Super Powereds: Year 4

by Hayes, Drew

  This time, Roy didn’t swing for the blade. Instead, he aimed his attack directly for Professor Cole’s shoulder, hoping that at the very least he’d be able to cripple her. Taking away an arm from someone with so many pseudo-limbs wouldn’t accomplish much; however, the pain might lessen her concentration. At this point, any advantage they could get would have to do.

  As Roy had expected, the cloak on Professor Cole’s shoulders floated upward to intercept the strike, aided by three separate tendrils. To Roy’s delight, the bandages seemed to give way as his ultra-heavy weapon slammed into them. Professor Cole’s outfit was far from typical; Roy had seen how tough the material was firsthand. But everything got slower and more brittle when it was cold.

  Unfortunately, what Roy had hoped for required a cold that Vince apparently couldn’t reach. While he made it through the first two bandages, moving them aside with his powerful blow, the third managed to knock his bat upward, and the wide sweep of the cloak sent the strike into the air. Roy had missed her body entirely. Even worse than the miss was the fact that, with both arms extended upward, his entire body was completely open for a counterattack, something that Professor Cole didn’t miss.

  The bandages wove around Roy’s torso in less than a second, jerking him upward as they steadily tightened. Once again, he was airborne, and Roy braced for the next throw. It was only seconds later that he realized what was actually happening, and by that point Professor Cole had thoroughly bound both of his arms over his head. Much as he struggled, she’d locked him into a position with virtually no leverage, and those damn cloth tendrils refused to budge.

  “How strong are these things?” Roy grunted, trying desperately to free himself as he watched Vince narrowly avoid a flurry of daggers and Mary shield herself from a pair of bandages wielding blades. Even twenty feet away, Professor Cole could force their ranged fighters into melee.

  “Pretty damn strong,” Professor Cole replied. “We might not have had tech-geniuses working as Heroes back in the day, but we still kept a few on the payroll. Plus, my power lets me strengthen them to an exceptional degree. That second attack was better, I’ll admit, but you overextended. Though it pains me to say it: I’m afraid you’ve done all you can for this test.”

  The grip on Roy’s chest tightened, squeezing the air from his lungs. He wasn’t sure if she was going to take his air until he passed out or just hold him like this until three minutes went by, and he didn’t especially care. Either one would eliminate him from the trial. Worse, it would leave his friends a man down. This fight was hard enough; without a strongman to take her blows the whole thing was probably a lost cause. Then again, maybe Roy was overestimating himself. What had he done besides get thrown at Mary and then immediately become captured? Maybe it would be better when he was out. Mary and Vince wouldn’t have to worry about hitting him with any attacks they used. He’d probably been holding them back all along.

  Oh, come the fuck on!

  The words didn’t come from anyone in the room, and Roy’s eyes widened as he realized who had spoken. It had been months since he’d heard that voice in anything outside of a memory.

  “Her—shel?” His words were hard to form; the pressure on his chest seemed to be growing tighter by the second.

  Of course, it’s Hershel! The question is who the hell are you? Having a pity-party just because a fight’s not going your way. That sure doesn’t sound like the Roy Daniels I know. So what if you’re losing? You’re almost always losing. To Chad, to Coach George, to Dad. But you keep fighting. Because we’re Daniels men. We don’t give up until we’re physically incapable of going on, and sometimes even that’s not enough.

  “Gett—ing chok—oked,” Roy managed to grunt out. The edges of his vision were filling with blurry static; it wasn’t going to be much longer now and he’d completely lose his grip on consciousness.

  Drop the bat.

  “Huh?” Roy wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard that right. Even if he let go, his hands were still bound overhead.

  Drop the fucking bat!

  This time, Roy didn’t protest. He just did as he was told. As soon as the weapon fell from Roy’s grip, he felt himself moving. Dimly, he became aware of impact on his back as he slammed into the ceiling. But what mattered far more to him than some meaningless blow was the fact that the pressure on his torso lessened. Not by a whole lot, but it was enough for Roy to puff out his chest and get a good breath of air. With that, his mind pulled itself from the oxygen-less sludge it had become mired in and he realized what had happened.

