Super Powereds: Year 4

by Hayes, Drew

  “Just remember, you’re not eighteen-year-olds, so you don’t get to make the usual freshman mistakes. No passing out drunk in the hallway. Get inside your apartment like an adult.”

  “Hey, being an adult means I’ll pass out wherever I damn well please,” Eliza shot back.

  “Aside from class, our jobs are similar to last year. We do security sweeps, keep the perimeter secure, and make sure no unexpected threats catch you off guard.” Jerome, as he often did, pushed the conversation forward, ignoring the sniping between Nick and Eliza. He’d long ago learned it was the only way to get through a discussion in any reasonable length of time.

  “Yeah, after what went down last year, I highly doubt anyone who isn’t suicidal is going to be quite so showy,” Nick said. “This whole town is on high alert. If anyone tried even half the crap Nathaniel did last year, they’d have Heroes on them before they could even scream. Angry, worried Heroes that are very concerned with keeping the HCP schools safe.”

  “You say that, but there are more threats out there than just the Evers. While The Sons of Progress have lost a lot, their head is still out there somewhere. Plus, now that the world knows HCP campuses can be attacked, there are mutterings in the criminal world about new possibilities.” Eliza’s smirk vanished as she spoke, the severity of the situation more than even she could chuckle through.

  “Perhaps, but I predict there will be at most two attempts to replicate what the Sons of Progress accomplished. After they are handily—and forcefully—crushed, such idiotic notions will quickly dissipate. The Sons were well-prepared and likely spent years planning that assault, one which even now would no longer work. I’ve been in the belly of the Hero beast, and I assure you they are not to be taken lightly, especially now that they’re on guard. Anyone who comes after an HCP is going to deeply regret it, if they’re unfortunate enough to live that long.”

  Nick pulled back the curtains on his window and gazed out at the Lander campus, still largely empty in the early morning light. It was unspoiled, strangely serene to look upon. This was how Lander was supposed to be. This, not that nightmare Nathaniel had helped conjure upon it. It was his home—as much, if not more so, than Vegas and the casino.

  “And on the nearly infinitesimal chance that the Heroes don’t see things through, then I’ll just have to step in.”

  4.

  The uniform hung in her locker just like the ones in all the previous years had. In terms of cut, there were slight differences, as her body was still growing and changing from year to year, but these were relatively minor alterations. On the whole, it was indistinguishable from the uniforms she’d donned previously—except, of course, for its color.

  “I honestly wasn’t sure the day would ever come that I’d wear a white one.” Alice slowly pulled the uniform out of her locker, cradling it as if it were made of glass instead of incredibly durable woven fibers. HCP uniforms were built to take punishment, a necessity to keep them from being replaced after nearly every class.

  Around her, the other senior women in the combination showers and changing room were taking out their own uniforms as well. Three years they’d all been working toward this, and now that the moment had arrived, no one was entirely sure how to feel about it. All they knew was that the uniforms felt heavier than they’d expected.

  “It’s weird, right?” Violet added. “I mean, since getting here, we’ve always looked at the people in the white uniforms as the all-stars, the people who definitely had their shit together. Sort of figured that by the time I got my hands on one, I’d feel a little more sure of myself.”

  “Perhaps we only saw them as confident because of our own insecurities,” Mary said. “Try and remember how it felt being a freshman. As uncertain as you are about what this year holds, is it even remotely close to that feeling?”

  Britney Ferguson chuckled to herself and began to remove the uniform jacket from the pants. “Holy shit, no. I thought I was going to be out on my ass before the first day was over. Much as I love my power, I was shocked they allowed a girl with just invisibility into the program.”

  “Oh, and having the power to sing made me feel like such an unstoppable champion,” Selena Wilkins added.

  “Sound is more powerful than most people think,” Amber Dixon said quickly. “Besides, you two both kicked ass as soon as the first real test came around, so it was clear early on that you both belonged here.”

  “Maybe it’s just easier to see the strength in others than it is to see what lies in ourselves,” Camille Belden said, her voice much louder than it would have been freshman year. While by no means a pushy or aggressive person, Camille no longer forced herself to fade into the background as she once had. Having come to peace with the fact that her life would be lived in the public eye, she’d fought her shyness just as hard as she’d pushed against her physical limitations.

  “Or maybe it’s easier because we’ve all kicked the shit out of each other at one point or another, so we know how strong everyone is,” Jill Murray pointed out. Unlike the others, she had moved away from her locker only seconds after snagging her uniform. It was located next to a locker that now had no owner, but that in previous years had belonged to a speedy girl with pink streaks in her hair.

  Sasha’s absence hung heavy in the room, felt by all and commented on by none. They knew she was missing, but they’d all mourned her in their months away. This wasn’t the time for more tears. If they wanted her loss to mean something, then it was time to get back to work.

  “Are we going to be overseeing matches?” The thought slipped out of Alice’s mouth as quickly as it had popped into her head, but she didn’t mind. Here, she could speak freely amidst others who knew what it was to wonder about the path ahead. “You know, since we had seniors watching ours first year?”

