Super Powereds: Year 4

by Hayes, Drew

  There was something in the air, for those who knew how to feel it: a sense of weight to the day, of possibility crackling through the clouds. So much raw power had gathered on Lander that it seemed to radiate out from the underground facility, leading many normal students to think they were just really feeling the nerves about final exams. Down in the HCP, it was even stronger; every senior felt like their hair was standing on end.

  Since younger classes weren’t officially permitted to know about Intramurals, there was no grand parade of the other schools’ recruits down the halls. They were brought in through teleporters specifically coordinated by the DVA, taken directly to where the matches would occur. It was scheduled down to the minute, with Supers on hand to sense for spatial anomalies outside the appointed times. This part hadn’t always been quite so rigorously monitored, but after last year, no one wanted to leave a single thing to chance. Only the four students representing Lander would take a more mundane route, gathering in Dean Blaine’s office before they were scheduled to ride the lifts down.

  “Good morning, everyone.” Dean Blaine was in bright, energetic spirits this morning. Professor Baker also seemed chipper as she etched notes at a rapid pace. “We’ve covered most of this before, but for the sake of keeping things running smoothly, we’re going to briefly review how this day will proceed. Once we leave here, we’re going directly to the central viewing room where the various Heroes and guests will view the fights. As soon as we arrive, the drawing for slots will occur. I’ll be on hand with power in full-effect to ensure no one can use their ability to get an advantage, perceived or otherwise. After the slots have been decided, you’ll either settle in to watch the bouts or head down to the prep rooms, depending on if you’re about to fight. The prep rooms are where you will spend the bouts before your own, giving you time to stretch, meditate, or engage in any other pre-fight ritual you might need. You’ll also go to recovery room immediately after a match so that medical staff can check you over and administer healing. These competitions are violent by their nature, but your safety is of the utmost concern.”

  “Wait, so we don’t carry wounds from one fight to the next? That’s rather generous,” Shane said.

  “Better we tend to injuries as they pop up than risk several working together to cause serious harm. Besides, everyone gets the healing, so no one will be at a disadvantage. We want to see the best you have every time, and this is just one more aspect of that.”

  Dean Blaine paused, waiting to see if there would be more questions about the issue, before pressing on. “When you’re not in a prep room or a match, I would advise you to watch the other fights carefully. I hope your time at Lander has taught you all the value of information, and these moments will be the only chances you have to uncover the capabilities of the other students. Obviously being in the prep rooms means you’ll miss some bouts, and while it’s not technically against the rules to compare notes with one another – although asking non-competitors for input is barred, as you will recall – do keep in mind that you’re not on a team in this event. Each of you is gunning for the same victory at the end of the fights, so you help one another to your potential personal detriment. As much as you represent Lander, you are also showing everyone here what you can do.”

  The glances the four exchanged were brief and unwavering. They’d switched from allies to opponents so many times throughout their training that the shift barely even registered with them anymore. It wasn’t Dean Blaine’s favorite part of the training, but it was unavoidable. Sometimes, Heroes went bad, and even the smallest hesitation could lead to their escape, or worse, the death of one of their former allies.

  “Since accommodating every student from every school would be an untenable security and logistical nightmare, the hosting school is also prohibited from inviting all its students to attend. Professor Pendleton has graciously agreed to sit with the rest of the seniors in a classroom and feed them the match results as they are reported to him. Even though you won’t see most of your friends down there, know that they are cheering you on overhead.” Although Dean Blaine didn’t say it, most of the students knew enough by now to realize that Professor Pendleton had almost certainly taken this duty because it kept him from having to be around other Heroes and DVA agents. As a former Hero who was also a criminal, that sort of interaction would no doubt be very awkward for him.

  Vince raised his hand, and a moment later Dean Blaine nodded to him. “You said we wouldn’t see most of our friends, right? I thought senior students weren’t allowed to come watch at all.”

  It was brief, only noticeable to those with well-trained perception, but Dean Blaine’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance for a shadow of a second. “While that is the rule in general, some of the students are brought in either by necessity or as a guest of someone of importance. For example: Camille’s level of healing is rare and powerful enough that we will keep her on hand in the event of serious injury, and as Dr. Moran’s apprentice, Mary will be shadowing the good doctor throughout the day. There will be… others, as well, but don’t worry about it for the moment. All you need to focus on is the task at hand: winning your bouts as safely as possible.”

  “What happens after we lose?” Alice looked around at the surprise on her friend’s faces. “What? There are only two spots in the final match, so even if we win every bout until we face each other, two of us are going to lose before last fight.”

  “A very practical question,” Dean Blaine said. “When you lose, you will simply remain in the viewing room until the event has concluded. There is something to be said for having your friends cheering you on, after all, so we wish to allow those remaining that privilege. And besides, you’ve all fought hard to earn your places here; the very least we can do is let you enjoy the show.”

