caused them to investigate him in more depth, FYI.¡±


    Julia snapped her fingers and pointed at me. ¡°That was it. You have a good memory for this stuff. Shows you¡¯ve put a lot of thought into this whole hero thing.¡±


    ¡°I have indeed,¡± I said dryly, giving her my most unimpressed stare.


    ¡°Not many people know about this part¡ªthough I¡¯m sure you will¡ªbut he never actually earned a hero licence. He was technically a vigilante, he just had such good press that they were hesitant to take him down, and, as far as they could tell, he¡¯d never hurt anybody. So, fuck it. Bigger fish to fry, right?¡±


    ¡°Uh huh. A cautionary tale, is it?¡±


    ¡°Something like that.¡±


    ¡°If you seriously think I¡¯d ever sink so low, you don¡¯t know me.¡±


    ¡°Well, yes, of course I don¡¯t know you. I met you less than six hours ago.¡± She inclined her head, and an opalescent glow highlighted her eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. ¡°But I know a lot of other things. Like the fact that no one here would stick their neck out for you like you are for them. Do your fucking tasks, idiot.¡±


    I didn¡¯t grace that with a reply.


    ~~~


    Everyone froze as a klaxon sounded in the distance. It echoed for a long moment.


    Only when it had faded entirely did anyone move, and they did so with a skittish, nervous energy. Someone spoke, but I was too busy looking off towards the tower where the klaxon had originated from to see who.


    ¡°Guess someone¡¯s just finished. Took longer than I expected.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t think anyone¡¯s dumb enough to just go straight for the tower,¡± someone else replied.


    ¡°We¡¯ve barely even done a quarter circuit around the zone yet. That¡¯s crazy.¡±


    ¡°I wonder how many points first place got.¡±


    ¡°Enough to pass, surely?¡±


    I tuned them all out, focusing instead on my tablet. The test had gone on for at least an hour already, and we¡¯d only completed a bare fraction of the tasks marked out on the map. There were so many dots remaining. How long would it take to get them all? There¡¯d been no word of a time limit, but there surely had to be one. Would it be better to let everyone head to their own tasks?


    I closed my eyes and willed those thoughts away.


    This was the right path. It had to be. There was no room for doubt.


    ~~~


    A girl stood with her hand against the wall, looking around as if she could see right through it.


    ¡°Right there,¡± she said to the boy beside her.


    Of course, that was likely because she could, indeed, see right through it. Any surface she touched her hand to would become glass to her eyes, which wouldn¡¯t have done her much good for actually finding a way into the sealed building where her task awaited. Oh, she probably could have tracked down some kind of structural weakness that¡¯d let her get inside eventually¡ªif nothing else, these A-rank tasks weren¡¯t impossible. Just extremely difficult for the person they were assigned to, working alone.


    ¡°Cool. Back in a sec then,¡± the British lad with the shaggy brown hair said, and then he stepped through the wall like it wasn¡¯t there.


    With allies, things became much simpler.


    ¡°The red button,¡± the girl shouted, pressing close to the wall. Her gaze was tracking something I couldn¡¯t see, presumably the phaser boy ambling his way along like he¡¯d seemed wont to do so far.


    After a few seconds, the girl did a little fist pump and skipped away from the wall, smiling brighter than the sun in summer. The boy returned a moment later, hands in his pockets.


    ¡°Piss easy,¡± he said, shooting me a thumbs up.


    ¡°Yeah, uh. Piss easy,¡± I said, returning the gesture with a shaky smile.


    Another A-rank down. It had taken seconds.


    ~~~


    I was standing in the centre of a wide open square at the foot of a statue of a man who apparently didn¡¯t exist, surrounded on all four sides by stately buildings with lots of noble pillars and fancy windows. There were so many tasks in this small area that we¡¯d decided to stop and knock them out as fast as possible by leaving a command centre¡ªnamely, me¡ªin the middle to direct people where they needed to go.


    It was the busiest I¡¯d been all day. Not a moment went by when someone wasn¡¯t approaching me, asking for something to do. My head was a little frazzled, I can¡¯t lie. My mental RAM was starting to break down.


    Julia, as she had got in the habit of today, was not helping.


    ¡°He¡¯s so good at this,¡± she said to Billy with a sigh. ¡°Look at how well he¡¯s keeping everyone organised. These idiots wouldn¡¯t know where to wipe their asses without him. It¡¯s a tragedy that he won¡¯t be able to attend Aegis next semester.¡±


    Billy looked between us, wide-eyed. ¡°That¡¯s pessimistic.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help noticing the lack of a denial there.


    ¡°I was really looking forward to having him as a classmate. I would¡¯ve considered it a privilege. No, an honour!¡± Julia declared.


    ¡°You¡¯re laying it on a little thick,¡± I commented, then immediately went back to assessing where the vector boy should go next.


    ¡°It would be one thing if he tried his hardest and failed. If that was the case, I could accept it as something that wasn¡¯t meant to be. But shooting himself in the foot like this? It¡¯s sad, Billy. It¡¯s just sad.¡±


    I rolled my eyes. ¡°I can give you another task to do, if you¡¯re not actually going to help coordinate things.¡±


    Of course, she ignored me.


    ~~~


    I was part way through explaining a plan to complete another A-rank when an explosion cut through the air like the roar of some hungry predator. The ground shook in its wake, and people cried in alarm as a cloud of dust erupted in the distance, climbing until it plumed against the sky-like ceiling of the UCTZ.


    In the ensuing silence, unease settled in my stomach. We all remained still, unsure what to do, unsure what to say.


    A speck fell away from one of the giant observation windows, and it shot down into the heart of the ochre mushroom cloud. I caught the snap of a red cape before it was obscured by the haze.


    Dust kicked up all around us, settling in a fine brown mist that reached up to our ankles.


    There was a lot of hyperbole and over exaggeration regarding this kind of thing. Politicians loved to drum up outrage, and nothing got the masses baying for blood like the concept of children being unsafe in their school environment.


    But it wasn¡¯t all bullshit. The practical exam at Hero High was notorious for a reason. People occasionally got hurt. Sometimes badly.


    ¡°Everyone stick close together,¡± I managed to say. ¡°And keep an eye out. Be vigilant. I want to see every single person here safe and sound at the finish line in a few hours, understand?¡±


    There was a chorus of agreement, but it sounded hollow.


    ~~~


    Julia waited before a small, murky lake with her arms crossed. Strands of opalescent light shimmered around all her eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, giving the look of a glowing wireframe mask, and that should¡¯ve allowed her to locate her quarry in the blink of an eye. Her power was one of the best sensory abilities I¡¯d ever heard of. One of the best Level 1 powers in general. Genuinely world-class. Destined for greatness in every sense of the word. A rock solid foundation.


    But few powers came without weaknesses. Hers was, when I thought about it, pretty obvious.


    If she could project her sight so she could see everything in a certain range from every angle, that didn¡¯t do much for her if what she was looking for was hidden within a pool of brown water. Her projected sight was no different from what she could see through her eyeballs, after all.


    Still, I could understand how it would be frustrating.


    ¡°I¡¯m only going to ask you one more time. Are you going to keep being a complete, utter, and total fucking imbecile, or are you going to pull together that sloshing fishbowl of soup you call a brain and act as if you are capable of acting according to basic common sense?¡±


    Didn¡¯t mean she had to take it out on me, though.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to break my word,¡± I said, tranquil as a lake.


    ¡°Your word,¡± she repeated with a sneer, as if she¡¯d tasted the phrase and found it unspeakably vile. ¡°What does that even mean? If you promised someone you¡¯d shoot yourself in the face, would you go through with it?¡±


    ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t make a promise like that, for one thing¡­¡±


    ¡°How can you be so sure? It¡¯s not such a long drop from the level of stupidity here to the suicidal nonsense there.¡±


    ¡°But it is. Trust me, I¡¯m not screwing myself over like a chump here.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like an interesting perspective. Go on then, explain to me why it¡¯s a good idea to stand here like an idiot when one of your tasks is less than two hundred metres away.¡±


    I thought fast. ¡°Our whole group could fall apart if I went and did that, and then over twenty people wouldn¡¯t be able to finish their tasks. Not a risk I¡¯m willing to take.¡±


    ¡°And why do all of them deserve to finish their tasks at your expense? Explain that one to me.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not about who deserves what. It¡¯s about doing the right thing.¡±


    Julia closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. The glowing lattice over her features faded away until a small ring around her ears remained.


    ¡°None of these people deserve your kindness.¡±


    ¡°Yeah? And how do you know that?¡±


    ¡°Because not a single one has spoken up for you, even after you¡¯ve done so much for them already. Anyone with basic decency would have told you it¡¯s fine to go and do your own tasks. Hell, they should¡¯ve offered to complete them on your behalf. All this camaraderie and cooperation going around, and you¡¯re being left out of it. It¡¯s disgusting.¡±


    Yeah. Just¡­ yeah.


    Can¡¯t deny a part of me was hoping for something like that.


    ¡°Being a hero can be a thankless job, when you do it right,¡± I quoted.


    Julia glared at me. She opened her mouth, but a resounding splash interrupted her.


    The boy with the water manipulation power rose from the lake on the top of a geyser, holding a hard drive triumphantly above his head.


    ¡°Got it!¡± he cried, grinning like a madman. The water spout bore him to the shore, where he presented himself in front of us. Looking at his dry clothes and immaculately styled black hair, you¡¯d never think he¡¯d just been swimming around in muddy waters.


    His grin faded as he took in Julia¡¯s stony visage. He held the hard drive out to her like he thought she might snap his hand off. ¡°Got it,¡± he said again.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± She took it and walked away.


    I could only watch her go.

 1.20: Out Of Practical

    When our alliance gathered up once more, Julia was gone. She¡¯d been nagging at me for a significant portion of the test, and her absence was quickly noted. Questions were asked. Answers weren¡¯t forthcoming, so speculation filled in for them.


    ¡°She finished all her tasks,¡± someone pointed out.


    ¡°So she left to get her score in?¡±


    ¡°No one said that¡¯s not allowed, I guess?¡±


    ¡°Feels like something that shouldn¡¯t need to be fucking said. It¡¯s just basic decency.¡±


    ¡°People work so hard to help her, and she gives nothing back. That¡¯s so shitty.¡±


    ¡°What an asshole.¡±


    ¡°Really? She just did what a bunch of people are thinking.¡±


    ¡°I count forty-six people here right now. We started with fifty-one.¡±


    ¡°Wait, seriously?¡±


    The camaraderie that had been slowly building in our group didn¡¯t evaporate in an instant, but morale took a painful hit. For a lot of people here, we were nothing more than allies of convenience. Now, that fact was being underscored for those who hadn¡¯t quite realised it.


    Looks of betrayal abounded, taking many forms. From wide-eyed hurt, to jaw-clenching anger, all the way to blank-faced disbelief.


    On the other end of the scale, there were more than a few looks of consideration. There¡¯d been some who hadn¡¯t even thought about ditching the group and going off alone. Not because they thought it was wrong, per se, but because they had assumed it too dangerous with all the talk of sabotage going around. Now that they knew five people had already taken the risk, it probably appeared a more viable course of action.


    I told myself it was inevitable. Some examinees were going to prioritise their own interests, and it was unfair to blame them for that. Sooyoung wasn¡¯t wrong about one thing, after all: I had no clue about anyone¡¯s circumstances. For some, failure might really not be an option.


    Still. It did hurt. With how she¡¯d been talking, I¡¯d expected Julia to see it all through to the end.


    I took a moment to just breathe, purging my emotions with each exhale. Went still, letting myself feel the expansion of my chest as I breathed in, listening to the steady beat of my heart.


    It wasn¡¯t the first time someone had disappointed me. It wouldn¡¯t be the last.


    No point dwelling on it.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get ready to move on,¡± I called out, cutting through the rising argument.


    ¡°You do not believe we should discuss this?¡± the blond boy with the vector powers asked with neither expression nor inflection, still cradling his dummy in the crook of one arm. He¡¯d been chatting with Julia earlier, I recalled.


    ¡°We have more tasks to complete,¡± I replied, raising one eyebrow. ¡°You can vent your anger about Julia to her face when we¡¯ve finished, surely?¡±


    The boy was quiet for a moment, looking at the tower where the finish line lay. His power signal always seemed to be active, fluctuating like a sorting algorithm.¡°You¡¯re not worried for her wellbeing?¡±


    ¡°Her powers should let her avoid any trouble.¡±


    ¡°I fear you¡¯re overestimating her range. From my testing, I estimate she can project her senses little more than a few metres away.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t wrong, but, ¡°All I can do is trust that she¡¯ll be okay,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t have time to go chasing her down when there¡¯s still so many people here who need to complete their own tasks.¡±


    ¡°Pragmatic. Very well.¡±


    It took a while to gather everyone up. By the poorly-concealed signs of guilt, I wasn¡¯t at all surprised to count only forty-three people by the time we headed out. If anything, I¡¯d expected more to ditch.


    Unfortunately, that turned out to only be the beginning.


    We tried to go on as we had before, as if nothing had changed. Our circuit around the testing zone continued, picking up every task on our path. Even with somewhat depleted numbers, the tests themselves still posed no problem.


    But the more that we completed, the more of our numbers we lost.


    There was no mass exodus. It was a gradual thing, a slow bleed out. Death by a thousand cuts rather than a decapitation.


    In complex systems, there was a concept known as a cascading failure. When one part of a system failed, other parts had to step up to compensate. With this extra stress, those parts inevitably started to fail too, prompting yet more failure until everything fell apart and the system could no longer function as intended.


    With each person who sneaked away, more members of our group started thinking about their own chances. The time it took to complete tasks started taking longer, as we had less and less people to deal with them, our roster of available powers losing its versatility. Anxiety built. Trepidation sky-rocketed. Looks of consideration or doubt increased.


    It felt like every time I stopped to check, our numbers had lowered by one or two, more parts of our system failing.


    They started to get more brazen about it, barely even trying to hide their departure. I caught sight of one girl hanging back from the crowd, lowering her pace until she was far enough behind to slip away down another path. Another girl told me to go on ahead while she tied her fucking shoelace, and she never once stopped smiling, as if I didn¡¯t know exactly what she was doing, as if my opinion of her actions meant absolutely nothing.


    The tall boy with wild green hair even looked me right in the eyes as he strode away from the group, utterly shameless. He hadn¡¯t even completed all his tasks.


    Honestly, I preferred it that way. At least he owned how little he gave a shit about any of the people here, rather than slinking away like a coward.


    By the time we¡¯d completed our second, smaller circuit of the testing zone, we were down to half the number we¡¯d started with, and barely anyone was speaking a word. A bleak atmosphere followed us like the reaper, draining our morale.


    Eventually, I was the only one talking at all, calling out orders to the people still with us. The tests were still mostly trivial, but our pace had slowed to the point where we didn¡¯t need to run anymore.


    Then things got worse.


    It started out as it always did: innocuous. Easy to dismiss as an accident or bad luck. A trip here, a slip there. Someone dropped their token at just the wrong angle to leave it damaged, costing them points later. One more mistimed a jump between two platforms, leaving their ¡®hostage¡¯ to plunge into a shallow pit of stagnant water. Retrieving it was the work of a few foul minutes, but there were clear marks on the hostage dummy that couldn¡¯t be wiped off. More points lost.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Unease churned in my gut. I knew it wouldn¡¯t stay this way.


    At the start, we¡¯d been too strong. Our numbers were too great, our range of powers too broad. We¡¯d gone utterly unchallenged because challenging us hadn¡¯t been worth the risk.


    Now our numbers were dwindling by the minute, and the more ruthless sorts out there were starting to like their chances. The sharks were circling. It only took a few shitheads to ruin everyone¡¯s day.


    If they just kept it to that level, it would¡¯ve been manageable. A problem, but not a detrimental one.


    But those kinds of people never contented themselves with being petty nuisances.


    Matters escalated.


    I was in the middle of counting up the tests remaining when a blood-curdling scream tore through the air. The kind of scream that gripped my heart in vice-like talons and squeezed until it was little more than mushy pulp dribbling down my ribcage. It was long and desperate, drawn out until they had no more breath to give. Then the second scream came, the same voice as the first, a choking quality to it like they¡¯d only taken a moment to fill their lungs before casting out their distress cry once more. A third followed soon after, then a fourth, and a fifth, each getting more frantic than the last.


    Then a cacophony of noise drowned it out. It started with a deep crack, like the earth had been torn in two. Rumbling came on its heels, which soon devolved into a roar of crashing stone. The sound was deafening. The air trembled. Even the ground shook in its wake.


    And just as soon as it had started, it was gone.


    But the scream never stopped.


    Everyone had frozen in place, staring wide-eyed at the source of the unimaginable noise. I was no exception, and I cursed the lost seconds as I threw myself into a sprint. Down the street, around the corner, and the catastrophe came into view.


    Rubble was strewn across the road. A cloud of dust drifted ponderously from a shuddering pile of debris thrice my height, sandwiched between two perfectly intact four-story terraced houses. Examinees stood around nearby, shell-shocked, dust-covered, wide-eyed.


    My mind went blank. My body moved of its own volition, and I watched as if from over my own shoulder as I charged towards the disaster. I leapt onto the pile, climbing towards the sound of a frenzied scream. Stone shifted and fell away beneath my feet in mini-avalanches, but I pressed on. It drew me up to the apex of the mound, then down the other side. A little further, and the scream was at its loudest.


    ¡°Hold on,¡± my voice shouted. ¡°I¡¯m going to get you out!¡±


    There was no reply. Nothing coherent, anyway. Just wails of pure terror, all rational thought lost.


    I started scooping up handfuls of stone, throwing them behind me with reckless abandon, ignoring the cracks and crashes. Soon, more hands joined mine, digging frantically to a soundtrack of screams.


    We¡¯d barely burrowed a divot into the debris when the entire mound shuddered, a power signal blaring nearby like an air-raid siren, overpowering the feeling of the others around me. My heart leaped to my throat and I tried to up my speed, but the stone shifted beneath me, throwing me to my hands and knees. Pain fired. I bit back a cry.


    ¡°Stand clear!¡± a voice boomed from above, and I moved on instinct, scrambling away.


    A slab of rock in the approximate shape of a human silhouette hovered in the air, looking down on the scene. I recognised him. Tectonic. Geokinesis; control over ¡®rock¡¯, with a loose definition of such.


    All the strength went out of my limbs and I collapsed onto my stomach, cheek resting against cold, dusty stone. My heartbeat pulsed in my head, and I gulped in desperate, drowning breaths.


    Right. Testing zone. Teachers. Armband. Distress call.


    Fucking idiot. The hell were you doing?


    The stone parted before us like the aperture on a camera, a circular tunnel swirling into existence. The screaming doubled in volume, and soon scrabbling echoed up from within the tunnel. Stone scraped and groaned. There was a yelp of surprise, and a platform of stone lifted out from the hole, bearing a dishevelled girl up and out. The hole closed behind her.


    It was probably bad form of me that I focused so much on the tear tracks running through the dust that covered her face, giving her an ashen, inhuman complexion, but it was the first thing I noticed. There was no way to discern her other features anyway.


    She curled up into a ball, trembling like a leaf as the platform rose to hover by Tectonic¡¯s side. He spent a second assessing her, then panned his gaze over the scene below.


    When he spoke, his voice seemed to reverberate through the ground itself. He pointed at the band on the girl¡¯s arm, turned grey by debris. ¡°Next time, remember to use your armbands. Panicking like this helps no one.¡±


    Then he flew away, carrying the girl with him.


    ~~~


    Our group had gathered before the site of the accident, staring at the pile of broken stone, shattered glass, and splintered wood. Shock had set in, rooting everyone in place. Some of them murmured, others kept their grim silence. Emotions had already been strained, but this had pushed things over the edge.


    No one had personally known the girl, and she apparently wasn¡¯t much of a chatterbox. But she¡¯d been part of teams. She¡¯d cooperated without fuss even if she was recalcitrant, helping more than a few people here with their tasks. She was versatile, her Level 3 C-rank power letting her put inorganic matter in a kind of stasis where only she could enact any kind of force on it.


    Anyone else would have died just now. Crushed under a fallen building. I could think of worse ways to go, but it wasn¡¯t a long list.


    A fallen building, I thought.


    ¡°A fallen building,¡± I said aloud, and more than a few people flinched.


    I didn¡¯t care.


    I was the only one moving, pacing back and forth before the building with my head bowed. My fingers were linked behind my back, squeezing so hard my knuckles kept cracking.


    ¡°Buildings aren¡¯t supposed to randomly fall here,¡± I said, turning my gaze on the remaining members of our alliance one by one. There were just over twenty now, a few slipping away in the aftermath of the collapse. Probably wanted to get out of this test as fast as possible. I couldn¡¯t blame them.


    I had to work to unclench my jaw in order to speak. ¡°Let me rephrase that: buildings do not fall on their own here. The UCTZ is a tool for teaching students how to fight in a town or city without destroying everything around them. It¡¯s meant to be realistic, immersive. But they do not do training for accidents here, not like this. There¡¯s a whole other training area for that kind of thing. Buildings here do not fall down on their own. They have people like Tectonic come in to make sure of it.¡± I stopped, pointing an accusing finger at the building behind me. ¡°This is sabotage.¡±


    My words hit the group like an avalanche, which was probably apropos. It seemed to bowl them back, sending them rocking on their heels.


    ¡°What do we do?¡± someone asked.


    ¡°Strength in numbers. They started messing with us as our group got smaller, and now they¡¯re escalating. From here on out, all of you stick together. No smaller teams. It¡¯ll take longer, but that¡¯s how it¡¯s got to be.¡±


    ¡°What about you?¡± another voice said.


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna fight back,¡± I growled, already turning to walk away.


    ¡°Fight back? Aren¡¯t you F-rank? What are you gonna do against someone who can do this?¡± questioned another.


    I looked back over my shoulder, and the boy who¡¯d asked wilted.


    To be fair, he was absolutely correct. What could I possibly do against someone who could and would bring down a building on a person?


    Something. That was all that mattered.


    ¡°I¡¯ll stick close by, but you guys are gonna have to coordinate tasks for yourselves for a while.¡± My fists clenched. ¡°Leave these bastards to me.¡±


    I was halfway down the street when footsteps approached from behind.


    ¡°Go back, Billy,¡± I said without turning.


    ¡°Like hell I will,¡± Billy replied, and the venom in his voice gave me pause.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need help.¡±


    ¡°Who said anything about help? I want to fuck these guys up just as bad as you do.¡±


    I sighed. I couldn¡¯t be bothered to argue the point. If he wanted to follow me, that was his decision.


    Backup couldn¡¯t hurt, anyway.


    We found Cat lounging on the roof of a car on the next street over, inspecting her claws. She turned her attention to me as we approached, but her ears were twitching in every direction. Her signal was tense, ready to spring.


    ¡°We have a rat infestation,¡± she said.


    I eyed her for a moment. I remembered her speed, her strength, the sharpness of her claws.


    Fuck it. If Billy was coming, why not?


    ¡°Want to join our hunt?¡±


    Cat showed her teeth, but I couldn¡¯t call that expression a smile.

 1.21: A Practical Approach

    The stone was cold and rough against my back, but I kept myself flush to the wall. Voices echoed from nearby, a few streets over at most, people calling out to each other. It was good to hear, because it meant they were still working together without me there to coordinate things. And, as far as I could tell, they weren¡¯t in imminent danger.


    There was always the worry that I¡¯d stray too far, leaving myself unable to intervene if something major happened. Even if most of the people in our alliance were more powerful and thus theoretically better able to defend themselves than I was, I still felt responsible for them.


    My goal had always been to get all our people to the end with their tasks complete, and I was determined to see it through.


    A sound came from the street on my other side, a small scuffle of stone. I tensed, straining to listen. When I heard nothing more, I started shimmying along the wall, keeping my movements slow to make as little noise as possible. Reaching the end of the wall, I peeked around the corner.


    I¡¯d placed myself in an alleyway that linked two wider, terrace-lined streets, the fronts of the houses reaching right to the edge of the sidewalk. Cars took up one lane of the road, while the sidewalk was empty of even mailboxes or lampposts.


    Not ideal, but could¡¯ve been worse.


    Open spaces were the enemy in this game of cat and rat. There was hardly a definitive doctrine when it came to combatting unknown superpowers¡ªthe possibilities were simply far too varied for that¡ªbut some aspects of common sense could be applied. Just as you didn¡¯t want to be caught without cover against a gunman, confronting a cape without somewhere to hide in easy reach would be ill-advised.


    Common sense being common, it wasn¡¯t a trait exclusive to me.


    I could see our ¡®gunman¡¯ making his way down the street towards me, crouching behind the row of parked cars. His blond hair was caked with dirt and dust, and at some point he¡¯d lost the jacket of his school-issued tracksuit, leaving him with only a torn and stained shirt and his tracksuit bottoms.


    We¡¯d spotted him a while ago, weaving his way through the maze of streets a few hundred metres back from the core of our group. It was more accurate to say he was tracking than following us; he made sure never to put himself in a direct line of sight, relying on signs of our passing instead. He was being smart about it.


    Apart from forgetting to look up. Rookie mistake.


    For both his resourcefulness and his blunder, he¡¯d earned himself the privilege of being the first saboteur dealt with by our impromptu strike force. I could admire a strategic approach, but there was no way in hell I was going to go easy on this guy. Even if he hadn¡¯t actually done anything directly yet, his intent was clear.


    After what had happened back there, after someone had almost died, we couldn¡¯t afford to give him the benefit of the doubt.


    I shifted, holding up a hand and pointing in our target¡¯s direction.


    There was movement in the dark alley directly opposite from mine, Billy rising from behind a parked car. He moved with surprising stealth for one his size, practically sliding along the wall on ballerina-like tiptoed steps. He mirrored me in peeking around the corner, and his gaze zeroed in on our target instantly. Meeting my eyes once more, he nodded.


    Now it was a matter of how we approached this. The boy¡¯s powers were unknown, but I could at least tentatively rule out the possibility of him being that versatile or strong. The state of his clothes and hair told me he¡¯d had a tough time of things so far on this test, and I found it hard to believe a true juggernaut would get roughed up like that.


    However, something gave him the confidence to think he could cause some problems for our alliance that still numbered twenty people. Whether it was delusion on his part or a genuine trick up his sleeve, he was dangerous.


    Motion in my peripheral vision drew my attention upwards. Cat was perched on the edge of the roof, three stories above the ground, her upper body hanging right over the edge with the palms of her hands flat against the wall beneath the roof¡¯s lip. Her attention was laser-focused on our target, and by the curve of her back she was coiled to spring like a cat hunting a bird.


    I waved to catch her attention. Her eyes stayed fixed on the still-shuffling boy, but one ear turned in my direction.


    ¡°Surround him,¡± I whispered, so quiet I could barely hear my own voice.


    In lieu of a response, Cat heaved herself up then prowled further along the roof until she reached its edge. Then she leapt over and down, out of sight. She hadn¡¯t made a sound.


    I turned back to Billy, and held up five fingers. Once I was certain I had his attention, I started ticking them off, second by second.


    He nodded.


    The boy was still moving, his gaze constantly panning over his surroundings. He¡¯d stop intermittently, listening out for the echoes of conversation nearby. He was sharp, aware. But above all, he seemed cautious. Whether that was by nature or if this test had humbled him, it didn¡¯t really matter.


    My last finger curled down, my fist closed, and I launched myself out from around the corner and across the street, keeping the cars between me and him. Billy moved at the same time, his footfalls thunderous, cracking the ground.


    The boy yelped in surprise, but reacted instantly. Reacted smartly.


    Out of the two of his pursuers, Billy was the more obvious threat. The boy snapped an open hand out in his direction, his signal shone, and a glossy rectangular mirror about the size of a door shimmered into existence right in the oncoming juggernaut¡¯s path. Inches away as it was, Billy didn¡¯t have a hope of stopping or dodging it. He ran straight into it, vanishing into a gap in the air for a brief moment before it spat him out the same way he¡¯d come, keeping his momentum. It was obviously a disorienting experience, as Billy swerved like he was dizzy, crashing into a car and almost tipping it over. An alarm started blaring.


    I¡¯d crossed almost halfway to the boy in the intervening time, but with Billy dealt with, his raised palm swung to me.


    I was wise to the trick. I ducked behind a car, breaking his line of sight, running at a crouch. The boy cursed as Billy¡¯s quake-inducing footsteps started up once more. His power was a useful one, but seemingly limited to only creating one of his mirrors at a time, and it had to be in line of sight.


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    I crouched low, ducking through a gap between cars, and peeked out onto the street. The boy had backed up because he wasn¡¯t an idiot, and a mirror rippled in the air in front of me.


    ¡°Fuck off!¡± he shouted. He was almost running backwards. ¡°You guys aren¡¯t fast enough to flank me. I¡¯ll just keep reflecting you away! I can do this all day, assholes!¡±


    I shot him a grin.


    He was right, of course. The two of us would probably never be able to take him down on our own.


    But anyone who works with dangerous animals will tell you:


    Never turn your back on a big cat.


    The boy was taken completely by surprise as a predator the size of a teenage girl sprung on him from behind, tackling him to the ground. The mirror before us winked out of existence, the power signals nearby dropped to two, and Billy and I were free to charge unhindered.


    I couldn¡¯t decide whether to be disappointed or not when he surrendered before we could even make it there. It was tough to blame the kid for giving up when razor-sharp claws had been pressed to his throat by a girl who¡¯d already proved herself far stronger than him, pinning his arms at his side with her knees, but that angry, vicious part of me had very much been looking forward to punching someone, hard.


    I didn¡¯t want to interrogate that impulse too much.


    Standing over him, luxuriating in the intoxication of triumph, I asked, ¡°Can we help you with anything?¡±


    The boy swallowed, and Cat¡¯s claw stayed with the bob of his adam¡¯s apple. His eyes were wide, almost feverish, watching her like a mouse pinned by a tiger. To his credit, he only sounded a little terrified when he spoke. ¡°W-what the fuck do you guys want?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t play dumb. You know exactly what¡¯s going on here,¡± I snapped. ¡°You were at the briefing. You heard what I said.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you said you didn¡¯t want to screw anyone over. So why are you screwing me?¡±


    I rolled my eyes. ¡°We¡¯ve been watching you for a while. Care to explain why you were following our group from a distance?¡±


    The boy kept his silence. Up close, I could see the hints of bruises and scrapes beneath his torn shirt. There was a yellow splotch over one of his eyes.


    Crouching down, I patted down his pockets.


    ¡°The hell are you doing?!¡± he demanded, tensing as if to stop me.


    Cat simply leaned forward the barest fraction of an inch, and that was enough to freeze him in place.


    I ignored the byplay, continuing the check. His pack was nowhere in sight, and the only things on him were the armband we¡¯d all been issued and a token marked ¡®E¡¯. Somehow, I got the feeling this guy probably hadn¡¯t gotten any higher ranks than that.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± I asked.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Your name. The designation by which you are known and to which you answer, either the one assigned to you at birth or otherwise.¡±


    The boy squinted at me, then seemed to remember the sharp claw against his throat and snapped his gaze back to Cat. ¡°Why do you wanna know?¡±


    ¡°Answer,¡± Cat purred, smiling.


    ¡°Jake,¡± he said immediately.


    ¡°Who gave you the shiner, Jake?¡± I asked, gesturing at my own eye.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, dude. I didn¡¯t stop to ask their name.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough. Tell me: did this person come after you, or was it you going after them?¡±


    Except for the voices echoing from the distance and Jake¡¯s increasingly laboured breathing, silence reigned. Jake¡¯s lips pressed into a deeper line as seconds crawled by.


    ¡°I went after them,¡± he whispered eventually. ¡°Some short Asian kid with white hair. Thought he¡¯d be an easy target, but his power was insane. I don¡¯t even know what happened. One second I was activating a mirror in front of him, the next I was spinning through the air, all torn up.¡±


    That information got filed away for later.


    I nodded, pasting a pleasant smile onto my lips. ¡°And have you gone after anyone else? Done a bit of sabotage, screwing over your fellow examinees to get yourself ahead?¡±


    Jake opened his mouth to reply, but I talked over him.


    ¡°Hey, come to think of it, how long have you been following our group for? Have you been screwing us over, too? That mirror power of yours is pretty nifty.¡± My smile fell away, and I crouched down close to him, letting the full extent of my anger show in my glare. ¡°I¡¯m gonna cut the shit. Did you bring that house down?¡±


    Somehow, his eyes went even wider. ¡°What? Bring a fucking house¡ª No way! How the hell would I even do that with my power?¡±


    ¡°How am I meant to know what you can do with your power? You fucking tell me, Jake.¡±


    He shook his head a fraction, then winced and cringed away as if expecting the movement to get his throat slit. The thought turned my stomach, and I reached out to nudge Cat¡¯s arm away. She retracted her claw, but stayed planted on his chest.


    ¡°Explain yourself,¡± I said.


    ¡°You can¡¯t expect me to¡ª¡±


    ¡°I can,¡± I said.


    ¡°I swear on my grandpa¡¯s grave that I didn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care. Tell us how your power works, and we might consider letting you end this test with your points.¡± I pinched the E-rank token between two fingers and held it up, dangling it before his eyes.


    His gaze tracked it like it was hypnotic. ¡°Come on, man. It¡¯s like you saw. I can create mirrors that reflect momentum.¡±


    ¡°They have to be standing up like that? You can¡¯t change their shape?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and no.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t move them?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not infinitely sharp at the edge?¡±


    ¡°No! I wish, dude! Maybe after a few more Levels I could do any of that shit, but right now I¡¯m still at foundation. Fuckin¡¯ D-rank.¡±


    I dropped the token, letting it plink off his forehead. It rang as it struck the ground and rolled a few feet away. ¡°Here¡¯s what¡¯s going to happen, Jake. We¡¯re going to activate the distress signal in your armband. When someone arrives to help, you¡¯re going to tell them that you¡¯re dropping out of the test.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    I held up a finger and shushed him. ¡°They should, in all likelihood, let you score the points for collecting your token. You won¡¯t be dropping a duck.¡±


    ¡°And then end the test with only an E-rank? No way will I pass!¡±


    ¡°That sounds like a you problem.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°A problem caused entirely by your own actions. All that time spent tracking our group, waiting for your opportunity to screw one of us? Did you ever consider, I don¡¯t know, trying to go for your own tasks? Who knows, maybe you would have completed the exam by now.¡±


    I paused, listening. The echoes were getting quieter, and the power signals were fading. Time to finish up.


    ¡°The alternative is we break your token and leave you tied up here. Either way, you¡¯re not finishing the test.¡±


    Jake closed his eyes, falling silent. Before my eyes, he seemed to deflate, limbs going limp, head falling back on the ground. He took a shuddering breath.


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand what you¡¯re doing to me. Yeah, I heard your speech. I can fucking relate. I¡¯ve wanted to be a superhero since I was a kid, too. Maybe not as much as you, but it¡¯s all I¡¯ve ever wanted.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got an interesting idea of what a superhero is supposed to be if you¡¯re out here trying to destroy other peoples¡¯ chances.¡± I poked him hard in the hest. ¡°Do you feel like a superhero right now, Jake?¡±


    He opened his eyes, fixing me with a blood-shot and watery stare. He snorted. ¡°Do you?¡±


    I looked around, trying to picture the scene from his perspective. Three teenagers, one massive, one tall and well-built for his age, and one oozing with deadly grace, all looming over a kid with his shirt torn up, his hair crusted with dirt, his body covered in soon-to-be bruises and some shallow cuts.


    ¡°Yup,¡± I said. ¡°Nothing more heroic than taking down a villain.¡±


    Billy gave a short laugh¡ªthe first sound he¡¯d made since we caught this guy, I noted¡ªand Cat made a pleased sound.


    Jake made to speak, but I was done with this. I lifted his armband.


    ¡°What¡¯s it gonna be?¡±

 1.22: Practically Over

    In the end, Jake chose wisely.


    We watched from nearby as a heroine in a skintight costume with a red-and-white harlequin pattern descended on a floating diamond platform¡ªfor once, someone I didn¡¯t recognise. A new graduate, maybe?


    There was a brief exchange too quiet for us to hear, then Jake stepped onto her platform with his head bowed. The heroine glanced over at us for a moment and spoke, but Jake said nothing.


    A moment later, they were flying away, and I let out a breath I hadn¡¯t realised I was holding.


    ¡°Satisfying,¡± Cat said. She had her arms crossed behind her head and her posture was slouched, but there was a wicked glint in her eyes. Her fists kept flexing, I noted, but her signal was a type I couldn¡¯t get much out of: it was always on. ¡°But I kinda wish he¡¯d resisted more.¡±


    I nodded in agreement. Evidently, I wasn¡¯t the only one feeling indignant at the way people like Jake were treating these exams.


    Honestly, I¡¯d been expecting him to try something. He seemed the type. Even if he was faced with impossible odds of actually escaping us, the kind of guy who¡¯d operate as he had surely would¡¯ve held no compunctions over weaving some tall tale to his rescuer, painting us as the bad guys in this situation.


    The possibility might not have been so concerning if we hadn¡¯t given him ample ammunition to do so with the way we¡¯d handled him.


    My thoughts were still lingering on the sight of Cat¡¯s claw against his neck.


    I shook my head as if to physically dislodge the uncomfortable memory. No time to dwell on it. We¡¯d just have to be better next time.


    We set off once more when we were sure Jake had been fully removed from the field, running to catch up with the main group, guided by Cat¡¯s sharp senses. Ever since splitting off from the others, we¡¯d settled into a patrolling pattern. Circling the group at a distance, relying on intuition and, again, Cat¡¯s senses to sniff out any unwanted company.


    Jake had been the first we¡¯d managed to get the jump on, but he wasn¡¯t the last.


    Petty annoyances nipped at our group¡¯s heels, pests constantly stinging, aggravating. After the sudden escalation of the collapsed building, it was almost a relief to see trivial disruptions like people tripping and slipping, doors getting jammed, or tablets going on the fritz. Almost being the operative word, here.


    It still made me want to crack some heads. The problem was, there was no way of distinguishing between whoever was causing these mild irritants and the one who¡¯d almost fucking killed someone. For safety¡¯s sake, we had to treat every saboteur we hunted down as if they were capable of collapsing a building with someone still inside it. That meant going full force, no holding back.


    Maybe that was unfair. Maybe it meant we¡¯d end up roughing someone up with far more force than they really, objectively deserved.


    Forgive me if I failed to feel sorry for them.


    Our next target saw us before we saw him. The first indication of something wrong came when Cat, of all people, lost her balance as she was bounding along a rooftop, getting a different view while Billy and I kept watch at the ground level. My heart leapt to my throat as she¡¯d teetered towards the roof¡¯s edge, but she¡¯d righted herself with catlike grace, clinging on to the guttering and swinging herself back upright as if it was all one elaborate routine, nothing to see here.


    Then her eyes narrowed and she let out a deadly hiss.


    Internally, I echoed the sentiment. If that was anyone else, with another power¡­ a fall from three stories was far from a guarantee of death, but serious injury was almost a certainty.


    Tracking the saboteur down didn¡¯t take long. They seemed to have gone into a panic upon failing to dislodge Cat from the roof, focusing all their efforts on tripping her over and over again. From the way she described it in halting shouts, it was like her limbs were randomly gaining a mind of their own for just a fraction of a second. The effect was weak enough that it¡¯d only get a twitch out of her before she regained control, but it still slowed her down, much to her frustration.


    Fortunately, this cat had a mouth as well as superhuman senses, and she directed us to where she could hear frantic breathing and rushed footsteps.


    We found the saboteur within a minute of his initial attack, trying to duck down a narrow alley, and he wasted no time in changing targets once he realised he was busted. I barely got a good look at him before one of my legs wildly kicked out, sending me sprawling to the floor. I tried to get up immediately, but a cramp seized my muscles and I fell back down with a wince. Billy called my name, but he at least had the sense not to stop to help me. The ground rumbled as he charged the enemy.


    I looked up just in time to see our adversary sweep his hand out towards the oncoming juggernaut. It turned out to be a poor decision on his part.


    Given how Cat had shaken off his power relatively easily while I had been sent sprawling to the floor, I guessed there was some kind of strength factor to it. The hamstring and calf in my affected leg were cramping up like I¡¯d just sprinted a marathon, but Cat hadn¡¯t seemed to be in pain, just thrown off. Her feline abilities evidently gave her some kind of boost.


    But it was nothing compared to what Billy could do, and the flinch-inducing examinee found that to his detriment.


    The boy¡¯s legs jerked out from under him and he collapsed with a cry of pain. He swept out his hand again, only for his other arm to tense up.


    I was getting a low estimation of this kid¡¯s intelligence, because he attempted a third time, leaving himself writhing on the ground, back arched.


    That turned out to be the end of that. We didn¡¯t need to do much more, since the kid had apparently injured himself badly enough that he clumsily activated his armband before we could even get to interrogating him. A hero arrived to spirit him away, depriving us of the chance to learn his story.


    I found that I didn¡¯t care. The chances he was responsible for the collapsed building were infinitesimally low, so I was just happy to get him out of the way and move on.


    Cat disagreed. ¡°I didn¡¯t get to scratch him up,¡± she hissed, glaring as the rescuing hero carried the kid away in a translucent pink bubble.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll get more chances,¡± I said with more than a little trepidation.


    Would she actually do that?


    As if answering the question in my head, she sighed and gave me a dry look. ¡°I¡¯m just venting. This shit just pisses me off, okay?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not alone in that,¡± I said.


    ¡°Definitely not,¡± Billy agreed, frowning. ¡°When I saw Emmett go down, I was about ready to stomp that little shit.¡±


    ¡°Was he little?¡±


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    ¡°A fuckin¡¯ pipsqueak. Pipe Cleaner arms and a Bieber haircut. I probably would¡¯ve punched straight through him even if I was holding back.¡±


    I winced. ¡°Try not to do that. No punching through people. And no scratching.¡±


    We shared some chuckles, but didn¡¯t linger long. There was work to be done, and it fell to us to do it.


    Our efforts from there followed a similar trend.


    We circled the main group, always making sure we kept in range to hear if something went wrong, picking routes that would let us have occasional lines of sight. For the most part, our patrol went uninterrupted. Our senses were peeled, but the truth was there were only a hundred or so participants in this test in the first place. Fifty of those had started in our alliance, and most of the remainder probably held little interest in challenging such a force. More opportunists had popped up as our numbers dwindled, but it wasn¡¯t as if every other examinee had been drawn in like sharks smelling blood. Minutes would go by without a single sign of sabotage, let alone the saboteurs themselves.


    But where they did pop up, we dealt with them as fast as we could.


    Cat was undoubtedly the MVP of our squad, hunting down prey as only an apex predator could. While Billy and I could pull our weight in a fight, we¡¯d never have been able to track anyone down without her superhuman senses, not unless we got absurdly lucky. But we did have her, and she was worth her weight in gold.


    As we were crossing between streets to get a visual check up on the group, Cat zeroed in on a church-like building nearby. We snuck close, gathering by a side entrance. With a finger to her lips, Cat pointed upwards, to the church¡¯s bell tower. Nodding, we followed her in.


    The saboteur turned out to be the same electrokinetic who¡¯d networked our tablets together in the first place. Something had caused a change of heart, or maybe his heart had been black to begin with, and he had been stalking the group from a distance, messing with our tablets in irritating little ways.


    Disappointment flooded me, but I set it aside as we charged up the stairs, throwing away stealth. The boy had nowhere to run and he knew it, shouting desperate pleas from the other side of the locked door at the top. His begging fell on deaf ears.


    At least he had the decency to open the door and surrender rather than force Billy to batter it down. I had half a mind to take all his tasks back as punishment for his duplicity, but in the end the adage of the cornered animal stayed my hand. We couldn¡¯t afford to waste time arguing with the traitor, so we activated his armband and waited until a hero came to take him away.


    A bitter taste filled my mouth as we watched him go.


    ¡°Dickhead,¡± Billy muttered.


    ¡°Complete and utter dickhead,¡± Cat agreed, with much more venom.


    ¡°I think dickhead doesn¡¯t even begin to do that little dickhead justice,¡± I said, turning to leave once the winged hero had lifted the dickhead out of sight and mercifully out of mind.


    Our next target came to us, which was nice of her.


    We were moving as a trio down an alley connecting a side road to an open, rectangular square. Usually, we wouldn¡¯t have risked moving through such a clear space, but we were in danger of losing the main group if we took a detour around it. Besides, there were plenty of abandoned market stands, as well as a statue in the centre that had to be ten metres high, so there was reasonable cover.


    Unfortunately, cover for us meant cover for everyone else.


    We took our time scoping out the square before moving in fully. Cat sniffed the air, listened with her ears panning from side to side like little satellite dishes, and even opened her mouth as if she could taste whether anyone was present in the empty market. She gave us a tentative all-clear, but we¡¯d barely made it out of the alley when a power signal flared up. I didn¡¯t have time to call a warning before the ground beneath us smoothed out, turning from tarmac to the world¡¯s slipperiest ice in a heartbeat.


    I went sprawling to the ground, falling hard on my back, and my allies didn¡¯t fare much better. Cat¡¯s lithe grace and impeccable balance meant nothing when there was no grip, and Billy tumbled over almost cartoonishly, like he¡¯d slipped on a banana peel, going heel over head.


    The latter, by some luck, saved us.


    Billy hit the ground with a crash like a sledgehammer striking a gong, and the zone beneath us shattered like glass. The shards of grey ice vanished rather than lingering, rendering the ground normal once more. A scream pierced the air, and Cat was off chasing it in a blink, disappearing into the market. I didn¡¯t even have time to call out to her.


    I got to my feet. Billy waved me off when I offered him a hand, but he didn¡¯t follow as I gave chase into the colourful stalls. There was no sign of where Cat had gone, but I could hear running footsteps, and I followed them, focusing on masking my own.


    The market was a maze of tents and stalls arranged in haphazard rows, disorienting enough without the mix of colours. I focused on making it from one end to the other, trying to cover the obvious escape. Barely half way, Cat cried out, and a sound like nails scratching on glass echoed through the square. A girl¡¯s voice followed, mocking laughter.


    Close. A row across from me, maybe.


    I ducked low under a table, crouched to pinch the bottom of the tent¡¯s plastic canvas. It was loose. Good.


    The girl started speaking, disdain oozing from her words, but I tuned her out. The content of her gloating wasn¡¯t important, just where it was coming from. I waited a few more seconds to ensure I¡¯d got it right, then lifted the flap.


    Needless to say, the girl was not at all prepared for someone to grab her from behind and slam her to the ground. Wrenching her arms behind her back, I pinned her down. She yelped, first in surprise, then in pain.


    ¡°Surrender,¡± I growled.


    ¡°We can make a deal,¡± the girl wheezed.


    ¡°Not interested.¡± I reached down and pressed the button on her armband.


    The girl kept trying to bargain right up until her slip-field disappeared without her attention, freeing Cat to approach. Whatever she saw in Cat¡¯s demeanour, she couldn¡¯t surrender fast enough. A hero arrived soon after, and she was whisked away, glaring mulishly back at us.


    Things continued in that vein. We tracked down three more saboteurs, and though superpowers were always going to pose a unique challenge, we dealt with them.


    A tall, willowy boy with the ability to affect air currents had been harassing the main group for a while, and some kind of secondary effect that let him sense his surroundings kept him away from us. He wasn¡¯t powerful, just very annoying.


    We cornered him in a small park, where he focused too much on us and not enough on his surroundings. It took some diplomatic finesse to convince him that we weren¡¯t going to beat him up if he got out of the pond, and even more heated negotiation to get him to bow out of the test.


    He¡¯d thought I was bluffing about destroying his token, right up until I stomped on it.


    I didn¡¯t recall seeing him among our testing group, and he refused to say where he¡¯d come from as the hero carried him off.


    Our next opponent was a girl who could manipulate hair-thin strings that grew out of the back of her hands. She¡¯d been using the ability to steal things from packs, lay trip wires, or gum up doors so they wouldn¡¯t open. Little nuisances like that.


    The house we cornered her in made for the biggest pain in the ass we¡¯d encountered yet. She turned the place into a spider¡¯s web. We could barely walk a few steps without getting tangled in her strings, much to Cat¡¯s simultaneous delight and frustration.


    Billy came in clutch this time. After long, aggravating minutes of picking our way through the living tapestry, getting tied up like tangled marionettes over and over, he simply roared ¡°Fuck this!¡± and his body gained an inner glow. With his new rictus of power, he shrugged off the strings that had been delaying him, then stampeded on ahead, his footsteps heavy enough to shake the house¡¯s very foundations.


    He didn¡¯t even make it to the girl before she cried out her surrender. She wasn¡¯t a face I recognised either.


    What¡¯s going on here? I thought as a hero whisked her away.


    Last and most certainly least, was a boy whose boogers worked kind of like expanding foam.


    I don¡¯t want to talk about it.


    The hero who picked him up was the same one who¡¯d rescued Jake, our first saboteur, and she gave us a wry smile as she transported him away on her harlequin-patterned platform.


    Once they¡¯d gone, we saw no other sign of saboteurs for a long while, to the point we started to relax a little, and I remembered to check the map. Once I did, I found myself blinking at it in disbelief.


    There were maybe a dozen tasks left. We were only a few streets over from the boundary separating the claustrophobic city section from the park surrounding the tower. The end was in sight.


    But that didn¡¯t mean we were now on a casual stroll to the finish line.


    Swiping at the tablet, I zoomed in on the map, a grim acceptance settling over me.


    I couldn¡¯t help thinking it was a bit cruel on the part of the examiners. At this point, there was no doubt in my mind that they knew perfectly well this test was set up in a way that allowed for examinees to take hostile action against one another. Maybe they all were.


    So how else could I interpret the huge open space surrounding the tower but an invitation for sabotage?


    A sick feeling settled over me, the burden of a premonition.


    We were going to have to cross that space, and I had no doubt the guy who¡¯d been willing to kill was still out there.

 1.23: Taking Things Practically

    Compared to the skyscrapers found in most major cities, the ¡®tower¡¯ at the centre of the zone could barely be called such. Sitting at eleven stories of elegant brickwork and reflective glass, it was by far the tallest building in the zone, rivalled only by the radio tower where my A-rank was located.


    It stuck out like a smoke stack in an open field, and what surrounded it might as well have been an open field, as far as we were concerned.


    The space around the tower was bereft of any other buildings for at least five hundred metres, instead boasting three concentric rings of different terrain radiating out from the tower like ripples in a pond.


    The first ring, closest to us, was a wide cobblestone pathway, dotted with benches and picnic tables. The middle ring was the largest by far, a park-like area filled with grass, bushes, trees, and a smattering of ponds, none of which were substantial enough to hide twenty teenagers. The last ring circled the tower itself, and it consisted of barely fifty metres of simple pavement; an empty parking lot fed by a road on almost the opposite side of the tower to where we waited.


    Surrounding the circle on all sides were massive terraced buildings of white brick, each standing at four stories with countless windows looking out onto the area. The tower would¡¯ve been completely enclosed if not for just six roads breaking the circle, allowing access to the circle of space.


    In other words, a lot of distance to cross, plenty of places for saboteurs to hide, and very little cover.


    And that wasn¡¯t even mentioning the small crowd of people who¡¯d gathered outside the tower itself.


    I let out a long breath, and it was much shakier than I would¡¯ve liked. I almost cursed myself for it, but bit the impulse back. If there was ever one moment in my life where I needed to keep my composure, it was now.


    Looking over my shoulder, I took in the people behind me. They were all bunched together, packing in close enough to be almost shoulder-to-shoulder. I¡¯d moved ahead a bit to get a better look at what we were in for, while the thrust of our group remained a few metres behind. Cat, as I was coming to expect from her, had shadowed me all the way.


    Twenty-two people had seen our alliance through to the end, including myself. A good few of them had finished their tasks ages ago, but stuck with us anyway. Maybe it was just self-preservation, or maybe some were just too scared to leave, or they saw strength in numbers as more useful than going alone, or any number of cynical explanations. But I was content to tell myself otherwise. A sense of honour kept some of them here. It had to.


    They were good people. My heart swelled with pride and hope, because, at the very least, I could say about one in four of the examinees in my testing group treated heroism how it deserved. If there was that much good in the world still, we¡¯d be fine.


    There was a range of clear emotions among the group, from nervousness and fear to anticipation and excitement. Whatever they were feeling, there was one thing in common between them all: their eyes were fixed on me.


    The weight of responsibility settled on me. There were plenty of elements that were out of my control, I knew that, but it still felt like it was my responsibility to make sure these guys made it to the end. These were the people who deserved to spend the next four years at Aegis Academy.


    ¡°This is it,¡± I said, just loud enough to be heard. ¡°I know it looks like absolute madness to try and cross the park now that we can see what we¡¯re dealing with, but we¡¯ve come way too far to let something like this stop us. We¡¯ve completed over two-hundred tasks. What the hell is one more?¡±


    ¡°Pretty difficult task,¡± a girl said. Short in stature, straight blond hair falling over her shoulders and, most distinctively, the tips of her fingers trailing off into green smoke.


    The girl from the first task we completed, right at the start. Helga, was it?


    ¡°It is,¡± I agreed. ¡°But they were never going to let the test go by without an actual challenge. None of the tasks posed a real threat to our group. This is the last test. The final hurdle. They want to see how we handle it.¡± I turned, eyes panning over the scene, picking out vantage points that would give a good view of our approach. ¡°There¡¯s more to these tests than what they tell us outright. Has been from the start. They¡¯re not just watching for who can complete the most tasks or get to the tower fastest, they¡¯re looking at how we do it. They dangle bait, tempting the more ruthless among us.¡±


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    I faced the group once more. ¡°This is about character. It¡¯s the only explanation that makes sense.¡±


    ¡°Do you think¡­¡± Billy started, then seemed to wilt as people turned to him. He swallowed. ¡°Does that¡­ go the other way?¡±


    I smirked. ¡°I sure as fuck hope so, Billy. Otherwise I¡¯m gonna be dropping a fat zero on this one.¡±


    Cat¡¯s attention snapped to me. ¡°You¡¯re not going back out to complete your tasks?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to make sure our group reaches the finish line. Crossing that open space again on my own¡­ doesn¡¯t seem like a good idea.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± Billy began, but words failed him.


    There was discomfort in the air now. Where all attention had been on me, suddenly it seemed no one wanted to look my way.


    ¡°That¡¯s not fair,¡± Cat snarled. ¡°That Julia girl was right: you deserve to pass this test as much as the rest of us. More, even.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m relatively sure I¡¯ll be okay.¡±


    ¡°How sure is relatively sure?¡±


    I held up a hand and made a so-so motion. ¡°75%, maybe?¡± I hedged with a wince. ¡°It was much higher than that at the start, but, well. A lot¡¯s happened. If there really is some hidden score for heroic deeds, I think I¡¯m in the clear.¡±


    ¡°But there¡¯s no way of knowing for sure,¡± Billy said.


    I nodded in agreement.


    Aside from the sigh of a simulated wind, silence was supreme. I decided not to break it, instead turning my attention upward. Hours had passed, yet the sky hadn¡¯t changed even a shade from its midday blue; it was a mite disconcerting, but I supposed it was better than just leaving a cavernous stone roof looming above. Come to think of it, how was there even daytime-esque lighting down here? There was no sign of any lights at all, let alone an artificial sun.


    The UCTZ was a wonder of engineering. It was an honour to have even had the chance to set foot in here.


    I didn¡¯t want it to be the last time. More than anything, I wanted to come back someday, to learn here. Turning my attention back to the tower and its clear surroundings, I could picture what kind of lessons they¡¯d teach here, how they¡¯d use the environment. In my mind¡¯s eye, I saw a phantom version of me trailing behind an imaginary instructor, drinking in every word as they narrated their experiences of fighting in a real European street. The thought led me down another path, and soon I was picturing myself in Paris, or London, or Berlin, called in as backup to fight some uber-powerful villain.


    There was nothing I wanted more than to see that scene become real.


    But it was out of my hands, now. I¡¯d made a gamble before this test even began, and I¡¯d stuck to it. No point backing out at the last second; cold feet wasn¡¯t an excuse a hero could rely on.


    ¡°I¡¯ve told you all why I want to be a hero,¡± I said, still staring at our objective like I could already see myself there. ¡°Now I want you guys to think about your reasons. You don¡¯t need to say them out loud, just keep it in the centre of your mind. Picture your dream for me. Summon a vision of your ideal, the kind of hero you want to be in future.¡±


    I counted to three in my head. My voice started to rise. ¡°Now, look at the task ahead and ask yourself: would the hero you¡¯re imagining be scared?¡±


    ¡°Hell no,¡± Cat said. At some point, she¡¯d moved up to stand beside me.


    On my other side, Billy rumbled, ¡°Not a chance.¡±


    Their words prompted a chorus of denials behind me, and, though I didn¡¯t turn, I could hear footsteps approaching, stepping up to the plate.


    My heart was racing, but there wasn¡¯t an ounce of fear in my body. A grin split my lips, so wide it hurt my cheeks. I could barely bring myself to blink, as if my brain wouldn¡¯t let me lose sight of my goal for more than a moment.


    I saw him, standing at the top of the tower, overlooking the landscape, a red cape flowing behind him, a centurion¡¯s helmet atop his head, a shield in one hand, a lance in the other. He waved at me, beckoned me.


    A blink and he was gone.


    ¡°Get ready! When I go, I want every single one of you to be no more than a second behind! We stay sharp, we stay together, we reach the finish line in no time! We all start our journey to becoming heroes, right here, right now!¡±


    A cheer rose up, and I lifted one arm.


    Nothing more needed to be said. There were no last minute adjustments to be made.


    ¡°Let¡¯s do this,¡± I bellowed at the top of my lungs, and brought my arm down.


    I threw myself forward, the thunder of twenty others immediately on my heels, a storm of power signals.


    Our plan, after all, was simple:


    Run like hell.

 1.24: Of All The Impractical Ends

    We were betting on the assumption that the saboteurs wouldn¡¯t risk anything approaching lethal force in full view of the tower, where teachers surely had to be waiting. Their dishonest antics had been given some leeway, to my frustration, but I wasn¡¯t willing to believe that kind of escalation would go unpunished. Jeremy hadn¡¯t. No reason these guys would.


    As long as they weren¡¯t trying to kill us, we could deal with it. Or so I hoped.