  “Dean Blaine will probably address it at the assembly,” Britney replied. “But my guess would be yes. There are a lot of freshmen and only so many professors. Plus, the newbies don’t get to meet any of the teachers outside of Professor Fletcher and Professor Pendleton.”

  “Ah yes, the first-year coaches.” Jill tilted her head, thinking back to the horrendous, grueling workouts they’d endured at the start of the HCP. “Is it insensitive to say that I’m a little envious Alice and Mary got to punch that robotic son of a bitch?”

  “Just a touch,” Mary replied.

  “From what I’ve seen, Professor Fletcher isn’t any nicer, though he does yell less.” Violet finished slipping on the last piece of her uniform and buckled it into place. It fit her just the same as her gray ones had, yet it felt completely alien. “Much as it sucks, all that training does get results. Any one of us could smoke a freshman workout now.”

  “Which is why we get harder ones.” Alice buckled her jacket into place and ran a hand down the edges of her pants to smooth them out. “Worse every year. I can hardly wait to see what they’ve got in store for us as seniors.”

  “We’ll probably have to spend all of gym fighting Sims,” Violet speculated. “Or the professors. Oooh, or Sims and the professors, mutated together into some mechanical monstrosity that can breathe fire and eat powers.”

  “Violet and I may have caught a monster-movie marathon last night,” Jill said, more in reply to the strange looks her housemate was getting than to the actual words Violet had spoken.

  Mary finished donning her uniform, then did a quick scan to make sure the others were done as well. Camille finished last, slipping her boots on hurriedly and buckling them tight against her feet.

  “Whatever it might be, I assume we’ll be getting some hints soon. Time to head out for the first assembly of the year. And remember, keep your heads high and walk with confidence. The freshmen are going to be watching us.”

  The other women nodded. They hadn’t needed the reminder, but it was still nice to have. After everything that had happened to Lander, it was their job to seem as their seniors had: indomitable bastions of power with neither fear nor doubt. The younger o
nes needed to see that, needed to believe they could become that.

  Even if it was a false image, it was still an important one.

  5.

  The freshmen were the final group to arrive, a small sea of black uniforms spilling into the auditorium and spreading across the open seats. To the older students, they looked so young, so worried in spite of the brave faces most of them tried to wear as they rooted about for open chairs. No judgment was passed on the HCP’s youngest members, however, because everyone in the gray and white uniforms was keenly aware that, once upon a time, they had been the scared rookies doing their best to look like they belonged.

  Dean Blaine waited patiently behind his podium as they filed in, Professor Fletcher on one side and Professor Pendleton on the other. The rest of the professors were off somewhere else, no doubt preparing the day’s plans for after the meeting, but the freshmen hadn’t reached the point of dealing with them yet. That would come after they’d proven themselves and earned the right to learn more than just the basics.

  Only when the final freshman had slipped into her seat did Dean Blaine clear his throat, a sound that rippled through the underground auditorium and silenced every other noise it encountered. The new students hadn’t learned this behavior quite yet; they merely followed the lead of the older, more experienced students. For a moment, Dean Blaine let the silence hang thick in the air as he scanned the room, noting all the faces he was keenly familiar with, as well as the ones that were no longer present.

  “Welcome to Lander University’s Hero Certification Program. For those of you who do not know me, I am the dean of this school’s HCP, and you can call me Dean Blaine. The man on my left will be known as Coach Fletcher to you, and the one to the right will be Coach Pendleton. In a few minutes, they will take the freshmen to another room and explain how today’s combat trials are going to work, because, yes, you will all be fighting today.”

  A slight swell of whispers rose up from the freshmen, but Dean Blaine simply stared at their uneasy faces until the noise died away.

  “Before that begins, I felt it only appropriate that I speak to our program as a whole. Many of you are no doubt wondering what this next year holds for Lander in light of last May’s attacks, and those are very fair questions to have. I shall do my best to answer them, at least the biggest ones, before sending you off to your tasks for the day. The first and most obvious issue at hand is that some of you have no doubt noticed that there are more of you here than there should be.”

  The freshmen didn’t speak, though they did turn slightly in their chairs to look up at the older students. Even among those in gray, there was a bit of swiveling and head-counting. No one in white was surprised by the news, however. Their numbers were already so small, it was easy to tell that there were more than fifteen of them.

  “Every year, we eliminate students after their exams, promoting only those we believe to be most capable of reaching graduation,” Dean Blaine explained, eyes on the freshmen who hadn’t gotten the talk yet. “But exams were canceled in light of last year’s events, leaving us with no fair way to accurately determine who should be cut. The Department of Variant Human Affairs has acknowledged the extraordinary circumstances Lander faced and allowed a one-year reprieve for class size. This will not impact how many of you pass on to next year or graduate; however, you will have slightly larger classes for the duration of this year. No one was cut from the HCP, though some of your fellow students have elected not to return.”

  Whispers didn’t bubble up this time, but a sense of discontent quickly rose within the older students. Glares hardened as counts were taken, mentally tallying who had run away. In that moment, friendships that would have lasted lifetimes were irrevocably severed.