  Professor Cole might be able to use those bandages to hold Roy up, but it still took effort, especially since he was holding a weapon that weighed hundreds of pounds. When he’d dropped it, he’d drastically changed his weight, and suddenly the force she was using was far too much. With Vince and Mary demanding her attention, it had caused her to accidentally slam Roy into the ceiling as she was caught off guard. Staring down, Roy could even see the surprise in her eyes, fleeting though it was. It was the first time they’d done anything she wasn’t expecting, and Roy found himself filled with a fresh round of determination.

  Mary is gearing up to attack. When she does, try and break free at the exact moment Professor Cole defends. If her focus is split, her restraints might not be able to actively fight you.

  Surprised as Roy was to still hear Hershel’s voice as the mental fog lifted, he didn’t question the advice. As soon as Mary let loose a blast of telekinetic energy, Professor Cole dodged, and at the same moment Roy pulled against the cloths on his arms with every ounce of power he could muster. The coils were still incredibly tough, but without their wielder focusing on reinforcing them, Roy was able to yank them apart. Once his arms were free, it was a simple matter to reach down, grab one of the cloth tendrils stretching up from Professor Cole’s body, and rip it in half. She might be as skilled as they came, but damn if Roy didn’t at least have brute strength on his side.

  Professor Cole noticed him as he fell. She sent another few bandages to re-ensnare him, but Vince drew her attention with a controlled torrent of fire. She easily fended it off with more of her cloth tendrils—which were proving to be exceptionally flame retardant—however, by the time she glanced back, Roy had already landed and reclaimed his weapon.

  “Okay,” Roy said, savoring the ability to breathe easily. “Now what?”

  If you’re game, I’ve got a plan.

  Roy glanced over to Mary, who, despite her wide, uncertain eyes at the strange voices she was hearing in Roy’s mind, nodded in agreement. Vince couldn’t hear the proposal, but since he was usually on board for anything, Roy assumed that wouldn’t be an issue.

  “Lay it on me, bro. How do we bring her down?”

  120.

  The concept was a simple one. Chad had found throughout his years of combat and training that the less complex an idea was, the better a chance it had of succeeding, and this was as bare bones as he could keep the strategy. He began to bark orders as soon as Shane appeared, bloody and limping slightly, yet obviously undeterred.

  “Shane, surround Alex with shadow-blades. Don’t touch him, but keep them sweeping around at all angles as fast as you can manage.” Already, holes in Chad’s arms were opening as his blood-saw began to take shape. “While you cover Alex, I’ll cover you. Professor Pendleton might be skilled, but I’m much harder to damage for someone without augmented strength.”

  Shane’s hands were up before Chad had even finished the explanation, blades of darkness sweeping all around Alex’s tense, focused form. “Much as I trust you, mind telling me what good this does? It’s not like I can attack fast enough to create a draft and spread the fog.”

  “We aren’t trying to hit the fog.” Chad’s mind was abuzz, his speed of perception increasing with every passing second. Shane’s ability could provide full coverage, but Chad needed to see and react to any of Professor Pendleton’s attacks to be effective. “The professor has to turn physical to strike us: reforming a hand or
a foot or what have you. That’s what we’re covering against, the moment when he becomes momentarily solid. Because if he can hit us, then we can hit him right back.”

  “Clever.” The voice drifted around them once more, impossible to track. “It took some of my actual peers far more than a single match to figure out that strategy. Of course, it’s only as good a plan as you can execute.”

  Chad didn’t bother looking around for the voice; his gaze never wavered from Shane. Alex would be protected within the maelstrom of shadow, but this tactic left Shane completely open to attack. The only defense he had was Chad, who would be damned if he saw his friend take any more hits for the team.

  For a few moments, nothing happened. That was expected; Professor Pendleton was probably waiting for them to let their guard down. He wanted—needed, really—to catch them by surprise. It was a good tactic, just one that was wasted on someone with Chad’s ability.