    Our feet beat a cacophony as we ran, kicking up plumes of hazy grey dust. Our goal was ahead, but I was hyper-aware of our surroundings. My gaze didn¡¯t stay on one spot for even a moment. I was constantly scanning back and forth, looking for any movement, any changes in the scenery, my metaphorical eyes peeled for any power signals. Most of my attention went to the windows and roofs of the terraced buildings, but I couldn¡¯t discount what was ahead of us. The bushes and trees weren¡¯t enough to hide our group, but there could easily be one person concealed.


    At the same time, I was keeping a keen eye on the positions of our group. Twenty-two in all, we¡¯d formed into a kind of loose arrowhead shape, with me at the front tip, Billy and Cat behind each shoulder. Braver souls had fanned out to flank me, making up our vanguard, while others trailed a little.


    Not everyone was running, I noted. One guy I recognised was sliding along a glowing blue strip he laid on the floor, hands in pockets, not needing to put any effort into moving along. Another was taking bounding leaps rather than sprinting. Even Helga was in her gaseous form, easily keeping up.


    Not everyone was so blessed with their movement, wheezing and red-faced even though we¡¯d barely made it halfway across the cobble ring. I made sure to set an even pace, leaving no one behind.


    It was a lot to parse. I felt overloaded with information, barely able to pay attention to the movements of my own body.


    And so I almost missed the first attack when it came.


    Weight. Not just pressing down on me, but pulling on every part of my body. It was like the floor had turned magnetic, and every speck of my being had been transmuted to iron. There had been no power signal, so it took me by surprise. I stumbled, tripped, almost righted myself. Then the effect vanished, and the sudden lack of pressure was almost more disorienting than its abrupt appearance. I tumbled to the ground, scraping my knees on hard, jagged stone.


    Then the pressure came back, and I fell to all-fours.


    Pain flared, but I ignored it. Grinding my teeth, I wrenched my head around, neck muscles straining against the heightened gravity, eyes scanning frantically over our surroundings. No sign of where the attack was coming from.


    Dismissing that, I focused on our group. Most had fallen just as I had. A few had taken it better, some a lot worse.


    Billy was still on his feet, but his entire body was shaking. Cat was pressed down on her stomach, legs splayed either side of her as she howled in rage. Even Helga, a living gas, had been pressed to the stone, her form going darker and more opaque where it was being compressed. Everyone else was in varying levels of disarray.


    There was only one person still moving, sliding along his glowing blue zone like a hockey puck. I reached out for him as he almost drifted past me.


    ¡°Make your power¡¯s effect as big as you can,¡± I rasped.


    The boy was in clear pain, his eyes clenched shut, his teeth grit. But he opened one eye, strained to look around. He seemed dazed.


    ¡°Liam! Spread your power out to everyone!¡±


    For a moment, I wasn¡¯t sure if my words were getting through to him. But without any obvious action on his part aside from the peal of a soap-like signal, his zone expanded, flowing beneath us like spilled water.


    I felt the effect immediately. The gravity pressing us down didn¡¯t abate even a fraction, but that didn¡¯t matter. Liam had given me a quick rundown on his power earlier, and from the way he described it, he could make a car move as if it weighed as much as an inflatable; light as a feather, but unable to gather any real momentum. Gravity meant nothing to him.


    I had so many ideas for how he could use it. Later.


    With but a thought from him, our entire group started sliding along the floor. Slowly at first, but we quickly picked up speed. Soon, we were moving as fast as a light jog, and the end of the cobble ring was rapidly approaching. We could¡¯ve weighed a tonne each, and it wouldn¡¯t have mattered. The pressure increased exponentially until my arms gave out and I was lying flat on the ground, but we kept moving without a hitch.


    Then the pressure vanished, our saboteur evidently realising they¡¯d been effectively countered. Liam dispersed his power a moment later, groaning like a guy who¡¯d just rolled down a mountain.


    In spite of my protesting body, I surged back to my feet immediately, checking our surroundings. We were on the very edge of the cobbled ring, scant metres away from the line dividing stone and grass. A few members of our group followed me in getting up, but most stayed on the ground.


    Couldn¡¯t afford that.


    ¡°Up!¡± I shouted, darting to the nearest prone form, the slick-haired boy with the water manipulation powers¡ªYamas, I think his name was. I picked him up under the armpits and heaved. ¡°Up!¡¯


    He complied after a moment, and others moved to do the same. Cat was a lot less gentle about it, lifting people up by the scruff of their neck. Billy, to my surprise, was somehow worse, practically throwing people to their feet. Even Helga helped out, a disembodied voice seeking consent before she possessed their bodies and helped them climb to their feet with added strength. Smiling a little despite myself, I rushed in to do my part.


    Within moments, everyone was standing, if not quite ready. Half the group looked drunk, but we couldn¡¯t afford to linger.


    I barely took one stop forward before a wall snapped upwards in front of me. I sighed. No power signal once again. Were these set up beforehand?


    ¡°Bi¡ª¡± A blur rushed past me, leaving a bone-shaking boom in its wake. It slammed through the wall like a wrecking-ball, chunks of rock spraying over the grass ahead of us. ¡°¡ªlly. Good job,¡± I said.


    Billy patted some dust off himself, then gave a thumbs up.


    No more walls rose up as we continued.


    We moved as a group, crossing the boundary into what I was starting to think of as the second stage¡ªand the most dangerous stage. Too much cover, too many places to hide, too much to keep track of. Every tree could hide an enemy, every bush a foe. Even the terrain itself could be dangerous, under the right circumstances.


    The cobble ring had been a game of speed. We¡¯d cut across it like a javelin. Now, we took evasive action, zig-zagging across the grass, using the foliage strategically to cut off line of sight without straying too far from our course to the tower. It wasn¡¯t just a tactical thing; the park area didn¡¯t really allow for a straight line. Setting aside the bushes and trees, which, though a pain, were easily dodged, the ponds pocking the landscape were the real problem. They hadn¡¯t seemed so bad from a distance, but they forced us onto a winding route, killing time.


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    Thankfully, it didn¡¯t take too much longer to get past them.


    Unfortunately, our third attacker struck soon after. My assessment of the area¡¯s dangers turned out to be prescient, though it came from an unexpected source.


    I was in the middle of hurdling a knee-high bush when I heard multiple yelps of alarm behind me. I spun, ready to face anything. Of all the ambushes I¡¯d thought we might face, the grass itself had not been high on my list.


    Not a peep of a power signal.


    It was growing with frightening speed, like a timelapse. Instead of reaching toward the sun like nature intended, the turf was moving with malicious intelligence, crawling up legs and tying them up, then moving to mummify our allies as they fell to the ground. The stronger among us were fighting back, and Yamas was even seemingly pulling the water out of the grass itself, turning it yellow and brittle, but plenty were being pinned to the ground.


    I went to go back and help, but I felt the lawn latching onto my own feet, gripping me with a strength more akin to steel than grass. I tried to keep my balance, but it was no use. I fell, and green doom rushed up to meet me.


    A shout tore its way out of my throat. ¡°Yamas! The ponds!¡±


    Waves of murky water flooded the area, and the grass was flattened beneath its weight. I fell face-first into a puddle instead of a hostile environment, sputtering and splashing for a second before getting my bearings and levering myself up.


    ¡°Sorry!¡± Yamas was holding his hands up with his shoulders hunched, like a turtle retreating to its shell. ¡°I should¡¯a done that from the start. I¡¯m a dumbass. Sorry.¡±


    I took a shaky deep breath. Shivers wracked my body¡ªthat water was fucking freezing¡ªand the water had made me feel heavy, but I forced my way back to my feet. ¡°It¡¯s fine. Help everyone else up.¡±


    It took a few minutes, but soon we had everyone out of the still-wriggling grass, and we could get moving once more.


    Could was the operative word. I didn¡¯t realise it until everyone else started complaining, but I wasn¡¯t the only one who felt heavy, my limbs trembling.


    We¡¯d been hit by a double-attack.


    It was similar to the gravity effect we¡¯d faced at the start, but subtly different. The air had gone thick, like we were trying to walk through water. Everyone was affected this time, even Billy¡¯s vast strength proved unable to overcome the effect.


    It wasn¡¯t enough to halt our movements entirely like the first attack, but it would have the less fit members of our group exhausted in seconds.


    Helga¡¯s cloud of green gas drifted into the corner of my vision, and my eyes jerked to her. She was making little sounds of distress, her smoky form twisting this way and that. This close, I noticed little stars twinkling in time with her voice whenever she made noise.


    Not everyone was affected, after all.


    My lips moved as if in slow motion. ¡°How¡­ many¡­ can¡­ you¡­ control?¡±


    The cloud flinched. ¡°I¡¯ve never even attempted this many.¡±


    ¡°Do¡­ it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if what you¡¯re thinking will work!¡± Helga sparkled with distress. Her accent was thick when she was agitated, but I couldn¡¯t place it. Something Eastern-European. ¡°My power is symbiotic. It¡¯ll make you stronger. But I don¡¯t know if it¡¯ll affect this.¡±


    ¡°Try,¡± I said, staring her down.


    She undulated in place for a moment, then the stars in her cloud shone with inner light as her signal screeched. Her cloud expanded, reaching out tendrils. She couldn¡¯t cover all of the group in one go, and she always stopped to make sure everyone was okay with what she was doing, so it took longer than I would have liked.


    But it worked.


    The feeling of her power working on me was unlike anything I¡¯d experienced. Worms wriggled through my veins, slimy sheets of plastic crawled under my skin, and countless little pin-creatures burrowed their way into my muscles. Despite the strange sensation, I¡¯d never felt so strong. I held up my hands, marvelling at the shimmering emerald steam venting from my skin.


    Can¡¯t do this for long, a strained voice echoed in the back of my head. Also can¡¯t control this many people. Can only boost. Please hurry.


    ¡°Everyone move!¡± I roared.


    The impossible density of the air hadn¡¯t gone away, but it felt milder. Weak enough we could push through it. Much like the gravity at the start, it faded once it became clear we¡¯d effectively neutralised the effect, and I found myself wondering if it was the same attacker.


    Helga stayed linked to us all even after it was gone, so we had to stick close together to remain in her range. With her boost and without any more hindrance, our pace doubled and then doubled again, and we blasted through to the other side of the park ring.


    Our feet hit the pavement. The tower was only fifty metres away.


    And there five people in front of us, standing around in a loose mish-mash, more a group that happened to be in the same place and doing the same thing than an actual alliance. They were surrounded by bits of rubble that looked suspiciously humanoid, and a giant of a boy with neon grain hair was in the process of crushing a featureless stone golem beneath his boot.


    ¡°Took you guys long enough,¡± he said, his voice gravelly as a quarry. ¡°We sorted these fuckers out for you. A bunch of them spawn when anyone enters the parking lot, but only so many at a time. They¡¯re not tough, but annoying when you¡¯re already getting sniped by other people out there.¡±


    From all the way on the other end of the clearing, back in the alley, I hadn¡¯t recognised them. Now I did. I knew them all.


    The girl who¡¯d pretended to stop to tie her shoelace. The boy with the vector powers. The girl who could fly. The girl who could see through walls, and the guy who could walk through them.


    Their names hadn¡¯t come up, for whatever reason, but their faces were unmistakable.


    They¡¯d all been working with us, after all.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t finished yet?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Does it look like we have?¡± the girl who could see through walls said, rolling her eyes.


    Apparently, they hadn¡¯t stopped.


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get the wrong idea,¡± the shoelace girl said. A little blue flame was dancing between her fingers. ¡°I¡¯m still here because of that Latina chick. I didn¡¯t want to make an enemy for life, so I agreed to wait.¡±


    ¡°Not like our time score matters anyway, since we got all our tasks,¡± the boy who could walk through walls chimed in.


    ¡°Julia,¡± I said, pieces slotting into place.


    She¡¯d been one of the first to leave. I could only assume she¡¯d gone ahead to the finish line to¡­ what? Stand guard, like some kind of final boss?


    ¡°Where is she?¡± I asked, looking around.


    The flying girl made a noise, drawing my attention. She was holding one of the training dummies by the head, a B marked on its chest, and she tossed it towards me. Reaching into a pocket, she withdrew a token, and threw that at my feet too.


    ¡°Finishing off for you,¡± the girl said with an icy glare.


    My mind went blank. It felt like I¡¯d been processing too much information, and my neurons had shorted out. My mouth flopped open soundlessly, then clicked closed. I repeated this performance for an embarrassingly long time before I managed a response.


    ¡°She finished my tasks?¡±


    ¡°Not all of them,¡± she replied. She floated up a metre or so and tilted her head to one side


    My stomach dropped as I followed her gaze.


    The tower that held the finish line was undoubtedly the tallest building in the area, looming over the terraced buildings that ringed it. But that wasn¡¯t to say it was the only structure of a notable height.


    On the eastern end of the zone, for example, stood the red radio tower I was supposed to activate for my A-rank objective. It had to be ten stories tall.


    The pillar of ash-grey smoke rising from beside it was much taller.

 1.25: Impractical Decisions

    I had never run so hard in my life.


    Every action had consequences.


    My lungs were on fire, every intake of breath flooding my chest with mustard gas. My calves, hamstrings, knees, and even the soles of my feet were screaming in protest. The test had already gone on for hours, much of that time spent running. Even in good shape, I didn¡¯t have much juice left in me.


    Every decision, repercussions.


    The world passed by in a blur. I shot through the streets like the dogs of hell were on my heels, dodging past cars, ducking through alleyways, only stopping to check I was following the right route.


    Even a lack of action, indecision, could have knock-on effects.


    Each time I caught sight of the radio tower, it was still impossibly far away. It felt like I¡¯d been running for hours, but the distance never seemed to close. The finger of smoke beckoned me, mocked me.


    There were times when keeping something to yourself could have catastrophic fallout.


    Guilt and fear and fury and a thousand other emotions gnawed at me, consuming me from the inside out until I was a bag of skin containing only mixed emotions, all at war with one another.


    There were times when the wrong word at the wrong time could burn the whole world down around your ears. I would know.


    I could only hope the consequences this time weren¡¯t so severe.


    Caution had fallen to the wayside long ago. I paid barely any attention to my surroundings. Could¡¯ve run past an enemy without ever noticing.


    My mind was only on putting one foot in front of the other, as fast as I possibly could. Only my current location and my destination mattered.


    Somewhere beneath that ominous pillar of smoke, Julia was in danger. And I was the reason she was there. If I¡¯d been clear about everything, forthright about my suspicions of a hidden test, she might never have felt the need to go off on her own and complete my tasks for me. Only my A-rank was left, and it was clear something had gone wrong. Whether it was an accident or enemy action, it didn¡¯t matter.


    It was my responsibility to help her either way. No one else¡¯s.


    My tracksuit was dirty and covered in small tears, and I was starting to think I was more bruise than skin. The group had been baffled when I¡¯d started to run towards the radio tower the moment I laid eyes on the rising smoke, and they¡¯d held me back. A frenzy had overcome me, and it wasn¡¯t until Billy pinned me to the ground that I came to my senses.


    Convincing them to take action from there had been a trial. I¡¯d been forced to lie.


    It had taken me a while to put together a reasonable proposal: we had to take control of the area around the tower in order to allow our surely exhausted wayward comrade to have an easy run back to the finish line. What was a little longer, when their time score was already going to be so abysmal?


    Getting back across the open space had been easier than our charge to the tower, but there¡¯d still been enough resistance to frustrate our efforts. We¡¯d known what to expect, at least. I couldn¡¯t dwell too long on why the saboteurs had attacked us in the exact same spaces as before, nor why the effects were blatantly weaker than what had hampered our way in, nor why there were still no signals to accompany the blatant power use, but I snatched the advantage with both hands.


    Now, I was running like my life depended on it, because it was entirely possible a life really did depend on it. Ignoring the protests of my body, I pushed myself harder, faster. I hit my limit and battered right through it, hurtling through the concrete maze.


    Agonising seconds bled into excruciating minutes. Another nightmare squirmed into my head every moment, images of Julia¡¯s body crushed beneath tons of rock flashing through my mind.


    The world became a blur. Time lost all meaning. I moved on autopilot, watching my body run as if from behind. My mind went blank.


    Then the wall of buildings opened up, and I stumbled out onto the hood of an abandoned car. I stayed there for a moment, my limbs shaking. There was no time to rest, but my body wasn¡¯t responding.


    Now, more than ever, I cursed my lack of powers. If I¡¯d just had something, anything, to give me an edge, so much about this situation would look different. I¡¯d like to think that I still would¡¯ve formed an alliance even if I had walked into the test a Level 100 S-rank, but there would¡¯ve been so much more assurance among my allies. I never would¡¯ve needed to make the stupid promise about leaving my tasks. I would¡¯ve led from the front, an inspiration.


    Instead, I was sprawled over the hood of a rusty old car, lamenting yet another of my mistakes.


    The more morally righteous heroes out there liked to peddle the idea that power wasn¡¯t the most important thing in the world, that there was more to life.


    It sure as hell felt like the most important thing in the world when you had none.


    My eyes blurred with tears of frustration, and I growled as I wiped them away.


    Pathetic, a voice inside me whispered. I couldn¡¯t identify it; it could¡¯ve been any one of a thousand.


    ¡°Fuck you,¡± my own voice replied.


    Lifting my head, I took stock of my surroundings.


    Hemmed in by a packed parking lot, the radio tower stretched high overhead, a skeletal red-and-white frame surrounding a ladder, with an array of satellite dishes above a platform at the top. At its base stood a stately building, four stories tall and wide enough it could¡¯ve taken up a block on its own, seeming more appropriate for some kind of palace than a radio HQ.


    Every window was shattered. Many of the walls were cracked and crumbling, and one corner of the building was sagging down. The column of smoke was rising from the other end of the building, but I couldn¡¯t smell burning, and the telltale roar of fire was absent. It was too slow for a blaze, too. Drifting, rather than pluming. A dust cloud, then.


    The realisation was hardly a relief.


    Over the thunder of my heartbeat storming in my ears, waves of terrifying sound blared from within the radio building. A power signal rose like a mountain from somewhere within. There was a blood-curdling shriek, like a thousand knives being scraped together and compressed. Then came a clap of thunder, the rush of displaced air. Following that was a rumble, and the building visibly shook. The sagging corner dropped lower, like extra weight had been added to it.


    A part of me was relieved. If the fighting was ongoing, it meant Julia was surely alive, if still in danger.


    The majority of me, reason and emotion and instinct all working in concert, was overwhelmed by horror.


    I recognised that sound. I¡¯d heard it barely two hours ago.


    Julia was alive, but she was being hunted by someone willing to kill.


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    Dragging myself back to my feet through an exertion of pure will, I started hobbling through the rows of cars. Caution was a foreign concept to me now; I approached the grand front doors without even a thought for stealth. They¡¯d already been blown off their hinges, and I walked straight into a reception room


    The insides of the building were nothing like what I¡¯d seen in the UCTZ so far. This place was evidently used for some kind of indoor training, because it was fully furnished, decked out to simulate what I imagined the front reception of a radio station might look like.


    It had been torn to shreds, unfortunately. The front desk had been twisted up as if a great hand had reached down and given it a squeeze. Carpet had been shredded and torn up, the walls seemed to have been slashed by mighty claws, and the floor was covered with debris, shards of glass and vases, and a thick layer of dust. Half the tiles on the ceiling had been smashed away, exposing pipes and wiring. The lights flickered, more off than on, and even when they worked, they gave little light.


    An exhausted, delirious corner of my mind wondered if the attackers would lose points for causing this much collateral damage. The rest of my mind caught up with the thought, and immediately hoped that they¡¯d already be on a flat 0 for every-fucking-thing else they¡¯d pulled today. In a just world, the teachers would¡¯ve already swooped down on them and ended their test.


    The signal loomed over me once more, and this time I braced for what was coming. Another shriek split the air, hammering nails of fear into my heart. Inside the building, I could feel the air quaking as much as I heard the following boom and rumble. A few more tiles fell from the ceiling.


    It was a potent power, to be able to cause such widespread damage.


    But it wasn¡¯t the only power signal active in this place. It was by far the more powerful of the two, almost drowning the other out, but this close I could just about sense the difference.


    I started moving further inside, keeping low, heart pounding.


    Broken doors at the back of the room led to an unlit corridor. Instinct screamed at me, a primal fear of the dark that pricked my flesh and sent a shiver down my spine, but it went unheeded. Following the corridor to the left took me to the corner of the building. Intermittent booms dogged my footsteps, answering rumbles and an accompanying rush of air thrumming through the entire building.


    I picked my route by avoiding the source of the thunder, and it bore me right around to the other side of the building, picking my way through offices, server rooms, and even studios. A staircase took me up to the third floor, where the sound was so loud I could barely hear my own heartbeat.


    Concern for Julia had driven me to recklessness, but caution won out when the building started swaying like the deck of a ship. It lasted only a second, but that was two seconds too long, in my estimation.


    But it couldn¡¯t stop me. No amount of trepidation could.


    Crouching down low, I started moving with stealth. All the joints and muscles in my legs banded together to protest, but the concerns of my body were nothing to me, now.


    The building was a labyrinth, and none of the signs were in English. Finding my way back out would be a nightmare, but I kept going deeper, getting more lost. Before long, I was navigating purely by the proximity of the screech and the faint blip of a power signal.


    As I was checking a door that seemed to lead only to the technician¡¯s room for a studio, I heard voices. Low and distant, but distinct.


    With every second, they were getting louder. Closer.


    My heartrate spiked, and I shoved myself into the room. I couldn¡¯t afford to close the door and make a sound, so I had to leave it slightly ajar. Settling down beside the door, I stilled my breathing and waited.


    Not a second later, footsteps echoed along the corridor I¡¯d just been sneaking through. They were walking with an easy gait. Casual, unconcerned.


    ¡°This is getting tiresome,¡± a boy said, and I frowned as I recognised the voice. Where had I heard it?


    The answer came to me as a girl replied. She sounded out of breath, frustration bleeding into her voice. ¡°Letting the bitch escape would be an embarrassment to us both, Taeyong. We can¡¯t afford that.¡±


    It was Sooyoung, my saboteur from the written test. Taeyong had to be the boy who tried to calm her down when she confronted me before the practical.


    ¡°Is it really a big deal? We¡¯ve already taken out plenty of competition, and our tasks are all done,¡± Taeyong said, sounding bored.


    ¡°The tasks are meaningless. We¡¯re not trying to impress Herakles here.¡±


    ¡°Okay. That¡¯s true. But do you think she will be impressed by us stubbornly chasing down a girl who clearly has a tactical advantage in this place? You know her reputation.¡±


    They passed right by my door, close enough I could hear the rustling of their clothes as they walked. I caught a glimpse of them through the crack in the door. Sooyoung was just as I remembered her: impossibly perfect in every aspect of her appearance even in the midst of a gruelling test, black hair pristine, skin unblemished, clothes immaculate.


    Taeyong was almost the opposite. His hair was bone white and wild, sticking up like he¡¯d just taken an electric shock. He was clearly Asian, but the freckles dusting the bridge of his nose and cheekbones implied he was maybe mixed race. His tracksuit was baggy, both the sleeves and rolled up pant legs. He walked with a slouch like there was a weight on his shoulders, staring straight ahead with half-lidded eyes.


    They passed by, and I lost sight of them.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already failed once today,¡± Sooyoung snapped, sounding like it pained her. ¡°I can¡¯t afford to do so twice.¡±


    There was a moment of silence. ¡°We could run away. I can protect you.¡±


    Sooyoung barked a laugh, and even barely knowing her I could tell it was forced. ¡°You¡¯re a prodigy among prodigies and your power is incredible, Taeyong, but brute strength means nothing against a chaebol. I need an army at my back. Or in front of me, I should say. Besides, it¡¯s not like you¡¯re invincible.¡±


    ¡°No one is.¡± Taeyong heaved a sigh. ¡°Will you be satisfied after we¡¯ve caught this pest, at least?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll have to do. I can¡¯t imagine there¡¯s many people left in the test, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s get her, then.¡±


    Sooyoung replied, but their voices started to fade as they got further away.


    I was left staring at the glass in front of me, my mind absently cataloguing the details of the recording studio and its myriad instruments beyond. My body was shaking, and only a tiny part of it was down to fear.


    My vision was slowly going white. Something hot was flooding my head, burning my brain until I could swear my vision was overlaid with a vision of raging fire.


    I¡¯d already suspected I was going to be dealing with someone willing to kill. Getting confirmation meant little.


    It was the way they talked about it that had me rising to my feet, fists clenched, fatigue forgotten. The callous disregard for the other contestants. How they knew their actions would meet with Herakles¡¯ disapproval, but didn¡¯t care. Selfishness had oozed from every syllable, and it had felt like it was dripping acid into my ears.


    They said they¡¯d already taken out plenty of competition. They wanted to do the same to Julia.


    Fuck them both.


    I¡¯d already dealt with two villains today. I was happy to double that number.


    I moved to the door, reaching for the handle.


    It swung open, smashing me in the face, sending me sprawling back in shock.


    My rage drained away, pushed out of my body by a tranquil sense of the inevitable. Calm settled, and I lowered myself into a fighting stance. I didn¡¯t know what Taeyong¡¯s power actually did, but I was willing to bet it was going to be unpleasant.


    But as long as I got to punch him in the face first, I¡¯d be content.


    A head poked through the door, and I swung all my strength into a right hook.


    I had half a second to realise this head of hair was black, not the white I¡¯d seen through the crack in the door. My fist struck only air as she ducked the strike, then immediately stepped into my guard and pushed me back. My mouth opened, but she slapped a hand over it. Balance failed me, but she stepped back with a hold on my arm, keeping me upright.


    Julia gave me a flat stare, lips pressed in a thin line. She looked totally unruffled, not a hair out of place and not a scratch or stain on her tracksuit. Her power sign was active, opalescent light outlining her eyes, nose, mouth, and ears, but I could barely feel her signal standing right next to her, so overwhelming was the boy, Taeyeong¡¯s.


    ¡°Nice of you to show up,¡± she breathed. ¡°But I had things under control.¡±


    ¡°Those guys aren¡¯t wearing kid gloves. They almost killed someone earlier,¡± I replied on instinct.


    ¡°Oh? I¡¯d been under the impression that the vortex boy wanted to use his power to tickle me. I had my suspicions that he wasn¡¯t actually trying to redecorate this place, now that you mention it¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t take this lightly. That Taeyong guy¡¯s powerful.¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°So was Slash. And just like Slash, he¡¯ll have weaknesses. We can figure something out.¡±


    My brain caught up with the situation, and I hurried to whisper. ¡°There¡¯s no time to argue. We need to get out of here.¡±


    Julia gave me a look of genuine disbelief. ¡°What are you talking about? We haven¡¯t completed your last task yet.¡±

 1.26: Perfectly Impractical, Sometimes

    A boom cut through the air. It didn¡¯t seem too close by, but Julia ducked down beneath a solid wooden table, and I hurried to follow her. It was a cramped space, and we ended up close enough that I could feel Julia¡¯s breath on the side of my face.


    ¡°Hm, they¡¯re getting impatient,¡± she whispered. ¡°For the most part, the white-haired boy had only been firing off his power when I let him see me.¡±


    I boggled at her. ¡°You let him see you?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I was worried that if they thought they¡¯d lost me they¡¯d bring down the building completely, and I wouldn¡¯t be able to finish the task. Been giving them the runaround and searching for the place that¡¯ll turn the broadcast back on at the same time. I found what I believe to be the control room barely a few minutes ago, but had to lead them away from it.¡±


    I let my head fall back, but stifled a groan. ¡°There¡¯s more important things than that damn task.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°Uh. Your life?¡±


    Julia leaned to one side, eyes narrowing. ¡°You have a low estimation of my abilities, I see.¡± She shook her head, the opalescent sign of her active power leaving a faint after-image, like a long-exposure photograph. Her signal was sharp, but small. The discomfort it caused me was easily shaken off, in comparison to the mountain walking around out there. ¡°You didn¡¯t come here to finish your final task, did you?¡±


    ¡°That was the last thing on my mind. I came here to save you.¡±


    If there was a more perfect non-verbal expression of disbelief, Julia¡¯s face right then would¡¯ve given it a run for its money. She made a ¡®go on¡¯ motion with one hand.


    ¡°It¡¯s my fault you felt the need to be here,¡± I continued, my whispers getting more harsh, self-reproach building. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have been here facing off against people willing to go lethal if I¡¯d been more honest about how this test was going to shake out. There was no way I could leave you here alone.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Otherwise, I had zero intention of coming all the way back out here.¡±


    Julia nodded. ¡°Okay. The possibility that you may end up with a higher score than I first thought is nice. What does it change?¡±


    My head snapped round to stare at her face-to-face. Her eyes didn¡¯t flinch from me.


    ¡°It means the points for the A-rank don''t matter!¡±


    "According to whom? Do you have any kind of confirmation that you''ll receive bonus points for your heroic sacrifice?"


    "Well... no. But I think it''s a reasonable assumption to make."


    Julia was quiet for a long moment, expressionless. Eventually, she sighed, turning away and leaning back against the wall.


    ¡°Even if you pass with flying colours, even if you never needed to complete any of your tasks to begin with, you deserve to be repaid.¡± She paused, her expression darkening. ¡°I wasn''t joking when I left. The fact that no one offered to reciprocate your generosity disgusts me. As far as I''m concerned, none of the wannabe heroes in our batch of examinees deserve to pass to the next stage aside from you. Fifty people, and not one made the offer. It''s a fucking disgrace.¡±


    She was breathing heavily by the time she finished talking.


    I hesitated before asking, ¡°Hit close to home, somehow?¡±


    ¡°You could say that," she said after a second.


    For a long moment, only silence reigned.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to talk about it if you don¡¯t want to.¡±


    ¡°I know, and I¡¯m not going to.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Um. Okay. That¡¯s fine.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like you need to know anything about me.¡±


    ¡°No, of course not.¡±


    Another lull of silence.


    ¡°I just hate seeing anyone get taken advantage of. Leeches disgust me.¡±


    ¡°... I wouldn¡¯t go so far as to call anyone leeches.¡±


    ¡°What else would you call them? What did they give you in return for what was, as far as they were aware, your sacrifice? Any decent person with a modicum of social grace knows about reciprocity. Or so they should.¡± She sighed. ¡°This isn¡¯t the first time I¡¯ve been disappointed by people, and it won¡¯t be the last.¡±


    I took a moment to consider my words. ¡°You¡¯re not the only one who¡¯s been disappointed today. All the sabotage going on? I didn¡¯t see that coming one bit. Thought everyone here would be noble and stuff.¡±


    Julia snorted. ¡°I don¡¯t blame you. A lot of people seem to forget that Herakles isn¡¯t the only one with influence over this place.¡±


    I gave her a questioning look, but she just shook her head.


    Filing that away for later, I changed tack. ¡°But I¡¯ve been encouraged, too. I¡¯ve met good people. People who lived up to what I was expecting from Aegis candidates. Hell, our alliance was still twenty strong by the end, all working together. That¡¯s a good sign, right?¡±


    ¡°I''ve just given you my opinion of them,¡± Julia said flatly. ¡°If they''re a sign of what''s to come... well. I fully expect that my years at Aegis Academy, provided I make it, won¡¯t be substantially different from what I¡¯ve seen and experienced in my life so far. Today is just more confirmation of that.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re only teenagers. We¡¯ve got a lot of life left to live. Lots of revelations. Lots of opportunities to prove you wrong.¡±


    Julia just smiled.


    Silence descended once more, right up until another thundercrack sliced through the calm, spilling out a sudden rush of fear. I flinched, my gaze snapping towards the source. There was no getting used to that sound, especially not with the way the building seemed to sway each time. Julia¡¯s powersign flickered on and off, and she grimaced.


    ¡°We need to finish the task quickly.¡±


    ¡°We need to leave.¡±


    We spoke at the same time, then turned to glare at each other.


    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving here without finishing that task. I hate wasting effort.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m not leaving here without you.¡±


    ¡°Then you¡¯ll have to help me finish the task faster, won¡¯t you?¡±


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    ¡°Why? Even with just the other, uh, however many tasks complete?¡±


    ¡°Four. Unblocking the obstruction for your C-rank task was a massive pain, by the way.¡±


    ¡°Right. Four tasks should get me some decent points, and then hidden scores should be enough to get me to pass.¡±


    Julia leaned forward until she was so close that her unblinking eyes filled 75% of my vision, framed by lines of multicoloured light as her powersign returned. ¡°Are you willing to gamble on that, Emmett?¡±


    I shifted, opened my mouth to speak.


    But Julia talked over me. ¡°You¡¯ve been dreaming of being a hero since you were a child, you said, because your father used to work here, and you would visit. That seems like an extremely deep emotional connection, something very, very important to you.¡± Somehow, she got closer. The light of her power sign was dazzling. ¡°Is that something you¡¯re truly willing to gamble on? What will you do if your exam results arrive in a few weeks, and you¡¯ve failed? How do you think you¡¯d feel about missing these points then?¡±


    Her words hit me like a brick to the face.


    Before coming here today, in the weeks and months leading up to the exams, throughout all the stress and anxiety, I¡¯d had a mantra. Any time I had a bout of laziness, or was too tired, or felt a little under the weather, or something was too sore, I¡¯d repeated it over and over in my head.


    No regrets.


    I¡¯d been resolved to give it everything for years. Even a rating on the Shimada Scale that had been handed to me with the solemn weight of a terminal diagnosis had only shaken my determination for as long as it took Ashika to lose her patience and break my nose. Since then, I¡¯d never wavered. Almost three years.


    It was a simple concept, wanting to be able to look back on the past without bitter feelings. Hardly a desire unique to me.


    But it was easier said than done. There was a saying that you couldn¡¯t tell you were in the good times when you were living them, and by the same token you could never truly be sure you were making a decision you would regret.


    Now, one of those choices was in front of me.


    Stay or go.


    The risks for both were great, the rewards unclear.


    We could stay and fail, and we mightn¡¯t even live to regret it at all. We could leave, and in a few weeks I could get a letter in the mail informing me I hadn¡¯t passed the test, and I¡¯d be forever left to wonder if that A-rank task could¡¯ve pushed my score over a passing grade.


    But we could also stay and win, and I could be content knowing I¡¯d done everything I could to maximise my chances. On the other hand, we could leave, lowering our chances of clashing with a boy who had lethal power and the ruthlessness to use it.


    I closed my eyes as another shriek tore through the air, sending a rumble through the walls and a wave of displaced air through the stale atmosphere. The building swayed, and stone groaned deep below us. The place didn¡¯t seem likely to hold out much longer.


    The answer was obvious, really.


    I opened my eyes and turned to Julia.


    ¡°The A-rank tasks are designed to be extremely time-consuming for the person they¡¯re assigned to,¡± I said, straight to business. ¡°This one has been tailored to me, so it¡¯ll be something that takes my skills and knowledge into account. For one thing, I have no fucking clue how to work a radio tower. Don¡¯t even know where to begin.¡±


    Julia waited with one eyebrow raised.


    ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean the task will be difficult for everyone. I¡¯m assuming part of what makes this task so difficult for me is finding a control room for the tower, let alone figuring out how to work it. Hopefully, you have some insight?¡±


    Julia grinned, one finger tapping against her glowing power sign. It seemed to ripple under her touch, sending straightened lightning bolts of every colour along the ethereal wires. Her signal fluttered. ¡°I just might.¡±


    It took a few minutes for Julia to run me through the layout of the building, where she suspected the control room might be along with how it might be operated, and the tactics our two antagonists tended to employ.


    Once she was done with that, I told her about my power sense. For some reason, she stared at me. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of people being able to feel high Levels or S-ranks, but never just¡­ powers in general.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a thing,¡± I said. ¡°Trust me. Usually it goes away shortly after a kid has their first revelation and has their foundation built.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t doubt you. Have you ever thought that could be a clue of some kind to your unusual situation?¡±


    ¡°Every damn day. It probably won¡¯t help us much here, since this Taeyong fucker is so powerful, but I¡¯m open to ideas.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see,¡± Julia said.


    From there, we made a plan. We wasted no time putting it into action.


    Julia hadn¡¯t got a perfect image of the radio building¡¯s floor plan¡ªshe made sure to emphasise her memory was not eidetic¡ªbut her power had indeed let her build up a workable idea.


    We snuck out from the room, keeping ourselves low, our footsteps quiet. We were in no rush, not while we could still hear periodic thunder that sent a thrum through the building. The way sound travelled here could be deceptive, Julia whispered to me with a wry smile, but the aftershock of Taeyong¡¯s power gave us a way to guess how far he was. As expected, his signal was no help.


    With that in mind, stealth was the name of the game. Julia led me on a winding route, stopping periodically in out-of-the-way rooms to wait for another blast of titanic power to settle, cautious to ensure we didn¡¯t lose track of our enemies¡¯ location. We stole through offices, crawled along corridors, and creeped up and down staircases.


    We even enacted the mother of all cliches. Let me tell you: crawling through air vents wasn¡¯t anything like how they portrayed it in action flicks. By the time we were out, I felt like I had a second skin of dust, and my limbs were sore from spending so long in that claustrophobic space. I¡¯d spent at least half the time in there worrying I¡¯d get stuck.


    But Julia knew what she was doing. We saw not a hair and heard not a peep from Taeyong and Sooyoung, and soon Julia was gesturing me into a room filled with old electrical consoles I couldn¡¯t hope to make heads or tails of. I stepped up anyway, fiddling around with the buttons, dials, and switches, but there was no hint of life in the machines. No light, no sound. The curved glass screens were nothing more than black mirrors.


    The room itself bore no hints: the walls were bare of any posters, there were no manuals or guides in the row of cabinets, and none of the buttons on the console were even labelled. There was a ladder leading to a hatch in the ceiling, but I assumed that was just a way to access the tower itself rather than some kind of loft holding the console¡¯s secrets.


    The door had been open when we arrived, and Julia pushed it closed behind her. It was made of thick metal, heavy enough that she had to put her weight into it. It clunked once it was shut.


    I sighed, fighting off despair. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you have any ideas?¡±


    Without a word, Julia crawled beneath the console. Wrenching it open, she started rummaging around inside. There was a spark, a few beeps, and the console¡¯s screens flickered to life one by one.


    Julia emerged a moment later, smirking. ¡°How long do you think this would¡¯ve taken you?¡±


    For some reason, I felt a little indignant. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t give me that. This test was literally designed to stump me. You cheated.¡±


    ¡°Apparently they think a cable being unplugged would¡¯ve held you off.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes. ¡°Yeah? Well, your A-rank obstacle was a pond.¡±


    ¡°So it was. It would¡¯ve kept me occupied for hours on my own. How about you?¡±


    ¡°Shut up and activate the tower,¡± I grumbled.


    Julia had it running in what felt like no time at all, screens reading ¡®connection established¡¯ in bold white font. Just like that, with the mother of all anticlimaxes, my A-rank task was complete. It was a heady feeling, like my body had suddenly gotten a few kilos lighter. Relief surged, but I tamped it down.


    We weren¡¯t in the clear yet.


    The boom just outside the door behind us proved how true that was. This close, it was deafening, a storm of metal scraping together inside my eardrums. The aftershock was immediate, powerful enough to throw me off my feet, my back striking hard against the console. Everything shook, rumbling like an earthquake. Cabinets toppled, tiles fell from the ceiling, cracks spread along the walls and fissures yawned open. Only by a miracle did the heavy door stay on its hinges.


    The door. I stared at it, head tilted to one side. The walls had been battered and beaten, but it was immaculate, practically untouched. Had he held back?


    Julia had fared no better than me, but she was already on her feet by the time I managed to peel myself gingerly off of the console, still staring at the door. The screens had all smashed to pieces, and my hands were stinging and wet.


    ¡°Nowhere to run, bitch!¡± I heard Sooyoung¡¯s voice echo down the corridor, two sets of footsteps rapidly approaching.


    Julia and I shared a grim look, then we turned our attention back to the heavy door.


    Things had been going so well, our simple plan working so flawlessly, that I¡¯d forgotten the deadliest adage in our prospective line of work.


    No plan survives contact with the enemy.


    There was a high chance we wouldn¡¯t survive either.

 1.27: Impractical Escapes

    Dust choked the air, thick enough that I could barely see a few metres in front of me. My vision swam, eyes stinging like I¡¯d poured acid on my retinae. Even with a makeshift mask on my face, my nose was clogged with grime. Every inhale rubbed sandpaper over my lungs, soot turning my mouth and throat to cotton.


    Sound was muffled, but not enough to dampen the ear-splitting scream of Taeyong¡¯s destructive power when it was so close. It was a near-constant cacophony now, an endless storm of annihilation. The air stirred with its use, kicking up more and more dust by the second. Though it was dampened by the metal door, the sound was still enough to have my heart jackhammering between my knees.


    Small silver linings, it covered up the noise of Julia bashing on the hatch in the ceiling, clinging to the ladder with one arm. The power sign around her eyes had dimmed, dust hindering her superhuman senses, but she still struck with deliberate precision, trying to affect something I couldn¡¯t see from my position beneath her.


    I glanced back, squinting through the haze. My foot was tapping, and it took a force of will to stop. But it was like playing whack-a-mole with my own boy; the moment I had that tic under control, one hand started shaking.


    My breaths were coming too quick, but not getting enough air. A torn off strip of my shirt was hardly functioning as an adequate filter.


    The metal door was still miraculously holding even under the assault of Taeyong¡¯s screaming power, but that didn¡¯t mean we were safe.


    Whether the door''s proximity was weakening his power somehow, or if he just didn¡¯t want to knock it down¡ªwhich seemed unlikely¡ªit was only a matter of time before the surrounding walls crumbled, even if they were made of solid brick, tougher than other walls in the place. Cracks were already appearing. Once the gaps were wide enough for someone to look through, we¡¯d be done.


    As if in response to my thoughts, a chunk of masonry fell away. A puff of dust kicked up into the air as it thumped to the ground.


    The sound was matched by a groan of metal and a clunk from above me. My eyes snapped upwards.


    ¡°Got it!¡± Julia cried, scrambling up the ladder and through the now-open hatch.


    I shot up after her as fast as I reasonably could. Safety beckoned.


    We hadn¡¯t had time to come up with a plan, and my throat was sore from having to shout to be heard over Taeyong¡¯s power, but we¡¯d both had the same thought immediately: there was no way we were fighting our way out in these conditions. Escape was our only salvation, and the roof was the sole option on that front. There had to be some route down to the ground floor, we reasoned. A fire escape, maybe.


    Julia was waiting for me, and she slammed the hatch shut as soon as I was clear. Another metal barrier between us and our pursuers. A potential life-saver, if my suspicions proved true.


    Below our feet, a heavy crash boomed out. They¡¯d gotten through the wall. Fortuitous, on our part.


    A foolish part of me had hoped visibility might be better up here, but if anything it was even worse. Dark grey haze filled the air, thick and cloying. We¡¯d emerged right beneath the radio tower, the caged ladder leading up to the satellite dishes far above just a few metres from the hatch. Through the dust, the metal frame of the tower was only just visible, spearing down through the roof and presumably into its foundations far below.


    The building trembled beneath our feet, cracks forming in the ground all around us. Just a few metres away, Taeyong¡¯s power was shredding into the roof itself.


    But it was weaker, I wasn¡¯t just imagining that. Quieter, less destructive. With the damage I¡¯d seen it do earlier, it should¡¯ve been able to get through this flimsy hatch and the surrounding roof effortlessly.


    ¡°Which way?¡± I shouted, turning back to Julia. Dust tickled my throat, and I choked out a cough that sounded more appropriate for an old man who¡¯d smoked a pack a day since his teens.


    The power sign framing her features was almost entirely grey, and she dismissed it with a shake of her head, her signal dying. The lower half of her face was covered, but by the furrow of her brow I could guess she wasn¡¯t making a pleasant expression. More blood dribbled from beneath her cloth mask. ¡°My power¡¯s weakened here,¡± she called back, her own voice strained. ¡°Can¡¯t tell you shit.¡±


    My fists clenched. The urge to scream ¡®I told you so¡¯ right in her face was unbearably strong, but that was a far from productive avenue of discussion, so I held it back.


    Instead, I turned on the spot, squinting through the dust in every direction. Still couldn¡¯t see shit.


    Taeyong¡¯s power was screeching, non-stop. Time was wasting.


    ¡°Fuck it!¡± I shouted, then picked a direction and started walking slowly forward. I made sure to test my footing before I put my weight down, and it was a good thing I did. Only a few steps past the boundary of the radio tower¡¯s metal frame, a spider web of cracks radiated out beneath my foot. The roof didn¡¯t collapse, but no doubt it would have swallowed us both if we¡¯d ventured much further.


    Still, it cost me. The shock of the ground fracturing beneath my foot made me cry out and lunge back, and I inhaled a lungful of dust. Molten agony poured into my lungs. I doubled over, coughs wracking my chest. Getting them under control would take time we couldn¡¯t spare, so I kept moving in spite of Julia¡¯s weak attempts to hold me back.


    Trying to go around the weak spot failed. Namely because fucking everywhere was a weak spot. It was like the roof above the room we¡¯d been in was the only secure area on the entire rooftop. Seeing as the walls had been reinforced, it made sense. It was probably something structural to do with the radio tower.


    But it put us in a shitty situation. There was no escape over the rooftop. Not unless we wanted to take our chances on falling through, hoping that the next floors wouldn¡¯t also collapse, dumping us at the bottom of the building and burying us in rubble. On the other hand, we couldn¡¯t just stay here. Quite apart from the deadly power after us, I was starting to worry about the dust in the air. It couldn¡¯t be healthy.


    Julia and I matched eyes at the same moment. From her expression, I could tell she¡¯d had the same idea. I gave her a nod, and she returned it.


    We only had one option left, and we both knew it.


    Up.


    We bolted to the cage containing the ladder. By some divine mercy, it was unlocked, and Julia wrenched it open. She stopped to gesture me ahead of her, and I didn¡¯t even entertain the idea. I shoved her inside, then followed after.


    Julia shot me a glare as she caught herself on the ladder¡¯s rungs, but made no further protest. Grabbing on, she started climbing. I was right behind her.


    The ladder was made of solid metal, cold enough to be painful to the touch and slippery from layers of dust. With my eyes stinging and the world enshrouded in grey fog, it felt like I was climbing in the dark. I¡¯d already been exhausted before I¡¯d sprinted over here from the central tower, and weakness reared its ugly head once more. Soon, reaching out for the next rung felt like a monumental effort.


    My fitness levels were something I¡¯d taken pride in, a point of confidence. But I¡¯d been pushed far beyond my limit today. It was humiliating to see my own arms shaking as I hauled myself up, and the pain in my muscles felt like a just punishment for slacking off, even though every instructor I¡¯d ever spoken to told me someone my age couldn¡¯t train any harder.


    Worse, the strain made my breathing harsher, gulping in more dust. The dust only further hurt my chest, which brought on another bout of coughs. The coughs then made me inhale more, which burned my lungs. It was a vicious cycle. I started to feel weak, darkness creeping in the edges of my vision like a swarm of shadow insects.


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    Then the dust around me faded. Light brightened. Breathing got easier. It was still a herculean effort to drag myself upwards, but I kept going. One more rung. Then another. And three more after that.


    A hand reached down towards me, but I ignored it. My body had been reduced to an automaton. All it could do was climb.


    The hand snatched at my wrist, pulling, easing my load.


    Within seconds, there was no ladder above me, no metal cage around me. Something grabbed the back of my tracksuit jacket and dragged me up, and I collapsed to one side onto a metal walkway. The surface was cold and hard, but at that moment it was as luxurious as a plush bed in a five-star hotel.


    I tore my ¡®mask¡¯ off and sucked in a ravenous breath of clean air. Naturally, I started coughing my lungs up. Once the pain had passed, every inhale seemed to clear a layer of fog from my mind. I went from panicked meat robot to human once more, and memories flooded in.


    Rolling over, I surveyed the way we¡¯d come.


    Hanging below us was a cloud of pale dust that reached halfway up the tower, covering the top of the radio building from view entirely, falling over the outer walls like a waterfall. It trembled and shuddered in time with the booms that resonated from within. A low rumble echoed, and I had the feeling the building we¡¯d just escaped wasn¡¯t much longer for this world.


    ¡°You back with me?¡± a voice rasped, and it took me a moment to recognise it as Julia¡¯s.


    ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± I managed to wheeze back, though my attempt at a thumbs-up ended in failure.


    ¡°Don¡¯t suppose you have a plan to get us out of this?¡± she asked. ¡°Because I¡¯ve got nothing.¡±


    I took a moment to gather my thoughts.


    Now that I paid it any attention, we were dizzyingly high. The only thing threatening our aerial dominance was the ponderous pillar of smoke still lingering to one side of the radio tower, drifting up out of what had to be a massive hole in the building¡¯s roof, though it was much thinner than it had been. Everything else seemed so far away. The cars in the parking lot looked like toys, the buildings like models. Red-brown rooftops stretched out for miles, like oscillating waves frozen in time.


    Directly below us was the cloud of dust, a thin metal walkway the only thing stopping me from plunging into it. A shiver went up and down my back like a ghost was playing violin on my spine.


    Acrophobia had never been an issue of mine, but I was starting to understand it.


    ¡°As a matter of fact, I do have a plan,¡± I huffed out. ¡°We¡¯re sitting on it right now.¡±


    Julia really did have a lot of expressions that conveyed disbelief ever-so effortlessly.


    ¡°Metal,¡± I said. ¡°Metal stops his power, somehow.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± Julia started to object, but then her brows furrowed. She fixed me with a hard stare.


    I nodded. ¡°They couldn¡¯t get through the door, and now they can¡¯t get through the hatch.¡± I tapped the metal walkway I was still luxuriating on. ¡°I¡¯m betting he won¡¯t be able to hit us up here, either.¡±


    Julia¡¯s reply was cut off by a sudden spike in noise, the screech¡¯s effort redoubling in an instant. Or, I realised as the dust below us started billowing outwards from a point at the centre, there was no longer so much of an obstruction to dampen the sound of Taeyong¡¯s power.


    In seconds, there was a clearing in the dust cloud directly below us.


    Taeyong stood on the roof, one hand stretched high above his head. Atop his palm floated a spherical storm of black power the size of a medicine ball. Thousands of strands of obsidian energy spun in place, writhing, overlapping, warring for dominance. Then the ball compressed, an unholy screech cutting the air, until it vanished with a clap of thunder and a whump of displaced air. A wave of omnidirectional wind blasted out from the spot where Taeyong¡¯s power had just been, blowing the cloud of dust away as if it was nothing while leaving Taeyong completely unruffled. Even all the way up here, the shockwave buffeted me hard enough to sting the skin.


    ¡°It was bigger earlier,¡± Julia whispered in my ear.


    I glanced at her. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°His power. It was bigger. Being under the tower is affecting it, maybe. Like he¡¯s in a faraday cage? Does that give you any clues on how it works? Because if it doesn¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t just end it like this,¡± I murmured. ¡°If we do, they win.¡±


    Julia was silent.


    ¡°Look, it doesn¡¯t matter how it works. He can¡¯t get us up here.¡±


    ¡°How sure of that are you?¡±


    ¡°100%.¡±


    ¡°Bullshit.¡±


    ¡°... 90%.¡±


    Julia closed her eyes. ¡°Okay. And then what? We just wait here for them to leave? I know Morphosis didn¡¯t specifically give us a time limit, but there has to be one.¡±


    Her words hit me like a mountain collapsing over my head. It was true. After everything I¡¯d been through, it was entirely possible I¡¯d come out of it with another zero attached to my name. The idea of my life¡¯s dream going up in flames competed with the humiliation of failure for the dubious title of ¡®most horrifying.¡¯


    And yet.


    No regrets.


    I couldn¡¯t imagine anything I¡¯d regret more than letting a pair of villains win.


    Maybe they¡¯d face punishment for all this without me doing anything. Maybe they wouldn¡¯t. I hoped they did, but a lot of things already hadn¡¯t added up today, so what would be one more?


    No. I couldn¡¯t rely on anyone else. I had to defeat them. People like them didn¡¯t deserve to be here.


    I¡¯d kick Taeyong''s ass, get him arrested, then finish the practical test with all my points intact.


    That was the way a hero would do it. No backing down.


    ¡°We¡¯ll find a way,¡± I said, frantically scanning our surroundings.


    We were on a circular metal walkway surrounding the very tip of the tower. A cluster of satellite dishes faced every which way, humming with electricity. They didn¡¯t look in great shape, little veins of rust running through the bits of metal fastening them to the tower. There was some other electrical equipment, assortments of wires, and a mast that held blinking lights. Nothing particularly useful.


    Taeyong used his power twice more until the roof was clear enough that he could turn, surveying the area unhindered. Seeing nothing, he called out, and Sooyoung emerged from the empty space where the hatch had been. Below her, mounds of rubble littered the floor, but the hatch lay there completely intact. They must¡¯ve used Sooyoung¡¯s power to get past it faster.


    I hadn¡¯t felt her power signal. Too distracted. Not that I would¡¯ve been able to do anything. Fuck.


    Julia chewed on the inside of her cheek. Her power sign came to life, opalescent light fading into existence around her features. Her eyes stayed fixed on me.


    Our enemies had started exploring the roof, no doubt moving to check if we were hiding somewhere nearby. They stepped cautiously out past the boundary of the tower, Taeyong taking the lead, his partner behind. For a brief moment my heart soared, thinking they were going to fall through, taking care of the problem for us.


    But nothing happened.


    I narrowed my eyes, my heart dropping back to my stomach as I tried to get a clearer view of what was happening below. Why hadn¡¯t they fallen? Was it just that they were lighter than us? Taeyong was a skinny guy, sure, and neither of them were exactly colossi, but the roof had seemed so weak.


    I popped my head out from between the railings, trying to get an unobstructed view from high above.


    What I saw next¡­ I couldn¡¯t say if it was a desperate delusion, exhaustion playing tricks with my mind, or reality. From this high up, I couldn¡¯t be sure.


    But it had me leaping to my feet against my body¡¯s protests, diving for the biggest satellite in reach. I wrapped my arms around it and heaved. It was about the size of a car¡¯s wheel, but it was heavy. Rusted nails and fasteners fell away immediately, but cables kept it anchored, and I had to awkwardly shimmy it around to disconnect them. I grit my teeth in frustration. At my best, I would¡¯ve been able to lift this with ease.


    Below, Sooyoung turned, seeming to finally notice the radio tower they¡¯d left behind. Her gaze panned upwards, her eyes flying wide. Taeyong¡¯s stare followed a moment later, and even from here I could see him heave a sigh.


    ¡°Are you gonna surrender,¡± Taeyong shouted up to us with a swirling black vortex in one hand. ¡°Or do I have to hurt you?¡±


    Julia¡¯s hand went to her armband.


    I lifted with all my strength, throwing caution to the wind. My muscles strained to the point I thought they might snap, and I only worked them harder in response. Searing pain stabbed into one bicep like a knife. Something in my lower back twisted. My right knee felt like it was going to pop.


    The last cables sprung from the satellite. The sudden lack of resistance threw me off balance, and I almost fell backwards over the railing, but I managed to twist my body and heave the dish out of my arms at the last moment.


    It hurtled to the ground, right where our two enemies were standing.


    Taeyong had the presence of mind to leap towards the tower¡¯s protection.


    But Sooyoung didn¡¯t. She stood still, staring like a rabbit in the headlights.


    Taeyong screamed and lashed out with his power.


    But the satellite was made of metal.


    The howling black energy washed over it like water, and it crashed to the ground barely an inch away from Sooyoung.


    Cracks spread. I hadn¡¯t been imagining them.


    The roof crumpled and fell, a gaping hole yawning open to swallow the satellite into its dusty depths.


    And Sooyoung fell.

 1.28: Intervention

    Time seemed to stand still.


    A new plume of dust emerged from the hole, creeping out slowly, as if afraid. Rumbling echoed through the atmosphere, stone crashing against stone.


    Any feeling of triumph vanished in an instant.


    ¡°Holy shit,¡± Julia whispered beside me.


    All I could do was stare, hands flexing at my sides. I¡¯d acted on instinct. Defeating the enemies below us before they forced us to retreat from the practical exam entirely had been my only concern. Consequences hadn¡¯t been a consideration.


    ¡°Holy shit,¡± I agreed, my voice empty of any emotion.


    Sooyoung hadn¡¯t had the chance to make a sound when the ground swallowed her up.


    ¡°Maybe she only fell one floor?¡± Julia hedged.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it matters.¡±


    My mind had gone blank. My body, numb. I tried to force thoughts into my head, to come up with some kind of appropriate reaction. I was supposed to feel sick. Shame should¡¯ve been pressing down on me with the weight of a mountain.


    Instead, I¡¯d been hollowed out.


    Maybe that was a good thing. Taeyong¡¯s scream might have been heart-rending if I was capable of feeling anything right now, and I didn¡¯t want to discover sympathy for someone like him. With the way he and his partner had been acting, they¡¯d brought this on themselves.


    Or so I tried to tell myself. But the rational side of me hadn¡¯t been forced out, and it told me in no uncertain terms: it didn¡¯t work that way.


    Even if I had been feeling sympathy, Taeyong would have dashed it immediately; rather than going after his friend to ascertain her safety, he instead twisted around, holding both hands out towards us.


    Black orbs of chaos twisted into existence barely a metre away from where I was standing against the walkway¡¯s railing. Something in me screamed, begging me to move. But that voice was muted, subdued.


    As it turned out, I didn¡¯t need to.


    The power effect grew to barely the size of golf balls before collapsing on themselves with a whine. A nice breeze washed over me, dispersed by the metal walkway.


    I blinked. It had happened so fast I hadn¡¯t even had time to get appropriately frightened. If his power had been working at full capacity, that probably would¡¯ve thrown me off the tower to certain doom.


    Something finally stirred in me at that, the first dim embers of emotion. Anything was better than emptiness, so I stoked the feeling.


    My fists clenched at my sides as I glared down.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you even going to check if your friend¡¯s okay?¡± I shouted. ¡°Are you that fucking obsessed with hurting us that you¡¯ll just leave her down there? She could be trapped under rubble right now!¡±


    Taeyong launched another attack, and it did little more than blow the dust off my tracksuit. ¡°Because of you!¡± he screamed, his voice raw.


