Super Powereds: Year 3 (6 page)

Here, the dean paused and motioned to the man at the back at the gym. He came forward with a casual gait, nothing to suggest he felt nervous, despite an entire class’s worth of attention focused on him. The man gave the class a warm smile, then turned to the dean and waited to be introduced.

“Our last matter of business is one relating to actual business. We understand that college is financially taxing for many students and their families, and that being in this program has prevented a lot of you from being able to earn money like regular students. Now that you have all made it to your third year, the odds of you staying in this town for the remainder of your college career improve significantly, so, as a courtesy, we set up a partnership with several local businesses to give part-time jobs to those who want them. These will be owners that know what you are and the demands on your time, and have agreed to accommodate those issues. The gentleman beside me is Kent Mears, the liaison who coordinates between eager students and these kind employers. Anyone interested in a job can speak to him in a few moments. For those who do, I urge you to do your best at any job you get. Remember that these positions require business owners to work around our program, and that a poor employee may make them less likely to offer HCP students any future opportunities.”

A smooth step moved Dean Blaine back in line with his professors. He saw all the students waiting patiently and allowed a slight smile across his face. They had come so far from this day two years ago, and there was still so much ahead of them.

“Okay, students, please begin.”

5.

The gym immediately filled with the distinct hum of chatter as the students spread out. Some made a beeline for their professors; others talked over the decision with friends, Dean Blaine’s remarks clearly inspiring them to doubt their original choices. Only a few headed for Kent Mears, though the fact that one of them was Chad Taylor did not escape notice by most in the room. It didn’t draw much curiosity, either. If anyone could handle a job on top of the demands of the HCP, it was Chad.

*              *              *

Roy finished letting Professor Fletcher know that he would definitely be pursuing Close Combat in the coming year, and then looked around the room for his next target. There was a mini-mob around Professor Stone, which sort of made sense. Focus was a useful discipline for any Super, it centered on calming your mind and drawing out more of your abilities, so they tended to toss anyone without a clear third skill into it. As a result, it was a pretty full course, so an ample number of students needed to tell her if they were keeping or dropping it. Roy’s eyes wandered over to Professor Cole, who somehow managed to look bored despite the layers of clothing and mummified bandages concealing her face. Not many people seemed to be competing to talk to the Weapons instructor, and Roy could take a decent guess why. He suspected the course’s already small number would shrink significantly after today.

Not being one for lines, Roy walked over to Professor Cole. He threw a hand up in lazy greeting and gave her a smile. She might have returned it; there was definitely movement under her face-wraps.

“Let me guess, you want to drop my class,” she said, once he got close to her.

“I guess you noticed my lack of enthusiasm during all those drills last year,” Roy replied.

“It’s hard to stand out at not caring, but you made it happen. Congratulations, I guess. You’re keeping, what, Close Combat and Focus?”

Roy nodded. “Let’s be real though, we all know I’m majoring in Close Combat, this was just a question of who got the axe first.”

“So you drop the one more closely related to fighting, rather than the one about a bunch of mental mumbo jumbo that won’t do you a dick whip of good,” Professor Cole said.

“Learning to think on my feet has actually done me a lot of good.”

“I’m sure it did, but you’re nearing the end of what you’ll get out of it. Once you’ve learned to fight with your head, there’s only so much Focus improvement a person with a purely physical power can do. You should be training your body, learning new skills to help give you options in battle.”

“I’m a bare-handed fighter. What do you think I’m going to get out of a Weapons course?”

“For starters, if nothing else, it will teach you how to deal with other Supers who do use weapons. For another, you shouldn’t be a bare-handed fighter. If you had listened to anything I said last year, you’d understand that a weapon’s primary purpose is to magnify your strength, to up the level where you can compete, something I’d have thought would interest a person like you.”

Roy let a sarcastic retort die on his tongue. Those were actually good points, and a few months ago, they’d have been wasted on him. However, after Vince’s year-end shitstorm and the summer spent under tutelage, Roy’s ego had finally started accepting the fact that if he wanted to reach the finish line, it would mean taking every advantage he could get. Heroes were top tier, and you didn’t reach that summit by turning down things that might give you an edge.

“Maybe you’re right,” he conceded. “I guess, since I’m going Close Combat anyway, I don’t risk much by taking another year of Weapons instead of Focus.”

Professor Cole blinked in evident surprise. Clearly, she hadn’t been expecting her arguments to work; she’d just been making them out of habit. Within seconds, her eyes were back to normal, but Roy knew what he’d seen in that brief instant.

“Glad you’ve deigned to stick around. Try not to get in the way of the students actually trying to learn.”

Roy flashed his smarmiest possible grin.

“No promises.”

*              *              *

“Thank you, Alice. No need to say anything, I accept your desire to drop my course without objection,” Professor Pendleton told her.

“I didn’t say I was dropping your class. I literally just walked up to you,” Alice protested. She’d spoken briefly with Professor Hill, who had already known she would want to continue her Control lessons, and had then walked over to the dark-haired Subtlety teacher, only to be met with his odd greeting.

“I know, you didn’t need to say it. Busy day, just thought I’d speed things along.”

“Okay, well, you’re wrong. I’m keeping Subtlety. That’s what I came over to tell you.”

Professor Pendleton arched an eyebrow in the practiced manner that only a man who has spent over a decade in prison with little else to do is capable of. “Are you sure that’s wise? Given what you learned about your powers last year, Control and Ranged Combat would offer you a much more useful set of skills.”

“I’m keeping Control, but Ranged Combat is redundant in a few areas. Subtlety is unique. I learned a lot last year.”