  Again, Dean Blaine paused for more questions. After ten seconds of silence, he decided that they’d asked all they were going to and it was time to wrap this up. “I will add one thing before we go: once we are down there, I will be standing as a dean of the HCP, and in that role I shall be an impartial entity who is there to preserve the fairness and safety of Intramurals. However, as Blaine the person, the trainer, and the teacher, I want to take this moment to tell you that I’m pulling for each and every one of you. The four of you have put in effort that is remarkable even in a program like this one, and know that no matter how the matches turn out, I am immensely proud of each of you for making it this far.”

  He rose from behind his desk and motioned for them to do the same. “Now then, let’s find out what poor souls will have the misfortune to go against Lander in the first round.”

  253.

  It was the uniforms that they noticed first. They were similar to the ones from Lander, still crisp and white but with minor stylistic differences. A seam here, a cuff there, small things that wouldn’t have stood out so much to anyone that hadn’t spent four years draped in different colors of their own unique version. Only after seeing the other people their age in white, staring back at the four from Lander with a mix of expressions, did they start taking in the rest of the details of the viewing room.

  A massive window, no doubt made of the same reinforced material as the ones in the combat cells, stretched across the back wall. Only darkness lay behind it, concealing whatever secrets dwelled on the other side. Set just above the window were a dozen massive screens, all currently showing the same image: a sixteen-point bracket with nothing but school names and a single digit next to each slot. At the edges of the room were the viewers who’d come for the show; Heroes, DVA agents, and people dress in mundane clothes all watching the students’ arrival with rapt attention. In front of the dark window, below the center screen, was an area with five boxes, each bearing the name of an HCP school. Behind each box stood a person that radiated the sort of confidence that spoke to how dangerous they were, be it the woman with green in her hair, the older man with a stone-faced expression, the lady with copper hair and danger in her eyes, or the fellow with a
thick mustache that barely concealed his smirk. Dean Blaine walked past them, taking his spot behind the Lander box, and it all clicked into place: these were the other HCP deans.

  “Good morning, everyone!” The voice was familiar, though it took some longer to place than others. It certainly helped when the speaker stepped out from the crowd into view, microphone in hand. Between his naturally booming tone and the freshly-shaved head, it was hard to forget a man like the Hero once called Bullrush. “For those of you who don’t know, my name is Victor Pakulski, and I’m the Lander alumni who was asked to MC Intramurals this year. I know I worked with some of you in my Hero days, and plenty more of you when you wanted tickets to an SAA event, so I’ll skip a lengthier introduction and instead put the focus where it should be today: on the students!”

  There was a round of brief, but sincere, applause as the people in both costumes and normal clothes clapped for the competitors. A few of the students from the other schools looked embarrassed, and one woman gave a grandiose bow that earned her some dirty looks from her classmates.

  “I know time is a precious resource all around, so I won’t waste any of it. Let’s get right to the heart of the matter and kick things off with the drawing of lots.” Victor waved to all the students, pulling them in closer. “Competitors, this is the easiest part of what you’ll be doing today. Just step up to the box with your school’s name on it, pull out one of the numbered balls inside, and show it to your dean, then the remaining spectators. We’ll take care of tracking the rest. Once you’re done, step aside so the rest of your class can draw. The only exceptions will be whoever draws the number one balls from Lander, Korman, West Private, and Sizemore. Your matches are the first two up, which means as soon as those numbers are drawn we’ll have someone from the DVA take you down to a prep room so you can get ready.”

  When Victor finally paused, the students felt the stares of the observers and realized they were supposed to be moving. Going as quickly as they could, each lined up in front of their respective boxes and prepared to test their luck.

  * * *

  “This feels excessive.” Nick didn’t look away as he spoke, keeping his eyes trained on Ralph Chapman’s as instructed. “Do you really think I’d manipulate the ethereal forces of fortune just to give my friends an easier set of matches? Besides, Blaine is down there, so what could I even do?”

  Ralph was staring at Nick from across the tiny office, barely permitting himself to blink. “I think you’d sabotage every other school with knives and poison if you believed it would give your friends even the slightest edge, so using luck is more than on the table. And I have no doubt you’ve calculated the exact area that Blaine can affect so that you could move slightly out of range. Once I get word that the drawing is done, then we can head down to watch the fights. But even then, you stay near Blaine and keep your eyes visible. Bringing you down is bad enough; you do not want the kind of trouble that would come from accusations of cheating at Intramurals.”

  “If you’re smart enough to cheat well, no one will even notice.” Nick had little hope that this line of conversation would change Ralph’s mind – it was merely a way to kill time until they could head down. “You’re also overlooking something important.”

  “I deeply suspect I’ll regret asking, but what’s that?”

  Without taking his eyes from Ralph, Nick pulled a deck of cards from his pocket and absentmindedly began to shuffle them. “They don’t need my help in the first place. Those four can handle things on their own.”

  * * *

  “And Lander’s number one ball has finally been drawn!” Victor had a knack for working a crowd, they were starting to discover. He’d been making the announcements with varying degrees of intensity, but with this revelation he upped the energy substantially. What’s more, everyone watching seemed to follow his lead. A few even let out applause or small shouts. Who knew what kind of reactions he’d be able to get when the fighting finally came?