    ¡°You put yourselves in this situation! What is it with you assholes and just expecting us to roll over and let you do whatever you want? Of course we¡¯re gonna fight back when you¡¯re willing to fucking collapse buildings on people. Here¡¯s the reality for you: when you¡¯re a supervillain, the heroes deal with you depending on the level of threat you pose. If you¡¯re willing to employ lethal force, expect to receive it in return, you fucking morons.¡±


    ¡°Well said!¡± A female voice echoed out.


    Multiple things happened at once as multiple power signals abruptly flashed into existence around us.


    A blue bubble emerged from the roiling cloud of dust, lifting out of the hole I¡¯d created. Within it was Sooyoung, and even from here I could see she was trembling.


    Shadows swirled, and Morphosis stepped out onto the rooftop. Without missing a beat, tendrils of darkness lashed out from his body, wrapping themselves around Taeyong¡¯s outstretched hands. I expected him to resist, but the anger seemed to have drained out of him, and he sagged as his eyes locked on Sooyoung.


    A wall of force blasted over the area. In its wake, the world seemed to move in reverse. Bits of dust and debris soared through the air, reforming the destroyed walls, the hole closing itself as the bubble lifted Sooyoung out of danger. The satellite flew back up and fastened itself to the radio tower, cables wriggling around until they reconnected.


    And, within seconds, the area was filled with superheroes. Nine of them, in all. Some I recognised, some I didn¡¯t. They didn¡¯t arrive at the same time, nor by the same means.


    Effervescence drifted down in a bubble of her own, smaller bubbles like you¡¯d see in a fizzy drink crawling over her body, obscuring her features. The bubble containing Sooyoung rose to meet her, then started gently orbiting around her. The skill it must have taken to save Sooyoung from that distance¡­ ¡®impressive¡¯ didn¡¯t do the feat justice. As expected of a Level 7 A-rank.


    Would¡¯ve been nice if she¡¯d shown that Sooyoung wasn¡¯t dead a little sooner, though.


    A woman dressed like a stage magician¡ªtuxedo, tophat, and all¡ªappeared on the rooftop from nowhere, without a sight or sound to mark her arrival, both hands resting on the white end of her oversized black wand. She brought two others, one flanking each shoulder: Emeraldia stood tall in her crystalline green armour, taking only a moment to look around herself before striding towards Morphosis. Behind her followed a tower of a man with the ghostly projection of a lion shrouding his upper body: Leonine. I didn¡¯t know any of their Levels or ranks.


    Next came Sidestep in his signature white duster coat and bandana combo, slouching through an invisible doorway and coming to lean against the ladder below. The Level 8 A-rank let out a yawn that was audible even from up here.


    Tectonic looked like a silhouette of grey stone as he dropped from the sky like a¡­ well, a stone. Somehow, he managed to stop on a dime, just inches away from crashing through the roof. The details of his power weren¡¯t known, but most agreed he must be an A-rank.


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    Right behind him came the same harlequin-patterned hero who¡¯d picked up some of our surrendered saboteurs on her red-and-black diamond-shaped platform. A second platform bobbed along beside her, occupied by another hero; from the backwards-counting animated clocks on her costume and the way she was gesturing like she was conducting an orchestra in slow motion, I guessed she was responsible for the time-reversal effect knitting the radio building back together. Neither of them were familiar to me.


    The harlequin woman didn¡¯t move to join the others below, instead approaching us while she sent her comrade down alone.


    ¡°How about we get you down from this rusty old death trap?¡± she spoke as she neared, her accent some flavour of British.


    ¡°Yeah, sure, uh¡­?¡± Julia trailed off.


    ¡°Harlequin, at your service,¡± the woman said with a wry smile. ¡°Teacher at Aegis, specialist in helping students come up with creative names.¡±


    Julia smiled back. ¡°Leading them to that which you can¡¯t have?¡±


    ¡°Ha. Yeah. Something like that, you cheeky lil¡¯ bugger.¡±


    I remained quiet, uncomfortable. As Harlequin spoke, I couldn¡¯t help noticing how she kept her voice down.


    That was just one factor among many that told me something wasn¡¯t right here.


    Aside from the sound of rubble dragging itself back into place, a heavy, tense silence settled over the scene below. There was a clear divide between the heroes; on one side stood Emereldia, the magician woman who¡¯d transported her here, Leonine, and Sidestep. Across from them, outnumbered with harlequin up here talking to us, Effervescence, Tectonic, and the clock woman radiated hostility.


    Morphosis stood between them, with Taeyong as his prisoner, an aura of exasperation rolling off him in waves. Even so, he said nothing.


    At another time, I might have been ecstatic to see so many heroes up close, filled with the insatiable desire to get on the internet and search up the ones I didn¡¯t recognise. Instead, a queasy feeling was scrabbling around in my stomach. The ones I knew were all well-known heroes, and no doubt the ones I didn¡¯t recognise were just as experienced if they were standing alongside such esteemed company.


    They looked like they were going to attack each other at any moment.


    Emereldia broke the silence, her crystal helmet facing Effervescence. ¡°What did you think you were doing? We¡¯re under orders not to interfere.¡±


    ¡°Fuck orders,¡± Effervescence said. She didn¡¯t elaborate.


    Emereldia¡¯s armour creaked as she panned her gaze to Tectonic. ¡°You should know better than this.¡±


    Tectonic¡¯s voice was like an earthquake. ¡°It¡¯s only by pure luck that we haven¡¯t had anyone die today. If that girl didn¡¯t just happen to have a power that could save her, she would¡¯ve been crushed under tons of rubble. Here, the candidate had no such power. Effervescence made the right call.¡±


    My breath escaped me like my ribcage had been wrung out by a giant hand. Staggering backwards until my back met cold metal, I slid down to the floor. I thumped one fist down on the walkway beneath me, pain erupting in my hand. Then I did it again with the other, hard enough to rattle the metal. More pain.


    The pain felt good, in a twisted sort of way. It grounded me.


    An image seared itself into my mind¡¯s eye, like that last moment had been tattooed on the back of my eyelids. The wide eyes, the sheer fear in those final milliseconds. She hadn¡¯t even tried to dodge. Hadn¡¯t even comprehended the possibility of us fighting back like that.


    There was no doubt in my mind that she was a horrible person. Willing to ruin anyone to get her way, and utterly shameless about it. The way she and her friend talked, it was like nobody else mattered to them. They might have killed both Julia and I without a mite of remorse.


    And if Effervescence hadn¡¯t acted, I could have killed her. They¡¯d pushed us to desperation, but that didn¡¯t change anything. It¡¯d still be a permanent stain on my record, before I¡¯d even got started on my career. One rash decision could have ruined everything.


    My fists shook at my sides, and I drove my knuckles hard into the grated metal of the walkway to keep them still.


    The confrontation below continued.


    ¡°You can¡¯t seriously think we would¡¯ve stood by and done nothing in a situation like this one,¡± the time-reversal hero snapped, tense as a bowstring.


    In contrast, Sidestep spoke as though he wanted nothing more than to have a nap. ¡°You¡¯ve robbed the examinees of a chance to learn, Anticlock.¡±


    ¡°What, exactly, would they learn in your scenario? That the so-called best hero school on earth is negligent enough to let our examinees get crushed to death?¡±


    ¡°Consequences,¡± Leonine rumbled, his beastly projection baring its fangs.


    Anticlock scoffed. ¡°The consequences of horrible authority figures, maybe.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s done is done,¡± Tectonic said. ¡°We¡¯ve intervened because it was the right thing to do. If you have a problem with our actions, file a complaint with the principal. I¡¯m sure Herakles would love to hear about it.¡±


    ¡°The vice-principal deals with disciplinary matters,¡± Emeraldia replied coolly.


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t scare us,¡± Effervescence said, even as her bubbles were spawning and rising and popping at thrice their previous speed.


    ¡°Of course not. Why would she?¡± Emeraldia glanced at the magician girl, who hadn¡¯t spoken a word. ¡°You¡¯re right, Wanda. We¡¯re wasting time here.¡±


    With that, Emeraldia looked up.


    I startled as Harlequin let out an explosive sigh. I¡¯d forgotten she was there.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about this one too much, kiddies. Just a disagreement between faculty. Adults en¡¯t all they¡¯re cracked up to be.¡± She smiled, but it looked strained. She¡¯d been watching the exchange as keenly as I had. ¡°So, how about we head up and get you two looked at, yeah? You¡¯ve gone through quite the trial.¡±


    ¡°Will we receive any point deductions if we back out now?¡± Julia asked.


    ¡°All things considered, there¡¯re very few things you could do to fail the exam at this point.¡± Her gaze trailed downward, and her mouth opened, but after a moment she seemed to think better of whatever she was about to say. ¡°You two are among the most impressive candidates I¡¯ve seen today. With the team you managed to get working together, your points will be through the roof.¡±


    The confirmation that there were hidden objectives, and I¡¯d fulfilled some, should¡¯ve had my heart soaring.


    Instead, it was somewhere between my knees.


    ¡°You were watching the whole time?¡± I tried to keep the note of accusation out of my voice.


    Judging by her grimace, I failed. ¡°If it makes you feel better, we wanted to step in ages ago. There are¡­ circumstances.¡±


    The answer settled on me with the heavy weight of disappointment. I¡¯d known it had to be that way. The tests would be pointless if they didn¡¯t have a way to monitor how things were playing out on the ground.


    But a part of me had been hoping they were clueless, that they just genuinely didn¡¯t know about all the cheating going on. It would mean they were utterly incompetent, but I preferred that to the idea they were, for whatever reason they used to justify it to themselves, letting it all happen.


    Keeping my breathing steady, I stepped onto the offered platform. It felt like styrofoam to the touch, and it bobbed in the air like it was floating on water, rather than levitating.


    Questions about Harlequin¡¯s power churned in my mind, but I killed them off. I didn¡¯t really want to look at her right now, let alone talk to her.


    Julia had already climbed onto hers, so we lifted off the moment I was settled. I¡¯d been expecting us to head for one of the viewing windows high on the UCTZ¡¯s outer walls, so it took me by surprise when Harlequin directed us straight up. She kept to what felt like a gentle speed, but the ground quickly fell away, the false sky approaching impossibly fast.


    Julia called out, ¡°Hey, what are you¡ª¡±


    But Harlequin cut her off. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it!¡¯


    In the end, I didn¡¯t get the chance to express just how severely (and quite reasonably) worried about it I was. Harlequin picked up speed, and we went shooting straight up until blue filled my vision.


    At the last moment, the hologram faded away, and we went soaring up through a dimly lit tunnel, another shade of sky visible far above.

 1.29: Questions

    The hospital room was wide and open, large enough to hold six beds with plenty of space between. One wall was taken up by floor-to-ceiling windows, allowing the setting sun to peek over the huge dome of the gym and bathe half the room in warm, orange light. Only two beds were occupied, the others stripped bare of any equipment. Even the walls were mostly blank, white.


    A turquoise sphere of light about the size of my head hung in the air in the centre of the room, above a woman who was lounging in a plastic chair. She¡¯d introduced herself as Claire, declaring she had no superhero name. She looked to be somewhere in her mid 20s, with peach-coloured hair, bags under her eyes, thin lips, and a set of pink scrubs hanging off her tall, slim build. Her eyes glowed the same colour as her healing orb, and her signal was soft and warm and calm.


    Humming a soft note, the orb was in the process of sucking up motes of light from my body. My bruises and scrapes were steadily peeling away, dissolving into sparkles for the sphere to hoover up, and even more fragments of turquoise were drifting out from beneath my skin. There was no sensation to the phenomenon beyond the gradual easing of the aches and pains I¡¯d accumulated throughout the day.


    I hadn¡¯t realised how bad my lungs had been hurting until I¡¯d been placed under the orb¡¯s tender ministrations.


    A large TV on one wall was playing highlights of some cape gladiator combat show. I didn¡¯t know which one, but it hardly mattered. They were all the same anyway. A deep, bassy voice narrated with exaggerated enthusiasm to the backdrop of epic orchestral music, accompanied by a choir shrieking their excitement about the images on screen. The cape combat displayed might have interested me if I had any guarantee it wasn¡¯t scripted.


    Alas, the other occupants of the room made up for my lack of enthusiasm.


    ¡°It still can¡¯t get used to seeing Natalya on TV like this,¡± Harlequin said, squinting at the screen from her vigil by the door.


    ¡°I know, right?¡± Claire chuckled. ¡°And calling herself Scarlet Haze, too! I wonder what convinced her to switch from¡­ oh, I can¡¯t remember it now. She had a Russian name in mind. Said it translated to red halo.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember, to be honest. Never talked to her much.¡±


    ¡°Whatever it was, she always seemed so set on it, especially when that guest lecturer in PR class tried to tell her it wouldn¡¯t go down well with the public. You remember that? Makes me a little sad that she changed it, to be honest.¡±


    Julia spoke up, sitting on the edge of her bed. Specks of turquoise light rose from her body, but with nowhere near the frequency of mine. ¡°Sorry, you both know Scarlet Haze?¡±


    ¡°Well, more like knew, past tense,¡± Claire said, pouting a little. ¡°We were in the same class at Halcyon, but not really in the same friend group. Lost contact with her after graduation, then someone with a very familiar power popped up on Super Showdown.¡±


    ¡°Was Natalya in any friend group?¡± Harlequin mused.


    ¡°I guess she was a bit of a loner in our class. Always disappeared off to find her sister, I think.¡±


    Julia cleared her throat. ¡°You both attended Halcyon? What was that like?¡±


    ¡°Oh, it was awesome. A lot of the teachers there have connections to the TV industry,¡± Claire said. She gained a wistful look. ¡°They said I wasn¡¯t meant for that kind of thing. More fool them. I could totally kick ass in a showmatch. Maybe I¡¯d have my own rivalry, like Swashbuckler and Heartie¡­¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t want capes who can kick ass, they want capes who can make it look good,¡± Harlequin said wryly.


    Julia glanced between them. ¡°How did a pair of Halcyon students end up working at AA, if you don¡¯t mind me asking?¡±


    ¡°I got scouted. Hero schools always need healers,¡± Claire said with a smirk. ¡°Halcyon made an offer too, but meh, I wanted a change of scenery. Of course, Harly likes to follow me around everywhere.¡±


    Harlequin snorted. ¡°Here¡¯s a tip for after you get your licence, kiddies: if you don¡¯t want to join a team, get a job at a hero school. Plenty of resources without having to sign away your soul to sponsors.¡±


    ¡°But you do have to work with hormonal teenagers,¡± Claire said. Her eyes went wide. ¡°Which, uh. Isn¡¯t a bad thing. Teenagers are wonderful. Sometimes. But also frequently awful. No offence.¡±


    ¡°None taken,¡± Julia said.


    Claire hastily changed the subject, and I let the idle chatter wash over me, staring out the window at the grounds of Aegis Academy. It felt out of place, given everything that had happened. People had nearly died, and they were sitting around chatting about reality TV capes and school rivalries. It rankled, but there wasn¡¯t much I could do about it. They¡¯d been this way ever since we arrived.


    After rising through the hidden tunnel in the roof of the UCTZ, we¡¯d emerged from an exit hidden between a bunch of buildings, then wasted no time heading for the medical department that sat right beside the gymnasium. All along the way, Harlequin insisted on getting us some healing before she¡¯d give us the answers we deserved.


    Once we¡¯d been introduced to Claire and her orb, I¡¯d settled on being polite and waiting. Harlequin had promised to explain, and she was a hero. She¡¯d keep her word.


    But Claire and Harlequin had launched into a conversation that only Julia seemed capable of intruding on, leaving me to stew with unanswered questions that were getting progressively harder and harder to hold back. Patience was a virtue, but right now it felt like a burden.


    My feelings were in chaos; it was a struggle to get a read on the emotions I was experiencing, jumbled together and contradictory as they were. The turquoise orb was a balm on my wounds, so to speak, but it could do little for the turmoil inside me.


    Too many things about today¡¯s events didn¡¯t add up.


    Morphosis had directly given rules about cheating in the practice test, yet Sooyoung had acted with impunity. No one had intervened when sabotage was happening in the medical examination, and I refused to believe they had no way of detecting that sort of thing¡ªbeyond being a school for heroes, Aegis was supposed to be one of the leading superpower research institutions. Dr Shimada himself worked here.


    Taking just those two tests, it seemed like don¡¯t cheat actually meant don¡¯t get caught cheating.


    And then there was the practical.


    It was a contradiction.


    On one hand, the higher-ranked tests were clearly designed to be much easier if you cooperated with fellow examinees. The message had been a simple one: it¡¯s possible to work alone, but you¡¯ll do much better with allies.


    On the other hand, the existence of any kind of points system implied rankings, which was of course going to lead to infighting among the examinees. The message here was more implicit: you¡¯re in competition with each other, so hurting your rivals¡¯ point tallies is a viable strategy.


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    Work together, but sabotage each other.


    It made no sense. It was like there were two different tests going on here, a whole separate grading scale.


    That idea only got all the more disturbing when I thought of the end of the test, the way the heroes had confronted each other, like they were from two different factions entirely. What had Harlequin said? A disagreement between faculty?


    Only one thing was clear: Aegis Academy was not the same as I remembered it.


    ¡°Is there some kind of civil war going on in the school?¡± I asked aloud, because the question refused to be suppressed once it had surfaced.


    It served to silence the conversation most effectively.


    Harlequin sighed. ¡°Civil war is a strong way of putting it. No one¡¯s fighting.¡±


    ¡°It felt like they were a step away from it, back there,¡± I said.


    ¡°Tensions were high.¡± Harlequin gave me a serious look. ¡°A lot of us were really not happy with the way things were going in your test. It doesn¡¯t usually get anywhere near that bad. Like, seriously. Not even close. Today was far beyond the pale. Honestly, I think even Emeraldia and the others were taken off guard by it, didn¡¯t know what to do, so they stuck to the rules they were given. Most of the time it¡¯s small, petty stuff, like those other kids you and your little task force captured. Good job, by the way. You won yourself a lot of fans among the staff for that.¡±


    Praise from a pro hero should¡¯ve been one of the highlights of my life. Even despite everything, warmth blossomed inside my chest at her words.


    But there was still something burning in my veins, overpowering any other emotion.


    ¡°If you knew people were cheating, why didn¡¯t you step in earlier?¡± I snapped.


    A voice inside me screamed, horrified at taking such a tone against a superhero. The fire drowned it out.


    ¡°I know this is a shitty excuse, but those are the rules we¡¯re given. In the words of our illustrious vice-principal, we¡¯re ¡®forbidden from holding candidates¡¯ hands¡¯. Prospective heroes should take the initiative and blah blah blah.¡±


    ¡°The idea is a superhero should be able to handle their own problems,¡± Claire muttered, frowning. Her orb had turned a darker shade of green.


    Harlequin nodded. She pushed off from the wall, stalking across the room until she was looking out the window. ¡°Some of the faculty buys into it, but a lot of us don¡¯t. After that boy almost brought a building down on someone, we were just waiting for another excuse. Effervescence might get in a bit of trouble for stepping in, and who knows how it¡¯ll go for the rest of us for following her lead, but she was just the one who actually worked up the courage to do what I, and many others, were desperate to do. You didn¡¯t deserve to have your future derailed when those two little¡­ so-and-sos had backed you into a corner like that. Wwe should¡¯ve put a stop to things way earlier than that.¡±


    If you were so desperate to stop them, you should¡¯ve just done it.


    ¡°We weren¡¯t the first candidates Sooyoung and Taeyong screwed over, from the way they were talking.¡±


    ¡°No, you weren¡¯t. You don¡¯t need to worry about those two. By the vice-principal¡¯s own rules, cheaters who¡¯re caught by other students have no recourse. I don¡¯t know what they¡¯ll be charged with, but USHA will hit them with something for the shit they¡¯ve pulled today.¡±


    Outside the window, people were streaming out of the gymnasium. Among the crowd, I saw a familiar head of blond hair, walking with his hands in his pockets, shouldering past anyone who dared linger too long in his path. His gaze panned around him, scanning the buildings as if he was in hostile territory.


    For a moment, I was sure Lucas¡¯ gaze met mine.


    Then he walked on, out of view.


    ¡°What¡¯s happened to Aegis?¡± I asked. ¡°Was it always like this, and I was just a naive little kid? Or has something changed?¡±


    There was a long moment of silence.


    Eventually, Harlequin spoke with a weary voice. ¡°I feel obligated to point out that the number of cheaters who manage to get away with it probably isn¡¯t as high as you¡¯re thinking, and that the school is still a world-class institution. We still know they cheated, and deduct points accordingly, but they only get an instant DQ if they get caught by another examinee. Even if a problematic kid makes it in, I¡¯m fully confident they¡¯ll come out a fantastic hero on the other end. We have top people in every position, dedicated to ensuring just that.¡±


    ¡°Harlequin,¡± Claire warned.


    ¡°But?¡± I prompted.


    ¡°But¡­ Herakles is one of the most important superheroes on Earth. He and his Olympians are constantly being called away to deal with various crises. The fact of the matter is, he doesn¡¯t have time to run the school himself, as much as he obviously loves the place and wants to see it work. I admire him, I really do.¡± She turned to me then, and there was something raw in her eyes. ¡°But being an invincible paragon who believes in and trusts people has its downsides.¡±


    ¡°And you think he¡¯s put his trust in the wrong person?¡±


    ¡°Sophie,¡± Claire warned once more, almost hissing the name.


    ¡°What? She¡¯s not Voldemort. She¡¯s not going to hear us shit-talking her from halfway across campus.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t need to be her that hears us.¡±


    ¡°Point taken.¡± Harlequin grimaced, then took a deep breath. ¡°Screw it, I don¡¯t care. If she wants to fire me, she can fire me. Marquise is a scumbag, and she encourages all this shit for some godforsaken reason. She plants her little pets among the examinees to rile the groups up, she lays traps at the end of the practical and no one knows how, I¡¯ve been told she even offers out secret tasks to candidates she thinks will take her up on it. She wants people to cheat, because she wants to see who can get away with it. I can¡¯t deny she does good on a massive scale. But here? I don¡¯t like how she operates.¡±


    I thought back to the constant rumours about her. She¡¯d been a hero for a decade, trusted by Herakles himself to act as his right hand both in his beloved school and USHA. All the greatest teams came to her as a consultant. She¡¯d run battlefield command during some of the most infamous and important superpowered crises ever.


    The idea of her being some kind of undercover villain was absurd. Those people posting online about her surely had to be failed examinees, or villains she¡¯d caught, or mediocre heroes who were jealous of her success.


    Even now, I couldn¡¯t quite believe it. There had to be something more to all this. Hundreds of heroes vouched for her; they couldn¡¯t all be wrong. There had to be a reasonable explanation.


    ¡°Why would she do all that?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯d love to know the answer to that question too. If you ever gain some insight into that woman¡¯s mind without being driven insane, feel free to share. If I had to guess, I¡¯d say she probably believes some bullshit about letting people show their true character.¡±


    ¡°Herakles allows all this?¡± Julia said. Her brows were furrowed as she stared at her hands where they were clenched in her lap.


    ¡°Another brilliant question I¡¯m dying to hear the answer to, but I don¡¯t exactly have the clout to just walk into his office,¡± Harlequin said bitterly.


    ¡°He can¡¯t,¡± Claire said. ¡°There¡¯s no way. He must be too busy to put a stop to it.¡±


    ¡°I really do believe in this place. We have more good people than bad, I promise you that, cross my heart and hope to die, et cetera. But¡­ things aren¡¯t perfect. Nothing is. Don¡¯t let what¡¯s happened today put you off. Aegis is still one of the best schools in the world, and I say that as a bloody Halcyon alumni.¡±


    ¡°And yet, enough people agree with her that she hasn¡¯t been thrown out on her ass.¡± Julia leaned back on her bed, seeming to deflate. ¡°Why did I ever hope this place would be different?¡± She turned to me. ¡°It feels like I¡¯ve found only one good person today.¡±


    I looked away, feeling myself flush.


    Harlequin chuckled without mirth. ¡°Hey now. No appreciation for the heroes who got you out of there?¡±


    ¡°Not one bit,¡± Julia replied immediately. ¡°Any gratitude I might feel for your help has been completely overridden by my disdain for your cowardice.¡±


    ¡°... you¡¯re a real ray of sunshine, huh?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what endless disappointment does to a person.¡±


    The room lapsed into silence, and I stared out the window. The sun burned red as it dipped below the horizon, bathing the clouds in pink and crimson. In the distance, Foresight Tower lorded over the cityscape, the sloped pyramid looking like a phoenix¡¯s nest as it reflected the colours of the sky.


    Even from so far away, it looked huge, like it was far nearer than I knew it actually was. Close enough I could reach out and touch it.


    But in reality, I couldn¡¯t hope to make out any details of what was going on inside. The Olympians and their staff could be doing absolutely anything, and I¡¯d have no way of knowing.


    That, I thought with mounting trepidation, probably went both ways.

 1.30: The Dangers of Hope

    There was little conversation in the room as Claire finished up our healing. Her orb steadily turned a darker green as it absorbed motes of green light that drifted up from our bodies. Soon, I felt good as new, as if the events of the day hadn¡¯t even happened. I was brimming with energy.


    And yet, my body felt heavier than ever.


    It felt like I¡¯d gotten barely half of the answers I¡¯d been looking for, but I didn¡¯t have it in me to ask any more questions.


    Some USHA guys came in to talk to us shortly after. They asked for our perspective on what had happened in the practical test, but refused to answer any questions on what was going to happen to Sooyoung and Taeyong.


    They didn¡¯t need to, really. I already knew they were going to be sent to some juvenile detention facility, where they¡¯d just meet up with prospective supervillains, maybe make some connections with larger criminal organisations, and in a few years they¡¯d come out ready to be menaces to society.


    It was tragic, in a way. Dad would¡¯ve ranted and raved about it all until he was blue in the face, but no one would¡¯ve listened to him.


    Even so, I struggled to dredge up any sympathy for them.


    Morphosis was waiting outside the room for us once we¡¯d given our statements and received leave to go. He¡¯d changed out of his costume and into his preferred black trenchcoat, exposing an angular face with a well-groomed moustache and beard combo, short-cropped hair, and a mouth that had gone decades without realising it could do anything other than frown.


    He spent only a few moments staring us down before he recited a little speech congratulating us for finishing the practical exam and told us to expect our results to arrive in the mail in a few weeks. Before we could reply, he strode away, tense.


    Mixed emotions mingled as I watched him go. ¡°Which side do you think he¡¯s on?¡±


    ¡°He stood in the middle of the two groups, didn¡¯t he? Maybe he¡¯s neutral,¡± Julia said.


    ¡°Feels like that¡¯s still a side.¡±


    Julia thought about that for a moment. ¡°I guess so.¡±


    It took a little trial and error and the help of a passing nurse to find our way out of the hospital building, but soon we emerged into the evening air, at the base of the massive domed gymnasium once more. From here, it looked like a mountain stretching into the sky.


    The sun had set at this point, and there was a mild chill kicking in. They¡¯d handed our belongings back and given us a chance to change into the clothes we¡¯d arrived in, but this morning I¡¯d been operating under the assumption it¡¯d still be daylight out once I was done. Luckily it wasn¡¯t too cold, but I couldn¡¯t help a little shiver in only sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt.


    Powering on my phone, I was unsurprised to find a dozen missed calls and double as many messages from Ashika. No doubt she¡¯d finished hours ago and headed home. I sent her a message letting her know I was okay and on my way home, then stowed the phone away.


    The campus was well lit despite the nighttime dark, and we started walking slowly towards the front of the gymnasium. Neither of us spoke. On my part, I was still waiting for my feelings on the day¡¯s events to process. I¡¯d been running on indignant anger, but I knew better than anyone that was unsustainable. For now, I was content not to think about things too hard.


    Silver Road looked different at night. Spotlights shone from buildings overhead, turning the statues lining the long pathway into radiant beacons. The scene looked like something out of a dream.


    We kept our place slow as we strode along the street. Now that it wasn¡¯t choked by a horde of hopeful examinees, it was a much more pleasant experience. There were still people hanging around, despite the tannoy system declaring the school¡¯s imminent closure for the night, but they were in small groups and easily avoided.


    Half my attention was on the statues as we walked, glancing over the names and deeds that went with the heroic figures. So many great stories of courage, valour, and sacrifice. Candlejack, who gave his life fighting a wildfire, buying a few hundred people time to evacuate their small town in California. Ampersand, a respected crime fighter who perished in a car accident. Doppelganger, murdered for spying on a villain, but not before he uncovered information that exposed several nefarious plots.


    Aegis Academy alumni or former staff, all.


    Not every sculpture depicted heroes who¡¯d passed away, but my thoughts lingered on them. The concept of that great, final heroic sacrifice had enraptured my attention for years, and I liked to read stories about them. I wanted to understand the mindset of the people who did it; what were they thinking in their final moments? Did it bring them satisfaction? Was it worth it?


    What did that smile mean?


    All questions that were virtually impossible to answer, but I pondered them all the same.


    It took me a moment to realise there was no one walking beside me. I stopped, looking back.


    Julia had paused in the middle of the road, facing the domed gymnasium. She was back in her crisp business suit, impeccably tailored to hug her form, and she made it look like she was born to wear it. The tracksuit had been unworthy of her, in comparison.


    Her power sign blazed to life around her skull, shining with countless colours. I felt her signal grasp out, reaching for something it couldn¡¯t find.


    ¡°I had some idea of how today was going to go,¡± she said when I came to stand beside her. ¡°But I hoped it wouldn¡¯t be that way. When you made that speech, offering to get everyone working together, I thought I¡¯d finally found a place where people would live up to how I thought they should be. In the end, the disappointment was even greater than I anticipated when I set out this morning.¡±


    ¡°There are bright spots,¡± I said. ¡°Not everyone was awful. Not even close.¡±


    ¡°¡®Not everyone was awful,¡¯¡± Julia repeated softly, making a half-hearted attempt to imitate my voice. ¡°Even if I agreed with that assessment, I kind of thought Aegis Academy would provide a higher standard than that.¡±


    ¡°Keep in mind the people we worked with today are just candidates. Hopefully, the people who actually make it in and become students will be¡­ better.¡±


    ¡°Hope.¡± Julia sighed. ¡°The more I hope, the more I¡¯m let down. I hoped one of the premier heroic institutions in the world with an overwhelmingly positive reputation would attract people who started off good in every sense of the word and only climbed higher from there. I knew better, of course, but I hoped I was wrong. Stupid of me, in retrospect. Should¡¯ve listened.¡±


    I frowned as some memories surfaced. ¡°Back in the radio building, you said Herakles isn¡¯t the only one with influence here. How much did you know?¡±


    ¡°I knew there were several things that could potentially cultivate this kind of environment. Marquise was just one of them.¡± Julia shrugged, finally turning away from the gymnasium, back towards the front gates in the distance. She didn¡¯t start walking, though. ¡°It¡¯s not exactly a secret that the vice-principal holds sway over the place. The second in command of an organisation is always gonna have clout.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a lot of rumours about her.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. And they all sound ludicrous, don¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°No way could a villain be trying to corrupt Aegis. It wouldn¡¯t be allowed.¡±


    ¡°Another thing I hoped wasn¡¯t true. But the possibility looks a lot higher to me than it did a few hours ago.¡±


    I grimaced. ¡°Are you planning to withdraw?¡±


    ¡°No idea. I¡¯m not sure what the point would be, honestly. If the so-called best is like this, what will the others be like?¡±


    Julia started moving, hands behind her back, pace unhurried, and I followed.


    I thought about how I wanted to phrase things for a moment before I spoke. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna lie to you, I¡¯m disappointed too.¡±


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    ¡°I would¡¯ve thought you¡¯d be way more upset about the whole thing than me.¡±


    I smiled thinly. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m pissed. But, I dunno. I¡¯m learning that I¡¯m better at keeping calm than I thought.¡±


    Julia raised one eyebrow.


    ¡°I want to be optimistic about all this. It¡¯s not like every examinee was an asshole. It¡¯s not like everyone was okay with just letting everything play out the way it did. Some candidates cooperated all the way through. And some teachers jumped in despite the possibility they¡¯d get in some shit for it with Marquise.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d contest both those points, but honestly I¡¯m too tired to bother.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m wrong. The world isn¡¯t totally populated by shitty, corrupt, selfish people. If that was the case, we¡¯d never get anything done. There¡¯s¡­ just a hell of a lot of them, if we¡¯re being realistic. But as long as there¡¯s some good people still around, we can come together and make things better.¡±


    ¡°Do you actually believe that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying my best to. We¡¯ll see how it goes.¡±


    Julia smiled, but said no more.


    We traversed the rest of the Silver Road in silence, stopping only for a moment to say bye to Dad¡¯s statue. A faint haze shimmered in the sky like the surface of a soap bubble as we neared the outer edge of the school¡¯s grounds, and soon the towering front gates loomed. Without, a column of food trucks and vendors had set up on the other side of the road, beckoning in a swarm of hungry examinees fresh from hours of strenuous exercise. It almost looked like a festival had sprung up outside the school. The smell of hotdogs and burgers filled the air, and if I wasn¡¯t careful I might be carried away by the smell like a gag from an old cartoon. My stomach rumbled.


    A faint feeling of static tingled on my skin, undoubtedly the attention of the school¡¯s forcefield. It was considered somewhat of a wonder of the superhero community, one of the few examples of a directed power frenzy. Usually, a power frenzy was impossible to deliberately initiate or predict, and the final result was largely uncontrollable. There were very few cases where someone with a powerful ability had managed to trigger a frenzy, and so AA¡¯s forcefield was the source of much study. They still didn¡¯t really know how it worked, or the extent of what it did. The subject didn¡¯t fascinate me as much as superheroes themselves, but it still gave me a bit of nerdy pleasure to experience it at work.


    To me, it chimed like a power signal. Huh.


    Before I¡¯d taken a step outside school grounds, someone called my name. I sought the source, but it instead came to me, the crowd parting to let him through.


    ¡°Speaking of disappointments,¡± Julia muttered, and I shot her a glare.


    Billy was a towering figure among the crowd of students, his bulk impossibly wide. He held three burgers in one hand and was making fast work of a hotdog in the other. Empty wrappers bulged the pockets of his jeans, and there were grease stains on his white sweater.


    Cat followed quickly behind, decked out in blue jeans and a brown peacoat that looked a bit too normal when there was still a pair of cat ears sticking out the top of her head.


    Helga was back in human form, short in stature, her mousy blond hair falling around her shoulders. Her white dress seemed a bit too frilly for the occasion, but I wasn¡¯t going to begrudge anyone their taste in fashion when my wardrobe consisted mostly of tracksuits and homemade superhero costumes.


    While I was happy to see they¡¯d finished the test and were, for whatever reason, still around, I wasn¡¯t too keen on facing their inevitable questions.


    ¡°Where did you go, dude?¡± Billy asked the moment he was in hearing range.


    ¡°Obviously he went to help Julia,¡± Cat said, whiskers twitching. ¡°What happened at the tower? There was a lot of smoke.¡±


    ¡°Why did you run off without us like that?¡± There was a note of hurt in Helga¡¯s voice, which¡­ I was going to try not to get mad over.


    With a sigh, I prepared to explain everything that had happened.


    As it turned out, I didn¡¯t manage to get a word in before Julia intervened.


    ¡°Why are you all acting like you don¡¯t know exactly what happened?¡± she said coldly. ¡°Are you just deluding yourselves, ignoring the elephant in the room, or do you genuinely believe you¡¯ve done nothing wrong, and you can just approach Emmett as if you¡¯re friends?¡±


    I rounded on her, ready for a verbal spar. The icy look in her eyes stopped me short, pinning me in place. Her power sign was blazing brighter than I¡¯d ever seen it, every colour in the spectrum rushing along the wire-like lines.


    ¡°I¡¯ve said this to you several times now, but I think it¡¯s only fair that everyone hears my opinion and gets to ruminate on how they¡¯ve acted. You¡¯re not going to hold them to account for their deplorable behaviour, so it falls to me.¡±


    ¡°Julia,¡± I warned, but even to me it sounded half-hearted.


    Her attention was no longer on me anyway. ¡°All of you knew where he went. Cat even said it herself. Why did he run off without you, you ask? Don¡¯t pretend you couldn¡¯t have followed him, if you wanted to. There was nothing stopping you, just like there was nothing stopping you from doing his tasks when our group passed within two-hundred metres of one. You didn¡¯t even offer to help him, and now you act like the aggrieved party?¡±


    Billy and Helga had frozen like they were under the scrutiny of a predator, but Cat had no such fears.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear his whole speech at the start? The group only worked together because he promised that he wasn¡¯t using us all to do his tasks. It might have fallen apart if we¡¯d done that.¡±


    ¡°Then fuck the group and fuck all of you. If the alliance¡¯s success was predicated on one person¡¯s sacrifice, it was a horrible alliance to begin with. What kind of hero is okay with throwing a comrade under the bus? None of you deserve to advance, and none of you deserve to stand here and act like you¡¯re his friend. If you have any conscience, you¡¯ll do everything in your power to make sure he breezes through any other tests.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s what Emmett wanted! Even right at the end, when we were preparing to cross to the tower, he wasn¡¯t interested in doing his own tasks.¡±


    ¡°So what? You were going to let him ruin himself just because he said he was okay with it?¡±


    ¡°He thought there was another part to the test, a bonus for cooperation.¡±


    ¡°¡®Thought¡¯ being the operative word. He didn¡¯t know, and neither did you. But you didn¡¯t think about that, because you only care about yourself.¡±


    Something flickered in Cat¡¯s expression, and she took an aggressive step forward.


    I¡¯d been frozen in place by the argument, but that movement snapped me out of my stupor, and I stepped in to block her path, holding my arms out wide. Having seen her strength, I knew she could throw me aside with negligible ease.


    I also knew she wouldn¡¯t do that.


    ¡°Enough,¡± I said, facing Julia. ¡°That¡¯s enough. You¡¯ve made your point.¡±


    She was unfazed. ¡°Are you going to tell me I''m wrong?¡±


    ¡°In a way.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Go on then.¡±


    ¡°If I was in their position, I would have offered to do the tasks,¡± I said. There was a sharp intake of breath behind me. ¡°But not doing so isn¡¯t some irredeemable sin. It was a mistake. A lapse in judgement. Everyone¡¯s under immense pressure here, you can¡¯t berate people for thinking of themselves in that environment, especially given what we now know about it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I absolutely can.¡±


    ¡°We were talking earlier about having hope, believing things can be better. Well, the same applies here. I¡¯d rather have faith that this was just a stressful situation, and in the real world things would be different.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s totally valid. I really admire your optimism.¡± Julia smiled, but her eyes were still icy as they stared at something over my shoulder. ¡°The sentiment would hit harder if one of them hadn¡¯t taken the opportunity to escape once your back was turned.¡±


    I whirled around.


    Cat had done the same, her ears twitching back and forth like satellite dishes. Helga was still standing in the same spot, staring down at her feet with teary eyes.


    Over the crowd, I could see Billy¡¯s hunched shoulders and ducked head as he walked away.


    ¡°You can believe what you want, Emmett. I have no power over you.¡± Julia said, moving to stand beside me. She nudged my shoulder with hers. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, I genuinely do admire your optimism. I just think it''s misplaced here. Save it for people who deserve it, okay? Thank you for everything you¡¯ve done today. I hope Aegis turns out to be a place worthy of your admiration.¡±


    With that, she too disappeared into the crowd.


    Helga was next to leave, not once looking at me. I thought about reaching out to her, but my arm wouldn¡¯t leave my side.


    That left Cat, who let out a low groan. ¡°I was going to make a big old deal of this, but my name isn¡¯t actually Catherine, and I¡¯m not always a catgirl.¡±


    I panned my gaze to her head. I intended to let the ears sitting atop her mane speak for themselves, but instead I was left blinking. Where once her hair had been thick, wild, and streaked with orange stripes, it was now straight as a ruler and brunette. Her face was whiskerless, and her eyes had gone from slit and alert to half-lidded and hazel.


    She rolled her neck. ¡°My name¡¯s Monica. I can take on the aspects of any five animals I¡¯ve, uh, ¡®marked¡¯ is the word the power scientist guys used. I was gonna hold the prank for aaages, waiting for the right moment to strike. Cats can be pretty patient when they¡¯re hunting¡­ or something. I dunno if that¡¯s true. I¡¯m not really a cat.¡± She cringed a little, shoulders hunching. Her eyes were darting all over the place, landing anywhere that wasn¡¯t me. ¡°Look, uh. Sorry. I¡¯ll make it up to you.¡± She paused, coughing as if it would fix the tremor in her voice. ¡°Yeah. This is really awkward, so I¡¯m just gonna¡­ leave. Sorry again. The girl was right. I fucking suck. Sorry. Bye.¡±


    Words caught in my throat, and I could only watch her leave.


    The street outside AA was bustling. There were still hundreds of people around at this late hour, enough to create a cacophony of noise as they browsed the expansive selection of food vendors lining the road.


    The world is imperfect.


    I want to make it better.


    I turned to stare back at the school, at my dream.


    Sometimes you have to tear something down in order to build it up to something greater.


    The words felt like they should¡¯ve been a revelation. They were certainly ones I¡¯d never tried before, a concept entirely new to me. If there was any moment in my life that surely deserved to be a foundation to build off of, it was this one.


    But no power surged. No concept clicked into my soul. Nothing happened at all. None of the stuff people online described.


    I felt alone.


    But I wouldn¡¯t give up.

 1.x: Soo-Young Kim

    Despite everything, Sooyoung tried her best to keep her breathing steady and even. Composure was more than simply keeping a straight back and a placid expression.


    Just because there was no one else in the room, didn¡¯t mean nobody was watching. Mother had always emphasised that. There was never a time when she could relax.


    It was hard to do so when she¡¯d blundered so spectacularly. Failure hadn¡¯t been an option, and yet here she was.


    She should¡¯ve listened to Taeyong. Chasing after that Latina girl had been foolish, but the disrespect had prickled her pride.


    Pride cometh before the fall, she thought, and here I am at the bottom.


    In all honesty, she was surprised they hadn¡¯t thrown her in a cell. Instead, she¡¯d been shut in a dormitory room, empty while the school was out of term. The room had been stripped bare of anything but the bed and its sheets, and the curtains had been pulled closed. It was no bigger, even including the kitchen and dining area, than her closet back home. At least they¡¯d left the light on.


    The Aspect of her power she thought of as the Bargain was a vague presence in the back of her mind, a sixth sense feeding her information wherever she looked. It told her the materials making up the walls, floors, and ceiling, what gases were in the air, even the number of dust motes on the ground, anything she could ¡®swap¡¯.


    There was no way to describe the sensation to someone without her power, in the same way that one might struggle to explain sight to a man who¡¯d been born blind. All she had to do was open her eyes, flip a mental switch, and she simply knew what could be ¡®swapped¡¯ within her line of sight, and how long it would take to do so.


    And the list of things that could be swapped was mind-boggling. The things she could physically move around were nothing compared to the concepts her power could latch onto. Sometimes it caught her off guard. It made absolutely no sense to be able to switch another person¡¯s physical traits with her own¡­ without physically affecting either of their bodies.


    Most importantly, her power allowed her to swap powers. Not just to herself, but to other people. The time required to complete the process was untenable at her current Rank, measured in months and years. The more bizarre the thing being swapped, the longer it took.


    But her mother had held high hopes for the future. The Moonlight Queen knew better than anyone how absurd superpowers could grow as one climbed the Shimada Scale, and she¡¯d had plenty of practice climbing it. She was confident she could help Sooyoung grow.


    That was why she¡¯d been named heir shortly after she''d reached the third stage, unlocking the Aspect of her power that allowed this madness. Prior to that, she¡¯d been the disappointment, the E-rank failure. Her foundation had been ¡°I want to change¡± and it had only let her slowly transform her body, painfully. The second revelation had been little better, her desire to expedite the process granting her the ability to swap traits between herself and other things.


    The third revelation had baffled all the scientists. A Level 3 E-rank asking her power to help her understand and being granted such an absurdly broad ability to do just that¡­ It had never been seen before. The potential and implications had everyone giddy.


    She shouldn¡¯t have fucking told anyone.


    Whatever her powers could potentially do in the future, they were painfully slow now; she was still an E-rank, even if her Aspects¡¯ potential was apparently unprecedented. If she¡¯d had to sit through one more multi-day session just to marginally improve her abilities, clawing her way up the Shimada Scale with sweat and blood, she would¡¯ve lost her mind. And that was just one part of life under Mother¡¯s attention.


    There had been a moment, a few days prior to her escape, where she¡¯d glanced ahead on her schedule out of idle curiosity. She¡¯d scrolled along three years without finding a day off before she stopped. Every day was blocked out down to the minute, every activity decided for her.


    Even humiliated and imprisoned, it was better to be here than there. As long as she was within Aegis Academy, she was out of her mother¡¯s reach.


    But she wasn¡¯t going to be here much longer, she knew. They¡¯d be sending her off to incarceration at the first opportunity.


    The KMP Group¡¯s reach was vast. Signing up for Aegis¡¯ open admissions test had required use of her full name, so she had no doubt they knew where she was. If she found herself detained in a place where their influence didn¡¯t reach, she¡¯d consider herself the luckiest girl ever to live.


    More likely, someone would break her out, and then it would be back to hell for her.


    She didn¡¯t believe any of the reports on the chaebol¡¯s downfall. Politicians could puff out their chests for the news cameras all they wanted, but she¡¯d seen those same people in her mother¡¯s office, bowing and grovelling like peasants before a queen. It wouldn¡¯t matter even if they were serious about their intentions to eradicate the chaebol¡¯s influence on South Korea.


    As long as her mother lived, so would the KMP Group.


    There had been a time when a small part of her held out hope that someone out there would kill her mother, freeing her from the nightmare.


    That childish naivety had gone silent ever since two of the most powerful superheroes in the world had succeeded only in stalling her long enough to give their allies time to retreat. The only solace was that the ferocious battle had provided enough of a distraction to let her and Taeyong slip out of her home and away into the countryside. Things had been a bit of an ordeal from there, but the surety of a solid goal always kept them moving forward.


    If escaping her mother¡¯s influence was the objective, who better to ally themselves with than the enemy she never was able to score a victory over?


    Now, she didn¡¯t know if that path was still open to her.


    Regrets never helped anybody. She¡¯d always been taught that the present was the only time worth concerning herself over. The past was immutable, and the future was unknown. Ironic, considering how much everyone used to yap about what her powers could do some day.


    But she couldn¡¯t stop replaying the events of the past few hours over and over in her head. All the stupid, petty mistakes. So many things she could have done better, choices she could have made that would¡¯ve led her down another path. Times when she should¡¯ve been more ruthless. Moments where she should¡¯ve called things off.


    They shouldn¡¯t have even followed the Latina girl in the first place, she knew. They¡¯d already done more than enough to distinguish themselves at that point.


    But Sooyoung had wanted to approach their potential ally with as much prestige as possible. With the disparity in power, she¡¯d thought they would need to truly impress in the exam to give themselves the best bargaining position.


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    Now, they had practically none.


    Though she flinched a little, Sooyoung wasn¡¯t at all surprised when the floor abruptly changed from brown linoleum to a rippling glass-like surface. Nor was she shocked when three people rose from the ground, like they were being lifted through water on an elevator.


    Two of them were nondescript in appearance. In their matching hooded black cloaks and featureless white masks, it was like their image was designed to suppress any hint of individuality. One stayed crouched with a gloveless pale hand pressed to the ground, while the other looked around the room for a moment before giving a thumbs up and then standing to attention.


    Her power lingered on them, whispering their secrets into her mind. They seemed armed for war; grenades, guns, knives, all concealed in hidden pockets in the body armour they wore beneath their dark cloaks. It told her more about them, too. All the details of their bodies, their weight, their height, their strengths and weaknesses, and more. They were both in shape, incredibly so, for their young ages, impossible strength and stamina in their wiry muscles.


    The boy, a late teen who was remarkably short for his age, had micro-level electrokinesis that, applied carefully, let him manipulate electronics like cameras or phones. It worked on an instinctual level, allowing him to change the behaviour of a device without needing to know the exact details of what was going on. She could rip that instinct out of him, given eight days and thirteen hours, though it wouldn¡¯t do much good for her without his power itself.


    Which would take her just under three months to steal.


    The girl¡¯s power was simpler, though far more useful, in Sooyoung¡¯s opinion. She could create portals between two locations within a mile of each other on a flat surface. They weren¡¯t direct doors through reality one could just walk or fall through, though, instead transporting people through a fluid-filled not-dimension for a few seconds before reaching their destination. The power granted her a massive-range clairvoyance, and when portals weren¡¯t linked up they could act as slippery surfaces to hinder her enemies.


    Six months and something her power considered equal in value to trade, and that power would be Sooyoung¡¯s. Even swapping the powers between the two strange young capes would take two months.


    None of that was what caught her attention.


    Their skills were¡­ extraordinary didn¡¯t cut it. They were masters of all the weapons and equipment they had concealed on their persons, and more. Acting, espionage, information-gathering, stealth, manipulation, hand-to-hand combat, armed combat, parkour, code-breaking, hacking, programming. They could drive almost any vehicle, speak a dozen languages, twist people to their whims. The list kept going on. Her power fed her all that information in the span of a second, but it took much longer to process and comprehend what she was ¡®seeing¡¯.


    They were deadly in the extreme, with knowledge so dense it would take her weeks just to ¡®swap¡¯ one of them, if she could even find something within herself her power would deem worthy of the trade. She¡¯d spent the better part of two years around people with extensive training, but never like this.


    Even so, they paled compared to the woman they¡¯d arrived with.


    People often remarked on how tall and thin Marquise was. They called her skeletal, ghoulish. In real life, Sooyoung didn¡¯t see that at all. The woman had the figure of a fashion model, if not the face. Maybe it was because most people only saw her in her signature white pantsuit and overcoat, rather than the slim black costume she was wearing now. She had high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, dark hair with hints of grey scraped back into a tight bun, and severe silver eyes that pinned Sooyoung in place.


    And her power told her absolutely nothing about the woman. Marquise was a black hole to her ability¡¯s analysis. A void in reality.


    Only two other people had ever defied the Bargain Aspect of her power like this, and only now did she understand what a mistake she had made today.


    Her mother was the first, the overwhelming might of her abilities so vast it was as if Sooyoung¡¯s power didn¡¯t dare to move against it, cowering and whimpering instead. It was hard to even take in other details when Mother was present.


    The other was the red-headed boy who¡¯d declared himself an F-rank. The only rank lower than hers. It baffled her then and baffled her now. It was different to her mother, whose power didn¡¯t let her latch on. It was as if her third Aspect had taken a look at him and decided he had absolutely nothing in him to swap. It saw only a living blob of absence, a gap in the universe not worth analysing. Assuming him weak, she¡¯d targeted him.


    Marquise was like a combination of them both. Sooyoung¡¯s power saw nothing but a yawning void, something unknowable. But, to her disbelief, Marquise¡¯s presence grew, like a singularity expanding to swallow the world, radiating outwards until her presence filled the room. But, no. That was wrong. Her presence didn¡¯t fill the room, it was a vacuum; it sucked everything in until reality had drained away, leaving nothing for Sooyoung¡¯s power to latch onto.


    For the first time in twenty-two months, Sooyoung¡¯s third Aspect went silent. A bolt of lightning went down her spine.


    Sooyoung straightened her back and bowed her head, placing her hands in her lap in the hopes the woman wouldn¡¯t see them shaking. These were hardly ideal circumstances, but what she wanted was right in front of her. Perhaps she hadn¡¯t failed yet.


    ¡°Kim Soo-Young. You¡¯ve been desperate for my attention,¡± Marquise said in flawless Korean.


    Sooyoung was taken off guard to the point she almost replied in English before switching to her mother tongue. ¡°I thank you for spending your precious time on me.¡± She bowed, hating every moment of the action. Supplicating herself was humiliating, but it was hardly like she had any choice when her bargaining position was so weak. ¡°I was planning to offer you my services.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡±


    ¡°My power has a lot of potential, if it is nurtured the right way. The kind of potential that made me my mother¡¯s favourite daughter.¡± Sooyoung gave a bitter smile. ¡°If I had both your personal protection and status as a student at Aegis, even she wouldn¡¯t be able to touch me.¡±


    Marquise raised one eyebrow. ¡°You becoming a student at Aegis Academy seems somewhat unlikely, at this juncture.¡±


    ¡°But not impossible. Given enough time, I could change my appearance completely. I could even change my DNA, so no one would be the wiser.¡±


    ¡°And how much time would you need?¡±


    Sooyoung said nothing, her lips thinning.


    ¡°Hm. More than you have. Your family¡¯s people will close in before you can complete the process of disguising yourself, or you would have done it long before now. No, becoming a student is not an option for you. You¡¯ve burned that bridge.¡±


    Despair gripped Sooyoung¡¯s heart. To anyone watching her, they would see nothing more than a slight droop of her shoulders, maybe a tightness around her eyes, or a downward twitch at one corner of her lips. Composure was paramount, after all, now more than ever.


    On the inside, it felt like her stomach had just collapsed in on itself. A scream bounced around inside her throat, threatening to escape if she dared to open her mouth. Her eyes stung.


    She couldn''t go back. She couldn¡¯t.


    Sooyoung bowed her head once more. ¡°Let¡¯s not dance around the subject, ma¡¯am. Even if I¡¯ve failed in some of my objectives, you risked coming here tonight because I did succeed in catching your attention. What will it take to earn your protection from my mother?¡±


    For a long moment, silence reigned. Humiliation prickled Sooyoung¡¯s skin, but she kept her head bowed.


    Eventually, Marquise spoke. ¡°I already know your character, child. You escaped your mother¡¯s clutches because you wished to regain the freedom you lost when you were abruptly made heir. I have my doubts that you¡¯d be willing to submit yourself to my control, instead.¡±


    ¡°Anyone is better than her.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re aware I can¡¯t hope to match her physically.¡±


    ¡°From what I understand, you¡¯ve never needed to.¡±


    ¡°Hm. Crude flattery. You¡¯re not very good at social manipulation, Kim Soo-Young. But I suppose someone who¡¯s lived the life you have would never need to worry about that kind of thing. The youngest child rarely gets much attention, in your kind of family.¡± Marquise moved closer until she was looming over Sooyoung¡¯s bowing form. ¡°You¡¯re stubborn and arrogant. Reckless. If you had more composure and foresight, you would have realised that your power would catch my attention regardless of how you acted in the test. But you let your fear control you, and you went to absurd extremes to try and impress me.¡±


    Sooyoung clenched her teeth. ¡°I am lacking in many ways,¡± she agreed.


    ¡°You are. But you¡¯re not hopeless. I think I can mould you into something greater, with time.¡±


    Sooyoung looked up, her eyes going wide.


    ¡°Not at Aegis Academy. Not on the surface of it, at least. No, I¡¯m going to offer you an alternative route of education.¡±


    In her hand, Marquise held out a blank white mask.


    ¡°Such is my Providence,¡± she said.

 2.1: Capebook

    Whether or not the rise of social media could be considered a net positive for society was a contentious topic, but the king of these sites in the US wasn¡¯t up for debate. Ask a kid in Idaho or a pensioner in Alaska what the white stick figure striking a heroic pose within a dark blue circle represented, and they¡¯d probably answer with no problem.


    Capebook had reigned supreme over America for a decade. Fighting off challengers like Superverse and Unmasked, it had cemented itself as the central hub for all things superhero. People posted pictures, videos, and even live streams of cape activity. Countless discussions of the latest trending news continued at every hour of the day. Millions of voices mixed together, shrouded in anonymity, to make a monster that reportedly saw fifty billion hits per month.


    At this point, it was almost mandatory for superheroes to set up an official account, both for themselves and their teams. It wasn¡¯t just a matter of fan interaction and building a community; the market for job listings was huge there, experienced capes ran blogs for tutorials on how to get into heroics, and there were systems set up for people to send tips about potential supervillain activity. Even USHA had thousands of accounts for their various offices around the country.


    Even after so many years as part of a generation that some claimed had been raised by social media, I didn¡¯t know how to feel about Capebook.


    The site had launched way before I was born, before USHA had even been formed, by Mr Gold himself. Back then, it had been a place exclusively for actual superheroes, right when the concept of a superhero was only just starting to make the arduous transition from fantasy seen only in comics and crappy Hollywood movies to something real.


    A forum had come first, the forerunners of the cape community coming together to trade tips, and eventually that information and advice had been collected into a popular blog: ¡®How To Be A Superhero; or, The Capebook.¡¯


    As a natural consequence of being one of the only places where superheroes congregated, people in trouble started to flock there seeking help. Thus, the job listings section was born.


    It wasn¡¯t long before the job market became competitive. People with powers a bit more useful than average saw an opportunity to make a bit of cash on the side, and soon clients found themselves able to pick and choose who they wanted to get their cat out of a tree. With a schism between supply and demand¡ªmitigated only slightly by the hero licence system that came years later¡ªit was only natural that the supply had to find a way to stand out from their rivals. Superheroes on the site started to have to pay serious attention and effort to making sure their profile looked appealing, and features popped up to accommodate and encourage this. Soon, the site was far more known as the place one could go to see pictures and videos of real life superheroes in action.


    Capebook became a marketing tool, a place for capes to show themselves off. As superheroes branched out into other areas such as reality TV and superpowered sports, enrapturing the world¡¯s attention almost overnight, Capebook was right there to ride the wave.


    In the modern day, the site was the epitome and focal point of everything about superheroes I had always¡­ not disliked, per se. My feelings leaned closer to bitterness than contempt. The thing was, everyone liked to espouse the virtues of heroism and being good and all that jazz, but their actions never matched their words. That¡¯d be one thing on its own, but the attention it got was mind blowing to me. People talked about values, but the follower counts spoke for themselves.


    Take Mr Gold. In the early years, his profile had sat above the rest by a distance that many had thought insurmountable. Now, I¡¯d be shocked if he was in the top 1,000.


    I didn¡¯t want to be the kind of contrarian asshole who looked down on something because it was popular, but it always made me a little sad knowing the truly heroic individuals out there went mostly unnoticed while vapid idiots like The Cobras enjoyed worldwide fame and adoration, not to mention their reported net worths. True heroes who weren¡¯t part of one of the huge teams like the Olympians or the Valkyries had to compete for odd jobs.