“I should remind you that you won’t have a teammate to cheat off of this time, though,” Professor Pendleton said. “Even if you excel in Control, a poor assessment from your other course could hinder your chances of moving on. With that in mind, are you absolutely certain you want to keep my course for another year?”

Alice felt a strange pressure on the sides of her head, like there was a swelling going on under her temples. Her eyes narrowed, and it took conscious effort not to raise her voice or clench her hands into fists.

“I’m positive. Or do I need to remind you that I cleared your tailing exam all by myself, as well as keeping passing grades on most of the written work? I don’t know what your issue is, but it’s obvious you don’t want me in the class, and I don’t think you ever did.”

“You’re right,” Professor Pendleton agreed. “You don’t belong in Subtlety.”

“Well, tough shit, because the dean just said we could keep any course we wanted, and I’m keeping yours. See you in class.” With a polished turn, she walked off, making a beeline to Professor Baker to cement her choice and drop Ranged Combat. She hoped she’d be able to get her temper and blood pressure down by the time she was able to talk to the crimson haired woman.

Behind her, Professor Pendleton struggled to keep the emotions off his face. At the same time, he tried to puzzle out whether the more dominant feeling he was suppressing was disappointment or pride.

6.

Having finished with his teachers, Thomas headed out into the hall, a half-formed idea of grabbing an early dinner bouncing about in his head. When he saw the familiar silhouette already lurking there, waiting for him, that idea quickly dissipated. He’d known this was coming; such things were as inevitable as the rising of the tide.

“Good day, Vince,” he greeted, preferring to get this conversation started so it could be over more quickly.

“Hey, Thomas,” Vince called back. His eyes kept glancing at the ground, his feet shuffling constantly. It was hard for Thomas to picture this man as the same powerful beast who’d forced him to retreat last year. It was what it was, though, and standing around wouldn’t change the fact that it had happened.

“Vince, I know why you were waiting for me, and we can skip it. I am not mad at you.”

Vince’s eyes leapt up from the ground to check the expression on what he hoped was still his friend’s face.

“You aren’t?”

“We know what we’re here for. Our training, this process, they’ve never sugar-coated it. Forging friendships is great, but when we are told to fight, we must do so with every ounce of strength we possess. That is what you did, and had the tables been turned, I would have come at you just as hard.”

“Oh. That’s not what I came to apologize for. I just . . . what I did to you. Draining you. It feels incredibly wrong, like I crossed the line on a personal level,” Vince explained. “I tore something out of you. That can’t be right.”

Thomas felt the sliver of tension in his gut twist slightly. He’d worked very hard not to think about that part. In mere moments, he’d been made powerless, the gift that had been with him since childhood suddenly absent.

“I won’t lie to you, I dearly hated that experience, but that isn’t the same thing as hating you for doing it. You were trying to win, and you used the skill set you had. Besides, even if I was upset, it wouldn’t make sense to hold the grudge against you. The things you did that day weren’t truly your actions.”

“Yes, they were.” The shuffling stopped, and the insecurity melted away. Social parameters were far from Vince’s forte; taking responsibility, on the other hand, was something he was far more comfortable with. “Nick might have set up the scenario, but I was still me. I own those actions, and if you’re mad about them, I’m the one who needs to make things right.”

Sometimes, Thomas found himself tempted to think he was the only one in the program besides Chad taking it seriously. Beach weekends, drinking, house parties, none of it seemed like the actions of people who comprehended the amount of responsibility that would ultimately rest on a Hero’s shoulders. At that moment, however, it was abundantly clear that even if Vince didn’t appreciate all of what lay before him, he certainly took his time here seriously.

“Then they were,” Thomas agreed. “But there was still no lasting harm done. My energy replenished back to full in a day, and I learned a valuable lesson about underestimating my opponent. Actually, if memory serves, this is the second time you’ve given me such an education. Though I doubt anyone will make that mistake again, after last year’s final match.”

“Honestly, I’m just glad people are still talking to me. I saw a recording of myself, and I wouldn’t have blamed any of you for staying away.”

“This is not a place where great power is feared just because it exists,” Thomas reminded him. “The scariest part of that entire event was your attitude and demeanor. You seemed to act as if you truly held no regard for the lives of those around you.”

“You aren’t wrong,” Vince admitted.

“I confess, I’ve wanted to ask you this for some time now. Knowing you for the past two years, I can’t imagine what it would take to drive you to that point. What was the vision Nick had Rich place in your mind?”

“It’s kind of fuzzy in some parts. I know that I saw all of you as monsters, though I think I somehow still recognized enough to know what your abilities were.”

“So, you were trying to stay alive amidst a monster attack? I suppose I can see how that would force you into a corner,” Thomas said.

Vince shook his head. “It was more than that. The depository box looked like someone I loved, someone who’d been beaten bloody to within an inch of death, and who the monsters were coming back for. That’s why I wouldn’t let any of you get near it.”

Thomas briefly considered asking just who it was Vince had seen, but then thought better of it. He’d been as candid as he could in the other parts. If the identity had been skipped, then it was likely on purpose, and now was hardly the time to go prying into Vince’s personal life. He’d have to make sure never to tell Violet, though; if she knew he’d had the chance to do recon on Vince’s love life, and hadn’t taken it, she’d never let him live it down.

“That sounds like a terrifying ordeal,” Thomas said at last.

“I’ve had better days,” Vince agreed, daring to flash a small smile for the first time in their conversation.

“You know, despite your insistence that your actions were your own, the fact remains that your head was invaded, you were subjected to illusions of a frightening nature, and you were forced into a situation that could have easily led to your expulsion through no fault of your own. It would not be a stretch to say that you were the real victim in last year’s events.”