  “The first match of Intramurals has been locked in. Chad Taylor of Lander versus Brenda Sellers of Korman. Both of you, head to the prep rooms to gear up, calm down, and do whatever you need to come out swinging. Once the other slots are set we’ll draw your match terrain, but that’s going to be a surprise you get to experience when you face each other. Until we see you again, stay focused!”

  Victor’s voice faded as DVA agents took both Chad and a woman with short hair out of the viewing room through a side door that no doubt led down some stairs. The rest of Lander looked at each other and at the numbered balls in their hands. Alice had drawn number two while Vince got number three and Shane held number four. Although none of them said it out loud, there was a sense of relief at the way things had worked out.

  Nobody knew if going first would be a benefit or a disadvantage, but given the choice, they’d have all elected to put Chad in the slot. Whether it helped or hindered, if any of them could deal with the pressure of being the first fight at Intramurals, it was Chad Taylor.

  254.

  Not long after Chad and Brenda were led away, the students who drew number one slots from West Private and Sizemore were taken out as well. They’d be able to prep for their match while the first one progressed, which most of the other competitors imagined had to be the worst spot possible. Going first would be rough, sure, but at least there was a little bit of leeway since it was the first match of the whole event. For those going second, it would feel just as foreign as going first, only the witnesses would already have a standard for comparison.

  Alice was just reflecting on how lucky she felt not to be in that position when a lift door opened to reveal one of the last people – quite literally – she would ever have expected to see in an HCP, let alone at Intramurals. Seeing Nick walk in was strange enough, but seeing him walk in next to Ralph Chapman was so bizarre that Alice genuinely wondered if someone was using illusion powers. This notion lingered until she remembered she was in the same room as Dean Blaine.

  “There’s the cream of Lander’s crop. Sorry I missed the drawing, somebody has trust issues even though there’s a negation Super right here in the room with us.” Nick strolled over as if he were oblivious to the shocked expressions on his friends’ (and a few of the DVA agents’) faces.

  With a barely suppressed groan, Alice rubbed the sides of her temples. “You know what, I’m more mad at myself than anything. It’s been four years, and I’m dating you; I really should have expected something this insane by now.”

  “Nick, how are you here?” Vince was more to the point, and visibly concerned as he pulled his friend in close. “Is it even safe?”

  “Relax. I’m on premises as a specially invited guest of the DVA. See, when Crispin made his confession, he might have mentioned Nathaniel’s role as an instigator, which means Heroes are suddenly interested in the Evers family and whether they helped bankroll the attack on Lander. As a man who is intimately familiar with the people who run Vegas, I’m what they consider a ‘high-value’ asset. In exchange for a little help navigating things, I was able to swing myself an invite to the event of the season.”

  It was a good lie in that it held together well and made a certain amount of sense, but Alice didn’t buy it for a second. Nick wouldn’t divulge anything of value about the Vegas syndicates, not even one with which he had a bad history. At most, he’d toss out a few crumbs of information that anyone could find if they dug deep enough. No, this was a cover story, created to mask whatever real methods he’d used to gain entrance. That was for the DVA to worry about, though. She was just glad he’d found a way down. The whole situation was tense and nerve-wracking; it would be nice to have someone around who could help distract them when it was necessary.

  “If you’ve got any popcorn, bust it out. They took Chad away a few minutes ago so the first match is bound to start soon,” Alice said. “And I don’t know about you all, but I’m looking forward to seeing what these other schools are made of.”

  * * *

&nbs
p; With the focus on Victor as he drew the conditions for the first match – soon revealed to be a blank ball that indicated a standard combat cell – Titan made his way across the room. He wasn’t heading for the Lander kids. They already had enough going on, plus it was seen as poor form to talk to the competitors lest anyone think they were getting advice. No, his target was an older man with wide shoulders and a gruff expression. As soon as Titan arrived, he found a handshake waiting for him.

  “Dean Jackson, good to see you, as always.”

  “Same to you, Titan. Been keeping track over the past year, and it looks like you and those new Gentle Hammers of yours have done some fine work. Glad to see you haven’t lost your touch in the time away.”

  “It took me a little while to get back into the swing of things, but I’m getting there.” Titan released his hand, shifting so that they could both see the screens as they chatted. Small talk was perfectly fine in their downtime, but the focus of the day needed to stay on the students.

  “Maybe you’ll make some room for a few fellow Sizemore graduates on that team. I heard you were looking to take an intern, but you’ve yet to swing by your old alma mater.”

  There weren’t many people who could make Titan squirm, but his old dean was one of the few with that power. “This year was special. I don’t think I fully realized it at the time, but I was hoping for a very specific student. One that attends Lander.”

  Dean Jackson gave a small, curt nod. “And?”

  “We signed the paperwork a few days ago. My boys will be interning under me if they graduate.”

  The snort was unexpected, as was the brief smirk that showed on Dean Jackson’s lips. “If the sons of Titan can’t even graduate, then I fear to imagine what this class is capable of. No, I don’t begrudge you that selection, even if it is going to be a hard road. But maybe next time you’ll at least throw us into the mix.”