    As I scrolled through the endless pages, getting sucked deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole of social media, I couldn¡¯t help feeling a bit of melancholic nostalgia for something I never actually experienced. I hadn¡¯t been there when Capebook first started, but I found that I missed it. There were other cape forums out there, of course, and Capebook still had hundreds of guides, but there was something about the genesis of superheroics that appealed to me.


    Maybe it was the idea of being able to shape things, to enact change. Leaving my mark on the world was a concept I¡¯d been giving a lot of thought to, recently.


    My phone gave a high-pitched ping, and it was like getting pulled out of a trance. I blinked, my eyes sore and dry, and suddenly I was back in reality, staring at a dark computer screen rather than swimming through an infinite mire of social media muck. My back ached a little, and it gave a satisfying pop as I leaned back in my office chair and stretched out with my hands over my head.


    I stared at my phone as it buzzed away, pinging intermittently, and it took me a moment to realise it was in its death throes, a red battery icon blinking on the screen. That made sense, now that I thought about it. I couldn¡¯t remember the last time I charged the thing. Or when I last bothered to check what the pings were about.


    I reached out and flipped it over. The noise would go away on its own, soon enough. Hopefully Uncle Adam wouldn''t let Ashika in if she came over.


    If there was one thing I appreciated about Capebook, it was the communities that congregated there, niche or otherwise. They¡¯d been lifesaving for me, in the last few years. There were groups for F-ranks to commiserate with each other over their disappointingly weak powers, forums for speculation about powers and the current research behind them, and even places where people shared tips about revelations and ¡®levelling up.¡¯


    My favourite had always been the Aegis Academy student groups. Of the tens of thousands of posts I¡¯d made on Capebook, the vast majority could surely be found there. It was a bit cringe, in retrospect, to post on a forum meant for students attending the school as an outsider, and especially with such frequency. The only reason I was able to was because my dad sent me an invite when he was a teacher there, and after he died no one was going to kick me off no matter what I said.


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    They probably should have, honestly. It must have been infuriating to be an actual student at AA and have to deal with some kid telling you you¡¯re wrong about your experiences there, then have your complaints brushed off. I¡¯d sometimes gotten¡­ heated.


    Scrolling back through my posts, my mood plummeted. People had tried to tell me, but I¡¯d refused to listen.


    ¡°Trust me, kid, Aegis isn¡¯t perfect,¡± one comment had said, not even a year ago.


    ¡°Just because you¡¯re mediocre, don¡¯t go blaming the school,¡± I¡¯d replied, as if I could tell anyone about mediocrity. Talk about projection.


    ¡°Shitty people get ahead in life all the time, and the hero world is no different,¡± someone had lamented.


    ¡°Aegis Academy is the one place where bad people don¡¯t get ahead and good people are rewarded. Maybe you¡¯re just feeling insecure?¡± I¡¯d sniped at them for it, and only now I could see they were as sad about it then as I was now, and I was such an ass to them for it.


    ¡°I swear, someone messed with me during the test! I didn¡¯t catch who did it, but if you¡¯re reading this, go f*** yourself!¡± an angry student had complained.


    ¡°There¡¯s no way,¡± I had replied, a little shit who thought he knew everything there was to know. ¡°The teachers would catch anything like that.¡±


    They probably had. And if the test I¡¯d taken last week was anything to go by, they¡¯d probably watched it happen and done nothing then too.


    My fists clenched, I closed the browser and stood from my chair before I could do anything reckless. Energy thrummed through me, pooling in my hands and begging me to release it in an explosion of violence, raining down painful punches on anything in the vicinity. I resisted the impulse, instead turning to the only healthy stress relief I had on hand.


    Cleaning my room.


    I¡¯d been a mess of fury and frustration and sadness for the last week. The train ride home had gone by in a blur, and my feet carried me home on autopilot, dropping me off at the front door before I¡¯d even begun to process my emotions, let alone face them. It had caught me off guard when Uncle Adam had opened the door, wondering why I was standing outside in the dark. He¡¯d taken one look at me and dragged me inside to cook me dinner despite the late hour.


    In classic Shaw household fashion, we hadn¡¯t spoken a word about what happened, just existed in proximity to each other for a while. He hadn¡¯t asked and I hadn¡¯t told. He probably still thought I¡¯d bombed the test and fallen into a pit of depression.


    Honestly, I might have preferred that scenario. Given what Harlequin had said, chances were high I¡¯d passed the test, and, even despite everything, there was no way I was going to turn away from my dream.


    The problem I was having, in this case, was facing the fact that my hero school adventure wasn¡¯t going to be what I thought it would be. That the school wasn¡¯t what I thought it was. There was a part of me that wanted to go back to before all this, to a time when my shining ideal was untainted, unbroken. It was a much happier world I lived in, back then. Funny how much things could change in just a few weeks.


    But that wasn¡¯t on the cards. Unless I spontaneously manifested an S-rank time manipulation power¡­


    I want to go back and change things.


    No dice. Frankly, I would¡¯ve been pissed if that worked.


    I kept myself busy shuffling around my room, cleaning what I could. Dusting a little here, wiping a little there. Honestly, my room was probably the tidiest it had ever been at this point. Everything was neatly packed away in its rightful place, my clothes hung up in the closet at the back of the room, my bed made, my computer desk well organised, my books catalogued on the shelves lining the wall opposite the window. I stopped at the end of my bed, eyeing the posters on the wall behind it.


    Runemaiden, Merlin, and Mr Gold were prominent faces, all AA alumni. There were a few of Herakles and his Olympians; Spartan, Aetos, Helen, among others. Teachers who worked at AA part time along with their hero duties. Even Marquise was present on my poster wall, standing among the Aegis staff in the last staff photo my dad had taken part in.


    These were all people I had always believed in. The pinnacle. The kinds of larger than life heroes myths would have been based on if they were born in a different era. Their names would live on forever, immortal.


    There was one face in particular that would, if nothing else, live on in my memory.


    Valiant dominated the collage. His roman helmet, from every angle. Pictures of his costume at every stage of his career. Smiles, frowns, laughs. Looks of determination, reassuring grins, dauntless heroic miens. My wall wasn¡¯t big enough to contain every bit of Valiant merch that had ever been released, but it had the best ones. The rest were stored in boxes taking up half my closet, ready to swap out if the mood took me.


    My eyes trailed down to the table beside my bed. A single picture frame stood propped up, holding a polaroid small enough to fit in a wallet. I walked over and picked it up, inspecting it for any stray motes of dust.


    People often told me I was a miniature version of my dad, but looking at this all I could see were the differences. Dad¡¯s hair was a darker red than mine, here, and he kept it longer, falling past his ears; there¡¯d been times when I was really young that he¡¯d worn it in a ponytail, and my mom had hated it. His eyes were a brighter shade of blue, and if mine had ever sparkled with such life I¡¯d never found it in the mirror. His jaw was squarer, more chiselled, and not in a way that came from being an adult while I was a teenager; the shape was completely different.


    I felt so inadequate, comparing myself to him. It was starkest at this moment, still shutting myself in my room and moping about life eight days after my understanding of the world had been toppled. He would have charged back out, challenging every student in Aegis to prove their valour to him or get the hell out.


    More than anything, I wanted to be able to do just that.


    But I didn¡¯t have the power, figuratively and literally. As I was, I¡¯d just get escorted from campus and told never to come back. And in the unlikely event someone bothered to accept the challenge of a Level 0 F-rank nobody, chances were I¡¯d lose. I¡¯d back myself against most people my age in hand to hand with no powers, but why the hell would anyone agree to that?


    That¡¯s what it all came down to. Power. Superpower. Desperation and delusion had pushed me to challenge the Aegis Academy open admissions exam despite my lack of it, and through some miracle I¡¯d come out the other end with a decent chance of being accepted.


    For the next stage of my life, I couldn¡¯t afford to be powerless.


    My body emitted a signal like anyone else. It didn¡¯t matter how weak it was, there was potential for power within me. I just had to find it.


    No matter what it took.


    Striding back to the computer, I opened up Capebook and dived back into the forums.

 2.2: The Gap

    I lost myself in the motion of running, pumping my arms in time with my pounding steps. My heartbeat thundered in my ears. Each breath I took was more desperate than the last, my lungs burning every time I gasped in another desperate mouthful of air. I couldn¡¯t hope to guess where we were, now. The world narrowed to a tunnel, an endless road with only me at one end and my goal at the other.


    Ashika loped ahead of me, bounding along with nonchalant strides that ate up as much distance as I did in three at full tilt.


    She was wearing what I¡¯d come to think of as her signature outfit: a pair of used-to-be-white sneakers made by some company specialising in footwear that could handle super strength, skintight black biker shorts that ended just above her knees, and a hooded sweater she¡¯d stolen from me and conveniently ¡®forgotten¡¯ to give back. A scuffed black backpack with a missing strap hung from one arm.


    She¡¯d put her black hair up in a high bun that kept it all out of her face¡ªshe¡¯d shave herself bald if she thought she could get away with it¡ªand she¡¯d done away with what little makeup she¡¯d bothered to put on this morning. She insisted that she preferred a natural look, but really she was just lazy.


    Not that I¡¯d say that to her face.


    Occasionally, she¡¯d shoot a smirk at me over her shoulder. If I got too close, she¡¯d pick up her pace, always maintaining the same distance. The gap was barely a few metres, but it felt as insurmountable as leaping the grand canyon.


    She wasn¡¯t even breathing heavily. Ashika started off three or four times stronger, faster, and sturdier than a girl her size should be capable of, and her abilities only ramped up the longer she kept moving. I had no idea how long we¡¯d been running without a break, but it had to be over an hour.


    Right now, she had the strength of a titan in her slender frame. Her signal was like music.


    Pushing myself to my limit wasn¡¯t enough, because my best was a casual jog for her. Trying to trick her with shouted distractions wasn¡¯t enough, because her brain would be working on a different level entirely with this much charge built up¡ªher attention would be split for a fraction of a second, if at all.


    I could think of nothing that would let me close this gap. As I was, I would never be enough.


    And she wasn¡¯t even trying. It made me wonder how far she could go in the future, if she kept putting the effort in.


    It made me wonder how far I could go, if there was a difference this big between us already.


    The fundamental truth was this:


    Without power, I was already a step behind most people. I could make up for that disadvantage with hard work, determination, and applied intelligence, but what about the people who were two or three steps ahead? Four? Five? Or even more?


    If I wanted to make a difference at Aegis, to help reform it into the place it was supposed to be, I¡¯d need power. I was desperate for it.


    Alas, if it was merely a matter of desire, the world would be a simpler place.


    No superpower remained static, regardless of rank or level. As humans grew, so did the strength of the unique signal our body emitted. In breadth and depth; in strength and control; in stamina and versatility. Over the course of years, and with a lot of hard work, a man could go from straining to make a grain of sand to fly in circles to forming an elaborate palace made up of all the sand on a beach in seconds.


    In theory.


    The rate of advancement was not equal, and far from comprehensively understood.


    There wasn¡¯t a one size fits all solution to power growth, even for abilities that could ostensibly be considered part of the same ¡®category¡¯. No two superpowers were the same, even if to an outside observer their effect may look similar, and thus there were no two identical routes to advancement. Dr Shimada famously preferred to refer to superpowers as ¡®paths¡¯, and he was adamant that each human being walked their own, unique to themselves.


    That was where revelations came in.


    They started with something simple, almost juvenile, known as the foundation; ¡®I want to run fast¡¯, ¡®punching makes me happy¡¯, ¡®lasers are cool¡¯, and that sort of thing. And on that bedrock, people built their powers.


    Repeated use of powers would grow what they called the ¡®pitch¡¯ of the signal, called the Resonance Level, until they reached a point where a further revelation could sit on top of the foundation, growing the ¡®structure¡¯ of the power and expanding its basic capabilities. After that, the signal settled down to a new, greater baseline.


    Why? Good question. Whoever who answered it would be rich beyond belief, in all likelihood.


    Rank, on the other hand, indicated how much power the signal output in pure force, and corresponded to the depth of what the power itself could do. The same was true for rank, as far as growth went. In essence: use power more, get stronger. Not useful if you didn¡¯t have power. My situation just wasn¡¯t a consideration, an anomaly among anomalies.


    Rank and Level weren''t necessarily linked. One could be high in rank and low in level, and vice versa. The reasons for that were more easily explainable: training was hard, and most thought it was better to grow in one area. If they had to, they¡¯d choose the easiest one for them. Someone with a good starting rank would typically focus on improving that. A low rank would see advancement more achievable in Level.


    Another problem was, the revelations got more complicated the higher your Level. Theories abounded as to why, but none of them applied broadly¡ªregardless, even if no one could figure out why it worked this way, it demonstrably did; it was generally agreed that later revelations were all about giving further depth to the foundation. In fact, some said that the Levels were just adding strength to the foundation, shoring up its weaknesses, not building on top of it, and it was the rest of you, as a person, that rested on top. Revelations got intensely personal.


    Everyone who followed cape stuff knew Tempest¡¯s first revelation was ¡®that storm is beautiful¡¯. He hadn¡¯t revealed the next few dozen he¡¯d had.


    There were some broad strokes improvement techniques that applied relatively widely, though not in the way most would think of ¡®growth¡¯ necessarily.


    For example, though the correlation between keeping physically fit and growing one¡¯s power was hotly contested in the power research community, at least you¡¯d be in shape. The more able-bodied you were, the better you could use your powers, in most cases.


    The same went for stimulating the mind with things like logic puzzles or learning new skills; even if it probably wouldn¡¯t see you rocketing up to Level 10, it was always good to grow your knowledge and critical thinking. If you couldn¡¯t advance upwards, you could always expand outwards, and there was nothing saying you had to level up to use your power more creatively.


    There were countless forums and discussions on this very topic. Grifters made millions off selling training courses. There were TV personalities who insisted their line of space rocks had special properties that would ascend you to Level 3 and beam your revelation into your mind if you meditated beside them every night and paid a monthly subscription fee. All this, even though info from respected scientists was available for free online.


    Advancement was hard, requiring a deep understanding of your own power and how it related to your existence that no one else could give you, so there were always going to be people that tried to cut corners, and many didn¡¯t even try, happy to be Level 1 and whatever rank they were given at age 13. The sheer volume of information out there was too much for one to take in, and much of it wouldn¡¯t even apply anyway.


    Unfortunately, there was depressingly little scientific literature on what one should do if the foundation just wouldn¡¯t come, because it just¡­ didn¡¯t really happen. Ever. Not that I¡¯d been able to find. What little did exist wasn¡¯t exactly helpful, and tended to follow a theme:


    You just had to be patient, because advancement would surely come.


    In other words, they didn¡¯t know what someone like me could do.


    People talked a lot about being able to feel that they were ready for a revelation, and it usually correlated, when measured, with their Level reaching all new personal Resonance records. The threshold was always different, and tended to be higher at higher ranks.


    They described it as unbounded energy, like they¡¯d just drank the world¡¯s greatest energy drink. It put one in a paradoxically hyperactive and introspective state of mind, and turning one¡¯s thoughts inwards and finding an appropriate revelation was made incredibly simple.


    For the first revelation, building the foundation, it was even easier. Practically the first thought that came to mind, in most cases. Though kids were encouraged to think it through, and more canny sorts manipulated their foundation as best they could; there wasn¡¯t unlimited leeway on this point, it had to fit you.


    Whatever that meant. I¡¯d never felt anything like that. The only personal interaction I had with the feel of powers was with being sensitive to other people¡¯s signals after three years of not having my own.


    There was some talk about people who hadn¡¯t had their first revelation until past age 14. A few at 15. None at 16; as far as I knew, I was the oldest non-powered human being on earth.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Those who had been later claimed that it just kind of changed one day, as if the power had decided it had had enough of being so weak, and switched itself on just because, like the whole ordeal had been one long cosmic prank. Worse, they often weren¡¯t even ranked F; one guy bragged about getting D-rank at 14 years, 11 months, and 6 days old. For others, it took months of hard work, and they had no way to tell which among the dozens of methods they¡¯d tried was the actual catalyst; they almost always started off at F, and struggled to rise any higher than D.


    Us late bloomers were rare. A statistical anomaly. There¡¯d been some study on the subject of why some of us started off so far behind, but the papers I¡¯d read tended to amount to the multiple-page equivalent of a confused shrug. Most started off F-rank. Some lucky few at E. Ds were exceptionally rare.


    When Ashika had been measured a C-rank on her first ever test, it had caused quite the hullabaloo in the power research community, we¡¯d been told. It was almost unheard of. A one-in-a-million freak occurrence. People talked about her like reaching S-rank was an inevitability, and they speculated on just what her power would look like once there.


    As I tried not to feel jealous of her casually jogging along ahead of me while I sprinted after her at full speed, my lungs burning, my legs screaming in protest, the world had never felt so unfair.


    Ashika led me on a merry old chase, but to her it could have been an easygoing tour of our hometown.


    ¡°Damn, I feel like every time I pass Bell Park, it changes. How did I never notice there was a skate ramp here? Remember the time we were playing heroes and villains on the jungle gym, and we actually saw a superhero fly past, chasing after some F-list villain who¡¯d stolen a helicopter?¡±


    I did remember. It was hard to forget spraining your ankle.


    But I was too busy running to tell her that.


    Soon after, she gained a faraway look as her gaze caught on something we were passing by. ¡°Man, I hate that this shop¡¯s a Walmart now. It¡¯s hard to believe this is the same place where you put on a cape and stood guard outside when you heard it got robbed. The old owner was such a sweet guy, indulging some dumbass kid playing around outside his store. Barely spoke English, though.¡±


    I wanted to tell her Mr Wong had retired back to Taiwan, but that would distract from giving chase.


    When we slowed down to hop a fence, I at least had a better idea of where we were, now. I would¡¯ve felt worse about the casual trespassing, but everyone around here did it.


    ¡°Hillview Elementary. So many memories here,¡± Ashika said, smiling. ¡°It used to look so huge back then. I was scared to go in because I thought I wouldn¡¯t make any friends, or I¡¯d get bullied for having brown skin.¡± She shot me a thumbs up. ¡°Then good ol¡¯ Emmett came along and asked me to play when he saw me crying in a corner. My hero!¡±


    We kept going for a while after that, but it wasn¡¯t long before Ashika was slowing to match my flagging pace, rather than upping hers to maintain her lead.


    I was starting to lose momentum with every step. It was getting harder and harder to keep going, and soon enough I was pulling myself along at a pace little faster than a crawl. My body felt thrice as heavy and half as strong.


    But I wouldn¡¯t give up. I couldn¡¯t.


    I pushed myself with energy I didn¡¯t have, willing myself forward. Ashika¡¯s back was right in front of me, the distance between us closing as she casually hopped ahead. She wasn¡¯t even paying attention. If there was ever a chance¡­


    But then she took a casual leap, clearing ten metres in a single bound. She hadn¡¯t even been dodging me. She only turned around when she noticed I¡¯d stopped, and gave me a dry look.


    ¡°Time¡­ out¡­¡± I managed to wheeze between breaths.


    I couldn¡¯t give up, but I could take a break. Knowing where your limits lay was a basic but essential part of exercise.


    Ashika shot me a smile before skidding to a halt. She waited a moment to ensure there was no trick, then casually sat down on the curb, elbows on her knees, chin cupped in one hand.


    It took me a while to get my breathing back under control and my heartbeat to a resting rate. A sheen of sweat clung to my skin, soaking through my shirt, and my calves and hamstrings were throbbing like a stubbed toe. An open bottle of water awaited me on the curb by the time I managed to blink the dark spots out of my vision, and I upended it over my head. Once I was done luxuriating in the feeling of cold water cascading down my burning body, Ashika offered another. This one, I all but inhaled.


    When I felt like a human being again, I dropped to the curb beside her, sprawling over the sidewalk.


    Ashika chuckled. ¡°Satisfied with the workout?¡±


    ¡°Satisfied isn¡¯t the word I¡¯d use,¡± I mumbled. A yawn bubbled up from my chest, and I let it out. With the adrenaline draining, my eyelids were starting to droop. The curb seemed oddly comfortable, the sun¡¯s midday warmth a nice blanket. ¡°But it was good exercise.¡±


    ¡°Is there a workout you would be satisfied with?¡± Ashika asked. ¡°You were always a fitness freak, but you¡¯ve really turned it up a notch lately.¡±


    ¡°If there was a workout that could unlock my powers, I¡¯d be pretty satisfied with that.¡±


    She reached over to flick my ear, but I was wise to that trick and dodged it. Though I didn¡¯t manage to dodge the second attack. Ow. ¡°Being motivated is cool and all, but I feel like you¡¯re taking it a little far, Emmett. How much sleep did you get last night?¡±


    ¡°Not much,¡± I said, grumpily rubbing at my stinging earlobe.


    ¡°Uh huh. And the night before that?¡±


    I yawned. ¡°Less.¡±


    ¡°And before that?¡±


    ¡°Think that might¡¯ve been an all nighter, actually.¡±


    A moment of silence passed before Ashika let out a sigh. ¡°You¡¯re not stupid. You know that¡¯s not good.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like I enjoy being an insomniac,¡± I said with a frown. Dad had defeated my childhood nightmares, but the lonely nights where sleep just wouldn¡¯t come had never gone away.


    ¡°I know it¡¯s not your fault, but pushing yourself so hard while not getting enough sleep? Just gonna hurt yourself, and you know it.¡± She paused. ¡°And the likelihood of growing your powers this way is, like, hella low. Even I know that.¡±


    ¡°What other option do I have? I need power. Powers.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean ¡®why¡¯? I¡¯ve explained all this to you multiple times.¡±


    AA¡¯s entrance exams had taken place nine days ago now, but the shadows of that day¡¯s events had darkened every moment since. I¡¯d finally given in and answered Ashika¡¯s calls last week, tired of cleaning my room over and over. She¡¯d been¡­ somewhat upset with me. Getting the cold shoulder had alway been a trigger for her, and she¡¯d made me feel like a dick for it. Deservedly. I had been a dick.


    ~~~


    ¡°You¡¯re the biggest dick I¡¯ve ever fucking met, Emmett. I can¡¯t believe you.¡±


    ¡°I know I am, and I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re supposed to be friends. Best friends, you said! Was that a lie?!¡±


    ¡°No, it wasn¡¯t! I was feeling shitty, and I didn¡¯t want to talk to anyone, not even my family. It wasn¡¯t your fault. I¡¯m a dick, and I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°If you were feeling shitty, you could have at least just told me you didn¡¯t want to talk! I would have understood. I wouldn¡¯t have had to spend days wondering if you didn¡¯t want to be my friend anymore! I thought you were blaming me because your test went bad or something. You know how I feel about this shit, you ass.¡±


    My throat felt like it had closed up. ¡°It¡¯s not like that, Ashika. Yes, it went badly, but not how you think.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ~~~


    Once things had calmed down¡ªwithout any broken noses on my part, miraculously¡ªI¡¯d given her the cliff notes of my experience, and she¡¯d made sure to look appropriately impressed or indignant on my behalf at the right moments. She mostly only asked clarifying questions when the topic of fights came up. Hearing of my exploits, she¡¯d started loudly wishing she hadn¡¯t finished her own test so quickly, horrified that she missed out on some good brawls. Her test had been easy, she¡¯d said.


    ~~~


    ¡°But man, it was a trip. The written exam sucked, and the medical was pointless, but the practical was awesome. Had to do a bunch of tasks then make it to the finish line right in the middle.¡± She puffed out her chest. ¡°Naturally, I finished first. And I had time to stop and do two tasks on the way. Feel free to praise me. Don¡¯t be shy. We both know you¡¯re dying to.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the best there ever was.¡±


    ¡°Damn right I am. You should¡¯a seen the look on the teacher¡¯s face when I got there. If I hadn¡¯t taken a detour, I would¡¯ve beat their record by minutes! Sophomores run that same course sometimes, did you know?¡±


    ¡°Did anyone in your test try to mess with you?¡±


    ¡°Not me, no. Not that I know of, at least. But there was a big argument after the test was over, people accusing each other and stuff. There were like three different groups that all worked together, and some kids who were left out called that cheating. Then the groups said the accusers had been trying to sabotage them. It was a total mess. Almost broke out into a fight before a teacher stepped in.¡±


    ~~~


    But that boisterous energy had drained away when I revealed the dark side of my tests and explained the full extent of what I suspected was going on at AA, emphasising how close to disaster things had gotten. I¡¯d always thought the school itself never meant so much to her as it did to me, but her rage that night had convinced me otherwise.


    Every day since, we¡¯d plotted and schemed the downfall of all those who¡¯d corrupt the school we¡¯d both looked forward to attending since we were children. There was no question of leaving it to someone else, not even a stray thought that it wasn¡¯t our burden to bear. We hadn¡¯t had many concrete ideas, exactly, but the intent was what mattered.


    We were going to change Aegis Academy and purge the false heroes. Somehow.


    In a way, it felt like we were kids again, fantasising about our future hero careers.


    Except this was so much more real.


    ¡°Why do you need powers to make a difference at Aegis? I think you¡¯ve done plenty without,¡± Ashika said.


    I raised an eyebrow at her.


    ¡°I¡¯m serious here.¡± She crossed her arms and huffed. ¡°You caught that Slash guy. You did damn good on your practical, from what you¡¯ve said. You didn¡¯t need a power for either of those things, you just used that extra wrinkly brain of yours and pulled some shit other people didn¡¯t think of. Why can¡¯t you just, y¡¯know, keep doing that?¡±


    ¡°I could do that. In fact, I intend to. Even if I woke up tomorrow morning with all the power of Tempest, Herakles, and Runemaiden combined, I¡¯d still learn all I could and work harder than everyone else.¡±


    ¡°Then what¡¯s with the insane overwork all of a sudden? I know you think about your powers a lot, but you always seemed so¡­ calm about it. Like, you knew they¡¯d show up some day, and there was no point rushing things. The mindset was so you. I admired that.¡±


    Man, I wish I was actually as cool about it as you think I was.


    I met her eyes. ¡°I can¡¯t afford to wait anymore. If my revelation isn¡¯t going to come to me, if my rank isn¡¯t gonna grow on its own, I need to take matters into my own hands. Try everything.¡±


    I needed to go above and beyond human limits, otherwise I¡¯d never close the gap.

 2.3: Foresight and Hindsight

    Foresight Central Station was a marvel of engineering, design, and architecture. One of the first buildings constructed with superpowers as part of the labour force, they''d been granted free reign to go wild with the project.


    The famous golden arches would have bankrupted a small country and probably crashed the gold market if they hadn¡¯t been spawned by a man with a transmutation power who promptly sold his services to a particular raw materials company to the tune of billions. The paintings flowing across the ceilings and walls moved like giant projected videos, figures from famous works of art casually mingling and chatting with one another. Ten-metre tall robotic automatons stood guard at every corner, their dispassionate emerald eyes always watchful for troublemakers; even at the height of superpowered tensions, no supervillain attack had ever succeeded here.


    It was awesome. It was magical. It was widely regarded as one of the wonders of the post-superpower world.


    It was comfortably my least favourite building in the entire city. You see, a site as wondrous and beautiful as this meant one thing.


    Crowds.


    There was an endless din of conversation echoing through the cavernous rooms, a head-splitting buzz. Throngs of people flooded through the place, more a single living mass than a crowd of thousands. Millions upon millions passed through here every day, and as Ashika and I tried to push our way through the mayhem to get off our train, I couldn¡¯t help wondering if every single one of those millions was here right now.


    The amount of signals here was dizzying. They blended together into a hissing white noise, a confusing fusion of resonance that felt like one massive signal, individual signatures impossible to distinguish. Technically, it was illegal to use powers here, but that didn¡¯t seem to matter. It was impossible to enforce, and people knew it. The authorities probably figured the automatons would deal with anything that posed actual danger.


    Ashika frowned at me over her shoulder, then snatched my wrist in an unyielding grip and started pulling me along. ¡°I know you don¡¯t like crowds, Emmett, but come on,¡± she said.


    ¡°This is the worst place in the world,¡± I said with a grimace.


    ¡°Poor baby,¡± Ashika drawled.


    ¡°This many people shouldn¡¯t be allowed to gather in one place.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not so bad. You weren¡¯t so bothered back on the day of the test.¡±


    ¡°I knew a shortcut to avoid it all!¡±


    ¡°Well, we don¡¯t need a shortcut here,¡± Ashika said with a grin, then marched forwards, dragging me along with her in spite of my protests.


    As the main travel hub of the city, Central Station boasted forty platforms for regular trains that could take one anywhere in the city, and there were ten more for high speed rail covering the other cities that had popped up within a few hundred miles. Even so, it shouldn¡¯t have taken us the better part of half an hour to get out of the labyrinthine building, and I inwardly cursed the city planners for allowing corporations to tack on dozens of department stores and other buildings onto the station, which had been built shortly after Foresight Tower itself.


    There was some attempt at maintaining order with white lines on the ground to guide people and there were plenty of staff about to hurry people along, but the crowds moved slowly.


    We were forced to follow the flow of the crowd, inching along the platform, then through the automated ticket gates, beneath the high arches that led to the crowded central atrium without pausing to gawk at the giant superhero statues taking up the centre of the floor, before following a winding path through the teeming masses and down a maze of corridors until signs marked ¡®exit¡¯ mercifully came into view.


    Ashika pulled me along the whole way, shamelessly shouldering through the crowd and shrugging off the glares and curses directed her way. She made a good battering ram even in her base state; she did have to be careful not to let her power charge though, so she stuttered to a stop every now and then.


    We made it out into the city centre of Foresight, which was just as disgustingly packed as the station, and its giant neon art installations shining from the sides of towering buildings were dazzling to the eyes. The noise hit us like a physical force, the din of voices, music playing from brightly coloured stores, and the thunder of countless footsteps.


    A huge LED screen covered the front of the tall building directly across the street from this exit, depicting the ¡®core¡¯ Olympians in full costume, all confident grins and heroic poses. Though they were a worldwide team, many people considered them to be Foresight¡¯s hometown group, and that was reflected in the giant advertising boards depicting their likenesses while holding up various products.


    And the superheroes on view weren¡¯t just faces on a screen; there were a few flying around overhead. I hadn¡¯t been keeping up as closely with cape news recently, more focused on superpower research, otherwise I definitely would¡¯ve known that the Waywardens were making an appearance. They were standing on a translucent floating platform, and their presence went a long way to explaining the roar of the crowd. Ash was giving a speech, but I reluctantly tuned it out. Couldn¡¯t stick around, sadly.


    It was all overwhelming, too much stimulation for me. Out here I knew the way though, so at least the crowds weren¡¯t so much of a concern. Ashika stayed close on my heels as I picked a path to our destination, lamenting once again that it just had to be in the city centre. Visiting Foresight Tower itself was always awesome in a way, but over the years I¡¯d decided that it wasn¡¯t really worth the stress of getting there unless I had a very good reason.


    Ashika was going for power testing. I was going there to badger the brightest minds in the field of superpower research. Important enough reasons for a trip, I¡¯d felt. I was trying not to regret it now.


    The ziggurat-shaped building towered over even the tallest skyscrapers, and that was without taking into account the obelisk that speared out of its peak. Its construction was a mystery, utilising techniques far beyond human understanding even with superpowers at our disposal. Great glass panels that shouldn¡¯t have been able to hold the weight, staying standing despite no visible support, held enclosed decreasing tiers of platforms that floated in the air¡ªalso without support.


    It wasn¡¯t the greatest example of power frenzy anymore, but there was something to be said for being the first. It was iconic, a world wonder. Space elevators and interplanetary portals couldn''t compare.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    With a floorspace spanning hundreds of miles, the ziggurat was large enough for hundreds of different organisations to make it their base of operations without even mentioning the tower above it, and among them was Superverse¡¯s power research laboratories. They took up the majority of the 122nd floor, which was only a few below the staircase that took one from the ziggurat to the tower. Their equipment was second to none, specialised in testing every little detail of a superpower one could think of. Ashika had been going monthly since her first test had ranked her signal¡¯s output at C. They even paid her for it.


    Blessedly, the route to the elevators was a familiar one, so the crowds here weren¡¯t as much of a bother as the station. The ziggurat didn¡¯t actually rest on the ground, but instead on giant metal supports that speared down into the Earth¡ªthey¡¯d never been able to reach the bottom of the round metal rods, leading to some people believing they descended right into the planet¡¯s core. Given the sheer weight they must¡¯ve been supporting for nearly two decades, it was an easy conspiracy to believe.


    The basement level of the ziggurat was an open area that anyone could walk through, with escalators reaching down from holes drilled in the outer edges of the ziggurat¡¯s base and staircases spiralling around the giant support rods to bear people up to its lowest, widest floor. The rest of the basement was mostly a giant, multipurpose market I¡¯d never been much interested in. Too easy to get lost.


    In turn, the ¡®ground¡¯ floor of the building was devoted primarily to the transparent tubes that bore people to higher floors of the ziggurat, where the bulk of the arcology¡¯s inhabited areas lay. Black cylinders were constantly zipping through the tubes, making the place look like a giant old-school mail room. There were stalls set up here and there, as if the markets from the basement had overflowed into the ziggurat proper.


    Ashika and I picked our way to one corner of the ground floor¡ªwhich was a considerable walk from the staircase we¡¯d walked up¡ªwhere the tubes leading to restricted areas stood. These were watched by security and required permission to use. Ashika flashed a badge at a security guard with a dark power sign around his eyes, and he waved us through. The two of us stepped inside one of the cylinders, and were soon enshrouded in darkness.


    ¡°122nd floor,¡± Ashika said, and a large number appeared hovering in the air above us. It started ticking up rapidly, reaching 20 in a second and climbing, but we felt no motion. There wasn¡¯t even any sound. It was like stepping into an isolation chamber, and it was always a little unnerving.


    It cut off the buzz of signals from outside though, which was nice. Now Ashika¡¯s was the only one I was dealing with, and hers was so familiar it was actually comforting.


    ¡°So, how badly are the eggheads gonna want to kill you at the end of today?¡± Ashika asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the curved black wall. Her signal settled to a low simmer; she was tapping a finger on her elbow.


    ¡°I¡¯m usually pretty good at not being too annoying,¡± I said.


    Ashika snorted. ¡°Well, I guess they¡¯d just refuse to let you come along if they didn¡¯t want you there.¡±


    ¡°They do that because they want you to keep coming, to be fair.¡±


    ¡°Well, I want you along, so they¡¯re gonna have to put up with you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it,¡± Ashika said. She eyed me for a moment, oddly hesitant.


    ¡°What?¡± I asked.


    She gave a sigh. ¡°What¡¯ll you do if there¡¯s no improvement to your rank?¡±


    I let out a sigh of my own, though mine was of relief. I¡¯d been worried for a second at her uncharacteristic uncertainty; this was something I¡¯d considered extensively over the past 24 hours.


    ¡°Nag them until they run more tests,¡± I said.


    Ashika blinked. ¡°Seriously?¡±


    ¡°There has to be a reason my signal is acting this way. They¡¯ve never cared about me in the past, because someone anomalously weak apparently isn¡¯t of interest to them, but there must be something among their billions of dollars of specialised equipment that can explain what¡¯s wrong with me.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with you,¡± Ashika said immediately, frowning. ¡°You¡¯re awesome.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for believing in me,¡± I said sincerely with a wry smile, ¡°but you know what I mean. There¡¯s some kind of malfunction here, and today¡¯s the day I find out what. I¡¯m not taking no for an answer.¡±


    Ashika nodded as the number above us ticked over to 122. She spoke as the blackness parted like a curtain, revealing a white corridor with ¡®Superverse¡¯ written along one wall in blocky red letters. ¡°I¡¯ll tell them I won¡¯t take any more tests until they¡¯ve done yours.¡±


    At the end of the corridor was a male secretary in a crisp suit behind a white desk, and he smiled politely as Ashika approached. ¡°Good morning, Miss Sharma,¡± he said, his voice deep and smooth. There was a faint powersign discoloration around his eyes that makeup and shiny glasses couldn¡¯t quite conceal.


    ¡°Yo, Jean,¡± Ashika said with a lazy wave. ¡°Dr Klein ready yet?¡±


    Jean typed away at a laser-projected keyboard for a moment, looking at a screen that I at first thought was just invisible from our angle before I noticed the faint images moving on his glasses. Augmented reality tech. ¡°Dr Klein will be with you shortly,¡± he said after a moment, still smiling. ¡°Would your friend like to wait for you in the waiting room while you carry out your tests? There¡¯s plenty of entertainment on offer.¡±


    ¡°Nah, he¡¯s coming with me,¡± Ashika said.


    Jean the Secretary just nodded, conceding to her demand immediately. To be fair to him, Superverse paid a lot of money to poke and prod at Ashika every month, taking readings from her power. Superpower research was an arms race, and there was a hell of a lot of money and political power in it for anyone who could provide new insights to the various governments of the world, quite apart from the obvious advantages of knowing more about powers for themselves.


    Superverse, of course, had ulterior motives on top of that, seeing as they had so much invested in the superpowered entertainment business. Honestly, I suspected at least half of their interest in Ashika was to butter her up for appearing on one of their shows, some day. People were so sure of her eventual rise to S-rank, there¡¯d been a bidding war for rights to study her; so far, no S-rank had been interested in playing the corpo game, and they probably had hopes of grooming her into being amenable. More fool them, Ashika was as into becoming a hero as I was.


    Moments after Ashika finished speaking, a rectangular space on the wall behind the desk brightened and then vanished, revealing a blond, bespectacled man in scrubs and a lab coat. Dr Klein¡¯s blue eyes brightened as he took in Ashika, and he strode forward with his hand held out. ¡°Miss Sharma! Lovely to see you,¡± he said as she shook his hand. A faint signal emanated from him, but he had no powersign active.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Ashika muttered. She¡¯d always hated the reverence these guys gave her, and said it felt fake. I wasn¡¯t so sure. If I was a researcher, I¡¯d be equally enthusiastic to work with her. Hell, I was enthusiastic to work with her.


    Dr Klein noticed me and, despite knowing exactly who I was and what my problems with my powers were, his smile didn¡¯t slip an inch. He didn¡¯t bother with a handshake though, I couldn¡¯t help but notice. ¡°And Mister Shaw! It¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve seen you at one of these.¡±


    ¡°I was hoping I could borrow some of your equipment for a bit,¡± I said with as much confidence as I could muster.


    ¡°That sounds wonderful,¡± Dr Klein said. If he was bothered about this situation, he didn¡¯t show it. In a way, that kind of strengthened my theory about their motives and Ashika''s feeling about their sincerity or lack thereof. If studying Ashika¡¯s power was their primary objective, he would¡¯ve been pissed. He was no Dr Shimada, but he was a well-known researcher and his brain was in demand. He gestured to the door. ¡°If you¡¯d both step this way?¡±


    Ashika arched an eyebrow at me, and I took the offered lead. It was time to find out, once and for all, what the hell was wrong with my powers.


    ... I hope.

 2.4: A Different Kind of Test

    Superverse¡¯s laboratory was like something out of a sci-fi movie. Square ceiling tiles radiated soft light that left no shadows, illuminating a clean, sterile open floor space filled with the cutting edge of power research technology. Their facilities took up much of the 122nd floor, divided into various zones for different fields of research. In front of me stood billions of dollars worth of equipment dedicated to measuring power signals.


    Aegis Academy¡¯s facilities were widely considered to be the best in the world on the whole, but that didn¡¯t mean they were number one in every conceivable area. That wasn¡¯t to say there was any subject they were lacking in, but it was undeniable that certain avenues of experimentation were less useful for an institution that was, ultimately, meant to be a training ground for prospective superheroes.


    Superverse was different. They had their own goals, their own ethos. Their stated goal was to break the limits of superpowers for the betterment and entertainment of all mankind, and they were at the forefront of research into everything to do with the strength of powers. People wanted to watch shows involving higher powers, and Superverse was determined to provide for them. It was in their best interests to understand why some signals were stronger than others.


    If there was anywhere in the world that could give me the answers I was looking for, it was here.


    Dr Klein led our group through the labs, winding our way around a maze of machines. Half a dozen more scientists had joined our retinue, decked out in the same scrubs and lab coat getup as Dr Klein. They¡¯d been enthusiastic to work with Ashika, and had noticeably dimmed when it became clear she wasn¡¯t going to take her tests until she was satisfied they¡¯d completed mine.


    It wasn¡¯t as if they were rude. Far from it. I¡¯d just grown attuned to that bafflement people showed when they discovered I was sixteen years old and hadn¡¯t manifested a power yet.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of anything like it,¡± said an owlish scientist with an ocular powersign that made it look like her irises were a kaleidoscope. She flicked her fingers over a tablet, sorting through my test records. Her signal had been buzzing away ever since she¡¯d attached herself to our group. ¡°Late bloomers are one thing, but you have a signal. It¡¯s just¡­¡±


    I took mercy on her, seeing that she didn¡¯t want to upset me. ¡°My signal¡¯s singularly weak, yeah. It¡¯s fine. You can say it. I¡¯m here to find out what¡¯s up with that, after all.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± the woman said, frowning. She blinked, and the kaleidoscope in her eyes rotated. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a reading this low. I always thought the LRM was a misallocation of resources, but if it¡¯s helped just one person, I suppose it was worth every penny.¡±


    I smiled at that. ¡°I always wondered what that thing even got built for, back then.¡±


    ¡°It was to test if animals give off signals, I believe.¡±


    ¡°And did they?¡±


    ¡°Not a single one.¡±


    ¡°Pity,¡± I said, imagining a world of animal sidekicks. Or mascots. The Olympians would¡¯ve surely had a Pegasus by now, either way, and they¡¯d be the envy of every horse girl on planet Earth.


    Dr Klien led us to a larger machine at the centre of the room. A series of metal loops large enough to drive a car through were suspended in the air around a long tube with a series of cables sticking out of one end. The other end pointed at a reclining chair a group of techs were setting up.


    The scientists spread out to inspect various parts of the machine, and I went to stand by Dr Klein. ¡°What¡¯s this one for?¡± I asked, excitement and apprehension going to war within me. It was hard not to get ahead of myself, looking around at this insane array of technology. They made me feel like the answers to all my questions were surely within my grasp. But if I didn¡¯t get what I wanted here, where else could I go?


    ¡°Well, we¡¯re going to take a basic reading of your signal to start off with,¡± Dr Klein said. ¡°This is just a highly specialised rank tester, you could say.¡±


    ¡°It looks nothing like any rank tester I¡¯ve seen before,¡± I said.


    ¡°It¡¯s super accurate,¡± Ashika said from my other side, looking and sounding bored. She¡¯d fallen still for a moment, and her signal had quieted. She and I had changed into blank white hospital gowns, and she looked far more at ease in it than I felt. It wasn¡¯t warm in here. ¡°The readings it gives out always have tons of numbers after the decimal point. They use it to measure signals from different parts of your body. Not sure what they really get out of it.¡±


    ¡°In your case, Miss Sharma, it¡¯s important we get as accurate a measurement as possible so our predictive algorithms can give the best possible results. Speaking of which, have you been recording your power uses since your last visit?¡±


    Ashika waved a hand without looking at him. ¡°Ask me questions after you¡¯re done with Emmett.¡±


    Dr Klein chuckled to himself. ¡°Your wish is my command.¡± He turned his attention to me, and his signal thrummed like a bass instrument. ¡°Did you end up participating in the Aegis exams as you¡¯d intended?¡±


    Stolen novel; please report.


    ¡°I did, yeah, ¡± I said. It was so fucking unfair that my stomache had to drop every time someone mentioned AA now. My dream wasn''t supposed to make me feel this way.


    ¡°How was it?¡±


    I drew in a deep breath through my teeth. ¡°Better than I hoped in some ways, worse in others. I think I¡¯ll end up getting accepted.¡±


    Dr Klein blinked at that, then smiled. ¡°Good for you, young man. Good for you.¡±


    Evidently, he hadn¡¯t expected me to succeed. There was a time when someone underestimating me like that would¡¯ve put me in a bad mood for the rest of the day. In recent times, their pessimism broke against me like waves on the rocks.


    There was a buzz of static, and the machine came to a life with a deep, bassy hum. The very air seemed to vibrate as the metal rings circling the machine started to slowly turn in place. Red lasers lit up on the inner face of the rings, and they beamed down onto the metal rod, turning it red. I tried to recall, briefly, how bright a laser had to be for its entire beam to be visible to the naked eye without any fog.


    ¡°Here we are,¡± Dr Klein said, beckoning me forward with a smile.


    He led me to the reclining chair, where the techs started strapping me in. They pointed me to a screen standing by the chair¡¯s side, and warned me to stay as still as I could until it had finished counting down.


    ¡°A minute or so of boredom and then we¡¯ll have you moving on to the next test,¡± Dr Klein said. He inspected the machine for a moment, his eyes darting over the rings as his signal resonated. Then he nodded to himself, satisfied. ¡°I admit, I¡¯m a little excited for the little challenge Miss Sharma has posed to me today. I spend so much time working at the top end of the scale; this will be a novel experience.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know what to say to that, so said nothing until he strode off to bother Ashika some more. She ignored him, giving me a thumbs up, which I returned hesitantly.


    The chair rotated beneath me, putting me face to face with the end of the giant rod. From my perspective, it looked like a grey circle surrounded by red lasers. In a brief moment of irrationality, I feared it was going to take the power of the smaller lasers and fire a concentrated beam at me, vaporising my entire body in an instant and reducing me to a tragic footnote in Ashika¡¯s superhero origin story.


    Then the machine whirred to life, and I forgot all about that bit of nonsense.


    Humanity had never been able to reproduce the signal given off by power use. Its effects could be measured, recorded, studied, with highly specialised and expensive equipment, but the ability to create a signal was far beyond our ken.


    So the whine blaring in the sense usually reserved for power signals took me by surprise. I often mentally related signals to sounds, but this one had no appropriate word. It hit me like a physical force, striking something deep inside me that I hadn¡¯t even known was there. My brain felt like it had flipped upside down. My vision blurred.


    And then it was gone as abruptly as it appeared.


    I blinked the white spots out of my eyes, and found Dr Klein leaning over me. He was smiling, clearly unaware of what had just happened. ¡°It¡¯s unusual to see someone take ¡®stay still¡¯ so seriously. There¡¯s some leeway programmed into the machines to account for subjects fidgeting around, for future reference. You looked like you were going to burst a blood vessel.¡±


    I stared at him for a moment. ¡°That machine¡­¡± My tongue felt sluggish, and my thoughts were crawling through jell-o. ¡°Has anyone ever felt a power signal from it before?¡±


    Dr Klein¡¯s smile slowly died. His eyes searched my face, but I couldn¡¯t guess what he was looking for. His own signal hummed online. ¡°No. It doesn¡¯t produce one, Mister Shaw. Nothing in here does. Surely you know such a thing is not possible with our current capabilities?¡±


    ¡°What does it do, then? I could feel something, Dr Klein, and it was a hell of a lot like a power signal.¡±


    ¡°It produces a localised high-density psionic field that¡¯s merely supposed to interact with power signals in order to measure their strength with utmost precision. You could truly feel it?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°That,¡± Dr Klein said with a flash of interest in his eyes, ¡°is a level of sensitivity to signals I have never encountered. To feel something that isn¡¯t even a signal itself, just a psionic field designed to interact with them¡­¡±


    ¡°This is the first time I¡¯ve felt anything like that. My experiences with power testing machines before now have been completely normal.¡±


    Dr Klein leaned closer. ¡°Can you describe what you usually feel from people, and what you felt today?¡±


    ¡°I liken it to sound in a lot of cases because that¡¯s how people online commonly do it,¡± I tried to explain, ¡°but it doesn¡¯t always fit. Sometimes it might be better to describe it as feeling them. They¡¯re¡­ They resonate, you know? But not in a sound way? Maybe vibrate is a better word.¡±


    I cringed a little. There was so little information out there about signal sensing, and for the most part my experiences with them were the same as other people¡¯s. It was in the edge cases that I diverged, apparently. ¡°And there¡¯s an emotional aspect to it, I guess? It''s uncomfortable. Like I can feel someone looking in my direction. Sorry, I¡¯m not really explaining myself well.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Dr Klein said, waving off my apology. ¡°This is the most interesting thing I¡¯ve seen all week. And the PFG?¡±


    I looked back at the machine. The lasers had powered down, and it had reset so the rod was back in its previous horizontal position. Like this, it was just a hunk of expensive metal with electricity running through it.


    If it could produce something that registered to me as a signal, then what were signals? What was I feeling, when a power was active?


    ¡°This isn¡¯t going to be very scientific,¡± I said, ¡°but it felt like it was vibrating my soul.¡±


    ¡°Interesting,¡± Dr Klein said. ¡°Would you be willing to take some more tests?¡±


    I looked at him. ¡°That¡¯s literally what I¡¯m here for.¡±

 2.5: Mixed Signals

    Finding myself under the full attention of some of the world¡¯s leading scientists in the field of superpower study was a surreal and unnerving experience. I was so used to dealing with lab techs looking at me with barely concealed pity¡ªthe best I¡¯d ever been able to hope for was a spark of novelty in their eyes. Being a source of fascination was a new experience.


    Once Dr Klein spread word of my odd encounter with the PFG, the scientists who¡¯d accompanied us before were suddenly a lot more intrigued by the question of my power¡¯s rank. Theories were thrown around, ranging from fairly logical to utterly outlandish. They scientists debated at light speed, jumping between obscure topics and casually dropping scientific terminology even I didn¡¯t know.


    And that was a novel experience, let me tell you. I¡¯d been under the impression I was up to date on everything there was to know about superpower research. Apparently not.


    They soon started shuffling me between other intimidating machines of various sizes, asking a litany of questions I barely kept up with along the way. They wanted to know every little detail about what signals felt like to me, when it had started, how it had developed over time, and more.


    I answered as best I could, describing the soul-deep resonance I experienced when powers were used in my vicinity. I could see by the disappointment in their eyes that it wasn¡¯t really anything new to them; sensing power signals showed up occasionally in younger people who hadn¡¯t come into their own powers yet, and there was little variation in how it felt.


    Admittedly, mine was more fine tuned than most simply because of how long I¡¯d had it. But that just meant I was feeling functionally the same thing as other people but significantly more keenly. To go back to auditory metaphors, it was like most signal sensors heard a power humming, and I heard shouting.


    Except sound metaphors didn¡¯t really cover it. But it wasn¡¯t like you could explain an extra sense to someone without delving into things they were familiar with.


    A bit of intrigue returned when I explained when I¡¯d started sensing signals: it was far less common for power signals to just abruptly show up a little while after one¡¯s thirteenth birthday. Usually it was a steady build up, starting off with a vague impression that there was something more in the world, and getting stronger until it was hard to ignore. For me, one day it was just there.


    But, again, that wasn¡¯t unheard of, just a little unusual. Nothing for the eggheads to get really excited about, though a few made note of it.


    Its development was probably the moment when they were most visibly let down¡ªone guy even slumped his shoulders and sighed before a look from Dr Klein sent him scarpering.


    I¡¯d done my best to try and improve my signal sense, but it wasn¡¯t something I could really do anything with. It was passive. A sense. Always on. Just¡­ there. I could no better train my signal to be stronger than I could train my eyesight to be clearer with sheer determination. I had managed to train a bit of practical utility into it; I was kinda sorta able to gauge how strong someone¡¯s power was at this point, and there were times when I could tell which direction a power use was in relation to my position if I concentrated really hard.


    Not particularly impressive stuff.


    However, the scientists did go a bit crazy when I explained what the PFG felt like, and they never stopped reacting with excitement no matter how many times I reexplained it to any new scientists who joined our ever-growing group. It was something none of them had ever seen before.


    Their enthusiasm was through the roof by the time I was on my fifth power test. Each machine so far had yielded a similar story; they were all designed to resonate with power signals in different ways in order to yield different data points, and each one blasted me with a different flavour of signal.


    After some tests where the scientists had me feel some of their own signals before hopping in front of a machine, I could tell there was a difference, broadly speaking, between them. Power signals, I felt, were more¡­ refined. Precise. There was a subtle design to their resonance, little patterns I could pick out.


    The machines were blunt instruments, no matter how precise they were supposed to be. Like they were hitting a mystery object with a hammer to see what kind of dent it made in their metal.


    Each one was more than a little uncomfortable. A spherical thing that made me feel like my teeth were going to shatter from its high-pitched signal; an enclosed chamber that compressed my soul; a handheld wand that tickled my existence as a lab tech waved it over my body; a spinning cube that I was asked to stand near while it spun, and its weird, warbling signal made me feel like I was spinning too.


    I endured it all, getting little enjoyment out of it myself but unable to voice any complaints when so many of the scientists seemed infected with curious energy. It was making me tired in a way I didn¡¯t know I¡¯d been capable of, making me sore in a muscle I didn¡¯t know I had. That anyone had.


    When I pointed that out, the scientists pounced on it with a spray of more rapid-fire questions. Unfortunately, I couldn¡¯t really explain it. I was still sensing signals, no different to usual. It just felt more straining. Like I¡¯d run 5k and was faced with 5k more. There were puzzled looks all around at that answer.


    Before we could move on to my sixth test¡ªa ring of light attached to the ceiling that would lower down on thick metal cables and scan me head to toe with a psionic field¡ªDr Klein abruptly stopped and frowned at his tablet. He adjusted his glasses as he flicked through whatever he was reading, his signal buzzing.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    When he lowered his tablet without commenting on it, though, I felt compelled to ask, ¡°What¡¯s up, Dr Klein?¡±


    He levelled a heavy gaze on me, his eyes thoughtful. ¡°I¡¯d like to get through a few more tests before I say anything, if you think you¡¯re up to it,¡± he said. ¡°I want to confirm this as best I can.¡±


    We went through a few more tests, and the atmosphere of the group started to change a bit as Dr Klein conferred quietly with a few of the scientists. Plenty of them were still brimming with enthusiasm, but the ones he talked to gained an air of utter bafflement, staring at me like I was an exhibit at a freakshow to be gawked at rather than a curious specimen to be studied.


    Suddenly they were paying a lot more attention to the calibration of the machines, spending longer on setup and making sure it was all aligned and working as it intended. Techs checked each other¡¯s work with sharp-eyed diligence. That wasn¡¯t to say they¡¯d been unprofessional before, far from it. It was just that Dr Klein was now personally watching over everything with his signal buzzing and his power sign in full view, and the researchers were treating the tests with a lot more gravity than they had been before.


    Whatever had changed Dr Klein¡¯s attitude, it quickly spread through the others, until everyone seemed more confused than intrigued. I was even starting to detect a hint of alarm, and that had me worried enough that I kept my questions to myself, dreading whatever it was that had them all so abruptly out of sorts.


    Ideas ran through my mind. Maybe they¡¯d discovered I had literally no signal at all now, and that was why I was feeling every other signal so clearly. Or perhaps my signal was some weird alternate thing that messed with the machines they used to measure signals, and that was why my rank had always been so low. I even considered the possibility, with no small amount of sourceless forced optimism, that my rank had skyrocketed since I last took a test and they were all in shock at meeting a teenage S-rank.


    In the end, my first guess turned out to be closest to the mark.


    Dr Klein approached me when I was done with my tenth test, and instead of saying anything, he merely turned his tablet around so I could see the results he¡¯d been frowning over. I blinked at the number on the screen a few times, then looked up at the Doctor to make sure this wasn¡¯t some kind of prank.


    Since the superpower research community was always changing and refining the parameters as they gathered data from around the world, and it was rare for someone to bother getting a precise reading, the numbers of the Shimada Scale weren¡¯t really a thing people paid a lot of attention to. Aside from researchers, amateur or professional, most people kept it simple with lettered ranks and single-digit levels. Many people claimed, after all, that there was no test that could give you a better idea of when you¡¯d be ready for your next revelation than your own feeling of your power. Rank was a similar story; putting a large number to it wasn¡¯t worth the potential confusion, for the most part.


    Naturally, I kept up with the latest research, and thus knew that the Shimada Scale was, as of the Monday just gone:


    F: 1X - 50X


    E: 51X - 250X


    D: 251X - 500X


    C: 501X - 2000X


    B: 2001X - 5000X


    A: 5001X - 10000X


    S: 10000X+


    (X for X-factor, ostensibly because a higher score made someone special, but they didn''t know why it happened. Really, they hadn''t wanted to use S or SS in case of confusion with the rank letters, and Dr Shimada thought ''X'' looked cool. Or so my dad said, once.)


    There were ten numbers highlighted amongst a bunch of other data I couldn¡¯t hope to parse. All of them were lower than one, something almost unheard of. Almost. I wasn¡¯t the only person to ever get a score lower than one.


    I was definitely the only person to get a score lower than 0.1, low enough that they hadn¡¯t been able to tell I even had a signal until they used experimental equipment to measure it. In that first experimental test, the scientists had been truly mystified to see a score of 0.08.


    Just like now, when the scientists were all evidently gobsmacked at the fact none of the readings taken from me today had been higher than 0.05.


    As far as I was aware, I now had the dubious honour of being the only human being whose power had fucking weakened since records began.


    A breath left me like I¡¯d just been punched in the stomach. I could feel my heartbeat in my head. My vision fuzzed a little.


    I tried to give Dr Kein a reassuring smile, but judging by his slight wince of sympathy I didn¡¯t quite manage to make it believable. A hush had descended on the scientists, all watching proceedings while Ashika lingered off to the side awkwardly. Evidently, she¡¯d overheard the news already.


    ¡°Well,¡± I said, looking around. My voice sounded hoarse. ¡°Any ideas?¡±


    Dr Klein looked at me for a long moment. ¡°I¡¯m sure you know, Mr Shaw, this is unprecedented.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said.


    ¡°This goes against everything we know about powers. Yours is, I¡¯m afraid to say, a singularly unique situation.¡± He paused. ¡°I¡¯m ashamed to say I don¡¯t even know how to begin trying to figure out why this is happening.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m going to give up,¡± Dr Klein said. His grimace deepened. ¡°I have to be honest with you, however: the company probably won¡¯t be very interested in your situation. Certainly not enough to fund extensive research, much as we boffins here certainly want to sink our teeth into you with all the financial backing of a massive corporation. I suspect we¡¯d have to design, prototype, and test entirely new and expensive equipment to get to the bottom of this, and much of it may end up only being useful in this single case. And unfortunately there¡¯s a limit to how much they¡¯ll indulge Ms Reddy.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not poking at me until you figure out what¡¯s going on with Emmett,¡± Ashika said, frowning.