  The hand formed fewer than five inches from Shane’s throat, outstretched fingers betraying their intention to curl around his neck. While Professor Pendleton wouldn’t go so far as to kill any of them, losing oxygen would be more than enough to break Shane’s focus, which would open Alex up as a target. Its proximity to Shane’s face made hitting the hand a dangerous prospect. If Chad’s aim wasn’t perfect, if he missed by even an inch or so, he might very well be the one to break Shane’s concentration—or worse, injure him.

  The blood-saw whipped through the air, arcing between Shane’s arms and coming down directly on Professor Pendleton’s hand. Though Chad’s aim was true, it seemed as though he struck only mist, as the hand unformed an instant before impact would have been made. Then his eyes caught the sight of something solid falling through the fog, and when it hit the ground with a soft thud he recognized the object for what it was. Chad had sliced off the tip of one of Professor Pendleton’s fingers.

  “Shit!” The fog seemed to ripple with pain, swirling angrily around them. Except it wasn’t completely around them anymore. While Chad had been preoccupied with watching over Shane, Alex had been getting the job done. Slowly but surely, he was pushing the fog away, beads of sweat rolling down his face from the effort. In spite of the toll it was taking, his effort seemed to be paying off with every passing second, shoving more and more of the mist over to the other end of the room.

  “Playing a little rough for a practice match, don’t you think?” Professor Pendleton didn’t seem quite so taunting anymore.

  “Pretty hard to die from losing a finger. Or a whole hand.” Chad extended his blood-saws by a few inches, just to drive the point home. Anything Professor Pendleton manifested should be something he was prepared to have lopped off.

  Some piece of their teacher formed from the fog behind Chad, on a crash course with the back of his knee. Even if he couldn’t see the attack, it was impossible to miss the sound of muscles and bones contracting. Without so much as a glance behind him, Chad sent a slicing stream of blood around toward the object. He didn’t make contact; however, the appendage vanished well before his attack came close. It seemed their teacher wasn’t taking any more chances.

  Then again, there wouldn’t be that many more chances to take. As Alex gained momentum, the mist around him, Shane, and Chad was clearing. Professor Pendleton was being slowly driven back; he’d been contained to a single quarter of the room. It was time to switch up strategies.

  “Alex, keep at it. You’re doing incredible work. Shane, Professor Pendleton is probably about to reform so he can ruin Alex’s grip and spread himself out again. We have to stop that.”

  “Any ideas on how?” Shane’s teeth were ground together; he was clearly putting everything he had into Alex’s defense. Chad had expected nothing less.

  “Yes, actually. Do the same thing you’re doing with Alex, only through the cloud. Stick Professor Pendleton in the middle of a shadow-blender, so that it isn’t safe for him to turn so much as even an ear solid. I’ll back you up.”

  Without pausing for confirmation, Chad shifted his attention to the slowly shrinking bank of fog. His blood-saws arced through it, taking wide, long sweeps to cover as much ground as possible. Seconds later, blades of shadow began to whirl within the fog, churning at incredible speeds. The side of a shadow caught the tip of Chad’s saw, knocking drops of blood onto the concrete below.

  “Pull back, Chad. I can handle this alone, and you’ll probably want to keep most of your blood,” Shane said. “Just keep watching the perimeter, in case he tries to slip out or anything.”

  Chad did as requested, bringing the blood-saws out of the fog. It was a short journey; Alex was compressing Professor Pendleton down rather tightly by this point. Their teacher had become a cloud-ball roughly seven feet around.

  “I think this is as small as I can go,” Alex said. His eyes were open now, and the amount of perspiration running off him had diminished considerably. “Keeping him bunched up like this is a lot easier than dealing with a room full of mist, though, so I should be able to hold him.”

  Although Chad nodded, he kept his eyes trained on the bundle of fog across the room. “Then all we need to do is keep him pinned for three minutes.” Even as he said it, something in Chad’s gut told him it wouldn’t be quite as easy as it sounded.

  121.

  In that moment, Roy would have traded his left arm for Mary’s power to include the transmitting of thoughts as well as the reading of them. The more they could communicate without Professor Cole overhearing them, the better off they would be. As it was, all they could do was keep their verbal exchanges as limited as possible and trust one another to figure things out on the fly. On the upside, over three years of living, training, and meeting challenges alongside one another meant that he, Mary, and Vince had a level of understanding and trust that they’d never have managed had they been merely classmates. He just hoped it would be enough. On the upside, at least he wasn’t dealing with this on his own.