  “I urge you not to judge too harshly those who have chosen to leave us,” Dean Blaine said, despite knowing the words would be futile. “Many lives were lost that night, and while one was in this program, some of the others were doubtlessly friends of our students. Coming back to a place with lingering memories of loss is a difficult task, and some people would prefer to move on with their lives than face it.”

  Dean Blaine paused, appearing to check a paper on the podium, but in reality giving his words time to sink in. Losing friends from the program was hard enough; hating them for leaving would only make letting go tougher for the students who remained.

  “Aside from that alteration, this year will function largely as the previous ones have. You may notice some new faces down here, as the DVA has expanded its presence in an effort to tighten security at all HCP schools. Please treat them courteously, but know that they have nothing to do with the day-to-day program. You’ve all been briefed about the fact that many of the lift locations were moved, and we’ll be implementing new protocols for when to engage them. Using them to keep civilians safe was the right choice. Still, there are consequences to every action, and now many on campus know how we get down here. Let’s see, that just leaves… ah yes, the dorm situation.”

  Confused looks spread across many of his students’ faces. They’d already moved back into their old dorms—at least, those who hadn’t gone off campus and the freshmen who were supposed to have gotten settled on the day prior had. No one wanted to repeat that process, especially those who’d had the same abode for all their previous years.

  “This does not technically impact any of you, but I felt it pertinent enough that you be made aware of it: over the summer, Lander tried to pass a rule banning any HCP student from residing in the dormitories. The reasoning for this was that our people staying in those dorms put the regular students at risk, as it meant that everyone was targeted when the attacks last May occurred. It likely would have passed without issue, save for the fact that the regular students got wind of it and protested tirelessly to keep you in the dorms. They pointed out that having you nearby saved countless lives and effectively shamed Lander into killing the proposal. As I said before, actions have consequences. Had that rule gone into effect, it would have been vastly easier to determine which students were in the HCP and which were not. We’d have fought it as best we could, but Lander does have certain rights, especially when it comes to housing and safety. What saved you all was the fact that you saved them. Each of you protected one another. This, better than anything I will ever be able to teach you, illustrates the relationship humans and Supers are meant to have.”

  Many of his students, mostly the older ones, were nodding along by the end of Dean Blaine’s point. The freshmen didn’t pick up on it quite as quickly, but that was to be expected. They didn’t understand yet that they would need protecting, too. That realization would only come after their youthful arrogance and belief in their own invincibility was forcefully ripped away. Which, for most of them, was about to occur.

  “That concludes the general points for everyone. Freshmen, please follow the coaches into the next room. Sophomores and juniors, report to the gym for class selections. Seniors, please stay in your seats. We have more to discuss.”

  6.

  Only after the sound of softly scuffling feet had finally faded did Dean Blaine speak again. His audience now tremendously reduced, his demeanor seemed to relax slightly, the stern authority figure shifting into the overseer they’d all come to know and respect. They were not freshmen; they knew their dean was only human, and likely a very tired one at that.

  “First and foremost: today, you will all help the rest of the staff and me oversee the freshmen’s initial ranking matches. We carefully pair them off so that accidental deaths are unlikely, but it’s still important to have an experienced watcher just in case things get out of hand. You’ll be given a rundown of each student’s powers, along with some of the immediate stoppage systems built into the cells, before each match. I’m sure you all have questions about that, but there will be time to go through it with the other professors, so please hold your questions until then. We have much to cover today.”

  No one made so much as a peep, nor were they surprise
d by the announcement. After three years in the program, they’d learned that whatever they saw the older students doing were tasks that would eventually fall to them. Everyone had expected to watch the freshman matches, though the off-handed comment about “stoppage systems” did pique a few students’ curiosity. If not for Dean Blaine’s edict, they would have investigated further, but instead they merely stayed silent as he continued.

  “Secondly, after the matches today, we’ll have individual meetings to determine what major you’ll be going forward with. Since only Subtlety was able to have its final before the attack, your professors will utilize grades and performance throughout the semester to determine whether you qualify for their major or not. If one of you wishes to proceed in a major that you are deemed unfit for, we will hold a private testing session to determine if you are indeed capable. Normally, your final would have filled this role, but given the circumstances, we have a bit of leeway. Come prepared to choose your Hero path and to defend that choice if challenged.”

  Again, none of the students were especially surprised. They’d been told since sophomore year that they would eventually need to select a discipline. Every student still in the auditorium knew the path they planned to follow, even if some were less sure of their choices than others.

  “This next statement is more a precaution than an actual announcement, since, if I don’t tell you about it, I’ll inevitably have students coming up to me saying there was a mistake on their schedule.” Dean Blaine allowed himself a slight grin at the memory of all the confused seniors who’d tracked him down, certain they were accidentally put in a first-year course. “You will all be taking a second Ethics of Heroism course this year, and once again, I will be your teacher. Important as the first one was as you familiarized yourself with the HCP, this one will deal with the world beyond it. Most of our students have no frame of reference for what comes after this, and while that’s not as true for your class, there is still much to discuss and many questions to answer.”