    Dr Klein raised his hands in a placating gesture. ¡°I just told you I¡¯m not going to give up. At the moment I¡¯m speculating from my knowledge and experience. My gut tells me Superverse won¡¯t be interested, but I¡¯m still going to try my damndest to convince them. That won¡¯t be an immediate thing, however. Big corporations move slowly, at times.¡° He gave Ashika a helpless look, then turned back to me. ¡°The most important thing is that you don¡¯t give up either, Mr Shaw. Towards that end, I have some¡­ suggestions for you.¡±


    ¡°What kind of suggestions?¡± I asked.


    With a grin, Dr Klein explained.

 2.6: Local Hero

    The train glided along, its engines utterly silent. Lights flashed by outside the window in a blur. The journey was a familiar enough one that I could gauge how long we had left just by looking at Foresight Tower far in the distance. Night had fallen, and the ziggurat was a shining gold beacon in the dark. Somehow, we were almost home. It felt like I¡¯d rested my eyes for a moment and suddenly 90% of the hour-long trip had gone by.


    I was, to be frank, absolutely exhausted. No workout I¡¯d ever put myself through had ever left me this tired. It turned out Dr Klein was a far more sadistic taskmaster than any personal trainer. It wasn¡¯t a soreness of the muscles or a bone-deep desire for sleep. Nothing so tangible as that.


    It was like something had reached into a place I hadn¡¯t known existed and squeezed it in a white knuckle grip, only letting go when I put some distance between myself and those evil machines Superverse pretended were designed to measure powers. They were clearly elaborate torture devices.


    The thought bullied a chuckle out of me, and I felt Ashika¡¯s scrutiny on the side of my head. I waved her off absently, and she huffed.


    I couldn¡¯t really complain. No matter how ragged they¡¯d run me, it was, ultimately, exactly what I¡¯d asked for. I knew more about my signal than ever before.


    And, at the same time, it felt like I knew even less.


    The scientists had insisted on as many tests as they had at their disposal, with Dr Klein overseeing it all. They¡¯d been meticulously thorough. Dozens of expensive machines had shrieked their quasi-signals at me.


    Over several hours of testing, they¡¯d determined that my signal weakened minutely whenever I interacted with another power signal. Even weirder, it weakened faster when I was actually focusing on an individual power signal; passively existing in the vicinity of a power in use did affect me, but a minute amount in comparison. When no power signals were active, my own signal, such as it was, slowly crawled back to strength.


    Unfortunately, it was practically impossible not to be around powers in use unless I was willing to go live in one of those wacko anti-power communes. Only a coordinated effort and a specialised isolation chamber had managed to achieve the effect at the labs.


    And even then, they estimated it would take me a week of isolation to reach F-rank. There was some indication that it might climb faster over time, but it was hard to test in the limited time we had available.


    Honestly, just that much information on my signal would have been an unbelievable boon to me. The knowledge that my power grew at all was a game changer for my self-motivation, if nothing else.


    But the real fruit of the day¡¯s effort came from one of Dr Klein¡¯s suggestions. For the most part, his advice had amounted to spending as much of my time as possible around powers which¡­ yeah. With the data gathered, you¡¯d think it would make more sense to shut myself away in the woods until I could gather enough power to lock in a revelation, but he and I were of the same mind about going the other way entirely.


    I intended to attend Aegis Academy. Being around powers was unavoidable and non-negotiable.


    If my sense for powers could be refined after all, somehow, it could be a useful tool in and of itself. That was something I¡¯d always known, but had yet to come up with any great ideas for.


    Until Dr Klein advised me to sign up to power therapy sessions with Superverse and place myself in a situation where I could be present for someone experiencing a revelation, AKA the moment in time where the resonance of a signal was at its most powerful.


    Somehow, I¡¯d never been around for one before. Hadn¡¯t even really considered trying.


    Revelations were generally perceived to be more and more personal the higher once climbed through levels. ¡®I want to be strong¡¯ could easily become something like ¡®I want to make sure no one has to experience that horrible thing I did¡¯ with a few levels. It usually wasn¡¯t much of a group activity.


    But there were people who didn¡¯t mind sharing. Therapy groups. They existed both in the sense of psychological care and physical rehabilitation, but there were also groups dedicated to actively guiding one¡¯s revelations for the best effects, and Superverse offered a combination of all three.


    It wasn¡¯t exactly a club you signed up for without an invitation. But with Dr Klein¡¯s word, I could get in, and I fully intended to. But I wasn¡¯t going to just stop there.


    The machines¡¯ signals hadn¡¯t lit a fire in me exactly, but they had opened up possibilities. Signal sensing hadn¡¯t seemed an obvious path for me to pursue, since it was a thing a lot of people experienced before their own signal got strong enough. It seemed too common.


    But if it turned out my signal sense really was a unique thing and not just a product of experiencing it longer than was typical, it was suddenly worth looking into. If I could sense something from specialised psionic equipment, what else might I be able to sense that I hadn¡¯t bothered to look out for before?


    That question had been buzzing in my head throughout the day, the possibilities making me dizzy. It had buoyed me all throughout the rest of my exhausting tests even as the machines and their signals battered at my¡­ whatever it was in me they were battering. My own weak signal, I presumed. The concept of feeling my own signal in that way was strange, defying conventional understanding of powers yet again, but it was the best explanation I had.


    Ashika¡¯s tests had taken up the rest of the day, and I¡¯d had no problem waiting around for her, thinking. The scientists had seemed overjoyed to get into the thing they were actually being paid for, and relief hummed in the crowd as they finally got to tackle something they understood. These were people who¡¯d built their expertise in the study of strong powers, not weaklings like myself. I wasn¡¯t bitter about it. Not at all.


    They¡¯d spent about two hours on Ashika¡¯s tests. She hadn¡¯t felt the slightest thing from the test machines, but she¡¯d sent quite the buzz through the scientists anyway with her scores hovering around 8000X. That kind of score in a sixteen year old was, it turned out, more exciting than an anomalous sixteen year old who lost power when exposed to power signals.


    Ashika had looked mighty uncomfortable at all the praise, and I had a horrible feeling her awkwardness was because she worried I might be jealous or something. I¡¯d tried to give her a thumbs up to show I didn¡¯t care how awesome she was, she¡¯d always be Ashika to me, but I wasn¡¯t sure it had gotten through.


    Well, might as well make sure.


    ¡°I¡¯m not jealous, you know?¡± I asked her, eyeing her side-on.


    Unfortunately, she¡¯d been nodding off, and my sudden interruption made her jump halfway out of her skin, smacking the back of her head on the railing above us as she sprung to her feet. She collapsed back into the chair with a groan, rubbing her head. ¡°The hell?¡± she growled, squinting at me suspiciously. Her signal flared up, slowly building.


    I smiled at her. ¡°Sorry. Just wanted to make sure you knew.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think you were jealous of me. I know you¡¯re not like that,¡± Ashika said, pouting a little. ¡°I was worried you¡¯d feel like shit about¡­ everything. It all feels so unfair, man.¡±


    ¡°It is a little unfair,¡± I admitted. ¡°But there¡¯s no point getting mad about it. Things will work out.¡±


    ¡°The world would be much nicer if everyone had your optimism.¡±


    ¡°Optimism,¡± I repeated the word, tasting the feel of it on my tongue. I scoffed. ¡°Some people would call it delusion. Most people, even.¡±


    ¡°Fuck people,¡± Ashika said.


    ¡°Nahhh. Wouldn¡¯t want to give them the satisfaction.¡±


    Ashika snorted. Her power¡¯s signal was still building just from where she was tapping her foot, and I focused on it. It was so much clearer than the scientists¡¯ had been; apparently, all of them were in the D to B range. It was almost as powerful in terms of pure resonance as any one of the machines I¡¯d run tests with today, but without the focus directed at me which made my own signal tremble. Thinking back, Tempest¡¯s had been similar.


    I was desperate to understand what it all meant, to find a hint at the destination this path I wanted to follow could end up taking me, but life was never that simple. Especially not for me.


    Speakers played a catchy jingle as the train pulled into the station, and only a handful of people aside from Ashika and I stepped off when the doors slid open. There were no staff on either of the two ground-level platforms, and the LED timetables hanging from each small waiting room showed there wouldn¡¯t be another train for thirty minutes. That sparse service wasn¡¯t a product of the time of day, either. If anything, it was usually less frequent than that.


    It wasn¡¯t hard to see why. Suburbia sprawled out for miles around Sunnyside Station, an endless sea of cookie cutter homes flowing over the flat landscape. Foresight Tower and the skyscrapers surrounding it lit up the horizon, projecting all kinds of colours on the clouds. Nearer but still far, South Point Station loomed over all, an eyesore of a cuboid-shaped building, like a horizontal skyscraper that glowed a pinkish-red at night. Being a hub serving multiple lines, anyone who wanted to catch a train would just go there for the wider range of options it offered.


    There was barely anyone around at this time of night, so I navigated to the usual exit on autopilot, Ashika following behind me in silence. A few people milled about, but I paid them no attention as my feet carried me towards the familiar route home, following the main road that stretched out directly onward from the station.


    This walk always made me a bit melancholic, introspective. Everywhere I looked seemed to trigger an onslaught of increasingly bittersweet memories. Since Ashika was so quiet, I assumed she felt the same.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Barely a few minutes from the station, we cut through the park Lucas, Ashika, and I had played in throughout our childhood. There were other parks that were nearer to our neighbourhood, but they couldn¡¯t offer the combination of playground, wooded area, and wide space that let us play Heroes vs. Villains to our heart¡¯s content. It cheered me up a bit to see the jungle gym was still there; Ashika had always liked to make it her base in our games due to its resemblance to F¨®lkvangr, the marble colosseum-like building in Northern Europe that the Valkyries called their main headquarters.


    Then a dark, bitter part of me that had been born back during AA¡¯s entrance exams reared its ugly head and I found myself wondering whether the Valkyries were truly as heroic as they seemed, and that little nostalgic happiness drained away. Lucas¡¯ presence in those memories didn¡¯t help, either.


    Next on our route came Hillview Elementary. Sunnyside was one of those dumb suburbs where you¡¯d have massive neighbourhoods with only one road leading in or out to the maze of residential streets, all branching off from one main road. Somewhere along the way, people had figured out you could hop the fence at the back of the Hillview grounds (which, infuriatingly, was neither in view of, nor did it hold a view from, a hill) and cut off thirty minutes of walking along a main road by skirting around the edge of the sports field and behind the gymnasium.


    It felt a little hypocritical to use this shortcut. As a kid, I¡¯d taken great pride in my ¡®heroic deed¡¯ of running out to accost anyone who dared to trespass on school grounds during recess. I¡¯d been so confused when I got scolded for it.


    Lucas had rushed to my defence, of course. He¡¯d been in a phase where he¡¯d tell anyone who would listen he was going to be a member of the Olympians some day, an arbiter of absolute justice. He¡¯d sworn he would return in the future with the full might of (arguably) the world¡¯s greatest superhero team to bestow righteous judgement on the teachers for failing to punish such heinous crimes. There¡¯d been a lot of hardline views on crime from the Olympians back then, and Lucas was just that kind of fanboy.


    Hard to believe that was seven years ago. Sometimes, those kinds of memories felt like yesterday. At others, they could¡¯ve been from another lifetime. Another person¡¯s lifetime, even.


    Countless memories surfaced throughout my walk home, and there was a throughline theme to them. The three of us had been obsessed with heroism since childhood; every game we played, every TV show we watched, every book we read, all we ever talked about¡­ everything revolved around superheroes.


    And the more I thought about it, the more I realised it stemmed from admiration. Ashika with the Valkyries. Lucas with the Olympians. Myself with, well, all of them.


    What did all that mean if the Heroes we¡¯d so worshipped turned out to be unworthy of our respect?


    The thought made me a little sick. I didn¡¯t want to believe it. I didn¡¯t want to think about it at all.


    So I did my best to put it out of my mind as we walked on, lowering my eyes to the ground so my surroundings didn¡¯t flash increasingly more-bitter-than-sweet memories into my mind.


    A little while later we passed the local stores, a row of buildings squatting on one side of the main road that sliced through the middle of Sunnyside. Most of them were crappy fast food chains, though there were a few general stores and a lone garage.


    The only building of interest was the one at the very end, and I couldn¡¯t keep my eyes on the ground anymore as we approached it. It looked how someone from the 60s thought a building of the 2010s would, all shiny floor-to-ceiling windows and smooth white walls, with a glass dome on the roof. The only thing missing was a boxy flying car. It was rare to see places bother with the retro-futurism aesthetic this far from the forest of towers downtown, so it had always stood out. That being said, the architecture wasn¡¯t what interested me about the building.


    Above it, glowing white letters read: The Sunnyside Sons.


    Our local superheroes.


    If you only watched the news, you could be forgiven for thinking that every superhero lived a life of globetrotting, ever-escalating adventure, constantly jetting off to deal with a new crisis; supervillains, natural disasters, even war. Obviously, that couldn¡¯t be the case. There were no reliable numbers on power scaling since not everyone bothered to get tested, but researchers generally estimated that around 50% of the world¡¯s population would be Ranked F and didn¡¯t get past level 1, their powers more quaint tricks than something that held actual utility.


    On the other end of the scale, the number of confirmed S-ranks counted in the twenties.


    Not all superheroism was about countering earthquakes, intervening in armed conflicts, or beating up Dr Evil before he could fire his laser beam at the moon. Online, cape fanatics had taken to measuring it by scale. You had your aforementioned world-class supes, active around the planet. Then you had nation-class, the types who worked all over the country, generally on a quasi-freelance basis where they moved for specific jobs and cases. Below that was state-class, with basically the same deal as the nation-class except more local. It kept on that way, from state to county to city.


    All the way down to your friendly neighbourhood superheroes.


    The Sunnyside Sons had settled in our hometown when Lucas, Ashika and I were in first grade, and from the moment they¡¯d showed up, we¡¯d thought they were the coolest people to ever live. Sure, they hadn¡¯t actually needed to fight any villains in this cushy posting on the outskirts of the city¡ªthe most severe crime they¡¯d ever personally dealt with was probably a bunch of shoplifters.


    But who cared about that? They patrolled the neighbourhood with winning smiles, always visible, always approachable. Constantly involved in local events, they were fixtures in the community, and everyone here took pride in them. They didn¡¯t need to be world-famous. Hell, they didn¡¯t even need to be any higher than D-rank to be beloved.


    I couldn¡¯t hope to guess how many hours we¡¯d spent following Tumble, Captain Smoke, or Limit on one of their patrols, chattering away at them, asking questions, and they never once lost their patience with us. We¡¯d spent a stupid amount of time outside their HQ over the years, hanging around to get even a glimpse of our hometown heroes.


    ¡°If it ain¡¯t Emmett and Ashika!¡± someone called out. ¡°What¡¯s got you out so late, kiddos?¡±


    A smile found its way to my face. Whatever mood I was in, that jovial voice was always a balm to the soul.


    Tumble was known to be the oldest of his team, somewhere in his 40s, but you wouldn¡¯t think it by looking at him. His afro offered not a hint of white or silver, and his dark skin was utterly unmarred by wrinkles or marks of age. Behind the black domino mask barely covering his eyes, his gaze was friendly and, above all else, alert. As their leader, he always talked a lot about being professional, which was funny considering his rather silly power; a muscular man in a tuxedo cartwheeling around at speeds that technically qualified him to use the highway wasn¡¯t the most dignified sight.


    I¡¯d once asked him why he smiled so much and acted goofy with his acrobatics if he wanted to seem professional. He¡¯d told me that, for neighbourhood heroes like him, that was professionalism.


    ¡°Just on our way home,¡± I greeted him with a wave, then pointed a thumb at Ashika. ¡°This one¡¯s had a long day wowing a bunch of scientists down at Superverse HQ.¡±


    Ashika shot me a sour look, but she was smiling too. Tumble had that effect on people.


    Tumble slapped his thigh and barked a laugh. He was standing just outside the front door of the Sons¡¯ HQ; he sometimes liked to be visible and greet passers-by. ¡°Good for you, kid. Remember good ol¡¯ Tumble when you¡¯re in the big leagues fighting evil aliens or whatever it is the Olympians get up to, yeah?¡±


    ¡°I could never forget you, Tumble,¡± Ashika said, giving the man a pat on the shoulder as she passed him.


    ¡°There¡¯s a good girl,¡± Tumble said, grinning. He wiped away an imaginary tear, then looked between us. ¡°Say, I had Lucas through here earlier. Made me realise I don¡¯t see the three of you together much anymore.¡±


    Ashika stopped, stiffening. The mention of our former friend was a punch to the gut to me too, but I didn¡¯t let my smile drop. ¡°We grew apart,¡± I said with a shrug. ¡°It happens.¡±


    Tumble sucked in a breath through his teeth. ¡°Yeaaaah. He didn¡¯t seem impressed when I brought you two up. Suddenly looked grouchy as a cat that let the bird it was chasin¡¯ get away.¡± He frowned for a moment, then flashed a grin and a thumbs up. ¡°I can put two and two together, kid. I was already in my twenties when powers popped up, so I missed the whole hero school fad by quite a good while. But I know all about losing out on a spot at some place I wanted to go because of things that were outta my control, so take it from me: it doesn''t matter. Keep working hard, and you¡¯ll find something that works for you. You don''t need a fancy school like Aegis to be a hero. Just remember that these places all give out the same licence, in the end.¡±


    It took me a moment to realise what he was implying, and I have to admit it stung a little, despite everything. While I hadn¡¯t followed him around like a starstruck duckling in a long time, I still spoke to him whenever I saw him around town, pestering him with questions about what was happening in the hero scene lately, and he was always happy to answer. A few months back, it became obvious he¡¯d found out about my, as he referred to it, affliction. Lucas¡¯ work, no doubt.


    He¡¯d tried comforting me, in his own way. He knew all too well how much I wanted to be a hero, and he¡¯d had a bunch of pamphlets on hand, all of them giving info on the kind of small-scale superhero work he and his peers engaged in. Sidekick 101, local heroics courses, neighbourhood patrol tips, and that kind of thing. It was clear he didn¡¯t think much of my chances of making it ¡®big¡¯, so to speak.


    It made sense, from his perspective. I believed in myself and had no concept of giving up, but I always tried to be realistic about how other people would see my circumstances. Tumble was just being his usual self, doing what he thought was the right thing: trying to comfort a kid with big dreams who¡¯d failed. Lucas had probably fed him more info along those lines too, despite not actually knowing how my test had gone.


    ¡°Thanks for the advice, Tumble, sir,¡± I said, keeping my smile steady through force of will. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to keep it in mind.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a good kid, Emmett,¡± Tumble said, meeting my eyes with a look that oozed sincerity. ¡°And good people always make it to where they want to be in the end, no matter what some cynical silly-heads would like to tell you! A good person who wants to be a hero? You¡¯re all but guaranteed to go far. Don¡¯t need some fancy schmancy school for that.¡±


    My smile became more genuine. ¡°I certainly hope so.¡±


    ¡°I know so. As long as you keep that smile on your face,¡± he said, pointing at my mouth with a grin of his own, ¡°you¡¯ll get where you want to be. A good smile never fails.¡±


    ¡°Never?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Never ever,¡± Tumble said.


    Ashika snorted, but I couldn¡¯t help noticing she was smiling again too.


    ¡°It¡¯s the first rule of heroism,¡± Tumble continued. ¡°You always gotta smile.¡±


    I thought about that for a moment. Then, since he was already feeling sorry for me, I decided to milk it. ¡°Hey, could you show off your power for me?¡±


    Tumble¡¯s grin widened, and his signal buzzed to life. It was a low, soft thing compared to the signals I¡¯d been blasted with today, familiar and comforting. I tried to study it, but wasn¡¯t sure what to even look for. Even after everything, I didn¡¯t yet know what I could actually do with the signal sense.


    There was a frenetic quality to it, I supposed? Was it giving a vibe like the signal was spinning, or was I just imagining that based on what I already knew of Tumble¡¯s power? It was hard to say. Results inconclusive. Further study required.


    The suit-clad superhero launched straight into his signature move: tumbling. Seeing a massive man cartwheeling up and down the street at such high speeds his body blurred into circular streaks was always great for a laugh, and Ashika and I were giggling like kids by the time he landed before us with his arms lifted like a gymnast, then swept into an overly elaborate bow. He never stopped grinning.


    We left shortly after that, and I had no doubt Ashika was feeling as light and refreshed as I was. Even if there were heroes out there who weren¡¯t worthy of the name, at least we knew there were a few who did deserve it, and they were right here at home, doing what little they could and always, always smiling.


    That was the kind of hero I wanted to be someday, no matter how weak or strong I ended up being.

 2.7: Vesper

    Around noon on the last normal day of my life, I went downstairs to breakfast late enough that I¡¯d foolishly assumed everybody would already be out for the day. By the time I realised there was someone in the living room, it was too late. And that was only my first mistake.


    The ground floor of our house was a wide open plan affair, and the kitchen was in the fashionable modern chic style, all smooth and white and shiny, with a wide breakfast island opening out straight into the living room, where two L-shaped couches had been stuck together to form a half ring around the giant TV covering the far wall. Currently, it was playing some crappy cape reality TV show about the love life of Sierra and Rosegold with the volume on low.


    It seemed I wasn¡¯t the only one who didn¡¯t find the material particularly engaging, because my older sister rose from where she''d been lying on the couch the second she noticed me, blinking away sleep. ¡°Emmett!¡± she said, blinking blearily a few times like the sight of me itself was a surprise. She stretched, letting out a deep yawn. ¡°Feels like I haven¡¯t seen you in forever.¡±


    People had often described Maisie as an older, female version of me, but I couldn¡¯t see it. Her hair was a much brighter shade of strawberry blonde than mine, for one thing, and her eyes were closer to what I remembered Mom¡¯s being than Dad¡¯s, honey gold rather than blue.


    The biggest difference between us, of course, was in the superhero costume she was wearing. Her dark, skin-tight bodysuit was patterned with an ever-shifting nebula of stars, paired with a dark cape that looked like a window into the night sky, and she¡¯d unzipped it and had it hanging around her waist, exposing the metallic camisole she always wore underneath.


    She went by Vesper, and at 22 years old she was already the second in command of her team: Starforce.


    ¡°Maisie,¡± I greeted her in return with a little wave. ¡°Didn¡¯t realise you were home.¡±


    ¡°Have to come back every now and then,¡± she said with a shrug. She moved over to the counter and leaned lazily against it, arms crossed. ¡°How¡¯ve you been, Squirt?¡±


    I rolled my eyes. ¡°Literally taller than you now. By like two inches.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll always be a squirt to me, Squirt.¡±


    ¡°Eugh.¡±


    ¡°And don¡¯t try and dodge the question, Emmy. You¡¯ll make me worry.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not dodging anything. And don¡¯t call me Emmy,¡± I said, sounding petulant even to my own ears. I let out a sigh. Moving over to the kitchen to carry out the task I¡¯d come down here for in the first place, I spoke without looking at her, ¡°Things have been okay, I guess."


    "No progress on the power front?" she asked, because of course she did. That was always going to be the topic of conversation around here. My entire extended family lived and breathed superheroics; they didn''t know what else to talk about.


    As a kid, I''d loved it. Not so much anymore, when no one seemed to know how to act around me. I sighed. "Still trying to figure the whole power thing out. If I even have any.¡±


    ¡°Everyone has powers,¡± Maisie said, her signal briefly flaring as if she was trying to prove it to herself. It gave me the impression of distant beauty, like gazing up at the sky on a cloudless night. Human signals were so different to the unfeeling machines; there was so much individuality and life to them.


    I wasn¡¯t as familiar with the feel of Maisie¡¯s signal as I probably should¡¯ve been, but it couldn¡¯t be helped when she was so busy with her own hero work. She had a room at Starforce¡¯s HQ in Houston, but I couldn¡¯t exactly blame our lack of interaction on that. She wasn¡¯t there all the time.


    I just tended to avoid her when she was here. I avoided everyone, really.


    As much as I loved my family dearly, it was hard to be around people who couldn¡¯t quite hide their pity. Walking into a room and having someone blink at you as if in bafflement that the Shaw family could ever produce someone with a power lower than C-rank wasn¡¯t a pleasant experience.


    Maisie wasn¡¯t as bad as all that, but there was still some awkwardness. She was kind of the proto-Ashika, in that she¡¯d been ranked abnormally high from the get go, and now, at age 20, was pushing towards the upper end of A-rank. For all that she loved being a superhero, I got the impression that it had always simply been the path she¡¯d been put on and then never questioned, following the family biz. She hadn¡¯t obsessed over it like I had. Hadn¡¯t hungered for it. Hell, her first revelation, the very foundation of her powers, was literally just ''I want to see the stars.'' Seven more levels had given her a variety of ways to do just that.


    I didn¡¯t resent her. It wasn¡¯t as if she was some kind of glory hog. There wasn¡¯t a bad bone in her body; she was as likely to spend her day saving cats from trees and helping old ladies cross streets as fighting evil aliens in the far reaches of outer space.


    For a while, she¡¯d been my closest confidant in power-related matters. Maybe even closer than Ashika. When my powers hadn¡¯t immediately manifested, she¡¯d been the loudest voice of encouragement by far. Every day, she¡¯d been there¡ªstill attending Aegis herself at the time¡ªcheering me on, insisting they¡¯d manifest any day and we¡¯d go out and train them together.


    Naturally, that had tapered off over time as the reality of the situation set in. I¡¯d like to put it down to the fact she was getting more busy in school, and then moving on up into the hero world after graduation, rising star that she was.


    She hadn¡¯t stopped completely, but it was obvious she knew something was off with me as well as everyone else did, and sometimes forced positivity could be as damaging as negativity.


    I just didn¡¯t want to put her in the awkward spot of feeling obligated to put on airs. Thus, avoidance. The Shaw way.


    ¡°Late bloomers pop up often enough, but they all establish their foundations eventually,¡± Maisie said as I set about frying up some eggs. ¡°Don¡¯t go getting all pessimistic on me, ya hear?¡±


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    Case in point. The strain in her voice was palpable, and I was sure she felt horrible about it.


    ¡°Lots of late bloomers, yeah,¡± I said, affecting nonchalance with the ease of practice. ¡°Never heard of anyone else whose signal gets weaker, though.¡±


    There was a moment of silence, and I immediately regretted sharing that tidbit.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Maisie asked, voice soft.


    I explained to her how my tests had gone two days ago, how I¡¯d felt the signals from the machines and how doing so had apparently weakened me even further. It wasn¡¯t a long story, but it gave me enough time to finish frying my eggs and plate them up with some buttered toast. Maisie was stunned into silence at the end of my explanation.


    I took a bite of my toast, and I had to fight to stop my eyes from rolling back in bliss. Uncle Adam had shelled out for some arcane glass contraption that yielded slices of toast precision cooked to just how one liked them. A scientific advancement born from studying Nova¡¯s power, apparently.


    ¡°That just doesn¡¯t happen,¡± she said eventually, wide eyed. All trace of fatigue was gone from her expression.


    ¡°Apparently it does,¡± I said with a chuckle. It wasn¡¯t actually funny, but like hell was I going to let it get me down. Especially when I had perfect toast.


    ¡°I don¡¯t even know what to say to that. I don¡¯t think I ever even sensed power signals at all.¡± Maisie frowned. ¡°And the eggheads couldn¡¯t figure anything out?¡±


    ¡°Not in the time or budget we had. Ashika¡¯s bullying could only get us so far.¡±


    Maisie¡¯s gaze trailed out the window, and her lips pursed. ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll work out. There¡¯s plenty of unique scenarios when it comes to powers. You¡¯re just¡­ even more unusual than usual. You¡¯ll be kicking butt at Aegis in no time, I¡¯m sure of it.¡±


    I stayed silent, taking another bite of my toast to hide my grimace. This was exactly the reason I generally avoided interacting with Maisie; stilted conversations like this were just painful, juxtaposed with my memories of how close we¡¯d once been, when I¡¯d followed her around like a little fanboy. The encouragement she gave was well-meant, and it was a hell of a lot better than seeing me as an embarrassment like some of my other family members did.


    But it would¡¯ve been nice to have a normal conversation with my sister. Granted, I struggled with talking about anything else just as much as she did, but that was the other side of the problem. We were both acutely aware of the elephant in the room at all times. I was just as culpable in the rift that had grown between us, really.


    ¡°Aegis, huh?¡± I mused, absently poking at my eggs. ¡°Y¡¯know, I feel like I asked you a million questions about AA over the years, but I don¡¯t actually know all that much about your time there.¡±


    Maisie didn¡¯t reply, and when I turned my attention to her to see why, I found her looking back at me with a pensive expression. ¡°We haven¡¯t had a chance to talk since your entrance exam,¡± she mused.


    ¡°We haven¡¯t,¡± I agreed, meeting her gaze levelly.


    ¡°What was it like?¡±


    ¡°... Not what I expected.¡±


    ¡°Hm.¡±


    Another long stretch of silence. Maisie shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then averted her eyes with a sigh.


    ¡°When I was a kid, Dad told me that there¡¯s no single correct idea of what heroism is,¡± Maisie said, apropos of nothing.


    ¡°Sounds like Dad,¡± I said, eyeing her. ¡°Pretty sure he told me something similar at least once.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t surprise me. He was getting really philosophical about the whole hero thing, towards the end. Opening his mind, he said.¡±


    ¡°Where are you going with this, Maisie?¡±


    She sighed. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ Certain ideas of heroism are, as I''m sure you¡¯ve experienced now, rather rare. That¡¯s not to say you can¡¯t aspire to be a flawless paragon or anything. If you wanna be like Dad, I¡¯ll back you all the way. But you gotta understand that most people won¡¯t be like that, and you shouldn¡¯t judge them for it. Imperfect doesn''t equal bad.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not trying to be perfect, and I wouldn¡¯t hold people to such an impossible standard,¡± I said, arching an eyebrow at her. Did I really come across as that kind of person?


    ¡°I¡¯m sensing a but there,¡± Maisie said.


    ¡°But,¡± I said with a nod, ¡°I will judge people for cheating. If there are any incorrect ideas about heroism, it¡¯s anything that involves screwing over other people to get ahead.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Sheesh. How bad was your entrance exam?¡±


    ¡°One of the cheaters almost killed another examinee. Tried to kill me.¡±


    Maisie snapped to attention, her eyes blazing like twin suns and her power signal exploding to life, filling the room with her presence. When she spoke, her voice sounded like the roar of her namesake star.


    ¡°What?!¡±


    Once again, I found myself explaining recent events to Maisie. She got more and more agitated as my story went on, though she briefly stopped to beam at me when I got to the part where I¡¯d convinced a bunch of our exam group to team up for the practical. She went right back to seething as I covered the details of the saboteurs nipping at my alliance¡¯s heels. I had to warn her to turn off her power after I covered the collapsed building, but lost hope of getting control of her when I described the traps around the finish line.


    In the end, I hesitated to tell her about the final confrontation in the radio tower. Her glare compelled the words out of me anyway. It was only when I got to the standoff between the teachers that I really, really started to wish I¡¯d never brought this up at all. Maisie wanted the names of the teachers who¡¯d been on ¡®the other side¡¯ of things¡ªno points for guessing which side she was on.


    I was reluctant to give them, worried about what she was going to do with that information.


    ¡°Emmett,¡± Maisie¡¯s voice cracked like a whip, carrying the full authority of the second in command of Starforce. She was unnaturally still, clearly forcing herself to remain that way.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want you getting in any trouble over me,¡± I said.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be over a lot more than you, don¡¯t worry,¡± Maisie growled.


    I ended up telling her. She started pacing back and forth in the living room, fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. Her power signal was blaring like a siren, gaining heat at the same time as the glow in her eyes.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t start a fire,¡± I said with a wince.


    ¡°I¡¯m not thirteen, Emmett. If I burn something, it¡¯ll be because I want to.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said slowly, ¡°but you really look like you want to burn something right now.¡±


    Maisie stopped, stared at me with blazing eyes. ¡°You know what? You¡¯re right. I would fucking love to burn something.¡± She strode towards the front door. ¡°Let¡¯s go do just that.¡±


    I yelped and chased after her. ¡°What? Go where?!¡±


    ¡°Aegis Academy, obviously.¡±

 2.8: Back Again

    When I woke up this morning, I¡¯d been looking forward to a day of research. The discoveries made at Superverse¡¯s labs a few days ago had been disheartening in some ways, but in others they had motivated me: I had a new data point regarding my powers to investigate. The destination was still as unclear as ever, but I had a new path marked out for me to take forward, and I had been eager to forge on towards making the unknown known.


    Today¡¯s agenda had been to search up a wide variety of powers and power-related things I could try and analyse the signals from. I¡¯d anticipated a good ten hours or more sitting at my computer, and I¡¯d been greatly looking forward to it. Lame as it might sound, I genuinely enjoyed shutting myself in my room and getting lost in a new subject.


    Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined I would find myself walking through the front gates of Aegis Academy at just past two in the afternoon, trailing my irate older sister. If I dreamed about returning to Aegis at all, it was on my inaugural day as a student, taking the first step on my journey to becoming a hero and, perhaps more importantly, setting this place to rights, restoring it to the institution of valour it was supposed to be. I¡¯d anticipated picking a fight with the place in some form, but not like this. Not so soon.


    Were we technically trespassing right now? Maisie was an alumni, but she hadn¡¯t been invited or anything, as far as I knew¡­


    There were barely a fraction as many people around now as there had been on the entrance exam day, but we drew curious looks from students and faculty alike as Maisie marched down Silver Road. Maisie barely seemed to notice, but I felt the sting of every stare.


    As a rising star in the superhero game, she was undoubtedly used to people staring and muttering excitedly to each other wherever she went¡ªher costume was eye-catching enough in its default state, but with a tweak of her power she looked like a living galaxy¡ªbut that kind of behaviour unfortunately held rather more negative associations for me. It was playing hell with my already frayed nerves, though I was doing my best not to show it. I told myself their attention was all on Maisie and I probably didn¡¯t merit a second glance, but funnily enough that just kind of pissed me off.


    But, well, anger was better than stage fright. So I¡¯d run with that.


    Some day, I¡¯d draw just as much attention as she did, and I¡¯d force myself to revel in it.


    I stepped close to her and murmured in her ear, ¡°Are you going to tell me what we¡¯re doing here?¡±


    I really hoped she wasn¡¯t actually going to burn anything, but she hadn¡¯t given me any assurances on the matter thus far. Not that I¡¯d been able to ask her many questions on the way over; hurtling through the air at eye-watering speeds wasn¡¯t a conducive environment for conversation, it turned out. And I¡¯d barely been able to get my bearings after the flight was over before she was striding through Aegis Academy¡¯s famous front gate¡ªthe movement aspect of her power was more reality warping than flight, and it was deeply uncomfortable for passengers. But I¡¯d insisted on coming along; I¡¯d been more accustomed to the feeling in the past, even when she was considerably less practised with it.


    In retrospect, that was probably another factor in why we were drawing so many stares. A non-staff superhero appearing in a twist of warped space-time outside the front gate with a thunderous expression and striding in was probably a sight to see.


    This little incident was undoubtedly going to end up all over social media. Fun times.


    Maisie glanced over her shoulder at me, still marching forwards. She¡¯d pulled on her costume properly, her night sky cape draped regally over her shoulders, making her look like a celestial empress; she¡¯d extended the effect to her head, constellations woven into her strawberry blonde hair. Even her eyes twinkled, her irises replaced by revolving spiral galaxies. She was very much in Vesper Mode right now.


    It was, admittedly, very impressive. It was easy to see why she tended to do so well in cape fashion polls online.


    ¡°I need to shout at some people,¡± she said.


    Dread pooled in my stomach. ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°Guess.¡±


    The dread settled like a solid ball of osmium, dragging my stomach down between my knees. ¡°Please tell me you¡¯re not going to pick a fight with the Vice Principal.¡±


    ¡°Okay. I won¡¯t tell you that.¡±


    ¡°Maisie!¡±


    ¡°Emmett.¡±


    I took a deep breath. ¡°As much as I enjoy the idea of knocking Marquise down a peg or two, I kinda don¡¯t want to get expelled before I can even start my first term,¡± I hissed. Then added to myself, ¡°Assuming they accept me in the first place, that is.¡±


    Maisie abruptly came to a stop, and I had to quickly side-step so I didn¡¯t go crashing into her. None of her Aspects truly enhanced her physically, but I was still pretty sure I¡¯d come off the worse in a collision between us. Her gravity manipulation Aspect was a finicky thing.


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    She turned away from me, and her eyes softened, anger bleeding away. It was only when I followed her gaze that I realised where we were. My heart stuttered a little, and my breath left me like I¡¯d been punched in the gut.


    I¡¯d spent years avoiding any mention of Dad¡¯s memorial statue, and now this was my third time seeing it in a matter of weeks. In the future, there¡¯d be no avoiding it; I¡¯d surely have to see it hundreds of times.


    I wondered, then, if this feeling would ever go away. If I¡¯d ever be able to look at it without a lump appearing in my throat and my eyes turning hot. If there¡¯d ever come a time when I could look at this statue of my father in his full Roman-style costume and feel like I measured up to a fraction of what he¡¯d believed I could be.


    In the silver sheen of the statue, I could see my own warped reflection, alongside the evening sky pattern of Maisie¡¯s costume. We both looked so small, compared to him.


    ¡°If he was here now,¡± Maisie said, ¡°what would you tell him about your test?¡±


    I grimaced. ¡°I don¡¯t believe it would¡¯ve happened that way if he was here.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. That kind of answers the question behind my question, doesn¡¯t it? What he would think of some of the shit that apparently happens at AA these days¡­¡±


    I looked at Maisie, assessing her. ¡°What kind of shit are you talking about? You didn¡¯t answer my question about your time here earlier.¡±


    ¡°Nothing like what you dealt with. Not even close,¡± Maisie said with a frown. The constellations on her cape shifted, white dots zipping across an inky black canvas until a nebula came into view. It was slightly nauseating to look at, so I focused on her face. Once upon a time, I might¡¯ve been more confident in interpreting the furrow between her brows as her gaze trailed off towards the giant gymnasium at the far end of Silver Road.


    ¡°Things were way over competitive, at the start,¡± she continued. ¡°It began with the entrance exam, where there were a few cases of cheating that went unpunished unless another examinee called it out. Then there were a few people in my year group who were clearly sabotaging others¡¯ grades and shit, and it created a toxic as fuck atmosphere for a while.¡± Maisie snorted, turning back to him with a wry smile. ¡°But a bunch of us teamed up with the teachers to put a stop to all that kind of crap. By senior year, things were more how they should be.¡±


    ¡°You think it¡¯s gotten worse since your time?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Hell yes I do,¡± Maisie said, her smile vanishing. ¡°Someone almost dying is so far beyond anything I saw. Like, holy shit dude, the worst guys in my cohort were just kinda selfish assholes who should¡¯ve been training to become corpo capes or military goons rather than superheroes.¡±


    ¡°Some of the teachers said my test group was a uniquely bad one,¡± I said, then blinked. Why was I on the defensive here? I completely agreed with her that it was unacceptable. Old habits die hard, I guess. ¡°You never said anything about bad people in Aegis before. You always talked the place up like nothing was wrong.¡±


    I tried to keep any hint of accusation out of my voice, but Maisie¡¯s hurt look told me I¡¯d failed. ¡°I knew how much AA meant to you. I didn¡¯t want to ruin that.¡± The look in her eyes turned deadly once more. ¡°Marquise made us some promises. I thought things would be better by the time you made it here. Four years is a long time for someone like Marquise to work, and she¡¯s clearly made things worse in some subtle bullshit way, like she always does.¡±


    ¡°You sound like you subscribe to the ¡®still a villain¡¯ theory,¡± I said, eyeing her.


    But Maisie shook her head. ¡°Much as I dislike the woman, I can¡¯t in good faith call her a villain. All this stuff at AA? It¡¯s not some¡­ I don¡¯t know, some convoluted long term evil scheme.¡± She sighed and shrugged her shoulders, sending a ripple cascading through the starfield on her cape. ¡°She just has a messed up view of the world.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Maisie looked at me, and the galaxies in her eyes blazed with the power of billions of stars. ¡°Let¡¯s go ask the woman herself.¡±


    She started walking, and I was left with little choice but to follow in her wake once more. A small crowd had formed nearby, watching to see what Vesper was here for, and they quickly dispersed as she strode past them. There were several phones out, as I¡¯d predicted. Not that anything particularly interesting was going on anymore, from a spectator¡¯s perspective.


    But there didn¡¯t need to be. Superheroes made news merely by existing, and a rising star existing in a state outside their norms was a headline. It probably wouldn¡¯t get pushed nationwide, but Capebook¡¯s algorithms would probably show an article on plenty of people¡¯s front pages.


    A sense of foreboding chased me as I hurried after Maisie. I¡¯d been too young for the vultures to come sniffing around in the wake of Dad¡¯s death¡ªit wasn¡¯t so much that they were respectful of the dead as they knew they¡¯d face Consequences with a capital C for harassing the family of a fallen hero¡ªso I¡¯d never found myself in the cape geeks¡¯ sights.


    That was probably about to change. The fact that Vesper had a younger brother at AA was more than likely about to become a well known thing among enthusiasts, and a connection to Valiant would come immediately after. But how long would it take before someone dug into my history and found my F-rank status? When would they start flaming me for daring to think I could make it into the world¡¯s most famous school of superheroes? How long after that would the accusations of nepotism and favouritism come in?


    It was interesting to think about, in a way. I¡¯d never been on the receiving end of that kind of scrutiny, so it would be a novel experience.


    Which was obviously just me trying to cope with the fact that I was soon going to be under the spotlight. A horrifying prospect, but I was always going to have to face it eventually, if I was going to be a superhero.


    The admin building came into view, and I put all that out of my mind for now. Built in the fascinatingly odd Ancient Greek-slash-retro futuristic style that marked it as one of the earlier structures to go up on AA¡¯s campus, its four story height had probably once made it one of the bigger buildings. It had long since been dwarfed by the crowd of facilities that seemed to pack together to be as close to the main gymnasium as possible, and its sleek white pillars had gone out of fashion in AA¡¯s architecture quite some time ago.


    Eight of the aforementioned pillars lined the facade of the building, with a single huge pane of glass spanning the gap between the two centre-most pillars, revealing the reception area of the building.


    Where Marquise stood waiting for us in the lobby, her signature white suit pristine and her expression serene as Maisie stormed towards her.


    ¡°If it isn¡¯t my favourite former student,¡± she said dryly when the doors slid open. ¡°To what do I owe the pleasure?¡±

 2.9 The Provident

    Marquise was quite likely the most famous (former) villain in the world. Admittedly, that was partially owed to the fact that Herakles had convinced her to switch sides¡ªit had become known as a great success story, conspiracy theories aside, and was constantly held up to try and convince villains that it wasn¡¯t too late for them to turn to the right side of the law.


    ¡°Look!¡± the PR people cried. ¡°If a supervillain who took over an entire state can reform her evil ways, so can you!¡±


    Marquise¡¯s redemption was a rather famous series of events, but taking over a state in the first place had earned her plenty of infamy on its own. It had been one of those ¡°everyone knows what¡¯s happening here, but doesn¡¯t know what to do about it¡± situations. For seven years, she¡¯d allegedly owned every level of Texan society; whether it be organised crime, local politicians, or state legislature, everyone had answered to her. She¡¯d even spent two years as a senator, flagrantly strutting through Washington as if daring her enemies to do something about it. She¡¯d been one of the first examples of the archetypal mastermind supervillain in the real world, and the real world had not known how to handle her.


    The question of how she¡¯d done it was still a hot topic, and she¡¯d never shown any inclination to explain herself. People weren¡¯t even sure what her powers were, though most assumed it was some kind of cognitive enhancement. Her rank remained unknown eight years after she¡¯d joined up with the heroes and become Vice Principal at AA. Even how Herakles had swayed her was shrouded in mystery.


    All this meant that speculation abounded. Rumours constantly surrounded her, from the terrifying to the outlandish, with conspiracy theories constantly running rampant. From those convinced she was still a villain to others adamant she¡¯d been an undercover hero all along and everything in between. Some people even thought she was an alien.


    Hell, it wasn¡¯t even clear what she was truly responsible for. It was common knowledge that she¡¯d been the leader of the Syndicate before turning on her own people and taking them down, but nothing could be pinned on her directly. As far as the law was concerned, she was innocent, or at least not guilty, even while the Syndicate was guilty of every crime under the sun.


    And I mean every crime. The Syndicate had run everything in Texas and had its filthy fingers dipped in plenty of illegal activity beyond.


    The only thing people could agree upon regarding Marquise was that she was terrifyingly competent. One did not take over a major state and then thumb one¡¯s nose at the federal government for seven years without either being very good at something or holding some kind of advantage.


    At one time, she¡¯d been considered one of the scariest people alive.


    So it was a bit alarming to watch my sister stride up to the former crime lord and current vice principal of Aegis Academy and square up to her, close enough their noses were almost touching, and snarl:


    ¡°You know exactly why I¡¯m here, you bitch.¡±


    My heart dropped, wide eyes snapping to the vice principal to gauge her reaction.


    Marquise looked about as perturbed by an A-rank superhero getting in her face as I would upon noticing my hair had been ruffled in a breeze. Her hands stayed crossed behind her back. Her expression didn¡¯t even twitch. ¡°I¡¯m sure I don¡¯t know what you mean, Miss Shaw.¡±


    The worst part was, she towered over Maisie. Marquise wasn¡¯t just a tall woman, but a tall human being in general. Easily surpassing six feet by several inches, people often described her as ghoulish for her slender frame, and her white suit didn¡¯t help matters on that front, accentuating the paleness of her face.


    When people talked like that, it was to make fun of her. I didn¡¯t find it amusing now. Her appearance was, in my opinion, awfully intimidating. In a way I hadn¡¯t felt when she¡¯d been so close by during the physical tests back during the entrance exams.


    Maisie, on the other hand, was five-five at best. The starfield shining on her costume was an impressive sight; she looked the picture of a righteous hero confronting a villain. But the effect was negated by the way she had to tilt her head backwards a fraction to glare up into Marquise¡¯s flinty silver eyes. It was hard to intimidate someone when the top of your head came to just below their nose.


    It didn¡¯t help that the main reception to the admin building was devoid of any staff aside from Marquise herself; the room was a large one, high-ceilinged and spanning the entire width of the admin building. All the walls were covered in posters of various AA alumni in heroic poses and colourful costumes, with little placards detailing their achievements at the school and after graduation, and the vaulted ceiling depicted an elaborate mural of the Ancient Greek gods.


    The room was expected to play host to dozens of people looking to talk with the administrative staff of the school sequestered away in the offices beyond the four sets of double doors at the back of the room. There were dozens of cushioned chairs for visitors to wait in, all empty. There were no staff behind the long reception desk, all ten computer screens sitting inert. Looking behind me I could see that a handful of security guards in their black uniforms were turning people away.


    Marquise had known we were coming, and prepared for it.


    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± Maisie growled, oblivious to my inner turmoil. ¡°So you didn¡¯t deliberately fuck with my little brother¡¯s entrance exam to spite me?¡±


    I¡¯d been frozen in indecision by the still-open doors to the admin building, but my gaze snapped to Marquise at that, and I took a step further into the room, the doors whooshing closed behind me, cutting off the noise from outside. Maisie hadn¡¯t mentioned anything about me being targeted specifically. Why would Marquise want to spite her?


    I moved to stand by Maisie¡¯s side, backing her up. Whatever else was going on here, I could say one thing for certain: I was firmly against whatever methods Marquise had been teaching at Aegis that ended up attracting people like Sooyoung and Taeyong.


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    The Vice Principal just raised an eyebrow, looking like the personification of an unimpressed teacher.


    ¡°Don¡¯t play dumb,¡± Maisie said. ¡°You can act poised and refined all you want, but remember: I know exactly how vindictive you are.¡±


    ¡°Oh, how I¡¯ve missed your accusations, Miss Shaw. It¡¯s been too quiet without you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re dodging the question.¡±


    Marquise glanced at me, and a shiver went down my spine. There was something about her eyes. That silver sheen. Was it a power sign? There was no signal emanating from her, though¡­ ¡°I did not interfere in your brother¡¯s exam in any capacity,¡± she said, turning her gaze back to Maisie.


    Maisie was quiet for a moment. Then she growled, ¡°But you have been interfering with the exams in general. Don¡¯t even try to deny it. You broke your promise.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe I made any promises regarding the exams,¡± Marquise said.


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure that was implied in ¡®leave the school the fuck alone¡¯?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe I agreed to anything like that, either. It would be rather difficult to leave Aegis Academy alone when I am currently employed as its vice principal.¡±


    Maisie snorted derisively. ¡°Come on. You can do better than this. Has no one been keeping you on your toes for the last few years or something?¡±


    ¡°What is it you think I¡¯ve done, precisely?¡± Marquise asked.


    ¡°Exactly what I said you would, back then! Made things worse. Aegis Academy is supposed to be a school where kids learn how to be superheroes the right way, not some ruthless, every man for himself battle royale! Your shitty methods inevitably attract shitty people, and my little brother almost died because of it!¡±


    Maisie¡¯s voice had steadily been rising throughout, until she was bellowing the last words, and her power signal rose to match her volume. She was panting when she was done, her fists clenched tight at her sides and the stars on her costume swirling.


    ¡°All tests are closely monitored,¡± Marquise said, still unruffled by the angry superhero screaming in her face. ¡°There was never any true danger of harm for your brother, from what I¡¯ve read in the reports.¡±


    ¡°There shouldn¡¯t have been anything close to danger,¡± Maisie snapped. ¡°We had a deal. You were supposed to rein in the shitty students, but instead they¡¯ve gotten way, way worse. If you¡¯re not keeping your part, why should I keep mine?¡±


    ¡°The test your brother was involved in was an unfortunate anomaly. I assure you I am not encouraging anyone to behave in the way certain examinees did in that incident, and the perpetrators have been dealt with.¡±


    Maisie tensed. ¡°Dealt with how?¡±


    Marquise rolled her eyes. It was the most emotion she¡¯d shown so far. ¡°I had them thrown in a bottomless pit to be tortured for all eternity by evil demons.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t pretend you have a sense of humour,¡± Maisie snapped.


    ¡°They were arrested, of course,¡± Marquise said. ¡°Their actions in their practical test were not covered by the waiver all prospective students sign.¡±


    ¡°What would have been covered by the waiver? Would they have gotten away with just beating up some other examinees a bit? Or, hm, what if, I don¡¯t know, they dropped a building on someone?¡±


    ¡°Directing one¡¯s powers against another examinee with hostile intent without cause is considered to be assault, just as it would outside the test.¡±


    ¡°Interesting. Very interesting.¡± Maisie tapped a finger to her chin in mock thought, then snapped, ¡°So why didn''t the teachers put a stop to it until it looked like one of the criminals might die?!¡±


    ¡°Whatever the rumours may claim, I¡¯m afraid I cannot, in fact, read people¡¯s minds.¡±


    Maisie was quiet for a long moment, staring Marquise down. When she spoke again, it was in a whisper, barely audible even from where I was standing a couple of metres away. ¡°Do you want me to tell people what I know?¡±


    Marquise said nothing. Her expression was utterly blank.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see how it would be anything more than mildly inconvenient to you,¡± Maisie continued softly after a moment, ¡°but you clearly wanted it kept secret. Has that changed? Are you trying to bait me into revealing it as part of a convoluted plan to screw me over or something?¡±


    For a long moment, Marquise was unmoving. She stared down at Maisie with empty, emotionless silver eyes. Maisie¡¯s power signal was screeching like a wild animal desperate to get its claws into an enemy, but there wasn¡¯t even a hint of power from Marquise.


    ¡°I believe our fundamental problem is that we have different interpretations of what it means to be a hero,¡± she said eventually.


    ¡°Yeah, we already figured that out a long time ago,¡± Maisie snarled, volume rising once more. ¡°What¡¯s your point?¡±


    Marquise tilted her head to one side like a curious owl observing a rowdy mouse. ¡°Tell me: what do you think a true hero is, Miss Shaw?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve literally had this exact same conversation before.¡±


    ¡°Refresh my memory,¡± Marquise said. She glanced at me again, more pointedly this time. ¡°Or perhaps you can think of it as for your brother¡¯s benefit?¡±


    Maisie jumped, spinning around to gape at me. She stared at me for a long moment with wide eyes, then let out a low groan under her breath. ¡°Right. You¡¯re here, Emmett.¡± She grimaced, turning back to Marquise. ¡°A hero is someone who helps people selflessly, acting for the greater good and inspiring other people to do the same. Your reply will be to nitpick about the actual definition of a hero, bringing up classical myths and shit like that, maybe a little story about the ancient Herakles and his twelve labours, comparing him to our modern superhero.¡±


    ¡°The greater good, you say?¡±


    Maisie sighed, tilting her head back to glare up at the ceiling. ¡°Here we go. Should¡¯ve seen that one coming.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t the two of you join me in my office?¡± Marquise offered abruptly, stepping to one side and gesturing behind her. ¡°Perhaps a less public setting will beget a more honest conversation.¡±


    Maisie blinked, turning a baffled stare on Marquise. ¡°Not worried I¡¯ll break your stuff?¡±


    ¡°Not in the slightest, Miss Shaw,¡± Marquise replied. ¡°I have utmost faith you¡¯ve learned restraint in the last four years.¡±


    After a moment, Maisie looked at me and tilted her head questioningly.


    I took a deep breath. ¡°I want to hear what she has to say for herself.¡±


    And maybe I¡¯d have a few things to say to her, too.

 2.10: The Provident (2)

    Marquise led us through the admin building with a casual stride, utterly uncaring that a fuming A-rank superhero was but a step behind her. Maisie¡¯s power signal was buzzing like an angry hornet, but I was getting absolutely nothing from Marquise herself. Apparently, she was supremely confident in her safety, here. I knew that Maisie wouldn¡¯t ever do something so reckless as to attack another licensed superhero, but it was telling that Marquise didn¡¯t even consider the possibility worth preparing for, at least on the surface.


    I hadn¡¯t had cause to spend much time in Aegis¡¯ admin office in my past visits; in fact, I didn¡¯t recall ever going beyond the reception area, where Dad had maybe dropped off some paperwork once or twice. In retrospect, he¡¯d never seemed comfortable being here, even before Marquise had moved in. I could distinctly recall a tension in his smile that he¡¯d brushed off when I¡¯d asked him about it.


    So the interior of the admin building past the reception area was new to me, and what met me there actually took me off guard a bit. I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d been expecting from the building that was well known to be Marquise¡¯s domain¡ªI like to think I was rational enough not to buy into the rumours about her, but I had definitely anticipated something more intimidating than massive artworks depicting scenes of superheroes in action lining the marble walls. There wasn¡¯t even a hint of black.


    The admin building was one of the earlier ones to be built in AA¡¯s campus, and thus it had kept with the theme of the Olympians. The corridor directly adjoining to the reception room was more reminiscent of a Greco-Roman building than any of the more modern affairs dotting the rest of the campus. With its marble and mosaics, I actually kind of liked it.


    Still, the artworks Marquise had chosen to decorate the place baffled me at first glance. My initial thought was that they were simply holdovers from whoever had been in charge of this building before she¡¯d taken over, but the very first painting I got a good look at disabused me of that notion immediately.


    It depicted a now-deceased hero called Daydream at his most famous moment, when he¡¯d used his illusion ability to calm a villain who¡¯d been going on a rampage due to a nervous breakdown. A photo of him embracing the villain had gone viral, propelling Daydream to fame in an instant and pushing him towards a path of advocating for mental health. The artwork showed Daydream in the moments before the picture was taken, facing down the rippling muscle of the charging villain.


    That incident had occurred five years ago. Three years after Marquise switched to the good side.


    I found myself engrossed in the artworks as we passed through the white corridors. There were dozens of them, all showing superheroes at their greatest and most famous moments of triumph, except never just rehashing the images that had made heir deeds famous. Mastodon diverting a meteorite, showing the man leaping up into the sky to meet it, rather than the well-known image of his fist against the icy space rock, cracks radiating out from his strike. Lightspeed rescuing a plane that had lost power, the impressionist painting showing a shining blur racing alongside the smoking plane, rather than the award-winning photo of her beneath the fuselage, straining to keep it up in the air for a bit longer. Kingfisher at the time when he¡¯d changed public opinion of him by dragging some drowning kids out of a riptide with his net; in the artwork, he was sprinting along the beach towards the endangered children.


    And there were many more of them along those lines. Dozens. They were all great deeds. Inspirational. My heart soared with appreciation for the human race as I witnessed evidence of more and more deeds that showed just how frequently people would step up to do what¡¯s right when called upon.


    But I couldn¡¯t help noticing there was another theme in common between all these pictures.


    ¡°These superheroes are all dead,¡± I whispered.


    ¡°Yup,¡± Maisie replied at full volume without looking back, her gaze probably burning holes in Marquise¡¯s back. ¡°How noble of her to honour the fallen, right? I¡¯m sure it¡¯s a coincidence that they¡¯re all old foes of hers.¡±


    It took a second for her words to sink in. All I managed in reply was a small, ¡°Oh.¡±


    Marquise didn¡¯t react to our chatter. In fact, she didn¡¯t even look back at us even when she reached a pair of white double doors nestled surprisingly inconspicuously towards what had to be the back of the building. There was no name placard on them, no indication of what lay beyond. They opened on their own as she approached, revealing a spartan, windowless office that consisted of nothing more than a desk and three chairs. Nothing adorned the white walls, and the light seemed to come from everywhere at once. It was mildly unnerving in its lack of decoration, compared to the rest of the building.


    There¡¯s no way this is all that¡¯s in there, usually, I thought, wondering if she was more concerned about Maisie breaking her stuff than she¡¯d implied. A part of me really wanted Maisie to break her stuff, all of a sudden.


    The last artwork before her office had showed Valiant, his spear and shield in hand, standing battered and bruised with his defeated teammates around him, refusing to surrender against a foe that overwhelmingly outclassed him. I¡¯d barely glanced at it for a second, but that¡¯d been all I needed. I¡¯d seen the famous photos it was based on too many times to count.