  Professor Cole uses precision above all else, and manipulating so many pseudo-limbs has to take a good amount of concentration. So first, we need to take away her power to make such calculated strikes.

  “Vince, get the lights!” Roy was racing forward as he listened to Hershel’s voice, with no time to spare so much as a glance to see if Vince got the message. “And just roll with whatever comes next.”

  Two more steps, and suddenly the room went pitch black. Well, that was one stroke of luck; Vince had understood Roy’s request and absorbed all the light around them. Roy kept running, ignoring the darkness and staying on track toward the last place he’d seen Professor Cole.

  “Interesting. You think taking my sight will give you an advantage?” Professor Cole didn’t seem worried in the slightest; if anything, she was a bit amused. “But none of you can see either, and—if you didn’t notice—you’re making more than enough noise for me to find you.”

  With no other distractions, Roy could hear the rustle of those damned cloth tendrils snapping through the air, set on a direct course for him. Still, he didn’t slow down. He kept right on going, even as they drew closer. Then, just when impact seemed unavoidable, Roy felt a familiar pressure grip his chest and jerk him upward. His shoulder brushed the ceiling briefly before he dropped a few inches, soaring along just below the top of the room.

  “What in the… you can’t fly.” It was the first time Roy could recall hearing Professor Cole perceptibly confused, and while it didn’t last long, he still took a great deal of pleasure in the moment. “Of course. Mary is lifting you up.”

  “She’s doing a lot more than that.” Roy was jerked to the side as soon as he spoke, Mary not wanting to give away his position.

  Good job, Mary. Now that Professor Cole is blinded and you’ve got the advantage on mobility, press the attack.

  No sooner had Hershel’s voice echoed through Roy’s head than his body was thrust forward, right toward the room’s center. He was more object than warrior at this point, but as he soared past the tendrils, too quick to be c
aught in the darkness, he didn’t mind one bit. Finally, he felt like they were getting traction, and that sentiment was confirmed as his foot collided with something that felt like a shoulder. Only Mary’s firm grip kept him from spinning around as he was hoisted upward once more.

  “A crude, rudimentary technique, but I suppose I have to say it’s effective. All the more so since it seems Mary is still maintaining a shield around herself.” The clanging from the other end of the room made it clear that Professor Cole had tried to nip this problem at its source, but Roy knew it would take more than a half effort from her to break through one of Mary’s telekinetic barriers. While she might not have Alex’s control, Mary had more power than she knew what to do with.

  “Not bad, but let’s see how you fare when you lack a clear target as well.” From all around, noise filled the room, clattering and clanging as different objects struck concrete in every conceivable direction.

  She’s making too much noise to track her location audibly, and I’d bet she’s skilled enough to keep her mind blank so Mary can’t read it. Think Vince has figured things out yet?

  “Pretty sure we’ll find out soon.” Roy braced himself as the grip on his chest swung him around. Occasionally he’d hit a tendril, but between the speed and surprise, there was no time for any of Professor Cole’s cloth limbs to ensnare him. At first, he seemed to be moving nowhere, just idly circling. It was only after several seconds that Roy realized he was picking up speed. Mary was turning up his momentum as high as she could, determined to make the surprise attack count for all it was worth.

  We should call this tactic the Roycking ball. Get it, like a wrecking ball?

  “It’s a good thing you’re smart, because you suck like hell at naming things,” Roy muttered. The speed was turning up more and more, faster by the second. After one more rotation around the room, Roy’s direction changed, sending him on a crash course with what appeared to be empty darkness. Mary knew better, though. Within seconds, Roy’s torso collided with Professor Cole’s body. He wasn’t there for longer than a few heartbeats before Mary jerked him away again, but it was enough to feel their teacher stumble. They’d scored a real blow, one her cloth armor couldn’t totally stop. Not much in the grand scheme of things, yet a huge achievement so far as Roy was concerned.