    Marquise strode into the room and took a seat on the other side of the desk, leaving Maisie and I to stand, baffled, at the doorway.


    ¡°Not sure I like what you¡¯ve done with the place,¡± Maisie said, grimacing, her eyes darting around as if she was searching for a trick.


    ¡°Sometimes, it¡¯s good to ensure there are no unnecessary distractions,¡± Marquise replied. She gestured to the chairs in front of her, one eyebrow raised.


    Gritting her teeth, Maisie stepped into the room, stomping towards the chairs, and I followed her. Except I only took one step before stopping, my gaze snapping to the corner directly to my right.


    In the still, quiet room, the signal emanating from that spot was practically deafening. It was weak, fluttering like the sound of a moth¡¯s wings, but it was unmistakeable.


    ¡°Hm.¡± Marquise drew my attention back to her. Her eyes were sharp as they flicked between me and the corner the signal was still coming from. She raised a hand, and the signal quieted to a low buzz. ¡°What gave it away, exactly?¡±


    ¡°The power signal,¡± I replied. ¡°What are you playing at, here?¡±


    Maisie had been halfway to sitting down, but when she caught on, her eyes blazed like stars, and she shot back up to her feet. Instead of whirling on Marquise and firing off accusations like I expected, though, she stomped towards the corner of the room. ¡°Show yourself or get squashed.¡±


    There was a moment of silence, tension building, before Marquise nodded minutely. There was a ripple in space, the power signal spiking to a crescendo before fading away to nothing at the same time as a young man in an armoured full-body suit was revealed. His features were plain, his expression blank, and his dark hair shorn short. He wasted no time on apologies or explanations, simply striding from the room without a word.


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    Maisie watched him go, then finally whirled on Marquise. ¡°So you were worried after all!¡±


    ¡°Not exactly.¡± Marquise was still looking at me. ¡°Just a test.¡±


    ¡°A test. That¡¯s how it always is with you. Constantly poking people to see how they react,¡± Maisie said, striding back over to the table and looming over the vice-principal. ¡°And what did you get from this one, huh?¡±


    ¡°Your brother is sensitive to power signals,¡± Marquise said. She still hadn¡¯t looked away from me, and her head slowly tilted to one side. ¡°I always find those¡­ interesting.¡±


    I swallowed, caught between glaring back with defiance and taking a step back. The force of her attention was unnerving, like she was trying to pick me apart with her eyes. It made me feel like a lab specimen on a table, waiting to be dissected. For a moment, I considered the possibility she was using her power on me, but there was still no signal at all coming from her. Not a peep.


    As if sensing my distress, Maisie stepped between us, blocking Marquise¡¯s line of sight to me. ¡°You¡¯d better lose that interest damn quickly.¡±


    Marquise actually sighed at that. I couldn¡¯t see what expression she was making anymore, but I imagined it wasn¡¯t impressed. ¡°And we find yet another promise I cannot make. As the vice-principal of Aegis Academy, it is quite literally my job to take an interest in its students.¡±


    There was a moment of silence as her words sunk in. When they registered, my heart seemed to leap and sink at the same time. If she was implying what I thought, then I really had been given a spot in AA, fulfilling a dream that had occupied my thoughts for as long as I could remember.


    The cause of the sinking sensation was harder to diagnose.


    Maybe it was just the fact I had to find out from her of all people.


    ¡°So Emmett passed the entrance exam?¡± Maisie breathed. I tried not to feel hurt at the note of disbelief in her voice. She probably didn¡¯t mean it like that.


    ¡°If he didn¡¯t, I would have sponsored his enrolment myself,¡± Marquise said.


    Once again, the room lapsed into silence as her statement registered, the implications bearing a heavy weight. Maisie was the first to find her voice, and she sounded too baffled to remember to be angry, blurting out a simple, ¡°What the fuck are you talking about?¡±


    Shaking off my stupor, I stepped forward to Maisie¡¯s side, meeting the vice-principal¡¯s eyes. She was cool as ever, but there was something to her gaze, something more than the distant disinterest she¡¯d been showing to Maisie ever since we¡¯d intruded upon her domain, but I didn¡¯t know her well enough to pin an emotion to it.


    All I knew was it unnerved me.


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked her. ¡°I don¡¯t believe for a second that you value my actions in the practical exam.¡±


    ¡°You recently tested lower on the Shimada Scale than a previous test,¡± she said.


    ¡°I did,¡± I admitted, grimacing. I didn¡¯t bother asking how she knew that. ¡°So you want me to attend AA to satisfy your academic curiosity?¡±


    ¡°What makes you think that?¡±


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t see what else it could be. My power getting weaker doesn¡¯t strike me as an indication that my powerlessness is a temporary state of affairs, and a powerless kid doesn¡¯t strike me as something that would interest you for altruistic reasons.¡± I stared her down, trying to catch something, anything from her expression, but it was hopeless. ¡°But then again, I don¡¯t have the slightest clue as to your motivations. I don¡¯t know what you want or why.¡±


    ¡°Feel free to ask, Mister Shaw.¡±


    Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Maisie frowning. Her power signal had settled to a dull whine, her ability inert but ready. There were no other power signals nearby¡­ and it struck me, then, that that was strange in and of itself. Walls never usually blocked them.


    I looked around. ¡°This room is a signal isolation chamber?¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± Marquise said.


    ¡°You¡¯re interested in power signals.¡±


    ¡°You could say that.¡±


    ¡°Answer him properly,¡± Maisie growled.


    ¡°I believe that our understanding of powers and the signals they emit is lacking, and it is of paramount importance that we correct this inadequacy, yes.¡± She paused, steepling her fingers beneath her chin. ¡°So, yes, I am interested in signals, and thus I am interested in your sensitivity to them, Mr Shaw.¡±


    ¡°And why, exactly,¡± I said, glaring with all the venom I could muster, ¡°do you think I¡¯ll help you with that?¡±


    There was another moment of silence, and it felt good to be the one who caused of it this time, rather than on the receiving end. Beside me, Maisie smirked.


    Marquise leaned back in her chair, inspecting me. ¡°I¡¯m sensing some hostility towards my person,¡± she said dryly.


    ¡°What did I tell you about pretending to have a sense of humour?¡± Maisie cut in, stepping across and in front of me, drawing Marquise¡¯s attention. ¡°I know you¡¯re faking it, trying to make Emmett think you¡¯re not that bad. It¡¯s creepy.¡±


    Marquise looked at Maisie then, and I realised it was the first time her attention had strayed from me since I¡¯d sensed her hidden lackey. There was no change in her expression or demeanour, but the atmosphere became heavier, somehow. I could swear the temperature in the room dropped.


    ¡°Explanations, then,¡± Marquise said, and I flinched. Her voice hadn¡¯t been vibrant before by any means, but it was positively arctic now. I¡¯d thought Maisie had been exaggerating when she said the vice-principal was pretending earlier, because she was already so composed that the idea it was an act to make her seem more personable seemed absurd.


    ¡°That¡¯s better,¡± Maisie muttered, but I couldn¡¯t help but notice the minute tremor in her voice.


    Marquise stared her down, unblinking. ¡°Tell your brother what you¡¯ve kept secret as part of our agreement.¡±


    Yet again, there was a pause. 3-1 to Marquise. ¡°Really?¡± Maisie asked, sounding truly caught off guard now.


    ¡°Elaborate to your heart¡¯s content,¡± Marquise said. ¡°I give you my express permission, and will not consider our deal broken.¡±


    Maisie slowly looked between me and Marquise a few times, lips pursed, then nodded to herself. ¡°In my last year at AA, there was a guy called Jake. Massive douchebag, but with heaps of plausible deniability for the shit he pulled. At least at first. He started escalating when a bunch of us banded together to deal with the bastards sabotaging other students like I told you about, and ultimately, he got expelled for hurting a minor villain really bad during a work experience placement.¡± Maisie took a step forward, confusion forgotten as her anger flared once more. ¡°Except he didn¡¯t get expelled, did he?¡±


    Marquise said nothing.


    ¡°I saw him skulking around campus a month later, late at night after a tutoring session I¡¯d been running. I thought he¡¯d just snuck in; AA is a big place, and it¡¯s confusing enough that maybe he¡¯d found some hidden entrance. So I followed him. My power lets me be pretty stealthy, when the moment calls for it, y¡¯know? Thought I¡¯d catch him dead to rights and get the sweet satisfaction of kicking him out. Except then he met up with a few other students I didn¡¯t recognise in a place I hadn¡¯t been to before, down in the fuckin¡¯ depths of the campus. And guess who they reported to?¡±


    Once more, Marquise said nothing. She waved a hand for Maisie to continue.


    ¡°To this day, I don¡¯t know what they were doing there,¡± Maisie continued, looking at me. ¡°But I have my guesses. Maybe now she¡¯ll finally tell me the truth, if she wants your help with her shady research or whatever. My best guess? She¡¯s running her own hero programme right under the school¡¯s nose, shaped in her image.¡±


    My breath caught. ¡°And Sooyoung and Taeyong, those assholes from the test, were looking to join it.¡±


    Those words hung in the air for a moment, before Marquise leaned forward, resting her elbows on her desk. ¡°Eight years ago, Herakles and I had an interesting conversation, much like this one,¡± she began.

 2.11: The Provident (3)

    ¡°There was a time,¡± Marquise said, ¡°when I was in a position of considerable power that no one had any idea how to remove me from. Several positions, even.¡±


    ¡°That sounds almost like a confession,¡± Maisie said.


    Marquise ignored her. ¡°I had made myself thoroughly untouchable. Quite a lot of people were rather motivated to see me brought down, and yet I remained. Whether they were bruisers who only knew how to fight, thinkers with plans within plans and strategies within strategies, they could do nothing. This went on for years. I''ve no doubt you''ve heard of some of it.¡±


    ¡°People have had a lot to say about you,¡± I said, when I realised she was expecting a response from me.


    ¡°Indeed they have. And back then, they had even more to say. But somehow, it rarely occurred to them to say these things to me.¡±


    ¡°People willing to speak their minds to tyrannical supervillains are in short supply? How shocking,¡± Maisie said.


    ¡°That isn''t to say I was never subjected to heroic speeches and appeals. But it was vanishingly rare for anyone to try to understand me, strangely enough. I''ve always thought that figuring out someone''s motivations was one of the easiest ways to figure out how to beat them. That is one of the many lessons I''ve tried to impart on the students in my time at this Academy.¡±


    Maisie and I exchanged a look. ¡°You feel misunderstood, do you?¡± I asked.


    Marquise leaned back in her chair, lacing her fingers in her lap. She looked deceptively unthreatening, and with no power signal emanating from her, it was easy to buy into that facade. But, though I didn''t know her power, I wouldn''t let her fool me.


    It would take a lot more than a mild demeanour to win any sympathy from me, let alone trust. As it was, I was still expecting things to go wrong here, though I didn''t know how.


    ¡°I don''t particularly care if anyone understands me. I need no peers, and I never have.¡± She tilted her head to one side, gaze drifting to one side. ¡°But when he approached me under the banner of truce, I will admit I was taken off guard by what he had to say. Philosophical debates were nothing new to me, especially with a superhero as my opponent. But Herakles is a singular existence, in our society. Some say he is the most powerful superhuman in the world. Certainly, if you believe that the Shimada Scale is a true, objective measure of power, then he stands at the pinnacle. And he has impressive feats under his belt. This, I cannot deny.¡±


    I found myself leaning forward, despite myself. My interactions with Herakles were few and far between, and I couldn''t say he was my favourite superhero when Valiant existed. But there was something about the so-called most powerful man in the world that had such a magnetic allure, even a story from one of his former arch nemeses dragged me in.


    At my movement, Marquise¡¯s attention snapped back to me. ¡°So I took it more seriously than I otherwise might have, even if the content of what he had to say wasn''t exactly new to me. When he asked me questions, I thought seriously about my answers. And his responses were not exactly what I was expecting either.¡±


    ¡°What did he say?¡± I asked, trying to ignore the dread pooling in my stomach. A part of me didn''t even want to hear her answer. I didn''t know what I would do if it turned out that Herakles had sanctioned all of this crap that had been going on, letting his own school fall to this.


    He wasn''t my favourite superhero, but he might just be the one I respected most, if for nothing else than for all the good work he¡¯d done over his career. He was one of the first, the forerunners¡ªthe founder, you could say, of superheroism as a real life thing. The idea of him aligning with Marquise¡­ I didn''t even want to consider it. Refused to believe it.


    Marquis was quiet for a moment, watching me levelly. I don''t know what she saw in my face, or my body language, but I detected a shift in her, that I once again couldn''t explain. There was no change in her expression, and her fingers were still laced in her lap. She hadn''t even moved at all. But still, once again, there was something different about her. I narrowed my eyes. But before I could think on it anymore, she finally spoke.


    ¡°To Herakles, heroism is an utterly altruistic thing. In his mind, a hero exists to save people from danger, whatever form it may take. Physical, mental, environmental, a hero stands against it all.¡± Marquis paused for a moment. ¡°Would it surprise you to learn that I do not entirely disagree with him?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Maisie said immediately.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± I said. Maisie gave me a side on glare, but I ignored her.


    ¡°It is a hero¡¯s job to save people. This is undeniable. But what is the most effective way to save someone?¡±


    ¡°Here we go,¡± Maisie muttered. ¡°I wondered when we would get to this.¡±


    Again, Marquis ignored her. Instead, she stared at me expectantly, until I realised she was actually asking a question, and not just speaking rhetorically.


    I thought about my answer, about this situation, about what she was actually expecting from this conversation. ¡°That depends on what you''re saving a person from.¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Marquise said. ¡°When Herakles walked into my office in Austin, Texas, the example he used was of an alien invasion. That man always did have quite the imagination, and he put it to good use in posing me an impossible scenario. He went into great detail, showing a deep understanding of the resources at my disposal, which was nothing new to me. People had figured that out before. But I must admit, there was a small thrill to be found in having the most famous superhero in the world lay out his knowledge of my operation.¡±


    ¡°Eugh,¡± Maisie said, sneering in disgust. ¡°You sound like you admire him.¡±


    ¡°I''ve come to appreciate him in spite of some of his eccentricities over the years. We have a cordial working relationship.¡±


    ¡°And how did that relationship even come to be?¡± I asked. ¡°The circumstances of your switching sides has been kept secret, as far as I can tell. I always thought that was strange. You''d expect there would be more details to assuage the public¡¯s concerns about a former supervillain having access to the brightest future superheroes.¡±


    ¡°Be patient,¡± Marquis said, a little shortly, showing irritation for the first time. Or was that more acting from her? I couldn''t guess what she would gain from showing that bit of emotion, but I wasn''t yet experienced enough to fathom the minds of schemers such as her. ¡°The scenario of the ¡®alien invasion¡¯ went like this: they arrived through portals leading to the most densely populated cities on earth, and immediately began attacking. Herakles challenged me to mount a hypothetical defence that would do better than his. His idea was to gather the strongest superhumans¡ªheroes and villains¡ªin the world into an army that would take the fight to the aliens, despite the overwhelming advantage in numbers as technology our imaginary enemies possessed. Mine was to mount a guerrilla resistance, striking from the shadows, identifying important to targets and picking them off one by one, until the command structure of the enemy crumbled, allowing us to eventually defeat them in detail.¡±


    ¡°And Herakles disagree with that,¡± I said, relief coursing through me at the knowledge that Herakles was still the man I thought he was.


    ¡°He argued that it would lead to more suffering for the people of earth, if they were forced to live under the yoke of an enemy for longer. He believed it was better to strike upfront, out in the open. To show the people of Earth that we are not defeated, and inspire hope within them.¡±


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    On a whim, I took a step forward, and lowered myself into one of the seats she''d placed on the other side of her desk. After a bit of grumbling, Maisie followed suit. ¡°Herakles has talked a lot about heroes being symbols.¡±


    ¡°Just so,¡± Marquise said with a nod. ¡°Dimitri is not a stupid man. I''m sure he would be smarter about it if such a disaster truly occurred. But ultimately his philosophy is that the act is the most important thing, the image. Inspiration and hope and all that.¡± She sighed. ¡°People should not suffer, and if you can do something about it, you should prevent it¡ªthat was the meat of his argument. On this, we found that we agreed. It came as a surprise to me, that this was not a surprise to him. In fact, from the very beginning, he came to the conversation believing that we weren''t so different in mindset, just in execution. This intrigued me.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come off it,¡± Maisie snapped. ¡°Are you going to try and tell us that everything you did down in Texas was out of the goodness of your own heart? That you had the well-being of the people in mind? You know nothing you can say is ever going to convince me of that.¡±


    ¡°I''m not trying to convince you,¡± Marquise said, without looking at her.


    ¡°Why are you trying to convince me? And what, exactly, are you trying to convince me of?¡± I asked.


    ¡°We''ll get to that.¡± Once again, something about her changed, even though she hadn''t moved a muscle. It was in her voice this time, I realised. There was no physical change to it, no alteration in pitch, intonation, or emotion. But there was something there, something I couldn''t explain. ¡°There are many people out there who subscribe to a philosophy of ends justifying the means. I wouldn''t quite say that matches my outlook, but I do believe there¡¯s some truth to it. In my view, whether the most expedient solution is moral or ethical should not matter except in the most extreme cases. Criminals are always going to exist. There will always be people who are desperate, or who make bad decisions in a moment of extreme stress. And there will always be people who simply enjoy being cruel. Do you deny this?¡±


    ¡°I want to, but I''m not sure I can. I saw unnecessary cruelty for myself just a few weeks ago,¡± I said, glaring at her. It was partially her fault that''s such cruel people had thought they had a chance of entering AA in the first place after all. They wouldn''t have been in the test without her.


    ¡°Back then, I was of the opinion that I would make the world a better place if I took control of these unsavoury elements of society. I was young then. Naive, in some ways. I do not think I was entirely incorrect to think that way, but I was not entirely correct either.¡±


    I could practically feel Maisie''s eyeroll, but surprisingly, she didn''t say anything.


    ¡°That really sounds a lot like a confession,¡± I said on her behalf.


    ¡°At this point, I''m not particularly concerned about being prosecuted for my actions. And I feel no guilt for them besides. Whether or not you believe it, I am adamant that I made things better while I was in that position. And I will also posit that I have made things better in this position.¡± She gestured to the room around her, and the Academy beyond those white walls.


    Maisie barked a laugh, and even I had to blink at the audacity of that statement. ¡°How do you figure that?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Not everyone is as enamoured with the idea of superheroes as you, Mister Shaw,¡± Marquise said. ¡°For many, it''s no different from becoming a Hollywood celebrity, I''m sure you''ve noticed.¡±


    I clenched my jaw, but didn''t grace that with any further response. She was right. Of course she was. I''d observed it myself plenty of times. People who wanted that kind of thing didn''t fit in at Aegis, in my opinion. But it wasn''t as if my opinion would have a lot of weight around here, if I ever voiced it.


    ¡°And that is one of the more benign reasons a student may want to become a superhero, if they¡¯re not so noble as you,¡± Marquise said. ¡°You¡¯ve both had experience with these types, now.¡±


    Maisie shifted beside me. Her power signal had dimmed to almost nothing, I realised.


    ¡°Herakles and I were unable to come to an agreement as to who won our little debate, and so we moved on to many more,¡± Marquise continued. ¡°There are some things I¡¯m not at liberty to disclose without his permission; we made a deal, and I am a woman of my word. But you could say our argument is still ongoing.¡±


    I frowned. ¡°So, what? Herakles wants to teach heroes to stand up and do what¡¯s right, and you want them to¡­?¡±


    ¡°I advocate for a more adaptable kind of hero. The more ruthless sorts are always going to end up in positions of power somewhere. That¡¯s how the world works. While the Olympians are generally more Herakles¡¯ kind of hero, chosen by the man himself, he was realistic enough to recognise that there are more unscrupulous individuals¡ªand, indeed, entire teams¡ªeven among the upper echelons of the Good side of superhuman society.¡± Marquise unlaced her fingers, only to press her palms together, still in her lap. With it came another change in her that I couldn¡¯t put words to. ¡°You could say one of my primary jobs here is to guide those people to better outcomes, in my own way. Taking people of lesser moral character and teaching them to take actions that will benefit the greater good can only be a positive, I¡¯m sure we can agree?¡±


    ¡°Maybe if that¡¯s all you were doing,¡± I said.


    Marquise watched me for a moment, and I wondered what she saw in me. I liked to think I had been keeping my emotions mostly off my face during this exchange, but I wasn¡¯t under the impression I was any kind of acting talent.


    ¡°Believe it or not,¡± Marquise said eventually, ¡°I do appreciate courage. There is undoubtedly something to be admired in a person who will stand up and take action in a crisis.¡± She nodded towards the door, indicating the hallway beyond and its artworks. ¡°At the very least, I find it worth commemorating.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure how much any of those heroes would appreciate ending up on your wall,¡± I said.


    ¡°Unfortunately, we can¡¯t ask them.¡± Marquise paused, and yet again, something changed about her. This time, I¡¯d had enough.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± I snapped. I¡¯d tried to keep myself calm, so far, and the sudden rise in volume seemed to echo in the blank room.


    Marquise raised an eyebrow. ¡°While I admit my explanation has been somewhat long-winded, I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ve strayed too far from what you¡¯ve asked of me.¡±


    ¡°Not that. You know what I¡¯m talking about. You¡¯re¡­ doing something. I don¡¯t know what.¡±


    There was a moment of silence, and once more, there was a shift, a change. This time, it was much more tangible, carrying a feeling I could put a name to. It was like a sharp, pointed object was rubbing up against the same sense by which I felt power signals. The effect was so faint it could have been imagined, but I was confident it wasn¡¯t; she was definitely doing something.


    Something, I realised with a full-body flinch, signal related. I often described power signals in terms of sound because it was simpler for other people to understand that way, but it wasn¡¯t precisely accurate. There was resonance to it, yes, and words like pitch and frequency and tone did a decent enough job of conveying the concept.


    But it was, ultimately, a completely novel sense, and how did you properly explain that to someone who¡¯d never experienced it? So little was understood about power signals, and most of the research focused on raw output to measure how deep a well an individual could pull from.


    And even then, I¡¯d never felt anything like this.


    I stood up slowly, keeping my eyes on Marquise. ¡°What are you doing?¡± I asked again.


    ¡°Testing you,¡± she said, and once again, there was that change. There was still no power signal from her, but she was doing something to affect that same sense.


    ¡°Explain,¡± Maisie growled, shooting to her feet herself. Her power signal practically erupted from her, immediately filling the space around me and drowning out whatever Marquise was doing.


    But only for a moment.


    Something like a power signal but not flowed out from Marquise, and Maisie¡¯s power signal muted in turn. I turned immediately to her, terrified anticipation thrumming through me, half-expecting my sister to be on the ground, cringing in pain. But I found¡­ nothing out of the ordinary. Or, well, nothing unusual.


    Maisie¡¯s usual power signs were blazing; the nebulae in her eyes, the field of stars twinkling in her hair and cape, the subtle distortion as she brought her power to a hair-trigger, ready to be unleashed.


    And her power signal was utterly silent. Maisie noticed my attention, and flicked her gaze to me. Whatever she saw, it brought her up short, and her power signs faded away. She took a step towards me, one hand held up, like I was some frightened animal. ¡°Emmett?¡±


    I turned back to Marquise, wide-eyed. ¡°What are you doing?¡± I asked for a third time.


    ¡°Something I believe you may be able to learn,¡± Marquise said.

 2.12: Power

    The noise of the crowd hit us like a solid wall as we entered the stadium. Even though the main event hadn¡¯t started, the ambient din of a full arena of 150,000 people chatting away was absolutely cacophonous, and that was without even taking into account the music playing through the speakers or the countless power signals on full blast.


    It made for a disorienting experience, and I was sure my face would be set to a permanent grimace for the duration of this event, whatever else happened. I found myself questioning whether this was a good idea, but tried to dismiss those thoughts; I¡¯d come here for a purpose, and a bit of discomfort wasn¡¯t enough to keep me from my goal.


    At the very least, I wasn¡¯t put off enough to be unable to appreciate the feat of architecture and engineering that was Foresight¡¯s own Colosseum. Named and designed after the famous ancient wonder of Rome, Superverse had gone all out to make it as grand and impressive as the original must have been to its ancient visitors back when it was in operation. They¡¯d built it at the height of what people referred to as the Building Frenzy, when forward-looking corporations were in a rush to show off what could be achieved with the assistance of superpowers.


    The invisible dome, for example, that kept away the elements of the outdoors while still maintaining the open-air experience, was something that simply could never have been achieved without a small group of superhumans working in concert to make the building materials stronger, sturdier, and considerably more transparent than they naturally should have been. Not all the details of its construction were public knowledge, of course, so I didn¡¯t know quite how it all worked, but there were many things like that in this place¡ªand, indeed, in the other Building Frenzy-era constructions like it.


    Foresight Colosseum had some rivals for biggest stadium, but it definitely stood alone as the most popular. Though it could be argued that was more down to Superverse¡¯s own dominance over the field of superpowered sports and entertainment rather than any virtue of the stadium itself. They simply had too much of a first-mover advantage on that front. Much as I disliked people using their powers for such frivolous things¡ªpartly, I¡¯ll admit, borne of envy¡ªI had to be realistic and admit that it was an inevitable thing; if it hadn¡¯t been Superverse, it would¡¯ve been someone else. For that reason, I couldn¡¯t blame the company itself.


    Still, inevitable or not, I¡¯d never been one for the games that went on in this stadium, and thus this was my first time visiting the place, despite the fact my childhood best friend pretty much had an open invitation to visit for the last few years.


    Ashika walked along beside me, her power signal singing, decked out in her usual tracksuit, her short hair scraped up into a bun. There was a resigned expression on her face, owing to the knowledge that she wouldn¡¯t be able to avoid a bunch of conversations with various Superverse bigwigs. They always tried their best to woo her when they had the chance, no matter how obvious it was that she didn¡¯t appreciate it. One didn¡¯t become a TV executive without the ability to ignore others¡¯ discomfort, I supposed.


    On my other side, Maisie was more engaged, her head on a swivel as she took in the sights. Much as I wanted to despair at her enthusiasm for this event, it was better this than the hovering she¡¯d been doing for the last few days.


    Ever since our little confrontation with Marquise, she¡¯d been treating me oddly, lingering around my general vicinity in a way she hadn¡¯t in years¡ªnot since the initial verdict regarding my powers.


    I couldn¡¯t exactly blame her. I knew, objectively, I¡¯d been acting oddly myself. Getting stuck in my own head was nothing new to anyone who spent any significant amount of time around me, but I would admit that even in my most obsessive phases, I wasn¡¯t usually so unresponsive as I had been lately.


    It wasn¡¯t as if I could help that, though. There were too many thoughts swirling in my mind, shooting off in a million different directions, to the point it was hard to get a handle on them all. Maintaining any kind of conversation when a route to power was within my reach was simply not plausible. Monosyllabic answers had been all I could muster.


    And far beyond thoughts, I¡¯d found myself fascinated by every power signal that came within my range.


    From the outside, it had probably looked like I was in the greatest depression of my life. Maisie had just been worried. I knew that, and I appreciated her concern for me, when I finally dredged up enough mental processing power to devote to my immediate surroundings and realised there were worldly concerns I had to deal with.


    So, when the idea came to me to piggyback off Ashika¡¯s connections once again, I¡¯d decided to invite Maisie. My sister and my best friend typically got along like a house on fire, so they¡¯d be able to amuse each other while I remained stuck in my own mind, plotting and planning.


    We made it to our seats, right on the front row, the closest we could possibly get to the action without being directly on the field. Ashika technically had access to executive box seats where all the real luxuries were, but we weren¡¯t here to be pampered, much as Ashika herself probably would¡¯ve preferred that. We were here to see the fights.


    The fights and the power signals. I couldn¡¯t think of a better environment to get close to a running battle between powerful superhumans, not without getting really reckless. Inspecting idle power signals would be as easy as hanging around in an area with high foot traffic, and that was something I planned on. In fact, I intended to seek out every kind of signal-dense scenario I could think of. I¡¯d even taken up Dr Klein on arranging to attend a power therapy meeting, and we were in talks to let me ¡°intern¡± at the power testing labs, to see what else I could get out of the machines and the people they were testing.


    There was a concrete path forward for me now, and I was going to inspect every molecule of it as I walked it.


    My attention was riveted on the court in front of me as I took my seat. Today, the showrunners had set up a simple scene: the stage was a great square with lines dividing it into four quarters, and markings showed that each quarter was 100 metres by 100 metres. The arena gently curved up towards the middle until it reached a small platform that couldn¡¯t be more than five metres across in the centre. It rose three or so metres above its surroundings, high enough to clearly mark a ¡®hill¡¯ but not so high that it would make things difficult to follow for spectators.


    One of the most impressive features of Foresight Colosseum was its modularity. One day, it could be set up for a soccer match, the next morning it could be a racetrack, and that same night they¡¯d have it reconfigured as a boxing ring. Naturally, all of those needed to be bigger than the norm, to accommodate for the superpowers on display, and the stadium wasn¡¯t limited to the more conventional sports that had been around before the advent of superpowers.


    King of the Hill was the name of the game today. Four teams would battle it out for an entire hour, seeking to occupy that central zone for as long as possible. For every second a member stood on the ¡®hill¡¯ uncontested, their team would gain a point. More members on the hill at a time earned more points.


    With ten players on each team, it was known as one of the more chaotic events in Superverse¡¯s repertoire. They¡¯d be recording five matches today. Over two-hundred different powers in total would be displayed over the course of the next twelve hours. Every one of them would be going hard, stretching their abilities above and beyond, with the promise of millions of dollars for their eventual victory.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    It would be absolute bedlam. Madness. Sensory overload of the highest order. The power signals would undoubtedly be disorienting, overwhelming to my senses.


    In other words, it was perfect for my needs.


    Anticipation was building inside me. I tried to keep still, but it was like my legs had a mind of their own, bouncing and jostling and fidgeting. I crossed my arms over my chest, only for my fingers to start tapping on my elbows. Ashika and Maisie had been happily chatting across me, but something in my demeanour must have drawn their attention; they¡¯d fallen quiet, and I could feel their gazes on me like a ten-tonne weight pressing in from either side.


    ¡°Is that a smile I see, Emmett?¡± Maisie asked, a teasing lilt to her voice.


    ¡°It totally is,¡± Ashika grumbled, leaning close enough that I could feel some of her loose hairs tickling my cheek. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯ve had a change of heart about this super-combat crap. I thought you hated it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s for research,¡± I said.


    ¡°Research for your future career, huh?¡± Ashika said.


    ¡°No! Power signals,¡± I sputtered, sending her a glare. ¡°I told you about all this already!¡±


    Ashika narrowed her eyes at me. ¡°I dunno. I¡¯m thinking maybe you came here to see Vixen. I heard her costume¡¯s pretty revealing.¡±


    Unfortunately for Ashika, Maisie was liable to stab you in the back when it came to teasing. ¡°Oh? And where have you been hearing rumours like that, Ashika dearest?¡± she asked, faux-innocently. ¡°Been searching up naughty costumes, have we?¡±


    Ashika reared back like Maisie had just whipped out a gun. ¡°The hell are you talking about all of a sudden, woman?! I thought we were teaming up!¡±


    ¡°Oh, Ashika.¡± Maisie shook her head. ¡°You spend so much time around the Superverse nerds and execs, I thought you would¡¯ve learned it¡¯s a dog-eat-dog world out here. You just watch, kiddos, the team ups and betrayals that go on today will make your head spin. I¡¯m just preparing you.¡±


    ¡°Bleh. Whatever.¡± Ashika sat back in her chair. ¡°Fine, since I¡¯ll just get teased myself if I try to tease you, I¡¯ll ask more seriously, Emmett.¡±


    I eyed her. ¡°Sure?¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯ve you suddenly decided to go all in on the power signal thing like this?¡±


    I took a few seconds to find the right answer. ¡°I hadn¡¯t considered the possibility of power signals being important in and of themselves before, and I¡¯m mad at myself for that.¡± I grimaced. ¡°Now I need to make up for that lost time.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Ashika said. ¡°That much is obvious. But¡­ why?¡±


    My grimace deepened as I considered what to say.


    The problem was, I¡¯d made a deal with the devil.


    ~~~


    ¡°What do you mean I can learn that?¡± I asked, hating the tremor in my voice. I cleared my throat, speaking more assertively, ¡°Is your power to manipulate  power signals? You¡¯re offering to, what, mess with my signal so my power finally comes out?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Marquise said mildly. ¡°I mean that you can learn to do precisely what I just did.¡±


    ¡°What did you just do?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a very difficult question to answer. Mister Shaw.¡± She stood from her chair, and paced around to lean against the side of her desk, looking down on me with a level expression. She crossed her arms. ¡°In the past, I¡¯ve had little cause to try and put words to the feeling of power signals. Trying to explain a sense that, as far as I¡¯m aware, no one else has experienced has always been an exercise in frustration, in the rare cases that I trusted someone enough to even discuss it.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°And you trust me?¡±


    ¡°I suspect I don¡¯t need to,¡± she said, and there was gravity in her voice now, affecting the same sense that picked up on power signals without actually emitting a power signal.


    ¡°How are you doing that?¡± I asked, my voice trembling once more. I looked around the room, searching for any kind of answer, and froze when I saw Maisie¡¯s state.


    She was utterly still. Not in the way of a human that had stopped moving, but frozen, like time had stopped only for her. Her hair didn¡¯t sway, her eyes didn¡¯t blink, she didn¡¯t fidget. Her chest wasn¡¯t even moving.


    I surged to my feet. ¡°What have you done to her?!¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡± There was a change in the atmosphere, and Maisie moved.


    In slow motion, I saw her eyelids twitch a fraction, barely getting halfway through a blink before she went still once more.


    ¡°But I have done something to the two of us,¡± Marquise said, and I spun back to face her and took a step away at the same time.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Gave us some privacy.¡±


    ¡°How? You¡¯re not giving off a power signal.¡± I paused, frowning at my own words. They weren¡¯t quite true. ¡°Or not any kind of power signal I¡¯ve ever felt before.¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Marquise said, and for the first time, she smiled. It made her look remarkably normal; there was nothing inherently sinister to it, in fact it looked natural on her face, nothing to indicate that it was fake or rehearsed. And yet, it was perhaps more intimidating than anything else she¡¯d done today.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to trust you with any explanation on how I experience power signals, Mister Shaw, because I strongly suspect you are familiar with the sensations yourself.¡± She shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve no guarantee our perceptions are exactly the same, and I doubt we¡¯d describe them the same way if truly pushed to put our thoughts to words as best we could. But I can count on the fingers of one hand with plenty left over how many people have had this understanding, and this time I¡¯m not going to sit back and watch it play out. This ability is too important to go to waste.¡±


    ¡°And you want to teach me how to do whatever the hell this is?¡± I asked, shifting to glance back at Maisie while keeping the vice-principal in my line of sight.


    Marquise nodded. ¡°That¡¯s one possibility.¡±


    ¡°Hell no,¡± I said immediately. I wished my conviction on that matter was as strong as my words¡­


    Marquise nodded again. ¡°A rather low possibility, in my estimation. That¡¯s fine. Opening your mind to the concept is, for now, more than sufficient for my purposes.¡±


    ¡°What are your purposes?¡±


    ¡°I just told you, Mister Shaw,¡± she said. ¡°Making sure your ability doesn¡¯t go to waste.¡±


    Silence reigned for a long moment as I stared down the vice-principal of Aegis Academy, the former ruler of one of the world¡¯s biggest and most powerful criminal organisations, and realised that I potentially knew more about her power than anyone else on Earth, now. I didn¡¯t dare ask for more. ¡°Can you let Maisie go, please? I want to leave.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡± Marquise rose, looming at her full height. The atmosphere in the room changed again, but Maisie didn¡¯t unfreeze. Or, I suppose, it would be more accurate to say she didn¡¯t release me from whatever she was doing. ¡°But I¡¯d like to make a request of you, before you go.¡±


    I swallowed. ¡°What?¡±


    Marquise simply placed a finger to her lips.


    Needless to say, we both knew it wasn¡¯t actually a request.

 2.13: King of the Hill

    If I¡¯d thought the ambient noise of the crowd in the Colosseum was loud, the roar that went up when the first set of contestants strode out into the arena showed me the true meaning of the word. It was positively thunderous, a low rumble that built and built and built without end. It went beyond alarming and tipped over into impressive. I¡¯d never heard anything like it.


    Forty contestants entered the arena, ten from each corner, and arranged themselves in each of the four squares, striking a series of choreographed team poses which sent the crowd even wilder. Floating cameras hovered around, flitting to and fro, searching for the best angles of their star performers. I could barely make out the announcers introducing the competing teams for the first round of the day: in the square closest to us was Menagerie, to their left was Black Metal, to their left was Vanguard, and rounding out the four groups were the towering adonises of All Brawn.


    Despite my lack of interest in this kind of sport, it was inevitable that I¡¯d recognise some of them, such was their ubiquitous fame. Vixen stood out, one part because her name had only just come up in conversation, another part because her face was everywhere in advertisements and whatnot, but largely because her skintight orange bodysuit, complete with fox-like ears and a tail, left very little to the imagination. Her ¡®team¡¯ followed similar animal theming, though none were quite so revealing, and none jogged my memory.


    Black Metal had two recognisable figures, though not necessarily for the best of reasons: Shadow Knight and Black Hood probably would¡¯ve preferred to be known for their feats in the arena and black metal armour that gave the group they¡¯d co-founded its name. But my familiarity with them came from the controversy that¡¯d spawned when they¡¯d quit their more (in my eyes) upstanding superhero career in order to chase the money of the supercelebrity circuit. I turned my attention away from them quickly, lest they sour my mood enough to distract me from my objective here.


    I was most familiar with Vanguard as a full group. Chariot with his Roman-style armour, famous for his speed. Sunspear with his eye-searingly bright cape and legendary solar beams. Shieldmarden was a former Valkyrie, and her Norse-style armour and metallic wings were known the world over. Even their ¡®lesser¡¯ members were fairly big names: Frontline, Epoch, Trailbreaker, Quicksteel, Sentinel, Volt, and¡­ Clawesome (by far the lamest name on the team.) They were well known for moonlighting as actual heroes on top of the arena combat thing, and I didn¡¯t know how to feel about them.


    The less said about All Brawn the better. That group of muscle-heads were mostly known for the, ah, simplicity of their life philosophy. They were all named after gym exercises, I recalled.


    I ended up focusing my experiment on Vixen, seeing as she was the first one who¡¯d caught my attention, and, surprisingly enough, she was one of the strongest among the competitors in this round, in terms of the Shimada Scale, according to the program guide I was flicking through. It didn¡¯t really matter who I chose as my subject, but I figured a stronger power signal would make things easier, and most of the other higher-level competitors would be too mobile to keep track of. Vixen was more of a trickster.


    The announcer went through the rules of the game as each team huddled together, going over their strategies. Around me, I was vaguely aware that Ashika was being reluctantly drawn into conversation with someone, and Maisie was talking across me with a tone that was simultaneously teasing and threatening, presumably trying to warn off whoever was pestering Ashika. None of their words registered, because my mind was overwhelmed with trying to make sense of the various power signals that were slowly ramping up in front of me.


    It didn¡¯t help that there were thousands more signals in the crowd. With a mass of humanity numbering in the hundreds of thousands packed this densely, it was only inevitable that plenty of them would be using their powers for little things, and they¡¯d have no ability or reason to suppress the signal their powers produced. There was only one person in the stadium who¡¯d be bothered by it, after all.


    Still, those forty powers out in the arena floor felt like they could¡¯ve drowned out all 150,000 powers in the stadium¡ªa silly thought to have, considering there were surely plenty of other powerful spectators today besides Ashika and Maisie, but I couldn¡¯t help it; the feeling of the competitors¡¯ signals as they ramped up in preparation for their bout was just that impressive.


    Utter chaos battered against my signal sense. Disorienting, as if something had reached in my skull and rummaged around. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to endure it. They hadn¡¯t even started the actual fight yet. Things would only get harder from here.


    I narrowed my eyes, focusing on Vixen, trying to picture in my mind¡¯s eye that she was the only one out there on the field. Countless nights spent daydreaming had given me a fairly strong imagination, but overwriting reality with my personal fantasy was a more trying task. Still, I did my best, holding on to that image, pretending no one else was there.


    Doing the same with my signal sense proved even more problematic, and ramped up to nigh-impossibility when the announcer started counting down from ten, the crowd bellowing along. The power signals reached a kind of crescendo, and when the count hit zero, it was all I could do to keep Vixen in my field of vision as they all burst into motion.


    Fast. That was the first word that came to mind. The pace of the ensuing battle threw off my concentration immediately, and I couldn¡¯t help drinking in the spectacle despite myself. Nothing anyone had shown in AA¡¯s practical test could even compare to this.


    Vanguard lived up to their name, charging ahead straight for the hill, while Menagerie and Black Metal circled around in a game of chase. All Brawn were the ones to meet Vanguard head on, contesting the hill from the off, and they put in a good showing despite their distinct lack of elaborate tactics. They were, as their name suggested, suited to feats of strength, and they didn¡¯t beat around the bush with using it. The crowd went wild as Vanguard and All Brawn crashed into each other, quickly descending into a wild melee.


    I found myself leaning forward, part of me seeking out Vixen, but a frustrating amount of my attention captured by the fighting. I¡¯d watched plenty of videos of this kind of thing out of morbid curiosity, but there was something different about seeing it in person. No video could convey the atmosphere. Even the most HD audio couldn¡¯t hope to translate the noise, the feeling of 150,000 people going absolutely mad for gladiatorial combat. There was, as far as I was aware, no technology on Earth that could interpret the feeling of the clashing power signals, not least because the number of people who¡¯d be able to appreciate it numbered in the single digits.


    What surprised me was the sound of the hits. Meaty thuds accompanied every clash between the competitors, deep and loud enough to be heard even over the crowd. Chariot rushed in and aimed a wild haymaker at one of All Brawn¡¯s musclebound bruisers, and the bodybuilder went flying back off the hill, knocking over two of his comrades on the way. The crowd went nuts, and even from this distance I could see Chariot¡¯s pearly grin.


    The overall battle played out similarly to that, chaotic as it was. All Brawn were strong, but they were, ultimately, a bunch of meat heads. Their brash tactics made for some great entertainment, as evidenced by the scene before me, but their brawn couldn¡¯t match up to Vanguard¡¯s brains. Chariot and his team worked like a well-oiled machine, always having each other backs, ready to isolate and team up on the members of All Brawn every time the opportunity arose.


    As the crowd went madder and madder for every All Brawn member knocked off of the hill, I started to suspect that the muscular madmen weren¡¯t ever supposed to win this. They were fall guys, in a way. A warm-up to the main event. By the time Vanguard stood alone on the hill with their score ticking up, Black Metal and Menagerie had disengaged with each other with oddly perfect timing, and were ready to strike Vanguard from either side.


    I wouldn¡¯t go as far as to call it all staged. But the timing was rather convenient.


    The thought didn¡¯t entirely suck the fun out of it for me, but it snapped me out of my distraction enough to seek out Vixen once more. The Menagerie were now on the other side of Vanguard from us, having circled the entire arena in their ongoing battle with Black Metal; it had been somewhat of a game of keepaway, with the animal-themed ¡®heroes¡¯ chasing down the competitors in dark armour of various descriptions. Why they¡¯d acted that way rather than going for the hill from the off, I had no idea.


    But I did know¡ªif only peripherally due to having been distracted by the battle between Vanguard and All Brawn¡ªthat Vixen tended to skirt the edges of her team. She was running on all fours, and she currently looked remarkably like an actual fox. Actual fur had grown in to cover her body, her tail was much bushier and seemed to swish side to side on its own, and her legs were more animalistic than they had been before. Only her face remained entirely human.


    Thus, it was easy, if a little awkward for some reason, to pick her out of the crowd and focus on her once more. The power signals active in this place were already dizzying. I didn¡¯t have the first idea how to manipulate the sense that let me feel them so much more acutely than other people did. There was no way to squint it or widen it or flare it, because it had no sensory organ.


    But I had to try, and I had to start somewhere.


    Taking note of where Vixen was on the field, I closed my eyes and plugged my ears with my fingers. Even with that, the rumble of the stadium was still distracting, the smell of soda and fried food was strong, and plugging my ears didn¡¯t shut out the noise entirely. Still, it was something. With even a little deprivation of other senses, I was left with more attention to spare for the signals.


    I tensed in my seat, gritting my teeth. Forty strong power signals clashing together, mixing into one chaotic cacophony, was an almost painful thing to try to focus on, and the idea of trying to disentangle them and pick one out of the mess seemed almost laughable, at that moment. The best information I could gleam was that most of them were moving around, while a smaller pack were remaining relatively stationary, directly ahead of me.


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    It certainly didn¡¯t help that a power signal started building on my right, and I opened my eyes, fixing Ashika with a glare. She was looking back at me with a furrowed brow, concern in her eyes, but she held up her hands in apology when she saw my attention, falling still with a smirk. On my other side, Maisie was much more into the ongoing bout, leaning forward in her seat, riveted on the action. I rolled my eyes, took a moment to find Vixen again, then shut them once more.


    I tried directing my sense for power signals, aiming it towards the place where I last knew Vixen to have been without relying on my vision. I could tell, vaguely, that there was still a power signal coming from that direction, but it was nigh impossible to distinguish it from the thirty-nine others constantly flaring. Even so, when the signal I figured was hers moved, I tried to follow it. It turned out to be futile. She had been off to one side of the arena, taking part in some complex flanking manoeuvre with her team, and they must have rushed in to confront Vanguard head in, seeking to drive them off the hill. The signals clashed, blending together in one mad mush, and I lost any hope of tracking her.


    My eyes fell open once more, glaring at the battle. Frustration boiled within me. I took deep breaths, telling myself it was ridiculous to expect instant progress. While I¡¯d messed around with the sense before in the past, this was essentially the first time I was truly trying to grow it with any expectation of material future results. Of course it wasn¡¯t going to come easily.


    Telling myself that was one thing, feeling it was another. For years, I¡¯d laboured under the weight of unfulfilled expectations, knowing myself a disappointment, even if no one would say it. The son of Valiant, powerless? After his older sister had shown such incredible potential only a few years prior? It was only because I was a minor that it hadn¡¯t been reported everywhere, the headlines mocking my failure.


    I¡¯d tried not to let the lack of powers get to me. I¡¯d done my very best to believe that they¡¯d come some day, and I¡¯d do my best with them no matter what they turned out to be. Wherever he was now, I¡¯d make my dad proud of me, and shut up all the people who¡¯d looked at me with pitying eyes.


    But it was hard. There were days when I gave in to despair and spent all day in bed, accepting the ¡®truth¡¯ that I¡¯d be a freak of nature for all my life, the only man on Earth who couldn¡¯t even manifest a power at all. F-Rank forums held countless stories of late bloomers, and I was resigned that I¡¯d never be able to post my own story of finally gaining powers of my own.


    As time went on, as more and more people learned of my shame, those days became more frequent. I always bounced back. There was never any way I¡¯d give up for good. Hell, if I¡¯d never ever gained powers at all, or somehow received confirmation that they¡¯d never happen for me, I just would¡¯ve found another way. Technology had come a long way with powers to study, and if I just had to be more resourceful than your average superhero, so be it.


    Obviously, that wasn¡¯t ideal. I didn¡¯t want to rely on the generosity of others to fulfil my dreams. My determination to make the most of matters no matter what didn¡¯t mean I was keen to be some kind of ragtag tech ninja vigilante. Even in my darkest moments, despairing and despondent, I still wanted power.


    And now there was a path to me. It was murky and indistinct, and the one who¡¯d showed it to me couldn¡¯t be trusted, but it was there. Dark, but open. Tantalising. Even if powers never manifested for me in the traditional way, I knew there was something I could do. Something that was, perhaps, even unique.


    Paths. That was what Dr Shimada called our powers. In his mind, there was a set of routes unique to every person, and they whittled them down with their own will, narrowing their choices over and over until they had something uniquely suited to them.


    I was still at the start of this journey he described, and I had infinite paths before me, all of them unknown. All I had to do was take the first step.


    I just want power. Something. Anything.


    As long as it lets me walk the path I want to walk.


    There was no shift in my soul, no burst of power in my signal. Nothing about me changed whatsoever, on a physical, metaphysical, or mental level. This was no revelation. Not in the sense that power researchers described it.


    But it meant something to me, and that¡¯s what mattered.


    My eyes drooped closed once more. This time, I didn¡¯t focus on power signals at all. Instead, I delved back into memory, casting my mind back to the events of just a few days before. I tried to recall the feeling of Marquise¡¯s office, the ambient noise of outside power signals cut off by the hidden isolation chamber. Usually, power signals were a constant presence, and her office, in retrospect, had ironically given me the most peace I¡¯d felt in a long, long time.


    But that wasn¡¯t the important part. What I wanted to recall, in the best clarity I could, was the most significant revelation I¡¯d had since the moment I felt a power signal for the first time.


    Just the day before, I¡¯d discovered that power signals weren¡¯t the only things that could affect that sense. And then, somehow, I¡¯d learned that those other things that affected my signal sense could be manipulated.


    I didn¡¯t have the first clue how to do what she¡¯d done. On any level. Didn¡¯t even know where to start.


    But I had hunches about other aspects, and now it was time to put that to the test.


    Because there was more to this path than my own power. More to this mystery than signals.


    There were things in this world, surprisingly, that were even more important than my future.


    One of them was my past.


    ~~~


    I paused at the doorway, looking back at her over my shoulder. ¡°Who were the other people, if you don¡¯t mind me asking?¡±


    ¡°Other people?¡±


    ¡°You said you could count on one hand how many people understood how power signals feel. Who were the others?¡±


    Marquise raised an eyebrow. ¡°You truly don¡¯t know, do you? How odd.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Marquise said, ¡°I would have thought you¡¯d know your father had the same ability.¡±


    ~~~


    Clenching my jaw, I focused with all my might. The possibility of gaining power would have been enough of a motivator to keep me obsessed with power signals for months to come. But I had to admit, if I¡¯d had a revelation and gained a power of my own just a week ago, I would have snatched it with both hands, if not for that previous, more mundane revelation.


    But knowing I was walking the same path Dad had? That changed things. Made it so I wasn¡¯t sure if I wanted a regular power any more, not if I could bring myself closer to him, in an odd way.


    And so it was with extra motivation, wanting something perhaps more than I ever had before, that I pushed and pushed and pushed until all my attention was ahead of me, shutting out any of the ambient noise of excess signals in my surroundings. I leaned forward, eyes still shut, ears plugged once more. I would¡¯ve pinched my nose if I had an extra hand.


    I made sure every iota of my attention was riveted on the ongoing conflict before me. Forty signals mixed together to mount a constant barrage against my signal sense, and I dug deeper into that sensation, searching for something that lay beneath the signals themselves. It was like trying to listen for a frequency the ears weren¡¯t equipped to hear, but I persevered. There was no other choice, here.


    Casting my mind back, I sought out that lower register, the one that had affected me on a soul-deep level, both in Superverse¡¯s power testing area and in Marquise¡¯s office. The deeper resonance and the void that seemed to somehow fill the space around me.


    My jaw clenched tighter, grinding my teeth. My fingers dug into my ears painfully. I screwed my eyes shut so tight they ached. The signals howled and shrieked and thundered. I felt almost disconnected from my body, like I was launching my soul out into the arena, casting a net in the hopes of catching a specific power signal.


    And then, it happened. Quick as a lightning bolt, and it struck me just as powerfully. My whole soul jolted as something else, for just a moment, so brief I wasn¡¯t sure I imagined it, crashed into my signal sense.


    The forty signals were still jumbled, but I had an idea of what I was looking for, and my sense went straight to work on finding it, moving in a trance-like state. The signal I was looking for had seven layers of resonance, each one humming at their own frequencies yet blending together into one, building on top of a rock-solid foundation.


    That foundation felt, with some instinct I couldn¡¯t put a name to and had never been aware of before, like it was all about drawing attention, luring in curiosity with its sweet melody. On top of it came another signal, mingling with the foundation; this one sought to direct that attention, honing the melody so it could come from a different direction at will. A third blended with the second, granting the foundation a new pitch, perhaps letting it manipulate that attention, plucking emotional strings. The fourth added a completely new frequency that rested atop the foundation and its two modifiers, complimenting them in a new and different way with more weight to it, this one all about change and transformation. The fifth was¡ª


    A lance of icy pain spiked through my skull, shocking me out of concentration. I hissed, my eyes snapping open as the hands over my ears immediately moved to massage my forehead, where the pain was most severe. The light in the stadium was suddenly too bright, and I could feel my pulse pounding in my skull. The noise had already been thunderous, but now it felt like it was shaking my very bones, rattling my already-sore skull.


    I winced, sinking down in my chair. The battle in the arena was still ongoing. Black Metal had taken the hill at some point, though they only had one members scoring points while the others circled, trying to keep All Brawn at bay while the Menagerie and Vanguard were regrouping.


    The migraine coming on promised to be a painful one. My soul was like a sore thumb already¡ªI really needed to come up with a better name for whatever the hell it was that got all sore when something messed with my signal sense to the point of it being painful¡ªand it would only get worse if I took this any further. Really, the best course of action was to let Maisie and Ashika know I wasn¡¯t feeling good and head on home.


    I snorted.


    Not a goddamn chance.


    Despite the pain, a grin made its way onto my face. There was no way I could go home now, not with the breakthrough I¡¯d just had. Even if it was only for a moment, I¡¯d done something I¡¯d never been able to do before with my signal sense. I¡¯d grown. Seen tangible improvement.


    Now, I had to see what else I could do.

 2.14: Limits

    It turned out that developing an entirely new technique from an esoteric sense was easier said than done. But that had been expected. Rome wasn¡¯t built in a day.


    After hours of straining myself against the chaotic onslaught of power signals, though, I probably should¡¯ve seen the pain coming. I felt like my soul had been listening to a hundred different rock songs on full blast without any protection, and that same part of my self that had been worn out after the signal testing at Foresight Tower now throbbed like a body-wide migraine. Worse, there wasn¡¯t really a good way to relieve it. With a regular stress headache, you could at least shut yourself away in the dark. Not so for me, here.


    The best I could do was retreat to one of the VIP rooms Ashika¡¯s connections gave us access to, once the day¡¯s schedule had broke off for lunchtime. Even then, there were still countless signals around me, and they felt weightier than they usually did, battering against my signal sense rather than me passively noticing them.


    It was far from comfortable, and yet with it came a feeling of triumph. I¡¯d achieved very little in terms of actual, material gains. Beyond that moment when I¡¯d managed to isolate and focus on Vixen¡¯s signal, I had seen little success. But somehow I was fine with that.


    Just like you didn¡¯t need to beat your PB on the deadlift to feel accomplished after a workout, I supposed. The strain on my soul told me I¡¯d been working hard, even if I hadn¡¯t found a massive success to boast of. That was something. And it made me feel good.


    Just as I had that thought, a groan tore its way out of my chest without my input.


    Okay, it hadn¡¯t made me feel entirely good. But there was at least a feeling of accomplishment to offset the body-wide ache of straining my signal sense. Otherwise, it might have been pretty unbearable.


    ¡°You okay there, Squirt?¡± Maisie¡¯s voice was close to my right, speaking in a whisper.


    I cracked my eyes open to glare at her. I was laid back on one of the plush chairs in the small VIP room Ashika had commandeered, with my two companions on either side of me. Maisie was leaning over me, concern stark in her gaze, while Ashika was leaning back in her own chair, lazily resting her head on her arms, showing quite the opposite level of concern. I couldn¡¯t decide which irritated me more.


    ¡°He¡¯s fine,¡± Ashika said. ¡°This is what he came here for.¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t even argue when I called him Squirt,¡± Maisie retorted. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t call that fine at all.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll get you back for it later.¡± Ashika squinted at me for a moment, then nodded to herself with a satisfied smile. ¡°Look at him, Stargirl. He¡¯s practically preening.¡±


    Maisie gave her a dry look. ¡°While it¡¯s cute to see you coming to your friend¡¯s defence, you know I changed my name to Vesper,¡± she drawled. ¡°And where the hell are you getting preening, here? He looks dead to the world.¡±


    ¡°Well, now he¡¯s about ready to rip our heads off for bothering him while he¡¯s trying to puzzle out what he¡¯s learned so far today,¡± Ashika said, waving a hand at me as she turned her attention away to whatever was going on outside.


    ¡°She¡¯s not wrong,¡± I muttered, my voice hoarse. Well, she was partially wrong. I did want to puzzle out what little I could deduce from the strain I¡¯d put on my soul, but I wasn¡¯t in any state to be ripping anyone¡¯s heads off, let alone two people who so vastly outclassed me. Not that I would even if I could.


    ¡°What have you even been trying to do today?¡± Maisie asked. ¡°I can¡¯t wrap my head around it. All this talk of power signals all of a sudden¡­¡±


    She trailed off, and I let my eyes fall closed, so I didn¡¯t have to bear her sceptical expression. The problem with that question was: ¡°I¡¯m not sure myself. Don¡¯t know how to explain it. ¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Maisie muttered.


    ¡°I just figure I have a muscle that I¡¯ve neglected to properly train, and I¡¯m trying to fix that,¡± I said. ¡°You don¡¯t have to stick around if you¡¯re not interested in this stuff.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m interested in what you¡¯re up to,¡± Maisie said, but again I couldn¡¯t help but note the doubt in her voice.


    ¡°More like you¡¯re worried what Marquise has put me up to,¡± I corrected her, a little more snippily than I intended. I took a deep breath. ¡°Look, I get it. She¡¯s a schemer and manipulator and whatever, and you think she¡¯s got into my head. But I was going to be messing around with signals anyway. That day, when you dragged me along to confront her, I was planning to research this stuff all day anyway.¡±


    ¡°I really wish I¡¯d been there for all that,¡± Ashika said. She was probably pouting.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t all that interesting,¡± I said. ¡°She really didn¡¯t give us all that many answers. Controlled the conversation from the start, gave us the runaround.¡±


    ¡°She did,¡± Maisie said darkly.


    ¡°And, yes, she also did open up my mind to some ideas that I might have taken a little longer to come to on my own.¡± I paused, taking a deep breath. Talking while my soul was battered and bruised like this wasn¡¯t pleasant. ¡°I don¡¯t think she¡¯s trying to mislead me or harm me, though.¡±


    ¡°She probably wasn¡¯t,¡± Maisie agreed. ¡°But you can¡¯t trust her to have your best interests in mind, Emmett.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean I should ignore any potential avenue for finding my powers that might have been influenced by her,¡± I said. ¡°I can¡¯t afford to waste any opportunities, Maisie. I need power.¡±


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    There was a moment of silence, and then a hand came to rest on mine, squeezing softly. I opened my eyes again to find Maisie watching me with a mournful gaze. ¡°I know things have been hard on you¡ª¡±


    I practically jumped to my feet. My aching body protested the movement, but I ignored it. Maisie¡¯s hand almost slipped away from mine, but I caught it at the last second; didn¡¯t want to storm out of here too childishly. ¡°I don¡¯t want to do this right now. I¡¯m going for a walk.¡±


    ¡°Emmett¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not right now. Way too tired to be delving into any heavy conversations. Dinner with Uncle Adam¡¯s on Friday. We can have a mushy heart-to-heart then.¡± I gave her hand a squeeze and mustered the best smile I could. ¡°For today, I¡¯m focusing on power signals to the exclusion of all else. And right now, I¡¯m gonna go for a walk.¡±


    Maisie just nodded, smiling sadly. ¡°Sure, Emmett. See you in a minute, then.¡±


    I looked at Ashika, but she just waved lazily, still staring out the window. Permission granted, I strode from the room without looking back. Whispers were exchanged behind me, but I was happy not to hear them.


    The door at the back of the VIP room led to a lush, opulent balcony overlooking a lobby that looked like it¡¯d be more at home in a palace than a supersports stadium. Round tables, ornate chairs, golden plating on all the cutlery, and staff strutting around in immaculate tuxedos, flitting between the cr¨¨me de la cr¨¨me of clientele with unerring efficiency. It was all way too gauche for me, so I took a left turn, ignoring the stairs down to the lobby, heading towards¡­ well, nowhere in particular. Away, mostly.


    I ended up in a bathroom, which was a familiar thing, though the room itself was more flashy than I was used to. Marble floors and tiled walls rather than linoleum and grey-blue paint, and not a hint of graffiti. Finding myself in a bathroom after escaping an uncomfortable conversation was nothing new, but the soreness in my soul was a novel experience as I made my way over to the taps, splashing a bit of water on my face.


    Funnily enough, the aching condition of my signal sense didn¡¯t seem to be affected by my physical exertions. I could¡¯ve sprinted over here at full tilt, and it wouldn¡¯t have been much different from how I was feeling now. It was all about interaction with signals. For the same reason that we¡¯d chosen to move up to a VIP suite, taking us further away from the action, being here, relatively isolated, was actually doing me a bit of good.


    Right now, I could only feel a handful of signals out there. None of them particularly close. Walls didn¡¯t tend to stop signals very well unless they were made of specialist material, so that just meant I was quite far out of the way.


    I took a deep breath, staring at myself in the mirror, searching. People often said I looked like my father, with the strawberry blond hair and general face shape being the most common traits they cited. I tended to disagree, pointing to the differences between us, at least the physical ones. But when I¡¯d done so, I¡¯d really been thinking about the major difference that mattered most to me: power.


    Dad had had power. Great power, even. Oh, he wasn¡¯t one of the best out there or anything, he was never at the pinnacle, but he¡¯d got better and better over time, and that growth had placed high hopes on him, ones he¡¯d sometimes shared with me. He¡¯d had dreams of reaching the top of Olympus some day, as he¡¯d phrased it. I¡¯d taken that to mean he wanted to team up with Herakles and co. And, frankly, it wasn¡¯t out of his reach. He could¡¯ve done it.


    I, on the other hand, didn¡¯t see how something like that could ever be possible for me. Powerless, I was so far from the peak of Mt Olympus that I couldn¡¯t even see it.


    And yet, maybe there was a similarity in mine and Dad¡¯s power after all.


    If I¡¯d only had Marquise¡¯s word to go on, I might have been more sceptical. But as soon as she¡¯d said it, I¡¯d recalled Tempest telling me something similar. That realisation had inspired an all-nighter of research, going back through Dad¡¯s career in a way I hadn¡¯t been able to bring myself to do since before he¡¯d died.


    There weren¡¯t publicly searchable records on powers. The only way to learn about someone else¡¯s abilities was for them to reveal them; just like doctors were bound by patient¡¯s rights to confidentiality, so too were researchers and their ilk obligated to keep mum about anything someone wanted kept secret.


    But when you knew someone well, you could piece things together.


    Growth in power wasn¡¯t an unusual thing; there were plenty of stories of people who¡¯d jumped multiple ¡®Grades¡¯ on the Shimada Scale over time, and Levels were explicitly there to measure the growth of a power. Aspects, too, could drastically alter someone¡¯s capabilities, as Revelations allowed them to pursue new facets of their power that they hadn¡¯t previously considered.


    But Dad¡­ As I looked through his career from the beginning, I came to realise something important. When you looked past all his feats and deeds, crawled through all his interviews and appearances, and really looked¡­


    He¡¯d never once mentioned his Rank or Level.


    Thinking back, he¡¯d never told it to me or Maisie either. In fact, I didn¡¯t recall it ever coming up with anyone at all. Somehow, everyone had just assumed he stood at the very top, and he¡¯d never bothered to correct them.


    That was why it had taken me off guard when Tempest had revealed it to me. That was why Marquise, herself, was surprised¡ªor so she made it seem¡ªto learn that I didn¡¯t know either.


    Could it be that he was like me? And that he¡¯d found some path forward, allowing him to grow in power himself?


    Now that I thought of it, what had his power even been? He¡¯d always made it seem that he was merely super strong, super fast, and super smart. Like he was capable of some kind of physical augmentation. But there¡¯d been moments. Ones where he seemed to know more than he should, hear more, see more. There were times when it felt like he¡¯d read my mind, and he was deviously good at hide and seek, always able to find me and Maisie.


    Marquise had said she didn¡¯t want to let my ability go to waste. Was that what she¡¯d thought of Dad¡¯s? Was he capable of more, and just didn¡¯t know it?


    Could he have escaped, that day, if he¡¯d known what Marquise implicitly claimed to?


    I didn¡¯t know. There were so many questions I had for him, but he wasn¡¯t here to answer them.


    Drawing in a ragged breath, wiping my stinging eyes, I stood up from where I¡¯d been leaning over the sink. My stomach was turning, and my signal sense still felt like it had been strained to its very limits.


    Well sorry, Signal. Or soul. Or whatever the hell you are. We¡¯re not done yet.


    I can¡¯t be satisfied with reaching my limit. I need to push past that.


    Determination surged within me, and I strode to the bathroom door, prepared to storm back to the VIP suite and demand we retake our courtside seats. But the door swung open before I could stop it, and I came face to face with quite possibly the last person I was expecting to see.


    Beautiful golden eyes blinked down at me, taking in my sorry state. The fluffy orange ears atop her head twitched a little, and her tail swayed side to side, giving off a dubious, concerned air.


    I can¡¯t for the life of me communicate how I got that impression. But at least her words confirmed it for me.


    ¡°You okay there, kid?¡± Vixen asked, her voice soft and smooth as velvet.

 2.15: Vixen

    I didn¡¯t do anything so embarrassing as flinch or let out a yelp, but I¡¯m sure my wide eyes gave away my shock anyway. My mouth flopped open and flapped uselessly for a moment, and it dawned on me that I was probably giving the worst possible impression, but I couldn¡¯t help it. My mind had been set on one course of action, and Vixen¡¯s interruption had totally derailed my train of thought. It was taking a while to rebuild the tracks.


    Why is she even here?


    The thought echoed in my head for a moment before I fully grasped it. The VIP lounge was, as far as I knew, just a place for rich people, executives, and sponsors to mingle during breaks in the entertainment. There was always a possibility of some of the supersports stars showing up to schmooze with them, and I figured that was how Vixen had ended up here. She was a big name among sponsors, so it made sense that she¡¯d come down here to chat with the business associates the VIP rooms were generally handed out to. I didn¡¯t even countenance the idea that she was in this area specifically for me.


    Well, it was at least evident that she was here, at the entrance to this bathroom, specifically for me. It was clear in the way her eyes had given me a once over the moment she opened the door. Had she seen me making my way here in a sorry state and come to make sure I was okay, thinking I was the family member of a sponsor or something? That was an embarrassing prospect.


    But, at the same time, it raised my estimation of her a bit. Which was, in its own way, another unfair thought. I knew, objectively, that just because people like her didn¡¯t use their powers for selfless superheroics, didn¡¯t mean she was a callous, compassionless person in every aspect of her life. Or at all, really. Being surprised that she¡¯d check on someone who appeared to be having a bad time was deeply uncharitable. Especially when I knew she was involved in a bunch of charity stuff, though the details eluded me. Sure, it was celebrity PR, but even I didn¡¯t believe that every action a person took had to be 100% altruistic.


    The concern in her eyes was deepening with every moment, and I realised I¡¯d taken way too long to reply. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I said, then winced. The hoarseness of my voice had immediately put the veracity of that statement into severe doubt. Indeed, Vixen frowned at me, and I tried to give her a reassuring smile. ¡°Nothing to worry about. I¡¯m just¡­¡±


    And it was then that it hit me: a premonition of sorts. Nothing to do with powers, just a simple prediction based on my lived experience with social interactions. From here, I would endeavour to ensure her I was okay, downplaying my symptoms to free her from any concerns weighing her down, thus allowing her to go on with whatever she was doing for the rest of the day without guilt, and equally permitting me to return to the arena floor and continue putting my signal sense through a strenuous workout.


    But was that the best outcome here?


    Before me stood the person whose power signal I¡¯d actually managed to see any success in isolating, and now here she was, isolated in a different way. Oh, there were still a few other signals around, raking at my senses like nails on a chalkboard. But nothing like how many there¡¯d typically be in any other scenario I could realistically expect to encounter Vixen in.


    There was an opportunity in front of me.


    ¡°My power,¡± I began, feeling a little giddy at referring to it as such for the first time, ¡°can just get a little overwhelming with so many people around, is all.¡±


    ¡°Looks that way,¡± Vixen said. She tilted her head to the side, curious. ¡°What kind of power have you got that makes you all pale and shaky after watching some supersports, kid? I thought you were one of those squeamish types, and we were gonna have a nice long chat about how everyone in that arena knows exactly what they¡¯re signing up for, and does it willingly.¡±


    I blinked. It took me a moment to understand what she was referring to¡ªthere¡¯d been an injury in the last match before they broke for lunch, though there¡¯d been no announcement as to the nature and severity of said injury. All anyone in the Colosseum knew was that one of the members of the Sentinels had taken a hit and stayed down afterwards; the game had been temporarily halted, and medics had rushed onto the field. Battle had resumed after the guy had been stretchered off, so the presumption was that it wasn¡¯t so bad.


    ¡°No, that doesn¡¯t bother me,¡± I said, waving her off as nonchalantly as I could manage. Then I frowned. ¡°Well, it does. It¡¯s not nice to see someone get hurt for something like this¡­¡± I trailed off, figuring it probably wouldn¡¯t be socially acceptable to tell Vixen to her face that I wasn¡¯t especially impressed by her chosen profession, so I left that statement unended, switching tacks. ¡°But I¡¯m aspiring to be a superhero myself, so I¡¯m not going to let an injury affect me. No, it¡¯s like I said. So many powers in one place wore me out.¡±


    ¡°Uh huh?¡± Vixen said leadingly.


    I realised I hadn¡¯t actually answered her question. ¡°My power is¡­ tricky. It lets me sense other powers when they¡¯re in use, and analyse them. Sort of. There¡¯s more to it than that, I think, but I¡¯m still figuring it out right now.¡±


    A look of understanding replaced the concern in Vixen¡¯s eyes, and her frown slowly transformed into a smirk. ¡°So you came down to the supersports to get a good look at some strong powers in action, huh?¡± She leaned forward, gazing deep into my eyes with a light pout. ¡°I came here to check you were okay when I saw you stumbling about like a zombie that¡¯d eaten too many brains, but should I be looking to silence you instead? Can¡¯t have anyone posting my foxy secrets all over the internet, after all! I¡¯ve been having so much fun with my rivals struggling to counter me.¡±


    ¡°Oh, sorry.¡± I rubbed the back of my head, feeling suddenly awkward. ¡°I¡¯m not intending to do anything like that, I promise. Really, I¡¯m here for the sake of my own power, I¡¯m not really giving much thought to anyone else¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Good boy,¡± Vixen said with a wink, straightening up. She tilted her head to one side. ¡°So, what did your power tell you about mine?¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re level seven,¡± I said.


    ¡°Publicly available information,¡± Vixen said with a teasing lilt to her voice. ¡°Anyone could tell you that. What else? Gonna expose the grand secret that I work with illusions?¡±


    ¡°Actually, your foundation is something to do with attention, drawing it to you.¡±


    One orange eyebrow slowly rose. ¡°That¡¯s a lot less public, though I¡¯m sure you can find old school records talking about it if you looked deep enough. Technically, it wouldn¡¯t be doxxing, since the people who actually leaked that shit have already done it.¡± She scoffed. ¡°So you can identify someone¡¯s Aspects, too. That¡¯s definitely more impressive.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m still figuring it out,¡± I said, feeling even more awkward, and more than a little dishonest. After all, I¡¯d only actually delved into this ability of my signal sense of the first time mere hours ago, and she was its first successful target. ¡°I only managed to see a few more of your Aspects, to be honest. And I don¡¯t have any clue about your revelations, if you¡¯re worried about that,¡± I hastened to add.


    ¡°Good to hear,¡± Vixen said with a smile. ¡°What Aspects did you pick up?¡±


    I had to think about it. It wasn¡¯t so long ago, but I hadn¡¯t put much thought to memorising what I¡¯d learned; I¡¯d been completely truthful when I told her my focus was on developing my own power, rather than learning about other people¡¯s. ¡°Uh. One of them was about directing the attention, which worked closely with another one that attached emotion to the attention.¡± I paused, then shrugged. ¡°The last one was more difficult to get a handle of, since it kind of felt like something much bigger that built on the foundation, rather than the other two, which kind of mingled with it.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Vixen prompted.


    ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t really get it. It was something to do with transformation. Shaping.¡± I squinted at her. ¡°I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s when you started pushing your path more towards illusions.¡±


    ¡°It was. That aspect is all about changing the thing I¡¯m making someone focus on,¡± Vixen said with a vulpine grin. ¡°It¡¯s when I started working with the fox shtick, too. After a big leap in my powers that made them so much more impressive than before, of course I went a little wild with researching everything I could about illusions, and found my way to the myth of the nine-tailed fox. A trickster spirit who used illusions? Sounded like a great theme for me.¡±


    I eyed her. ¡°I only see one tail.¡±


    ¡°I have as many tails as I want,¡± she said. She looked me up and down. ¡°So, your power¡¯s pretty cool. Kinda limited for the whole hero thing, right now, though?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± I said, ¡°I¡¯m literally F-rank and Level 0. I¡¯m hoping I¡¯ll get more utility out of it in the future.¡±


    That was the understatement of the century.


    Vixen blinked a few times. ¡°Really? Wow. That¡¯s¡­¡± She winced. ¡°Would it offend you if I called that impressive? I¡¯ve heard people with low ranks can get kinda touchy about it.¡±


    I¡¯m far more than touchy about it, lady.


    But being called impressive was actually enough to offset that, as it turned out. Still, I figured I could push my luck a bit, here. ¡°Well, you can make it up to me by helping me out a bit,¡± I said with a grin.


    ¡°How¡¯s that?¡± Vixen asked.


    ¡°Nothing difficult,¡± I said. ¡°All you gotta do is use your power a bit, and let me¡­ Uh. Watch, I guess? With my own power?¡±


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    This time, both of Vixen¡¯s eyebrows climbed towards her hairline. She gave me another once over. ¡°Sure that¡¯s a good idea, uh¡­ what was your name again?¡±


    ¡°Emmett. Sorry, I hadn¡¯t given it before.¡±


    ¡°Right. You sure that¡¯s a good idea, Emmett? It seems like your power is taking a lot out of you.¡±


    ¡°No pain, no gain,¡± I said. ¡°And it¡¯s not as bad as it looks, really. It¡¯s not a physical thing. I could run a 5k right now, and it wouldn¡¯t change the state of my power.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s your power that¡¯s tired?¡± Vixen frowned. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of a power working like that, and I¡¯ve seen plenty of¡­ what is it they call them? Meta powers?¡±


    I nodded. Meta powers was the common but unofficial parlance for powers that worked with other powers in some capacity. They were rare, and typically not as impressive as they sounded; the most powerful meta ability I knew of was a guy in Indonesia who passively suppressed all powers within a few metres of himself down so they were no greater than an F-rank.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t that mean it¡¯s still a bad idea, though?¡± Vixen continued, tilting her head to one side in thought. ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong, I¡¯d happily help you out if all I have to do is turn my power on and play around with it a bit. But if you¡¯re already feeling like crap, maybe we shouldn¡¯t push it.¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s just one signal, it should be fine,¡± I said.


    ¡°Signal?¡±


    ¡°Signals is just the common term for the psionic phenomenon emitted by powers when they¡¯re in use.¡±


    ¡°Oh, right. I thought I¡¯d heard that before somewhere.¡± Her head tilted even further, then cocked back the other way. Was she deliberately trying to appear like a curious fox, or did it just come naturally to her, now? ¡°Isn¡¯t that a scientific thing, though? Like, they have all these big machines at Superverse¡¯s labs meant to measure that kind of stuff.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, exactly. I can even sense the signal given off by those machines when they try to measure power signals. It¡¯s a whole thing. Dr Klein was very interested in it.¡±


    ¡°Oh? You know Dr Klein?¡± Her eyes seemed to sharpen, gaining a yellowish sheen. ¡°I¡¯m gonna risk offending you again, here: while I admit I can totally see the doc taking an interest in yours, I can¡¯t imagine Superverse funding research into it.¡±


    I understood the implied question, though I couldn¡¯t for the life of me comprehend the sudden change in her demeanour. ¡°They don¡¯t. I tag along with a friend of mine who Superverse is much more interested in. Ashika Reddy?¡±


    ¡°Ah, yeah. I¡¯ve heard of her. The teenage A-rank.¡± Vixen¡¯s eyes lost that sharp edge, and she moved to lean against the wall beside the door, letting me step out onto the balcony overlooking the VIP lounge. I leaned against the railing, looking back at her with what I hoped wasn¡¯t too much weariness. Why¡¯d she been so serious, all of a sudden? And what about my answer made her drop that seriousness like it had never happened?


    ¡°It¡¯s not an uncommon thing for late bloomers to feel power signals,¡± I told her. ¡°For most people, their own signal kind of teaches their brain to tune it out, and they stop feeling them within days of getting their own power.¡±


    ¡°Interesting,¡± Vixen said, though her tone said otherwise.


    ¡°Anyway, just feeling one power signal shouldn¡¯t be a problem,¡± I said. ¡°My current state is because there were just so many, all mixing together and clashing. Imagine going to a concert and there¡¯s like forty bands on the stage, all playing their own music. You¡¯d have a headache in no time.¡±


    ¡°But the last thing you want when you¡¯ve got a headache is to listen to even one band,¡± Vixen pointed out, quite reasonably. Then she shrugged. ¡°Well, far be it from me to try and tell you what your limits are. You have a better understanding of your power than I do.¡±


    Not by much, to be fair, I thought, a little sardonically. I had to turn away to hide a self-deprecating smile that forced its way onto my lips.


    ¡°If you say you can handle it, that¡¯s up to you,¡± Vixen continued. ¡°I guess there¡¯s no harm in just messing about with my power for a minute. See if you can get anything out of it, kid.¡±


    My smile turned into a grin, and this one I made no attempt to hide, immediately turning to give her a heartfelt thanks. Triumph and excitement surged within me, and it was all I could do not to bounce in place like a hyperactive kid waiting to be let out into recess. I hadn¡¯t expected convincing her to use her power for me to be such a trial, but I suppose it ended up making success taste all the sweeter. With this, I¡¯d be able to focus on her power with nothing¡ªor, well, very little¡ªelse around to distract me. I couldn¡¯t wait to see how I progressed, and I was going to give it my all to see that I¡¯d do so.


    ¡°Watch closely,¡± Vixen said as she lifted her hand. A moment later, her signal came to life.


    This time, it was different. I wouldn¡¯t quite say it was effortless to tap into that state I¡¯d found before, next to the arena, but it certainly came much easier. Part of it was proximity, I thought, with no other disturbances around; her signal was so clear it was like the only thing in the world. Another factor was familiarity. I¡¯d already felt her signal more deeply than any other I¡¯d experienced, and that was while there were hundreds of other signals interfering.


    But the biggest, most important element, I felt, was me. Not anything I was actively doing. I wasn¡¯t arrogant enough to believe I¡¯d improved enough in one day to make it come so much easier to me.


    No, it was my current state that was so different. My worn out signal sense, my aching soul. With the workout I¡¯d put my strange ability through, my entire metaphysical being was sensitive as an exposed wound, and being this close to a powerful, active signal was like pouring salt into it. My soul stung, somehow, as tiny purple sparkles trailed lazily from Vixen¡¯s fingers.


    I could feel the foundational Aspects of her power, drawing my attention to those sparks and demanding awe. It was a subtle effect, and knowing about it took a lot of the edge off its power, but I couldn¡¯t help feeling impressed by it, all the same.


    Frankly, it didn¡¯t compare to the awe I felt for her power signal, even if it was currently pressing against my signal sense like a heavy weight that somehow attacked from all sides. I closed my eyes, focusing on the signal, doing my best to pick it apart.


    Again, I could identify seven signals, all working together like different pieces in a band to form a harmonious tune. This time, I sought out the last three I hadn¡¯t been able to identify last time.


    It was hard to say what told me the order the signals came in. The foundation was obvious, it was, in effect, the central piece of the arrangement that all the others built on. They didn¡¯t all fit in the same way; the first two kinda mingled with the foundation, enhancing it, while the third was like another lesser foundational piece that harmonised with the first and opened up new possibilities, making the whole structure simultaneously stronger and more flexible. There was nothing obvious to indicate what order they came in. I just knew.


    Still, I easily identified the foundation and first three aspects: directing attention, stoking emotion, and transformation.


    The next two aspects built on transformation, just like the first two had built on attention. It was hard to tell them apart, so similar they were, and they were much harder to understand in general than the lesser aspects¡ªand signals were already esoteric and indefinite enough to begin with.


    After a moment, I decided to label one as mind and one as matter. They both, ultimately, seemed to modify transformation to bring it something more tangible. My best theory was that mind drew from an observer¡¯s imagination to fill in blanks and make the illusion more believable, while matter sought to give her illusions more physical weight to, again, make them more believable. It was nebulous, though. I could be wrong.


    The last aspect, the seventh of her signals, was hardest to wrap my head around. It was closer to another foundational signal than one of the modifiers, but it didn¡¯t quite open up a whole new path of possibilities as transform had. If anything, it drew from all of them, brought them together, made them really pop.


    If I had to give a name to it¡­ I¡¯d want to call it transform again, but in a different way. Mutate, maybe? It was about taking the perceptions of those whose attention she was under, drawing them out like thread from a spool, and wrapping those threads around her until she was cocooned in them, and within she could create something new. Something both tangible and intangible.


    And I couldn¡¯t help noticing there was¡­ more to her signal. Noise, untapped. Unfulfilled energy that had yet to be defined, waiting to be moulded into a new aspect of her signal.


    There was a depth and weight to this signal that I¡¯d never been able to experience before, and I marvelled at it. It was all incredible, and it made me giddy to be feeling all this, to be analysing and understanding someone else¡¯s power in a real, material way. It made me feel like I had power of my own.


    That thought stuck with me as I turned my attention, ever so briefly, to my own soul. It was a tiny thing, compared to hers. In fact, there functionally didn¡¯t seem to be a signal in my body at all. No untapped resonance waiting to be formed into a foundation. I was¡­ empty. Especially compared to her.


    But that didn¡¯t mean there was nothing there at all. There was no signal in my body, but there was evidently something there to receive signals, in some fashion. Otherwise, obviously, I wouldn¡¯t have been able to feel signals at all.


    I looked deep within myself, using the emanating resonance of Vixen¡¯s signal as a guide, trying to find the place inside me that was receiving and translating the sensation of power signals to something my brain could comprehend. I prodded at that full-body ache that I¡¯d been feeling for the last hour, my signal sense having been overwhelmed by a full morning of trying to focus so stringently on power signals.


    And with that focus, I¡­ sensed it. That was the only way I could put it. There was nothing to see, nothing to hear, nothing to taste, nothing to smell, nothing to feel. It was a completely different sense, like the one I¡¯d experienced at the hands of the power testing machines in Superverse¡¯s labs, or when Marquise had filled her office with emptiness, drowning out Maisie¡¯s signal.


    It was my entire soul, my entire power sense.


    Ever so faintly, it was vibrating. Resonating. Not strong enough to give off a signal of its own, because it wasn¡¯t even attempting to.


    I finally understood what it was doing, when I was feeling other people¡¯s power signals. Why it made me so uncomfortable at an indescribable, soul-deep level when I felt more than one signal. Why I felt so worn out right now.


    Why I was dizzy, swaying on my feet, my legs turning to jelly.


    I¡¯d often compared my signal sense to hearing, just for the sake of a convenient way to explain an entirely novel sense to people who didn¡¯t possess it. For the most part, I¡¯d thought it didn¡¯t actually fit very well.


    Now, I figured it was actually kind of apt.


    Because hearing was, essentially, outside frequencies vibrating your ear drum, which your brain then interpreted as sound.


    Just like how my soul was vibrating with the same frequency as the power signal I was sensing.


    And even after Vixen had shut off her own signal as she presumably rushed towards me before my shaky legs could give out, I could still feel my own soul, withered and weakened as it was, still vibrating with that same frequency.


    I couldn¡¯t stop grinning, even as my back hit the ground and my consciousness faded away, dragging me into oblivion.

 2.16: Resonance

    My dreams came in brief flashes, interspersed with long periods of darkness where the only thing I was aware of was my own body, trapped in a black void. Like I was watching a corrupted video, I saw only snippets of my unconscious hallucinations, accompanied by odd sounds, either muffled or the wrong pitch or distorted. Even though I knew they were dreams, I couldn¡¯t even call them lucid, because there wasn¡¯t enough time to affect them.


    There was no common theme to them, as far as I could tell. And if there was any metaphorical significance to what I was seeing, I hadn¡¯t figured it out by the time I lost count of how many I¡¯d been through. They seemed utterly random to me.


    An unfamiliar woman with black hair, leaning down, patting my head. A small town at nighttime seen from a rooftop, flat fields stretching endlessly beyond it. A packed stadium, viewed from the arena floor. Walking through a crowd, all of their attention on me. Soaring through the skies, watching the clouds go by below. Lying in bed, staring up at a bunch of blurry posters on a damp ceiling. And more things along those lines.


    I couldn¡¯t make sense of any of it, and ended up paying little attention to them after a while, instead becoming frustrated when they forced my attention away from my own body in that black void that came between the little snippets of dream. In the darkness, I was aware of myself in a way that I¡¯d never felt before. I could feel everything. It was like my proprioception had turned completely internal: The blood pumping through my veins. The air filling and draining from my lungs. The electric spark of signals travelling through my nervous system.


    Most of all, I could feel my power signal, such as it was. Like this, my F-rank rating was all too understandable. If anything, what I was feeling here probably didn¡¯t even deserve F-rank¡ªcompared even to the weakest signals I¡¯d felt since gaining the ability to sense them, it was hilariously weak. If I¡¯d been able to actually move my body rather than merely feel it, I would¡¯ve laughed out loud at the absurdity. It could barely even be called a signal. Hardly there. If they measured it, it¡¯d set a world record for number of zeros.


    But it was there. Weak and thin and utterly undefined, but it was there. Honestly, it had actually got a bit stronger since I¡¯d gained this little awareness of myself, presumably growing back to its regular state after the punishing workout I¡¯d put it through. I got the impression there¡¯d been a period where I was truly unconscious, my signal weakened so bad that some crucial processes had diverted their attention to repairing whatever they could. It hadn¡¯t been as if I¡¯d maintained awareness straight away after fainting in front of Vixen.


    Right now, I was in an odd state of dissociation, my emotions deeply suppressed, but I knew I was going to feel humiliated about that incident when I woke up. She wasn¡¯t a hero I greatly admired or anything, but collapsing in front of anyone right after I just convinced them that I¡¯d be okay was a mortifying thing. I¡¯d have to apologise to her, somehow. And thank her. Presumably, she¡¯d rushed to get me help.


    Thinking of Vixen took me back to what I¡¯d felt of her signal. And, more importantly, what I¡¯d discovered about mine. My own signal had reverted to what I was now thinking of as its base equilibrium. If other signals had specific, unique frequencies, then mine was completely neutral, toneless. White noise, as opposed to the variously elaborate tunes that other signals emanated.


    But I suspected it wasn¡¯t always that way. Back then, with Vixen, I¡¯d come to a realisation: my ability to sense signals might not necessarily be some special sense I¡¯d developed, but instead my own signal resonating with others. That¡¯s why it was always so uncomfortable to be around a lot of signals at once, and what made it so difficult to pick out one signal from the crowd. That¡¯s why it weakened me on a level that had always been so hard to explain, why it left me mildly disoriented.


    It recontextualised everything. Explained so much.


    The reason I felt the power measurement machines in Superverse¡¯s lab was because my signal was trying and failing to mimic whatever the hell those things were doing. My Shimada score lowered after interacting with signals because my signal actually was getting physically weaker from the strain of¡­ whatever my signal was trying to achieve.


    And that, I felt, was the crux of the matter. The real million-dollar question(s).


    What was my signal actually doing? And why?


    Was this just a thing that naturally occurred if you didn¡¯t mould your power signal into a foundational power straight away, for whatever reason? Or was it something unique to me?


    The latter possibility seemed unlikely, since Marquise had not only implied that my dad was the same way, but that she could do something similar, too. And if Marquise and I had the same ability¡­


    I¡¯d never be pompous enough to pat myself on the back and boast of my intelligence for all to hear, but I figured I was no idiot. A good memory and a lot of dedication had always yielded good grades in school, and I generally picked up skills and absorbed knowledge without too much stress. I¡¯d never go and call myself a genius, but I¡¯d be comfortable categorising myself as smart.


    Smart enough, at least, to make obvious connections.


    Take the fact that Marquise was quite clearly capable of using some sort of superhuman ability. And that she¡¯d said I could do the same, with the heavy implication that power signals were the answer.


    Combine that with the fact that I¡¯d felt my own signal resonating to the same frequency as another person¡¯s power signal, if only weaker, and for only a moment.


    I could put two and two together, but I wasn¡¯t sure I wanted to. After years of disappointment, allowing myself to feel hope was a dangerous prospect. If things didn¡¯t work out as I wanted now¡ªif this new discovery turned out to be lesser than the Revelation I was starting to imagine¡ªit would only be all the more crushing.


    That wasn¡¯t a logical way to think. It wasn¡¯t borne out of any kind of rationality or reason, it was just me trying to protect myself from the pain that would come from crushed expectations. I¡¯d been burned this way a few times before, when it had seemed like new avenues might¡¯ve be open to me, only to see them mercilessly slam shut.


    But even if it was rational, emotion was starting to creep back in, piercing through the numb haze I¡¯d found myself in ever since I became aware of myself in this unwaking state. I hadn¡¯t seen another snapshot dream in a while.


    Soon, I was sure, I was going to wake up.


    And at that time, I¡¯d have to face the reality of the situation, whether I wanted to believe it or not. I¡¯d have to test the theory out, and accept the disappointment if the idea bobbing around in my stormy thoughts turned out to be incorrect.


    Even telling myself that, even knowing that the pain would be all the more unbearable if it turned out not to be true, the possibility of being able to manipulate signals, whether it was my own or others¡ªpotentially even mimic other people¡¯s signals and, by extension, their powers¡ªhad me grinning like a lunatic when my eyes finally opened. It must have been quite the sight, if anyone was watching.


    I blinked a few times to adjust my eyes to the dim light, and found myself staring up at a plain white ceiling. Turning my head to either side, the same could be said of the walls and floor: all white, and distinctly devoid of any kind of decoration¡ªunless you counted the four cameras sitting at the upper corners of the cube-shaped room, which I didn¡¯t. There wasn¡¯t even a door. Where the light was coming from, I didn¡¯t know, but I was glad not to wake in total darkness.


    Other interests had kept me calm, back in that unwaking state I¡¯d been in. If I hadn¡¯t had the ability to inspect my power signal and keep my focus on that, it would¡¯ve been quite the distressing situation. Paralysation wasn¡¯t my worst fear, per se, but it horrified me enough that that scenario might have bothered me a lot more, in other circumstances.


    I sat up, assessing my body, still wearing the clothes I¡¯d come to the Colosseum in: a simple tracksuit with comfortable white sneakers. My power signal was still a tad sore, but it seemed to have pretty much recovered from the punishment I¡¯d put it through. My physical body was fine, too, but there hadn¡¯t been any problems there in the first place.


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    So. It turned out that overworking my power signal could, somehow, knock me unconscious. Seeing as she¡¯d been right next to me at the time, Vixen had probably called for help, and she would¡¯ve relayed to any emergency responders what had been going on just prior to my collapse. I couldn¡¯t say for sure that this would¡¯ve been the first time any paramedic had ever heard of someone blacking out due to a mere power signal, but I gave it even odds.


    There¡¯d probably been a bit of a panic, no one knowing what to do to solve the problem, growing increasingly baffled as any tests they ran showed them I was physically fine. Power signals weren¡¯t a commonly known thing, after all. Most people never even got to experience them, and most that did barely felt them for more than a few weeks.


    But evidently someone had eventually cottoned on to Vixen¡¯s explanation and come up with the bright idea of putting me in a signal isolation chamber.


    Aside from Marquise¡¯s office, I¡¯d only been inside isolation chambers a few times. They were generally meant to ensure no outside interference when doing particularly delicate signal tests. Given my whole ¡®no signal¡¯ situation, a few enterprising researchers had thought to stick me in one and do the generalised Shimada test there. It had given me some familiarity with them, over the years.


    Even if I¡¯d never been inside one before, I figure I would¡¯ve identified my current location pretty quickly anyway. The total lack of signals around me just did not happen. Ever. In other circumstances, I might¡¯ve considered the ¡®silence¡¯ as blissful, but right now all I wanted to do was feel as many signals as possible and see how my own reacted to them.


    Frustration boiling within me, I picked one of the cameras at random and glared up at it. My bed was placed almost in the centre of the room, and the cameras had all twitched minutely when I¡¯d sat up, so I knew there was something watching, at least, and if it wasn¡¯t a human monitoring me, the program would hopefully alert someone that I was awake.


    Sure enough, barely a minute passed before a familiar voice echoed from above like the word of god, ¡°Ah, Mister Shaw. Good to see you awake, young man.¡±


    I blinked a few times, immediately placing the voice but struggling to believe it. ¡°Dr Klein?¡± I asked. ¡°Since when do you get involved in medical emergencies?¡±


    ¡°Since I got the call from young Miss Reddy that you¡¯d been knocked unconscious by overuse of your power signal, and, as the most knowledgeable expert on signals she knew, my assistance was demanded. Naturally, knowing what I do about you, I pulled some strings to get you sequestered away in a signal isolation chamber. We would¡¯ve liked to run some tests, but recalled you reacting negatively to the power testing machines last time, and didn¡¯t want to exacerbate whatever signal-related troubles you were having unless the situation deteriorated. Luckily, you started showing signs of recovery as soon as we closed the door.¡± He paused, then spoke quieter, ¡°The young lady is deeply unimpressed with you, by the way.¡±


    A chuckle escaped me before I could stop it. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m in for the lecture of a lifetime. My sister was there too, you see.¡±


    ¡°Vesper, yes. I don¡¯t know how I didn¡¯t make that connection between the two of you, before today.¡± Another pause. ¡°You don¡¯t sound particularly concerned about receiving their ire.¡±


    ¡°Hard to bring myself to worry about stuff like that when I¡¯m riding the high of a new revelation.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Have you finally achieved a foundation, then?¡±


    ¡°Something like that.¡± I paused as I stretched out my legs and arms, wiggled my fingers and toes. Everything seemed to be in order. ¡°You said today? I wasn¡¯t out long, then?¡±


    ¡°Approximately four hours have passed since you first collapsed before Vixen.¡±


    That finally wiped the smile off my face. How mortifying. ¡°I¡¯m gonna have to apologise to her.¡±


    ¡°Yes. She was deeply unimpressed too,¡± Dr Klein agreed. ¡°She claimed you¡¯d assured her it would be no problem.¡±


    I winced. ¡°Yeah. In my defence, I had no idea it would actually have that strong of an effect on me. I just thought it would be unpleasant.¡±


    ¡°Well, now you know,¡± Dr Klein said, sounding cheerful. There was a moment of silence, and when he spoke again, there was a deep note of curiosity in his voice, ¡°So, what did you discover, Mister Shaw? The mystery of your power signal has been plaguing me ever since your visit. While I admit I would¡¯ve preferred to find the answer myself, I must say very I¡¯m intrigued by this revelation of yours.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a revelation in the way that you¡¯re probably thinking,¡± I told him, stalling for time a bit. I didn¡¯t know for sure whether I wanted to advertise what my signal sense could potentially do. Quite apart from the possibility I was wrong and how humiliating that would be, the chance I was right was equally worrying, in its own way.


    On the more extreme end, if I truly could copy powers, that was a big fucking deal. It was the kind of thing that would bring international attention, and I imagined there would be a myriad of mixed feelings among the population. Above all that, I could see a scenario where a lot of people wouldn¡¯t like the idea of someone out there being able to copy their hard-earned power at all. I didn¡¯t want to be a shady bastard copying signals without consent, but at the same time I didn¡¯t want to be under mass scrutiny.


    If I was going to tell Dr Klein about anything at all, I wasn¡¯t going to be revealing some of my more optimistic speculations. Hopefully, he wouldn¡¯t come to the same conclusion on his own.


    ¡°As you can probably guess, I went to the Colosseum to expose myself to signals in a different context, like we discussed.¡±


    ¡°That was my assumption, yes.¡± The eagerness in Dr Klein¡¯s voice was palpable. I could imagine him leaning closer to the screen he was watching me through, and gave a wry smile to the nearest camera.


    ¡°I wanted to see if I could isolate one signal among loads of others while they¡¯re all absolutely blaring, using their powers to the fullest. It was a pain in the ass, to the point I only actually managed it once, and early on to boot.¡±


    ¡°Even that much is a success,¡± Dr Klein said. ¡°It must have been invigorating.¡±


    ¡°It was,¡± I said with a grin. ¡°Thinking about it, that was probably the first bit of progress I¡¯ve made with my power in my entire life. My first active use of my power sense, at the very least.¡±


    ¡°Congratulations, Mister Shaw.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Out of curiosity, how many people are observing me right now?¡±


    ¡°Right at this moment, it¡¯s just me¡ªI¡¯m in a room directly adjacent to yours, by the way, and have all kinds of equipment for monitoring you, though we have the stuff meant for assessing power signals switched off, for obvious reasons. Your sister, uncle, and Miss Reddy stepped out for a moment.¡±


    I blinked. Uncle Adam? This situation was just getting worse and worse, but I didn¡¯t want to think about that for now. ¡°Can I swear you to secrecy on something?¡±


    The ensuing silence was heavy, and I spent it staring steadily into the camera, keeping my expression blank.


    ¡°A secret from whom?¡± Dr Klein asked with a note of apprehension in his voice.


    ¡°Your superiors,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be harassed by suits like what Ashika deals with.¡±


    ¡°I can do that,¡± he said slowly. ¡°You truly think your discovery is that momentous?¡±


    ¡°I have a theory as to why a lot of power signals at once bother me, and why mine weakens when interacting with them. Why I felt your power testing machines, too.¡±


    ¡°Interesting.¡± Dr Klein paused, and I could almost hear the gears turning in his head. ¡°Give me a moment.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    I¡¯d been expecting the researcher to take some time to think it over and settled in to wait for him to come to a decision, so it took me off guard when a hissing sound echoed through the room, and a panel on the wall directly ahead of me swung inwards. On the other side stood Dr Klein, eyes deathly serious behind his fashionable spectacles. His lab coat looked hastily put on, a little creased, and he wore a much more casual shit and trouser set than I was used to seeing from him. No tie, even!


    He stepped to the side of my bed and spoke in a murmur, ¡°The cameras are no longer recording. You have privacy.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said, injecting the utmost sincerity into my voice. I took a breath, steeling myself. ¡°The best way to put it is like this: I don¡¯t think I¡¯m really sensing signals. Not in the way ¡®sensing¡¯ implies, anyway. I haven¡¯t been granted a special extra sense, and my power isn¡¯t some weak and pitiful ability to feel signals, either.¡± I paused, staring the doctor in the eyes, drinking in his blatant fascination. For so long, those eyes had been full of bafflement and pity. It felt good to have the man¡¯s undivided attention, to have someone¡¯s curiosity directed at me for once instead of Ashika or Maisie.


    ¡°What¡¯s really happening is,¡± I continued with gravity in my voice, ¡°my own power signal is resonating with the signals of other people, and me ¡®feeling¡¯ them is simply my brain trying to interpret that data. And¡­ I think, eventually, I might be able to manipulate my own signal.¡±


    Dr Klein was left blinking. His mouth flapped open, but no words passed his lips. After a moment, he removed his glasses and wiped them down. When he placed them back on his nose, his gaze seemed almost hungry. ¡°I can see why you wanted this kept between us.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Do you think you might be willing to do some pro bono work for me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure we can arrange something,¡± Dr Klein said.

 2.17: Insight

    Stepping out of the signal isolation chamber, part of me had been anticipating I¡¯d immediately get hit by a cacophony of power signals. Thankfully, nothing like that happened. I could feel some, distantly, and it was like someone was lightly touching an old bruise. Not painful, per se, but definitely sore and uncomfortable. It might have been more severe if my expectations had been met, but the few signals that hit me barely elicited a wince.


    Still, it was enough to show I wasn¡¯t back to 100% yet, if even a few distant signals were bringing me discomfort. I was going to have to do something about that. Perhaps I¡¯d learn to tamp down on my own signal, preventing it from resonating with any I came in contact with. Or maybe I¡¯d be able to train it up like a muscle, growing its strength and endurance. Either way, I couldn¡¯t allow myself to spend five hours bedridden and however many more after that off kilter after a few seconds of focusing myself on a signal.


    Dr Klein followed me out into the observation room. It was about the same size as the isolation chamber itself, with two walls covered entirely in computer screens, showing various data feeds and a view of the four camera angles. More than half of the screens were inactive, with the actual power testing apparatus turned off for now.


    We crossed straight through the room to a door directly on the other side. This one was much lighter, and didn¡¯t give that telltale pressurised hiss that showed it was leading to a sealed space. Beyond was a fairly familiar corridor, though I doubted I¡¯d ever been to this particular location. Superverse had a thing for a white aesthetic, in their research areas. The big logo printed across the wall in front of me was a dead giveaway, too.


    The corridor stretched a long distance in either direction, and there were few people around to give me a cue on which way to go. I looked back at Dr Klein, and he nodded towards our right.


    My thoughts were a bit muddled as we made our way down the corridor. No words were exchanged between us, as we¡¯d already agreed it best not to get too deep into things if I was determined to keep my potential abilities a secret. Seeing Dr Klein that interested in me, personally, as a genuine subject rather than an odd point of curiosity to appease Ashika, was surreal.


    That was part of what had me so distracted. Another large element was, naturally, the theory of what my signal was doing. Already, I was thinking up ways to test it, methods to train it. Every new idea had me giddy. I was itching to get out there and learn everything I could, poke at it from every angle. The possibility of gaining my own power in and of itself was tantalising enough, but here I was faced with the prospect of learning more about powers in general, and it was difficult to overstate how much that excited me. It was all I could do not to skip down the corridor. My body was filled with manic energy, waiting to be unleashed on so many questions.


    If there was any one thing that could effectively tamper that mood, though, it was what I knew was heading my way imminently.


    Overdoing it wasn¡¯t an uncommon thing for me. Incidents of arriving home late, drenched in sweat and too tired to muster anything more than a grunt, had been frequent in the past couple of years. No matter how much I insisted I was being careful and knew not to overstress my body too much and so on, the same lectures came my way. I could understand them, to be fair.


    From the outside looking in, it probably did look like I was being ridiculously reckless in my pursuit of power, and it was only a matter of time before I got hurt.


    In other words, the scolding coming my way for essentially rendering myself comatose for five hours, requiring transport to a specialise facility, was going to be unpleasant.


    A grimace snuck onto my face as that reality started to set in. The thing was, if it was just Ashika and Maisie, it wouldn¡¯t be so bad. While they could scold me down to the bone under the right circumstances, and they were definitely going to be giving me an earful about this one, I could at least be sure that, at the end of the day, they¡¯d be somewhat understanding. Ashika especially. She¡¯d forget about it by tomorrow. And Maisie would, ultimately, just be happy I was okay.


    Uncle Adam, on the other hand, was liable to keep bringing this incident up for¡­ Well, indefinitely. We weren¡¯t a family who talked about our issues, generally speaking. Emotions and personal problems didn¡¯t tend to come up in the Shaw household, except for the most extreme of circumstances. The situation with Maisie that had led to the confrontation with Marquise was the exception, not the rule.


    But that didn¡¯t mean we didn¡¯t talk at all. And in this family, the topic of conversation typically centred around the family business.


    Superheroes, in other words.


    However far you went out in my family tree, you¡¯d find superheroes. Cousins, aunts, uncles. Even a few grandparents. Old age was no longer the problem it used to be, if you had the right connections. Most of them weren¡¯t famous. In fact, the majority were closer to a guy like Tumble than they were to Maisie¡¯s promising career. But there was still a family pride in it, and they all generally knew the business inside and out.


    They knew what it took, was the important part. They knew, and many had told me repeatedly, that you needed something better than an F-rank on the Shimada Scale to do anything significant in the hero game.


    Thankfully, Uncle Adam wasn¡¯t one of those. I don¡¯t think I would¡¯ve been able to stomach living with him for the last couple of years if he had been.


    But that didn¡¯t mean he wasn¡¯t capable of voicing his concerns about my stubborn refusal to accept powerlessness. Oh, he didn¡¯t phrase it like I should give up, and I don¡¯t think he even believed I should. But he was more than ready to bring up any and all past incidents to highlight a pattern of behaviour he deemed unhealthy, trying to push me to slow down, take things easy.


    As if I ever could.


    So it came as no surprise to me when we found him waiting for us at the first turn in the corridor, leaning against the wall with his head tilted back, eyes closed. The fact he was dressed in his grey-and-black pinstriped three-piece suit was a bad sign; it meant he¡¯d come straight here from work, and hadn¡¯t left to change since. His messy salt and pepper hair was a further ill omen, since he preferred to keep it in check whenever he could.


    ¡°Oh, Mr Whitaker,¡± Dr Klein said, greeting him with cheer. ¡°Good news. Your nephew here is awake and well!¡±


    Uncle Adam opened his eyes, and immediately his power signal flared to life. I grimaced, feeling it weigh on my own signal like I¡¯d draped a bag of sand over a bruise. I deeply wished I could tune it out. His pale grey irises curved open like the aperture on a camera, faintly glowing¡ªhis power sign would have been a big hint to his capabilities if I didn¡¯t already know them.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Insight was the name he used on the job. He saw things.


    ¡°Thank you, Doctor,¡± he said, his voice deep and gravelly, like he smoked five packs a day. I knew he¡¯d never touched the death sticks. ¡°It was very kind of you to go out of your way for him like this.¡±


    Dr Klein waved him off, briefly glancing between Adam and me. ¡°It was no trouble. I was already somewhat familiar with Mister Shaw¡¯s situation when Miss Reddy came to me about it, and the isolation chamber wasn¡¯t in use.¡±


    ¡°Still, it was kind of you,¡± Adam said. His attention turned to me, and he stared into my eyes for a long moment before sighing. ¡°What inspired you to such recklessness this time, Emmett?¡±


    ¡°In my defence, I had no way of knowing it would do this to me,¡± I said.


    ¡°From what I understand, you were already feeling unwell, and then pushed yourself further.¡± He paused, and there was a shift in the power sign of his eyes, the aperture narrowing slightly. ¡°Vixen said you made a convincing case, and I could tell she genuinely believed you. Looking at you now, I think you were aware of the possibility of problems arising.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll repeat: I had no way of knowing it would do this to me. At most, I thought it would just worsen the symptoms I was already experiencing, and I¡¯d have to sleep it off when I got home. ¡±


    Adam frowned. ¡°And you would have done it anyway if you did know.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°If I knew what I¡¯d get out of it, yes. Without hesitation. I¡¯d do it a thousand times over, even if it meant months in that room back there.¡±


    ¡°What did you get out of it? I can see you haven¡¯t formed a foundation.¡±


    I didn¡¯t bother asking him what he could see that told him that. He wouldn¡¯t tell. ¡°An answer I hadn¡¯t considered yet,¡± I said. ¡°I know a few things about my power signal I didn¡¯t before, and I have a bunch of theories I want to test out.¡±


    Adam blinked, and his irises changed once more. They got smaller this time, like he¡¯d switched out the lens, and there was a faint twinkle right at its centre, like a distant star. Another blink, and they were back to that wide aperture. ¡°Okay. I suppose there¡¯s no point in mentioning that this is yet another data point that shows me I should be concerned about you.¡±


    ¡°You totally just did mention it, though¡­¡±


    ¡°I suppose I did,¡± Adam said, and then, apropos of nothing, turned one-eighty degrees and started ambling down the corridor, hands stuffed in his pockets. ¡°Let¡¯s go grab Maisie and Ashika, and they can shout at you in the car. They¡¯re quite irate.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯ve been told,¡± I said, grimacing as I moved to follow.


    After some brief assurances that Adam knew where to go, Dr Klein awkwardly said his goodbyes, splitting off down another corridor that looked like a dead end. Sure enough, Uncle Adam soon navigated us through a winding series of white corridors until the space opened out into some sort of reception room without any issue¡ªnot that I had ever doubted his sense of direction. He probably picked out the correct route by watching the history of the footsteps on the floor, or something equally absurd.


    His power signal never dimmed. I thought about saying something, but decided against it.


    The reception room was a simple space, maintaining the scientific research facility vibe of the rest of the corridors I¡¯d seen so far. About the size of a basketball court, though its ceiling was a regular height, its dominating feature were the rows of comfortable-looking white couch chairs laid out for the people waiting for whatever appointments they had here. The walls themselves were white, but interspersed in equal intervals were vertical screens that showed off various advertisements for Superverse¡¯s shows.


    ¡°Where exactly are we?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Beneath the Colosseum,¡± Adam replied, gesturing for me to go ahead. ¡°The facilities down here aren¡¯t as advanced as what they have up in the Tower, but luckily the isolation chamber was all that was needed.¡±


    Over in one corner of the room was a series of flashy white vending machines with touch screen interfaces, and before one of them stood Ashika and Maisie. Both of them had changed their outfits, Ashika switching out for a new tracksuit, for some reason, while Maisie had gone for camo print leggings and a grey hoodie. Their heads were close together in fierce debate, their hissed whispers audible even across the room, though I couldn¡¯t make out the subject of their argument.


    ¡°Yo,¡± I said as I came up behind them.


    They both went still. There was a moment of silence. Eerily coordinated, the two slowly turned their heads towards me, showing off their blank faces.


    A lesser man would have run away at that point. I was made of sterner stuff, though, and so, despite the alarms blaring in the back of my mind, I was able to hold my hands up and say, ¡°Sorry for causing you trouble.¡±


    Funnily enough, that didn¡¯t seem to mollify them.


    ¡°What should we do with his bones once we¡¯re done with him?¡± Ashika mused.


    ¡°Sell them to a lab. They¡¯ll want to study how a guy¡¯s skull can be so dense,¡± Maisie replied, her voice equally mild.


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know about the skull. Wasn¡¯t really planning to leave it intact.¡±


    ¡°Understandable, but my power might let me reconstruct it if you don¡¯t smash it into too many pieces.¡±


    ¡°Good to know. What about his stuff? Give that away to charity, ya think?¡±


    Maisie snapped her fingers. ¡°Actually, I was thinking it would be better to keep everything is its place as a sort of museum. People would come from far and wide to see how the world¡¯s biggest idiot lived.¡±


    ¡°Damn. Why didn¡¯t I think of that? You¡¯re so smart, big sis. Unlike some people.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m just capable of thinking things through, is all.¡±


    Ashika gave an exaggerated sigh. ¡°A truly rare trait, these days.¡±


    Neither of them had looked away from me throughout that entire exchange.


    Meanwhile, my shoulders were somewhere around my ears, and my wince was deepening with every word. ¡°You guys done?¡±


    Maisie took a step closer to me, peering into my eyes. ¡°I don''t know. Are we?¡±


    Ashika matched her, on my other side. ¡°The only done thing around here is your life once I¡¯m finished with you.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve moved on from that,¡± Maisie whispered.


    ¡°Oh, okay,¡± Ashika whispered back. Then louder, ¡°Alright, serious time. What the fuck, dude? There¡¯s pushing yourself and then there¡¯s pushing yourself, and I thought you knew the difference.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said. ¡°Genuinely. I thought I knew the difference, too.¡± I gestured around me. ¡°I had no idea this would happen.¡±


    ¡°What did happen?¡± Maisie asked.


    I grimaced. ¡°Can we talk about that in the car?¡±


    The girls agreed to give me a stay of execution, but they exuded menace at my back the entire way down to the parking lot, where they sandwiched me in the back seats of Adam¡¯s black sedan. I could feel their glares on either side of my head throughout the surprisingly long journey from the car park through to the streets outside the Colosseum, but I remained resolutely silent all the way to the freeway.


    And once there, I decided to take refuge in audacity.


    ¡°I have a plan,¡± I said, ¡°and I want you guys to help me.¡±

 2.18: Foundational

    Now that I¡¯d seen what a Superverse event looked like up close, I could understand why the company was so determined to get Ashika on board. It wasn¡¯t just the fact she was A-rank at such a young age, with a promise to rise higher. Her actual ability, in and of itself, was an awe-inspiring thing to watch in action. If they¡¯d ever seen her at work like she was now, it was no surprise they were determined to get her, high ranking or not.


    There were countless facilities in Foresight dedicated to letting people run wild with their powers, providing private places for private training at the behest of USHA. It was almost universally agreed that letting people blow off steam with their supernatural abilities was best provided for in a controlled environment, rather than letting things get pent-up only to explode. They came in a wide variety, from places that were essentially just high-tech gyms, to buildings that specialised in being destroyed and rebuilt.


    The one we frequented was a bit of both. Though obviously I only really partook in the gym part of the place, Ashika got more use out of the special rooms that Unlimited Power took pride in calling the Omnichambers. They promised in their fliers and ads that you could do as much damage you liked, and the room would be spotless within an hour. To be fair to them, I¡¯d never seen a speck out of dust upon our arrival in all the times I¡¯d been here. And if other groups were doing as much damage as Ashika tended to, that was an impressive feat.


    Today, the girl in question was really putting one of the rooms in question through its paces. Her signal blared like continuous rolling thunder, and she was shooting around the room like a rocket-propelled pinball, bouncing off the walls and leaving a spider-web of cracks behind with every hit. We hadn¡¯t bothered with any equipment; an empty room was more than fine for our purposes. At this point, practice with her power had perhaps fallen to the wayside a bit, not that it was the primary goal today. Judging by the hooting and hollering as she soared through the air, she was just having fun.


    I smiled. I couldn¡¯t begrudge her that. If I could do what she could do, I¡¯d be the same way. Maybe even worse, to be honest.


    And that was kind of the point of why we were here today. Ever since I¡¯d started sensing signals, there was no signal I¡¯d spent more time around than Ashika¡¯s. If there was one signal I could call familiar, it was hers. The way it started small and built and built and built, never quite reaching its crescendo, always stringing the note out, had become almost soothing, in a way.


    Moreover, I already knew pretty much all there was to know about it. Which meant that I could compare my deductions based on sensing her signal with what I knew to be true, and gain some easy insight into how my own signal operated. A baseline to measure against.


    Of course, it wasn¡¯t as simple as that. At a facility specifically built to let people blow off steam with their powers, it went without saying that there were a lot of powers in use here. Not just in the Omnichambers adjacent to the one we¡¯d booked out, but in the actual gym area, too. Undoubtedly, there was some guy down there using his power to bench press several tons, and his signal was roaring. There were dozens like that.


    But there was something to be said for the inherent strength of a signal, along with proximity. There couldn¡¯t have been many A-ranks in this place, if there were any at all, and, most importantly, I¡¯d be surprised if any of them were pushing themselves as hard as Ashika was right now, regardless of rank. If every signal in here was a twinkling star beaming its distant light directly into my eyes, Ashika¡¯s signal was the sun, impossible to ignore.


    ¡­ And perhaps a little painful. But I could deal with that. It wasn¡¯t as bad as actually staring into the sun, at least. Metaphors.


    Either way, I let my eyes droop closed, trying to shut out all my senses and focus on the signal. It wasn¡¯t easy, when Ashika was screaming like a banshee and setting off thunderous booms every time she crashed into one of the walls and bounced away. The chamber was big enough to fit the length of a soccer pitch each way, and yet she crossed it in barely more than a second each time. Her signal was constantly shooting back and forth across my senses, once again adding difficulty to the already challenging task.


    But at this point it was so strong that barely even mattered.


    Ashika¡¯s foundational revelation had been relatively complex, in the grand scheme of things: keep moving forward and get stronger. Considering how much (deserved) hype there was around her, it was actually kind of funny that she¡¯d only levelled up twice since then, gaining only two more Aspects. I strongly suspected that bothered her, but doubted it was something she¡¯d ever come to me about. Probably, she¡¯d see it as an insult to be complaining about only being Level 3 when I¡¯d yet to reach Level 1. No one seemed to care about that, anyway. Her Rank was more than impressive enough on its own.


    She had told me about those Aspects and the Revelations that had built them, though. At such a low Level, they weren¡¯t as intensely personal as things could get later down the line, though she insisted she¡¯d tell me even if they were.


    The first had been simple enough. Her physical prowess rose without any apparent limit as long as she kept moving even a bit, but her capabilities quickly overtook her ability to comprehend what she was even doing. Thus, another relatively complex revelation for the level it came at: ¡°As I advance, I need to be sharper.¡±


    With that, her reflexes improved at the same rate as her physical strength, speed, and durability, allowing her to reach even greater heights. It essentially placed her in the upper percentiles of most powerful abilities at just fifteen years old, though she was ¡°only¡± a B-rank at the time.


    Next came one that had taken me off guard, approaching her power from an angle I hadn¡¯t considered at the time. An angle I wouldn¡¯t have expected her to consider.


    ¡°Sometimes, I need to slow down.¡±


    It essentially did the same thing as the previous revelation, except from a different angle. It reminded me of Vixen¡¯s mind and matter Aspects, in a way, or maybe they¡¯d reminded me of Ashika.


    Rather than granting her body faster reaction times to match her increasing strength and speed, it let her actually think faster to match. It had come after a training incident where she¡¯d been able to dodge a projectile, only for it to smash into someone else behind her. The injury had been instantly dealt with, of course, but she¡¯d realised the downside of relying on quick reflexes.


    I just hadn¡¯t expected her to see things that way, really. Maybe it was unfair. She wasn¡¯t an inconsiderate person by any means, but her foundational revelation spoke to her personality pretty well, I thought. She was someone who wanted to plow ahead at full speed, always accelerating.


    After that, she¡¯d stalled out, at least in her own estimation. She¡¯d struggled to see where to go from there, how to improve on the potent ability she¡¯d already constructed. There was no doubt among researchers that she had a ton of untapped potential ready to be formed into a new Aspect, but she didn¡¯t know what that should be, and thus far hadn¡¯t liked any of the things people had suggested to her¡ªit probably didn¡¯t help that many of the suggestions came from researchers who worked for an entertainment company.


    I had my own ideas, but mostly kept them to myself. Most literature suggested that one¡¯s power was a personal thing, and thus I concluded it was better to let Ashika come to the answer on her own. Even if it was frustrating her, it would be better in the long run. For the most part, she seemed to agree.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    But, again, I was sure it frustrated her. She just didn¡¯t talk to me about it much, out of what I suspected was her own idea of tact.


    My world narrowed until it was just me and her signal. It took some effort to achieve, and it wasn¡¯t as if I was really shutting things out¡ªit would be a long time before I achieved that kind of nirvanic meditative state, if I ever managed it at all. It helped that her signal was getting stronger and stronger as she ramped up, and I tried not to get distracted thinking about the implications of that, like the possibility her signal might measure at S-rank if she kept moving for long enough.


    I shook my head, dislodging the thought, narrowing my focus even further until anything extraneous was shut out.


    There was a depth to Ashika¡¯s signal that hadn¡¯t been present in Vixen¡¯s. Whether that was the difference in rank between them or more related to the effort they were putting into their power, I didn¡¯t know. Either way, it felt like Ashika¡¯s was denser. There was more substance to it, more weight. And it was only getting heavier.


    With that strength, it was harder to pick out her foundation and aspects. I might not have managed it if I didn¡¯t already know exactly what I was looking for. There was more  weight in Ashika¡¯s foundation than there had been in the entirety of Vixen¡¯s signal, even with seven Aspects.


    I didn¡¯t devote much attention to the foundation¡¯s ability, since I already knew that: advancement. Instead, I focused on the actual substance of it. The foundation itself.


    If I was to translate it to sound, which I¡¯d got in the habit of doing and was resigned to at this point, I¡¯d liken it to a deep baseline that got faster and faster as Ashika moved, and the Aspects were both slightly higher pitch base notes, almost indistinguishable from it.


    It didn¡¯t help that she had so much untapped potential, acting as white noise. There was almost as much noise as signal, when I tried to focus on it. But focus on it I did, and eventually I felt I had a pretty solid grasp of the feel of her signal, which hopefully meant my own signal was resonating strongly.


    With that in mind, I tried to turn my attention to my own signal. I already knew this part was going to be an exercise in frustration, so it didn¡¯t surprise me at all when I couldn¡¯t feel a thing no matter how I tried. It was about as easy as seeing my own sight or hearing my own hearing.


    Three days since I¡¯d felt my own signal mimicking Vixen¡¯s, and I hadn¡¯t managed to catch even the slightest hint of my signal sense. And I¡¯d been trying at basically every waking moment. I¡¯d been starting to wonder if it required total exhaustion on my part, and I should¡¯ve actually been trying to feel Ashika¡¯s signal while surrounded by others. This place, sadly, wasn¡¯t conducive to that. There were plenty of other signals around, but not enough, and those that were around weren¡¯t active enough to tire me out like the chaos at the Coliseum had.


    I hummed to myself, opening my eyes, watching Ashika as she hurtled back and forth in a greyish blur. Her whoop of joy panned back and forth across the room. At least she was having fun. I couldn¡¯t help but smile at that. Envy didn¡¯t even come into it, at this point.


    Still, I levered myself to my feet, and Ashika immediately noticed, coming to a stop on a dime. Her signal simply vanished. It restarted again as she casually jogged over to me. There was nothing about her demeanour to suggest that she¡¯d just been throwing herself across a giant room at neck-breaking speeds. No sweat, no heavy breathing. So unfair.


    ¡°No luck?¡± she said, peering into my eyes as if searching for any sign I¡¯d overdone things again.


    ¡°Not really,¡± I said with a shrug. ¡°I figured out your foundation though!¡±


    Ashika snorted. ¡°You¡¯ve known that for years.¡±


    ¡°I also realised you¡¯ve got a lot of untapped potential in there, ready to go into a new Aspect.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, the eggheads have been telling me that for a while, too.¡± Ashika sighed as she lowered herself to the ground to start on some stretches. She shrugged the upper half of her customary tracksuit off, leaving her in the baggy white shirt she¡¯d been wearing beneath. ¡°I¡¯ll do something with that when I come up with something good, yeah?¡±


    I followed Ashika down, doing some stretches of my own. I hadn¡¯t done anything strenuous at all, but stretching always seemed to calm my mind. An artifact of yoga classes, perhaps.


    ¡°What¡¯s with that face?¡± Ashika asked.


    I blinked. I hadn¡¯t realised I¡¯d been making one. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°You look all pinched. Are you disappointed you didn¡¯t get anything out of today?¡±


    ¡°I got to see a pretty fun show,¡± I objected. I genuinely wasn''t disappointed. Today was just the beginning. Step one. There were some conditions I needed to clear before I could really put the idea that had formed in my head into full action.


    ¡°Don¡¯t try to deflect, loser. And don¡¯t go putting such ridiculous expectations on yourself. You aren¡¯t gonna instantly wrap your head around a skill you didn¡¯t know was there until a few days ago, are ya? It¡¯s not like you¡¯re on a time limit.¡±


    ¡°I kind of am,¡± I said, smiling wryly. ¡°Not long til term starts.¡±


    ¡°Three weeks is ages.¡±


    ¡°It really isn¡¯t though?¡±


    It was a little strange to speak as if it was already a foregone conclusion that I¡¯d been accepted to AA, when the official results hadn¡¯t even been released yet. Not even the most promising candidates would receive their acceptance until next week, while the staff would deliberate over who they¡¯d invite to fill the rest of the slots¡ªthey didn¡¯t like to have classes of powerhouses and geniuses. Only those who¡¯d been sponsored would know of their fate, right now.


    And yet, if the vice-principal of the damn place told me I was going to be accepted, it was hard to feel too pessimistic about my chances, whatever I thought of the woman herself. It did, admittedly, make the whole thing feel a bit tainted. And I¡¯d probably resent her forever for that. More than I already did.


    At the same time, the giddiness that rose in me at the mere thought of attending Aegis Academy could overcome anything. There was no quelling my excitement.


    Even my lack of power was just a mild stumbling block I needed to hop over. I would figure out what I could do with this, whether it be copying powers, or moulding my own, or even just using it as a tool to analyse other people¡¯s. I didn¡¯t care. The path forward was dark and nebulous, but I was going to keep moving forward, inch by inch, until I¡¯d mapped it out down to the inch.


    After a while, Ashika went back to hurtling around the room with aplomb, giving me another go at trying to pin down anything I could get out of my own signal. It didn¡¯t yield any results on that end, but I did get some interesting insight into her power, which was almost as good. Ashika didn¡¯t seem particularly interested in how her foundation resonated differently based on whether she was using her reflexes or thoughts, but it was fascinating to me.


    We didn¡¯t leave the destruction room until the very second our time was up, and instead of heading home, decided to go down to the gym instead. Ashika felt the workout hadn¡¯t quite been enough, and I was always happy for more exercise. It was meant to be my rest day in terms of weights, though, so I moved over to the cardio zone while Ashika slipped off to find herself a PT to spot her for leg day.


    The gym area of Unlimited Power was huge, big enough to fit at least a few football pitches inside. It was divided into sections based on physical capability. I made a beeline for the cardio area dedicated to baseline humans and, after a moment of searching, found myself a treadmill. I figured a good run would clear my head. Maybe a 5K. Didn¡¯t want to overdo it.


    I¡¯d barely taken a step on the treadmill when I voice to my right almost gave me a heart-attack.


    ¡°Emmett? Emmett Shaw?¡±


    My gaze snapped to my right, and it took me a moment to recognise the person looking back at me. Her hazel eyes weren¡¯t particularly distinct, and her pale face wouldn¡¯t stand out in a crowd. Her navy blue leggings and top were standard issue, Ultimate Power brand stuff, purchasable from the shop next to the reception desk.


    It was the shoulder-length blue hair that did it. Last time I¡¯d seen it, it had been tinged purple by the pool of blood she was lying in. Her own blood, with a mad supervillain looming over her, malice in his eyes. Slash.


    This was the girl he¡¯d attacked.


    Tempest¡¯s daughter.


    ¡°Alanna,¡± I spoke the name aloud as I remembered it.

 2.19: Relatable

    With everything else that had gone down on the day of the practical exam, the incident on the train that preceded it had fallen to the wayside a bit. I wouldn¡¯t go as far as to say I¡¯d forgotten it entirely, but in my mind it had been a solved problem that I didn¡¯t need to devote any further attention to.


    Maybe that was a dick move. It probably wasn¡¯t a minor incident at all to Alanna, and in a way I had to admit it wasn¡¯t a minor incident for me, either. Quite aside from earning me Tempest¡¯s thanks¡ªto the point he¡¯d offered to sponsor me into AA himself¡ªit had also been the first time I¡¯d faced a supervillain in real life.


    I had to admit, the occasion had gotten away from me. After so many years of dreaming of being a superhero, acting like one had maybe gone to my head a bit, and I¡¯d spent far too long playing around with the villain when he had an injured civilian at his feet. With more training, with more self-awareness, I would have acted as soon as possible.


    Even though I knew she wouldn¡¯t want to hear it, I felt obligated to say, ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that whole thing on the train.¡±


    Sure enough, Alanna blinked at me. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sorry too. Don¡¯t know what you¡¯re apologising for, though?¡±


    I grimaced. It wasn¡¯t my proudest moment. But if I was honest with myself, it was still up there, even with the fact I¡¯d overdone it a little. ¡°I didn¡¯t act fast enough,¡± I told her, then held up a hand to stall her budding protests. ¡°I¡¯ve not been agonising over it or anything. It worked out in the end. But I could have got him away from you much faster than I did, and I don¡¯t have a good excuse for not doing so.¡±


    ¡°Without you and those other guys, I might not have got away from him at all,¡± she said wryly, but I could see something fragile in her eyes. She¡¯d brought her treadmill to a stop, and she was now leaning against the handle nearest to me, gripping it with both hands. ¡°So fucking embarrassing. Some second-rate hack gets the jump on me and messes me up less than an hour after shouting at my dad that I didn¡¯t need security.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°He thought you needed security?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, and evidently he was right.¡± She sighed, reaching up to run a hand through her blue hair. ¡°In my defence, he had no idea someone was actually going to target me, specifically. He just worried I¡¯d get recognised by some opportunists or something.¡±


    ¡°Are you particularly recognisable, then?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so, but the risk is there, I guess. Evidently.¡± She paused, gesturing over her shoulder with her chin. The guy on the next treadmill over from her, I noticed, was built like a brick shithouse¡ªthat wasn¡¯t unusual for anyone in this place, but I realised he was running in such a constant rhythm that it couldn¡¯t be at all natural. He was staring ahead blankly, so blatantly oblivious to his surroundings that I got the impression he was very aware of what was going on around him.


    Most telling of all, the faint whisper of a power signal. Nothing too strong, but there. No power sign to indicate what he was doing, though, and I didn¡¯t want to delve too deep to figure it out.


    ¡°Does your dad think someone else is gonna target you again?¡± I asked, frowning. The idea of villains directly targeting family members of superheroes did not sit well with me at all.


    ¡°That Slash asshole was part of some group or other,¡± Alanna said with a roll of her eyes that seemed almost too casual.


    ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°I remember he mentioned some kind of plan or something. There were distractions, simultaneous attacks.¡±


    ¡°Some guy had a lame manifesto he was going to put online, but some investigative heroes got to him before he could post it,¡± Alanna said. ¡°But it seems like they¡¯re worth taking at least a little seriously. They put together a plan to distract the Olympians, and apparently there were more attacks than just on me that day.¡±


    ¡°I thought it was weird that I didn¡¯t see much about that incident on social media.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the kind of thing they wouldn¡¯t want to blast everywhere. Incite panic or whatever.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± I nodded grimly. I had direct experience with that. ¡°And they also don¡¯t want to give villains air time to give other idiots ideas about how they could make a name for themselves. Don¡¯t want copycats.¡±


    ¡°Hm. Yeah. Dad told me about you,¡± Alanna said abruptly. ¡°Said he¡¯d put me in contact, if I wanted. Thought we¡¯d be able to relate, or something.¡±


    ¡°You said no?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sixteen years old. I don¡¯t need my dad tracking down contact information for me.¡± She shrugged, affecting nonchalance again. ¡°Figured I¡¯d end up seeing you at AA anyway. I decided to take Dad¡¯s sponsorship, and there was no doubt in my mind you¡¯d get in.¡±


    ¡°Did he tell you I¡¯m F-rank? Literally Level 0?¡±


    ¡°He did,¡± Alanna said. ¡°That didn¡¯t matter on the train. Why would it matter at AA? I knew you¡¯d figure something out.¡±


    I looked away, turning my attention to my treadmill. I started fiddling with the buttons, setting myself up for a 5K. ¡°How about you? Tempest doesn¡¯t seem the type to nominate you without good reason. What¡¯s your power?¡±


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°I¡¯ve only got my foundation and one aspect right now,¡± she said. ¡°Overall, I¡¯m just gonna say my power is lightning. It¡¯s, uh, not easy to control right now. Needs more Aspects. Otherwise, I would have fucked that Slash guy right up.¡±


    My treadmill started moving, and I stepped on, keeping it to a walking pace to warm up. ¡°That¡¯s a pretty strong power. I¡¯m guessing you were scared of hitting other people on the train.¡±


    Alanna didn¡¯t reply, but I saw her nod out of the corner of my eye.


    ¡°That¡¯s admirable,¡± I said. ¡°I think most people would have panicked in that situation, maybe done some collateral damage.¡±


    She scoffed. ¡°Man, do not praise me for that pitiful fucking showing. I just froze up. That¡¯s the humiliating truth of the thing. All the training, expensive tutors and shit, and when push comes to shove in the real world, I stand there like an idiot while some psycho bastard slices my chest open. All my life I¡¯ve dealt with this kind of shit, watching people risk themselves to protect me from whatever asshole of the week wants to get to my dad through me, and I¡¯ve been saying for so long that I don¡¯t need them to protect me, that I can handle myself. And the first time I¡¯m alone¡­¡±


    She¡¯d been getting steadily louder as she spoke, but never quite reached shouting volume. A few looks still turned her way. Breathing heavily, she started her own treadmill back up. I didn¡¯t comment. Figured she wasn¡¯t looking for pity or reassurance.


    ¡°The fact that like five other people immediately rushed to fight the guy almost makes it worse. Don¡¯t get me wrong, I¡¯m grateful as all hell for every one of you. You¡¯re real heroes already in my books.¡± She took a deep breath. Her left hand was still on the treadmill¡¯s handle, and I could see she had it in a white-knuckle grip. ¡°But no one is ever going to have to do that for me again. Next time, I¡¯ll have a hundred goddamn aspects, and I¡¯ll be able to fry anyone who attacks me from the inside out without hurting a hair on anyone else¡¯s head.¡± She glanced to her right. ¡°No need for bodyguards.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll look forward to seeing it,¡± I said with a smile that I hoped didn¡¯t look forced. ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll team up.¡±


    Alanna snorted. She let go of her treadmill¡¯s handle as it started to pick up pace, and soon she was jogging. When I¡¯d first arrived, she¡¯d been at an all out sprint. She didn¡¯t seem inclined to get back up to that pace. ¡°We¡¯ll go after that fucking group of supervillains together, yeah? Assholes.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll bring Ashika. She¡¯d love to have a go at them too, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°Ashika Reddy? The momentum girl, right? I looked her up afterwards, and she¡¯s already a pretty big deal in certain circles.¡±


    ¡°That she is,¡± I said, my smile turning genuine. ¡°She¡¯s here today, too. I¡¯ll introduce you after my run, if you like.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯d be cool. I need to thank her too, and praise her for that punch. She really got Slash good. Though I admit it would¡¯ve been much better if she¡¯d nailed him with that shot at the end,¡± Alanna said.


    ¡°She would¡¯ve got in deep trouble if she hit him with that much strength,¡± I warned. ¡°She¡¯s much, much stronger than she looks.¡±


    ¡°So I hear,¡± Alanna said. ¡°But¡­ Man, I don¡¯t want to sound like a bitch here, but it would¡¯ve been real nice to know Slash got real fucked up. Something debilitating, and then I would¡¯ve got Dad to pull strings so his ¡®healing¡¯ didn¡¯t go right.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not a nice way to look at things,¡± I said, even though I completely understood. The exact same sort of thoughts had run through my own head, once upon a time.


    Who am I kidding? Once upon a time. They still come up regularly now.


    ¡°I know. I¡¯m not completely serious,¡± Alanna said with a sigh.


    She totally was. But I didn¡¯t blame her.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Slash now, do you know?¡±


    ¡°All I know is he¡¯s in Max Sec. I didn¡¯t want to learn more, to be honest. If I knew where he was, I¡¯d go and research it, and I¡¯d start thinking about ways he could break out. It¡¯d fill my stupid obsessive fucking mind for weeks.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, feeling more and more like I¡¯d found a kindred spirit. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    There was a moment of silence, before Alanna spoke softly, barely audible over the pounding of feet against treadmills and techno music blasting through speakers, ¡°I figured you¡¯d get that.¡±


    I just nodded.


    Both of us settled into silence for a little while. Her treadmill was still at a light jog, and I kept mine the same¡ªshe was giving off the vibe that she still wanted to talk. I didn¡¯t have to wait long before she came out with it. ¡°So, what¡¯s with you? I know you¡¯re Level 0, but what does that actually mean, in practice? No power at all?¡±


    ¡°Pretty much,¡± I said after a moment, and I shocked myself with how little that admission stung. Not so long ago, it had been perhaps one of the sorest possible subjects you could bring up with me, and it¡¯d send my mood plummeting down towards oblivion, firmly ending the conversation with whoever had brought it up. Here, it barely seemed to affect me.


    ¡°That shit really surprised me. I assumed you had some kind of cognitive enhancement, letting you see through Slash like you did, figuring out his power.¡±


    ¡°Proper research is a power in and of itself,¡± I said, feeling a little smug despite myself. ¡°But yeah, until recently, there was a question mark over whether I was even able to manifest any power at all. My Shimada rating is as low as any power researcher has ever seen, and at times it even goes down.¡±


    Alanna stumbled, but quickly caught herself. ¡°What? That¡¯s a thing?¡±


    ¡°For me, apparently,¡± I said, skewing a sideways look at her, just catching her wide-eyed stare before she forced her gaze forward. ¡°But I¡¯ve recently made some discoveries that I reckon are going to change things.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ cool. Good to hear.¡± She paused. ¡°What discovery, if you don¡¯t mind me asking?¡±


    I thought about it. ¡°Well, the short version is I have a meta power. Lets me really dig in deep into power signals, my own somewhat included.¡±


    ¡°Power signals?¡±


    The note of confusion in her voice forced a sigh out of me. ¡°All powers give off signals. It¡¯s how they measure you for the Shimada Scale. Most people can¡¯t feel them because their own signal drowns out any others, and then their brain adapts and tunes it out. Or so the theory goes. My sense for signals is a little different. There¡¯s more depth to it.¡±


    ¡°Interesting,¡± Alanna said. ¡°Do you think you could analyse mine?¡±


    I smiled. ¡°Sounds like a great idea.¡±

 2.20: Lightning

    Official superhero organisations tended not to sort powers into categories. As much as some people loved to be able to put things in neat, easily understood boxes, the fact of the matter was powers were too chaotic for that. If you were to really get down to it and make proper power classifications, you¡¯d need dozens and dozens of them, which wouldn¡¯t actually simplify things at all. Dr Shimada himself had once weighed in with his own categorisation system, but his had numbered well over a hundred, and was more focused on the type of ¡®paths¡¯ a person could walk with their power. It was awfully confusing, if admittedly fascinating.


    Still, there were lots of unofficial ways of categorising powers. One that a lot of people liked was a relatively simple divide between enhancement or augmentation of the self, psychic control over a thing, and creation of a thing. But even something as basic as that still led to arguments, debating over which category powers fit into.


    For official business, it was almost always preferable to just give a rundown of what an individual power was demonstrably capable of achieving. But that wasn¡¯t to say they had no categorisation at all. They were just mostly uninterested in broadly defining what groups of powers could do. Ranks and Levels, for example, were widely used in both every day life and a formal capacity, like when news bulletins were warning of a villain.


    But there was more than just that. Superheroes and law enforcement had their own categorisation metrics that worked with a colour gradient based primarily on the tangible danger a person¡¯s power could pose, from green for harmless to red for deadly. It was almost entirely an in-house thing. You wouldn¡¯t find someone¡¯s rating listed officially anywhere online, though obviously it was discussed plenty, and there had been controversial leaks in the past.


    Theoretically, you could find someone with mental self-augmentation abilities who got an S-rank on the Shimada Scale and had levelled up with dozens of Aspects, but they didn¡¯t really pose an actual threat to the safety of people around them. In that case, they¡¯d probably get some shade of green rating.


    On the other hand, an F-rank Level 1 who could telekinetically affect an area the size of a pea less than five inches from their body would get something much closer to red, because that power was potentially lethal in the right circumstances.


    Watching a sixteen-year-old girl fire bolts of lightning from her fingertips, I found myself wondering what colour she¡¯d be given. Whether there even was a threat profile on her out there was tough to answer¡ªhero agencies would be aware of the potential political ramifications if it was discovered they were even slightly hinting that Tempest¡¯s daughter could be dangerous.


    Objectively, she was. The bolts she was throwing around looked powerful enough to fry an enemy before they even knew what was coming, and the countless burn marks that were decidedly not on the target she was aiming for only spoke of greater hazard to anyone in the vicinity of said enemy. Hell, just the ear-shattering boom of thunder that followed her strikes were probably enough to earn her a decent threat rating.


    And the impressiveness of her ability didn¡¯t end there. We¡¯d been at this for a good hour, and she showed no signs of fatigue. What she lacked in control, she more than made up for in stamina. Powerful abilities like hers usually took a lot out of the user, mentally and physically, but the only sweat on her brow came from the sun blazing down on us.


    Another bone-shuddering boom rumbled through Alanna¡¯s father¡¯s private training ground. The massive open-air space was easily large enough to fit half a dozen basketball courts, but she seemed to only use a small part of it, furthest from the house. I wondered about that, but kept my thoughts to myself. The only ideas she wanted to hear from me today were any analyses I could give about her power signal. She¡¯d been a bit stuck, apparently, and was willing to look for any leg up she could get.


    The training ground stretched out from the back of Alanna¡¯s house¡ªan enormous modern mansion that was all dark walls and floor-to-ceiling windows¡ªsurrounded by tall walls that were well over twice my height and buzzed with electricity. They provided both security and privacy, apparently. Tempest and his daughter¡¯s powers were not quiet, to say the least, and the neighbourhood was among the most expensive in the entirety of Foresight. Most of them wouldn¡¯t appreciate claps of thunder right next door.


    Being here was actually freaking me out a little, and an hour hadn¡¯t been enough to get over it. Quite apart from literally hanging out in Tempest¡¯s back yard, I never thought I¡¯d find myself visiting a house in Greenwood, widely known as the most expensive area in the entire damn city. It was the neighbourhood of the rich and famous. The cheapest house here probably cost more than my entire family line had made in the past million generations combined. I felt so out of place. Like an intruder.


    At least Tempest himself wasn''t here. He was a busy man.


    The three of us¡ªAshika, Alanna, and I¡ªwere at the far end of Alanna¡¯s family training ground, standing against the eastern wall. Across from us stood an array of targets, currently static but capable of movement at the press of a button. I wondered how much this system cost. There was something similar at AA itself, I knew.


    Powers had equalised the human race in some ways. In others, inequality persisted.


    Alanna raised her hand, took a deep breath, and fired off another bolt of lightning. It struck the far wall between two targets, and she let out a frustrated whine, like a tea kettle.


    ¡°Ohhh, so close!¡± Ashika cried, pumping a fist with excitement. I didn¡¯t think she¡¯d ever get over her love of Alanna¡¯s power. It wasn¡¯t often I saw her enthused enough by someone else¡¯s ability to spend an entire hour watching without finding herself overcome with the need to train her own. ¡°Hey, you should hit me with a lightning bolt!¡±


    I sighed. Never mind.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good idea right now,¡± Alanna said hesitantly.


    ¡°Not right now, obviously.¡± Ashika started moving, and her power signal came to life. ¡°Once I¡¯m properly charged up, I can run around, and you can try to hit me. All I have to do is make sure I don¡¯t lose my boost, while you try to slow me down so you can zap me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to zap you,¡± Alanna said, gaining some humour now. Ashika had come and found me before I¡¯d finished my run on the treadmill, a few days ago now, and I¡¯d been able to introduce her to Alanna. They¡¯d seemed to get along a little awkwardly at the time, with Ashika seeming unsure what to do with Alanna¡¯s simultaneous gushing praise and self-flagellation. But they were fine now, it seemed.


    Ashika mock glared at her. ¡°Why not? Think I can¡¯t handle it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m worried my ego would take too much of a hit if you could handle it. I don¡¯t want to find out.¡±


    Ashika poked her tongue out. I smiled briefly, but it quickly dropped as I turned my attention to the various scorch marks scattering the ground and wall around the targets. Alanna¡¯s control issues were two-fold: aim and power. If it was a matter of having to choose one or the other, she probably would¡¯ve been able to make do. But being simultaneously unable to weaken the force of her lightning bolt and aim it with any kind of precision¡­ yeah, that was a problem. I could see why she hadn¡¯t been able to defend herself against Slash, even with her incredibly powerful ability. It was actually kind of admirable. In my estimation, most people would have panicked and used their power in that situation, and with her power, a lot of people would¡¯ve gotten hurt.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    It was a strange conundrum. The kind of Revelation she needed should¡¯ve been obvious (something that gave her the ability to aim or moderate the power of her lightning bolts), but she¡¯d told me she had been struggling for a while to find one, which was a bit baffling.


    She¡¯d invited us here so I could use my signal sense to see if I could point out anything she didn¡¯t already know. Things had started off promisingly. Immediately, I¡¯d been able to tell her something she didn¡¯t know: her power signal only activated in the fraction of a second her lightning struck.


    (It hit my signal sense with about the same effect you¡¯d think standing right near a lightning strike would. It was loud and scary and a little painful, but it happened so fast that it didn¡¯t do any real damage, since it didn¡¯t actually hit me directly.)


    I couldn¡¯t recall ever sensing anything like it. Most power signals built up. Hers was so instantaneous that it was hard to get any kind of read on it, and it took me a full hour of learning to glimpse split-second snapshots of her signal before I could be confident in my analysis. I might have said something sooner, if it wasn¡¯t so surprising.


    Alanna was a Level 2 C-rank. Decent for her age, and the power itself was, of course, very potent regardless of what the paperwork said. There were plenty of people of way higher rank and level who wouldn¡¯t stand a chance against her lightning. Nothing about that was inherently out of the ordinary.


    But I realised, as the session went on, that she was the first person whose signal I¡¯d analysed so far that didn¡¯t have a bunch of untapped potential for a new Aspect. That explained why she was still relatively low-level: it wasn¡¯t that she couldn¡¯t find the right Revelation, she simply didn¡¯t have the unbound potential to give to a new Aspect. I didn¡¯t know what to make of that, and, when I¡¯d eventually told her about it, neither did she.


    ¡°What does that mean, in practice?¡± she¡¯d asked, frowning, eyes distant in thought.


    ¡°Tough to say,¡± I¡¯d replied with a shrug. ¡°How long have you been on your current Level?¡±


    ¡°A few months.¡±


    I¡¯d blinked. ¡°Huh. You¡¯d think you¡¯d build up more potential in that time.¡±


    Alanna hadn¡¯t had an answer for that, and the topic hadn¡¯t come up again, though I was sure she was still thinking about it. I certainly was.


    What even was that untapped potential? How did it build up? Why did it require a Revelation to form a new Aspect of the power, rather than just adding itself to an existing Aspect to strengthen it?


    There was so much about powers we didn¡¯t know. So many questions unanswered.


    My new understanding of my signal sense gave me hope of finding those answers. It maybe said something about me that that excited me almost as much as the prospect of gaining a real power of my own, whatever form that took.


    Eventually, it became clear I wasn¡¯t going to get anything else out of Alanna¡¯s power signal today. It flashed on and off too fast to get a good read of what her Foundation and Aspects actually were, but I asked her to hold off from telling me. I wanted to be able to figure it out for myself, in a future session with her. She told Ashika though, and Ashika gave me a mightily smug look as we made our way back towards the house.


    We ended up hanging out on the dark decking that stretched from the glass doors of Alanna¡¯s huge kitchen, and I was so lost in thought about powers and signals that I didn¡¯t catch the topic of conversation until Ashika slammed her fist down on the table in outrage. The fact her outburst did no damage was testament to the furniture¡¯s build quality. Even when Ashika¡¯s power wasn¡¯t ramped up, she was still several times stronger than a girl her size should be.


    ¡°It¡¯s fucking bullshit, is what it is,¡± Ashika snarled. She and Alanna sat across from me in cushioned chairs, a thick wooden table between us. Alanna seemed enraptured with Ashika¡¯s story. ¡°Then, after all that, he had the audacity to leave me behind while he and his sister went and confronted the vice-principal by themselves! Can you believe that?!¡±


    Alanna looked at me, eyes wide. ¡°You confronted Marquise?¡±


    I blinked, then grimaced. ¡°You guys have been talking about the practical exam, huh?¡±


    ¡°Alanna got sponsored in, since she couldn¡¯t really take the exam after everything that happened. But she wanted to know about the practical,¡± Ashika said. ¡°I told her about mine, where I was awesome, and then we got to talking about yours, which was super messed up.¡±


    ¡°You confronted Marquise?¡± Alanna repeated. Her expression hadn¡¯t changed. ¡°From what Dad¡¯s told me, I¡¯m very surprised she let you get away with that.¡±


    ¡°Maisie didn¡¯t give her much choice in the matter,¡± I said


    Alanna shook her head. ¡°And I thought you were impressive on the train. Not many people have the balls to face that woman. Even Dad treads lightly around her.¡±


    ¡°Tempest doesn¡¯t trust Marquise?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Does anyone?¡± Ashika asked.


    ¡°Believe it or not, I think he actually respects her. He doesn¡¯t talk to me about everything that goes on in his work, but I get the impression Marquise does a lot behind the scenes. She¡¯s meant to be really strict.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s one way of putting it,¡± I grumbled. Louder, I said, ¡°But respecting her isn¡¯t trusting her, is it?¡±


    Alanna shook her head, frowning.


    ¡°I think I feel the same, to be honest,¡± I said after a moment¡¯s thought.


    ¡°You respect her?¡± Ashika asked, looking like she¡¯s just swallowed something foul.


    ¡°I respect her choice to change sides and become a hero, at least.¡±


    ¡°Some people think she¡¯s still a villain and this whole vice-principal thing is all some long con.¡±


    ¡°What does your dad think about that?¡±


    Alanna gave me a dry look. ¡°Dad¡¯s not the type of guy who¡¯d sit back and do nothing if he thought a supervillain was running an evil scheme in the school I want to attend. If there¡¯s one thing he hates, it¡¯s schemers.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, seems like he makes a point of emphasising that in every interview he gives. It¡¯s a bit of a meme.¡± I shook my head. ¡°Whether she¡¯s a hero or not, she¡¯s messing with AA in a way I really don¡¯t like the sound of, even if I don¡¯t have the full picture of the situation.¡±


    ¡°Not the kind of thing I thought I¡¯d ever hear about AA, yeah.¡±


    ¡°Still think someone needs to punch that bitch in the nose,¡± Ashika said.


    I snorted, not disagreeing. We lapsed into silence for a moment, listening to the sound of the wind. It struck me how quiet this place was. Even though it was only a few miles from where I lived, the sounds of the city were nonexistent here. No engines, no car horns, no distant shouts. It was peaceful. It made you feel like you had space to stop and think without interruption.


    ¡°I remember something Tempest said,¡± I said, eyeing Alanna. ¡°He told me you didn¡¯t want to take a sponsor slot. Why was that?¡±


    Alanna just shrugged, alleviating my mild concern that the question might be a sore point. ¡°I wanted to prove that I could do it on my own merits. Show that I was good enough to pass the tests and earn my place there, rather than relying on family connections. Nobody likes a nepo baby.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that was the read I got on you,¡± I said. ¡°And why do you want to be a hero?¡±


    ¡°What else am I meant to do?¡± Alanna said simply, shrugging one shoulder, like it was obvious.


    I smiled. I liked that answer.


    Ashika and I didn¡¯t stay for much longer. I gave Alanna a rundown on everything I¡¯d picked up about her power from her signal, which was a lot less than I¡¯d been hoping for. Still, she seemed appreciative. She offered a tour of her house, but we declined. I¡¯d never been into TV programs that showed off opulent celebrity houses, and I had the feeling gawking around at her mansion would just make her uncomfortable.


    A part of me was intrigued about the home of Tempest. Seeing how one of the world¡¯s most powerful heroes¡ªone of the few S-ranks on record¡ªlived his daily life did have an appeal. But that just made me even more against looking around. I¡¯d feel like an intruder.


    In the end, we went around the outside of the house to the front yard to say our goodbyes. Alanna saw us off, promising we¡¯d meet up again in future for more testing.


    ¡°And I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll see each other at AA too,¡± she said with a smile.


    That was when all the lights on the street went out, and a high-pitched whine filled the air. Like a siren. Or a high-pitched scream.


    Next came the explosion.

 1.21: Supervillains (1)

    Something primal takes over your brain when you get caught off guard by an unexpected event, especially a loud one. Instincts long buried in your genes reach into whatever part of your grey matter make the decisions and scramble things around.


    That was what I felt like at that moment. Despite the fact I¡¯d just spent several hours standing right next to a living weapon as she set off ear-splitting booms one by one, the explosion completely discombobulated me. I wasted agonisingly long seconds with my head on a swivel, searching for the source of the sudden noise, and only found it when fire and smoke bloomed like a hellish giant mushroom a few blocks over.


    Next thing I knew, I was running. Towards the explosion. At that point, no actual thoughts had crossed my mind. No critical analysis, no logical or rational examination of the situation. Instinct had seized me, and my body was reacting without conscious input. A distant part of my mind recognised that Ashika was bounding ahead of me, and Alanna wasn¡¯t far behind.


    It wasn¡¯t close to dark out yet. The sun was only hinting at setting. But somehow the world around the fire seemed to have dimmed, like whatever had happened over there had stolen the universe¡¯s attention and everything else had been deemed unimportant.


    My heartbeat thundered in my ears. Even moving on instinct, my body maintained the steady breathing that would keep me moving forward at full speed without issue. Ashika¡¯s power signal roared as she built up momentum, pulling ahead. More power signals were coming to life around us, too. It seemed we weren¡¯t the only ones responding to the situation, we just happened to be out on the street when it happened.


    It turned out we only had to turn a corner at the far end of Alanna¡¯s long street to catch sight of the incident. Maybe a few hundred metres down the road, a fire blazed, completely engulfing one of the homes. Smoke billowed up in a great column. I could hear screams. Whether they were coming from within the house or somewhere else, I couldn¡¯t say. In the end, my attention wasn¡¯t on the house for more than a second.


    Dire as the fire appeared to be, it immediately became a far distant priority compared to the men who¡¯d just emerged from the house.


    There were five of them, all decked out in identical dark clothing, black masks, helmets, and boots. They looked like a swat team, and they moved with purpose to the black van they had parked on the street. Relief filled me for a brief moment. Help was already here, I thought, and the occupants of the building had been rescued. I felt like I could finally release a breath that had been stuck in my chest, even though I hadn¡¯t been holding it.


    But that feeling only lasted for a moment before I understood what I was seeing, and my heart dropped through my stomach. Three of the men had a person thrown over their shoulder in a fireman¡¯s carry. A woman and two girls. Each of the three being carried wore matching pink pyjamas, like they¡¯d been relaxing at home with a little family party before their world had suddenly been turned upside down. None of them moved. Whether because of the smoke or the explosion itself or something else, they were clearly unconscious. Even from a distance, I could tell they were covered in soot.


    And I could also tell they had bags over their heads. From the way their hands were behind their backs, I suspected they were zip-tied at the wrists, too. Why would an emergency response team spend any time covering up and binding the people they were rescuing like that?


    The answer was obvious.


    This analysis flashed through my mind in the span of seconds, but it might as well have been a lifetime. I cursed myself under my breath. I, of all people, should have noticed something like that instantly.


    My brief moment of relief vanished in a heartbeat, but no new emotions replaced it. I felt numb. Empty. There was no room for feeling here, only action.


    I spoke fast, words tumbling out, ¡°Alanna, destroy the van.¡±


    Nothing happened. Long seconds stretched. I could hear she was right behind me because of her heavy breathing, which seemed to only be growing more laboured as the first villain reached the van and wrenched the side door open. The rest poured in, and the leader followed, slamming the door shut behind him. The van¡¯s tires squealed in agony as it tore off down the street, moving in the opposite direction from us. It had all happened so fast, even Ashika had barely made it halfway there. Her roar of fury pierced the air.


    I spun on the spot, ready to demand answers, but my words died on my lips when I saw Alanna. She was trembling like a frightened rabbit, standing side on with one arm raised, a finger pointing to where the villains¡¯ van had been moments ago. Her eyes were so wide it surely had to hurt, unblinking. Tear tracks scored lines down her cheeks.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t,¡± she said. A sob wracked her chest, and her face seemed to crumple. ¡°What if I hit them? I think that was the mayor¡¯s house. His family.¡±


    Words escaped me for a moment, and I had to take a deep breath. This wasn¡¯t her fault, I told myself. After seeing her accuracy today, I shouldn¡¯t have put that pressure on her.


    ¡°Call 911 and tell them what we¡¯ve just seen,¡± I said as I turned away, breaking into a sprint. I called out, ¡°Ashika!¡±


    It looked like she¡¯d been ready to give chase, but she circled back around towards me when she heard my voice. She crossed the distance between us in seconds, and started circling me to keep her charge building. ¡°We''re chasing them, right?¡±


    More and more signals were rising in the area, and I did my best to tune them out. Distant sirens echoed. There were shouts, screams, alarms. The fire was a constant roar, punctuated by intermittent pops from small explosions still going off within the house.


    Objectively, I knew moving closer was a bad decision. The house could blow up again at any moment, and there was no guessing how much force it could yield. Of the three of us, Ashika was the only one with any physical enhancement to protect her, and even she shouldn¡¯t be doing this without training. The real emergency services would surely be on the way. Greenwood was an expensive neighbourhood, and there were no doubt automatic alert systems in place, not even mentioning how many people had probably called 911 immediately after the explosion.


    But still I sprinted towards danger. There was no force on this Earth that could get me to run away and hide after what I¡¯d just seen. Superheroes would undoubtedly be here in minutes, but I knew from experience just how long minutes could be.


    We couldn¡¯t let that van out of our sight for more than a few seconds.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°Of course,¡± I said, taking a moment to get my phone out and turn on the distress beacon function while I ran. ¡°Think you can carry me?¡±


    Ashika snorted. ¡°Easy!¡±


    It took some careful manoeuvring to get myself onto her back without forcing her to lose her charge, but soon I was clinging to her like a monkey, holding on for dear life as she practically flew down the street. The roads here were long and straight, so the van was still in sight, though it was now reaching the end of the road. It turned right, the sound of its screeching wheels audible even from hundreds of metres away.


    Ashika gave chase. It couldn¡¯t have taken her more than a few seconds to reach the end of the street, but it felt like an eternity. Wind whipped and slashed at my face, stinging my eyes, but I kept them open, fighting through the pain. My stomach swooped like I was on a rollercoaster as Ashika went careening around the corner.


    The van was visible in the distance, making a left this time. If my mental map of the area was right, they were aiming for the fastest possible route to the freeway. From there, they¡¯d be able to swiftly reach the massive highway that ringed the city, and after that their options would be practically endless. We couldn¡¯t lose sight of them at any point.


    The ensuing minutes were a blur. I was constantly having to blink away tears from the wind resistance clawing in my eyes, and that same wind made it difficult to communicate with Ashika. She knew the assignment, though, and with this much momentum built up her brain would be working far faster than mine, anyway. Eventually, I tuned out of the present moment, deciding to bury my face in Ashika¡¯s shoulder to shield myself from the wind while I thought up contingencies.


    Strictly speaking, we weren¡¯t supposed to be doing this. No matter how much research we¡¯d done, we were unlicensed and untrained to be dealing with a situation like this. Even pursuing the villains was dangerous.


    Whether this was the right decision or not didn¡¯t matter. I didn¡¯t care what the correct thing to do was. There was no way in hell I was letting these bastards get away. None. Scenarios flashed through my mind, my imagination running wild. I saw those girls who¡¯d been thrown over the villains¡¯ shoulders, bags over their heads, chained up in a dark room, pale and terrified, crying for their father. It inspired a visceral reaction in me. A fury that I rarely allowed to let free.


    Dad had told me so many times that the world would be better off in the long run if we tried to empathise with those in our society who had been forced onto the wrong side of the law, to question what had put them in that position in the first place and eliminate the root causes rather than demonising them for their actions.


    I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d be able to do that, this time.


    Tempest had told me himself that results were what mattered. The only way we¡¯d get in trouble was if we fucked up entirely, and I was going to make damn sure that didn¡¯t happen.


    I shook my head as if to dislodge those grim images from my mind, seeking to replace them with analysis. What did I know of this situation?


    Alanna had said the house that had come under attack was the mayor¡¯s, and the hostages were likely his family. That meant this was probably an extortion situation, or something similar. A threat. They wouldn¡¯t want to actually harm the hostages, just take them to another location so they could make their demands. This group had a professional look about them, given their outfits and rapid enacting of their plan.


    What was the explosion for, though? It only served to call a massive amount of attention to them. If not for that, they might have been able to extract their hostages without anyone the wiser. I had to assume it was a mistake, somehow. They had certainly looked to be in a hurry when they were rushing to their van, now that I thought of it.


    Maybe they weren¡¯t as professional as I first thought. It didn¡¯t really matter either way, their threat level remained high. Fighting them two versus five was out of the question whether they were amateurs or seasoned experts.


    Our role here was to ensure they didn¡¯t disappear into the bowels of the city. Foresight was an enormous metropolis, with a lot of controversial privacy laws in place to prevent the rise of a surveillance state, and countless out-of-the-way locations to hide for someone who didn¡¯t wish to be found.


    But making sure they didn¡¯t disappear wasn¡¯t all we could do. With my distress beacon active, we¡¯d be able to call superheroes to our location fairly quickly, once the nature of my ¡®distress¡¯ became clear. Hopefully, Alanna would already have relaid our actions to the authorities, and they would be able to put two and two together.


    And when they arrived, I intended to have plenty of information available for them.


    I lost my bearings rather quickly, with my eyes scrunched shut, and my face buried in Ashika¡¯s neck. All I knew for long minutes was the stomach-turning momentum of her relentless pursuit. I tried to count the turns to give myself a mental picture of our location, but gave up on that the first time I opened my eyes to check my deduction and found I¡¯d been miles off.


    Ashika¡¯s signal was roaring like a volcanic eruption, and she was moving so fast it was starting to make me feel faint. This was surely far beyond any speed she¡¯d reached outside the gym before.


    Still, I clung on with everything I had. I checked every few seconds, and it seemed like we¡¯d moved multiple blocks each time, the van always just visible in the distance¡ªAshika was making sure not to make it too obvious someone was in pursuit. Hopefully this villainous outfit was unprofessional enough not to notice.


    It felt like an eternity could have passed before Ashika started to bleed off speed. Soon, she was moving slow enough that it didn¡¯t hurt to keep my eyes open, and I checked out our surroundings.


    As expected, we¡¯d ended up in one of the more distant districts of the city. Hulking brick warehouses flanked the wide street we were on, looming behind chain link fences topped with barbed wire. The steady din of industrial activity was ever-present, mingling with the sound of distant sirens.


    Ashika was jogging at one side of the street, and I could see why. Far ahead, the van was moving at a more sedate speed, keeping itself inconspicuous, probably right at the speed limit. They¡¯d evidently moved on from the escape part of their scheme, and were now likely ensuring they had no pursuit before reaching their base.


    ¡°Do you think they¡¯ve seen us?¡± I asked as I lowered myself from Ashika¡¯s back and started to jog behind her. My body was sorer than any workout could have inflicted on me, but I pushed through it.


    ¡°Not much if they have,¡± Ashika whispered back, her voice mildly distorted by her power. ¡°I¡¯ve done my best to only move really fast when they were out of line of sight around corners.¡±


    I looked at her. It had all felt like breakneck speed to me. ¡°We¡¯ll have to be careful,¡± I said.


    Ashika nodded.


    The next few minutes consisted of tailing the van as subtly as we could. It was obviously taking a circuitous route to its destination, and we did our best to only watch it from around corners. But the villains obviously knew they couldn¡¯t stay out in the open in that van for long, and they soon turned into the parking lot of a red brick warehouse. They crossed right over to a wide open door where another guy was waiting for them, and it lowered the moment they were through.


    A hush fell. Ashika and I looked at each other, then exchanged a nod. No words were needed. I pulled my phone out and gave it a brief glance. It was still on distress beacon mode. Good. That meant it would be recording through my phone¡¯s mic and camera. Up until now, it probably would¡¯ve seen only darkness and heard a bunch of rustling and howling wind.


    But that was about to change. I held it up to my lips and spoke at a whisper. ¡°We¡¯ve pursued a group of six villains who fled from an explosion at the mayor¡¯s house in Greenwood carrying three people who seemed to be unconscious. They have entered a warehouse at my phone¡¯s current location. Stand by for further intel.¡±

 2.22: Supervillains (2)

    Some people liked to claim that supervillainy was a direct and proportional response to superheroism. When superpowers started appearing, there was a period of time when no one really knew what to do with them. Capebook had been the catalyst that inspired those early superheroes to go out and use their powers for good, putting on costumes like they¡¯d seen in their old comic books.


    It was a cultural thing, from what I understood. Though much of the world had followed after America, plenty of countries had no costumed superhero community to speak of, nor were there masked maniacs running around enacting dastardly schemes.


    But that didn¡¯t mean there weren¡¯t good and bad people in those places. They were just underground. A more traditional type of villain, fighting endlessly against superpowered law enforcement.


    That being said, things like ¡®secret identities¡¯ were rather unique to superheroes. Massively public figures who ostensibly acted on the government¡¯s behalf (or, at least, with its blessing) going by callsigns was not a common thing, outside this community. Therein lay the strangest part of the hero/villain dynamic, and it was why so many people seemed to claim that supervillains were a symptom of superheroes, in my estimation.


    There was something different about a guy in a costume committing a crime compared to a regular person in mundane clothes. When you really thought about it, it was kind of silly. In a way, it took the edge off the act. Turned it into something that felt like it should¡¯ve been a scene in a move, not real life. People even tuned in to livestreams of ongoing cape fights, as if it was all entertainment.


    In the same way, it somehow seemed a hundred times more sinister when some serious shit was going down. While a guy in a costume robbing a bank took the sting off the act compared to a guy in a ski mask wielding a shotgun, the same could not be said for the kind of act we were dealing with today.


    Maybe I was biased, and my own experiences affected my judgment. I didn¡¯t think so, though. Something about costumed guys specifically targeting civilians left a bad taste in everyone¡¯s mouths, and the perpetrators tended to be handled with prejudice. Laws were in place for it. If someone fucked with your family, you were allowed to go after them hard.


    I didn¡¯t know what power the mayor had off the top of my head, but a vindictive part of me really hoped he had something that could make these guys regret their actions big time.


    Ashika and I circled around the warehouse, trying our best not to make it obvious we were scoping the place out. The neighbourhood wasn¡¯t one I was familiar with, but it wasn¡¯t difficult to figure out. Laid out like in a grid system, the warehouse was bracketed by two more buildings and their lands on either side, but its plot stretched over to the adjacent street.


    It was a hulking thing of red brick, maybe three stories tall, capped by a flat roof, with half a dozen giant garage-like doors to allow loading vehicles in and out. Signs reading ¡®security cameras active¡¯ hung on the chain link fence in regular intervals, and indeed I could see those little black half spheres dotted along the upper edges of the warehouse¡¯s walls.


    There was a parking lot on the opposite side from the loading area the van had entered the warehouse through, but it was empty of any vehicles. There was no sign of activity through the few murky windows in view. Other warehouses, in comparison, clearly had lights on inside and plenty of cars parked. It was in good enough condition that it obviously wasn¡¯t abandoned, but if we hadn¡¯t seen the van turn in there, I would have assumed it was closed for the day, no one inside. Not a peep of sound escape those walls.


    Not physical sound, anyway. I was coming around to the idea of using more sound metaphors for my signal sense, especially in this situation: there were several muffled, distant signals, akin to hearing someone playing loud music through speakers in their house as you walked past. It was hard to tell how many there were, or where exactly they were located, but I soon began to suspect there were more than the five villains plus driver we¡¯d chased here.


    Interestingly, they were the only signals in action in the neighbourhood I could sense. I hadn¡¯t looked into it, but I imagined industrial areas like this had strict rules about power usage in the work place.


    All those factors added together to make me think this was more than just some temporary safehouse rented for this particular job. I was starting to suspect we¡¯d stumbled on a villain group¡¯s hideout. It got me wondering again about their professionalism. Far be it from me to critique a villain group¡¯s operating procedures, but it seemed unwise to take some high value hostages to your base of operations.


    But there were a lot of assumptions there. I was relaying it all to the distress signal system on my phone in the hopes it would be passed on to whoever responded to this mess, but it didn¡¯t feel like useful, actionable information. Sure, we¡¯d been able to identify where the villains had escaped to, and that was important¡ªallowing a kidnapper to take their victims to an unknown location made the situation much more complicated.


    We needed to know more. I couldn¡¯t be content to wait for the heroes to arrive with just this. Too much remained up to chance.


    If there was one thing I wanted to get out of today, it was making sure the hostages all escaped with their lives. Whatever it took to achieve that, I¡¯d do without hesitation. Any risk to myself meant nothing.


    ¡°I want to get closer,¡± I said to Ashika as another building cut off out view of the warehouse. If those cameras were active, and someone was watching them, we couldn¡¯t keep doing laps around the building. We¡¯d done two passes so far, and any more would be suspicious.


    ¡°I want to charge in there and beat the shit out of them all,¡± Ashika said. She was glaring in the direction of the warehouse, even tough we could no longer see it. Her charge was still climbing, though slower now that she was moving at a walking pace.


    ¡°Bad idea,¡± I replied.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    ¡°But you totally want to too, right?¡± she said, tearing her eyes away to look at me. Her gaze burned with fury.


    ¡°More than you can imagine,¡± I said, earning a nod. ¡°But we both know we can¡¯t do that,¡± I continued. ¡°Last thing we need is for one of us to get taken hostage, too.¡±


    ¡°So, what do you want to get closer for?¡±


    ¡°Signals,¡± I murmured, picking up my pace as I observed the other building immediately adjacent to the villainous lair. It was a more modern building, white walls and doors. Most importantly, its parking lot was full of vehicles. That meant blind spots for the cameras dotting the walls.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t your signal power literally knock you out when you tried to use it too much?¡± Ashika asked, sounding almost curious.


    ¡°It won¡¯t do that again,¡± I said. Not that it mattered. I wouldn¡¯t particularly care if it did. ¡°The training we did with Alanna today gave me an idea.¡±


    Ashika made an ¡°ah¡± of comprehension, skipping ahead of me before walking backwards. ¡°Flashes of lightning, yeah?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°That¡¯s the plan.¡±


    We ended up circling back round to the other street, where the van had turned off to head into the villains¡¯ lair. However, we didn¡¯t make another circuit, instead staying in where we judged the blind spot of the villains¡¯ cameras to be, observing the other building on the opposite side from the modern-ish one. It was another red brick warehouse, with a lot more activity, and had its cameras up with the street lamps, giving them more coverage.


    So, it looked like we¡¯d be trespassing in the modern one.


    After a bit of planning, we headed back around to the parking lot.


    I wanted to go alone, but Ashika was having none of it.


    ¡°What happens if you''re caught?¡± She asked me, lip curling with displeasure. She smacked her fist into an open palm; it sounded like a gunshot. ¡°If your power does knock you out, you''ll need someone to get you out of there, right?¡±


    ¡°We have to be stealthy,¡± I said, trying to be delicate.


    ¡°I can do stealthy,¡± Ashika snapped.


    I looked pointedly at her fist, still enclosed in her palm.


    She glared back. ¡°I wasn''t trying to be stealthy there.¡±


    In the end, I decided that arguing the point would just be wasting time, and I didn''t have enough of that to spare as it was.


    The warehouse could hardly be called a buzzing hive of activity, but there were certainly more than a few workers present. Just at a glance, I could see a few people having a cigarette break outside one of the back doors to what I assumed was an office area. And there were signs of more people at work within. But this was the back of the building, with the parking lot stretching out behind it, and so this was where we''d have to sneak in. The front, where the bulk of activity lay, was simply untenable in comparison.


    There was no security checkpoint at the gate, but it was still nerve racking when we crouch-walked in at a moment we judged no one was looking. My heart was in my throat. I had never done anything like this before. While I would object to the title of goody two shoes that have been bestowed on me during elementary and middle school, I couldn''t deny that I wasn''t one to break rules much in the past.


    Heroes didn''t break the law after all. Such was my childish logic.


    No one came running out to confront us as we made our way through the parking lot, crouching behind the cars. That boded well, I hoped. I wouldn''t have dared to take a risk like this at the actual lair, but here the price of failure would presumably be an uncomfortable conversation, followed by getting escorted off the premises. Whatever security this place had, though, they evidently weren''t watching the cameras closely enough to react immediately. A good start.


    The next potential point of failure came when we were almost at the building itself. There was a gap a few paces long between the edge of the parking lot and the actual building. That wasn''t even mentioning which doors we''d have to go through. One was wide open, but the smokers were still milling around beside it.


    Briefly, I had the idea to go and tell them what was happening, but dismissed it. I didn''t want there to be a commotion here until the heroes arrived. The villains couldn''t know they''d been exposed ahead of time. We would afford them no chance to prepare.


    We had to sneak along the parking lot, moving away from the smokers. After some observation, I decided on set of double doors closer to the middle of the warehouse when I saw one guy exit from them and it became clear they weren''t locked. The near heart attack I experienced at his sudden emergence felt like a small price to pay.


    Still, it took some time to work up the courage. Ashika was vibrating with nervous energy beside me, and I was sure I didn''t look any better. In other circumstances, it might have taken me ages to take the plunge. But the stakes here spurred me on. When the smokers went back inside, we acted. After a deep fortifying breath, I darted forward from cover, Ashika right on my heels.


    To my relief, the door was indeed unlocked. I eased it open, peering through. Only when it became clear there was no one waiting beyond to catch us did I go in fully.


    Massive reinforced shelves lined the main space in towering rows. We immediately took a hard left, peeking around each corner to check the coast was clear before we crossed the end of each row. Eventually, we reached the farthest left wall. There, we finally delved into the warehouse proper.


    Sneaking around here would only make us more suspicious, and we no longer had any chance of getting out of sight if someone happened to enter this aisle from the other direction, so I decided to take refuge in audacity.


    I strolled along with an unconcerned gait, like I had every right to be here. It was good that we were both wearing tracksuits today from our earlier training. They didn''t stand out too much from what I saw of the floor workers. If anyone was watching the interior cameras, they would hopefully just assume we were more employees.


    Signals penetrated the warehouse wall, coming from the adjacent building. I resisted the urge to try and analyse them. That wasn''t what we needed right now. I had another trick in mind.


    When I judged we were about halfway along the aisle, I went searching for a gap in the wares burdening the shelves. It didn''t take long. The place wasn''t completely packed with merchandise. Only then, as I was manoeuvering myself into that gap, did I realise what this place was actually stocking.


    In fairness, the logos on the boxes weren''t my primary concern, so I hadn¡¯t been paying attention. The omega symbol of the Olympians was unmistakable once it was right in my face though. I recognised other logos too. The Valkyries. The Golden Generation. It seemed all the big teams were represented here.


    There was a goddamn superhero merchandise warehouse, right next to a villainous lair.


    Ashika and I exchanged an amused look as she climbed in after me. Her lips trembled. I was sure she was desperate to laugh. But she nodded when I put my finger to my lips. Best not to draw any attention to ourselves. She went completely still, ensuring her charge with no longer building. Her signal faded away.


    Now it was my time to take action.