by Hayes, Drew
His best hope was, oddly enough, Lesley’s own talent. She was so accurate, so skillful, that most of her fights probably didn’t last too long. Either her opponent went down early, or they knew the trick to whatever she was doing and countered it. Whichever way her usual matches went, most likely hadn’t been drawn out, so Shane had to bet on his endurance being higher than hers. Shane never seemed to get the easy fights: not against Angela, or Chad, or the professors. Nothing was ever easy for him; he was eternally trapped in second place, fighting with everything he had to make it that little extra bit further.
The first shot missed, barely, as Lesley had to swing to a wide angle as a shadow blade forced her to shift sideways. The second shot, close on the heels of the first, struck the shadow barrier that was trying to keep up with Shane’s mad dashing. No doubt about it, Lesley had increased her rate of fire. She knew what he was trying to do and didn’t want to let him wear her down. He didn’t stop, didn’t even dare to slow down. This was the best chance he had, and she was already two bullets down.
More gunshots rang as Shane weaved in and out of the corn, leaving a trail of slashed stalks behind him. Three, four, five shots down now. Judging by the make and size of the gun – identifying information Shane hadn’t understood why his grandfather grilled him on as a child but sure as hell did now – she was probably working with eight bullets. That meant he was over halfway there. The trouble was, Lesley knew that too, and she grew much more careful with her next shot.
A rogue shadow blade forced her to dodge slightly at the last moment, and that was all that saved Shane. The bullet easily cleared the shadow barrier around him, whizzing past the back of his head so close that Shane could feel the wind from it on his neck. Damn, she was a crazy good shot. If she went sniper like Professor Baker then Lesley would be one of the most dangerous people on the planet.
Wait… why hadn’t she gone sniper? Lesley was a Weapons major, not a Ranged Combat one. But with aim like hers, there was no threat she’d ever need to get up close and personal with unless there was some reason she couldn’t strike from afar, some aspect of her power that limited that kind of technique.
Shot number seven was cut in two by the shadows, both pieces spinning through the air past Shane’s face. One bullet left now. Jerking to a halt, Shane turned his focus back to the shadow barrier around himself and the attack on Lesley. She wouldn’t waste her last bullet, and if he turned his back for even a second, she’d use the chance to reload. Lesley and Shane locked eyes across the open stretch of land, nothing between them except some sliced bits of corn stalk drifting on the soft artificial wind. As they stood like that, aware of how much rested on the next move, a small bit of leaf drifted near Lesley’s face. Without breaking eye contact, she let out a puff of breath from the side of her mouth, blowing it easily out of the way.
That set everything in place for Shane. In that moment, watching her almost indifferent expression, Shane finally realized he’d been searching the wrong part of his memory for a power like Lesley’s. She didn’t have a similar ability to any of the Heroes he’d known or studied at all. No, it was in a wholly different part of his life where Shane found the answer; one that Angela had dragged him to in spite of their grandfather insisting it was a waste of time.
“Perfect Catch. That’s what they called him. I don’t remember his real name, or who he played for, but I remember seeing him on the SAA football field. A player who could avoid every tackle, who could catch a ball as long as it was even remotely close to him, not with flashy telekinesis or brute force, but with something much easier to underestimate. You’re like him, aren’t you, Lesley? While your powers might not work in the exact same way, you two fundamentally have the same ability: perfect spatial awareness. Within a certain range, you know the precise location of everything and your relation to it. That’s why you can dodge by less than an inch without looking scared; you know exactly where those blades are. And your shots are so good because you know where your gun is aimed in relation to your target, making it easy to find the perfect moment to shoot. Even with all that, you must have trained like crazy to have those moves and reflexes.”
“Damn. It took my class a lot longer to put that together. I was hoping to get through Intramurals without anyone catching on.” Lesley’s grip on the gun adjusted slightly, and a dangerous look gleamed in her eye. “But still, knowing what I can do and being able to beat it are different things. Even if you block this shot, do you really think you’ll survive another magazine? I’ve got your timing now.”
To his own surprise, Shane laughed. “Sorry, sorry. I’m not laughing at you. You are a very serious threat and a skilled opponent. I’m laughing at myself. I worked so hard to come in here and show that I could win using precise, calculated strikes. That I was more than what my power made me. And now, out of all the people I might have to face, I end up with one who can’t be defeated using those methods.”
“If this is you giving up, it’s a bit long-winded,” Lesley pointed out.
“No, this isn’t me giving up, it’s–”
The shot rang out, cutting Shane off and nearly hitting him dead center. She’d played along with the conversation to lure him into dropping his guard. A good tactic, but one Angela had used up years ago. Shane was still waiting, still ready. His blades quickened as soon as he saw her hand tighten, slicing the bullet as soon as it drew near. Lesley’s eyes widened, just by a hair, as she realized she was either going to have to reload or change weapons. No matter which she picked, there would be a time where she couldn’t counterattack.
“As I was saying, no, this isn’t me giving up. Think of it more as me giving in. While I very much want to be a Hero who can be relied on for precision and careful work, it’s not what I’m best at or naturally suited for.” Shane lifted his hand, calling to all the shadows around them. “This is my real power, the one I try so hard not to use on anything but Sims. The kind that’s impossible to dodge.”
He closed his hand into a fist, and suddenly the world grew darker. Lesley was surrounded by blades, all moving, all spinning, a rapidly-forming sphere that closed in on her like a demonic blender. For some, it would have taken longer to see the truth, but Lesley could tell at once that she was done. The way the blades were closing in, there was no space to avoid them. This wasn’t a move to stop an enemy or injure them. This was a killing technique, one that would leave nothing behind but diced hunks of meat and bone where once a person had stood. Just when it seemed there was no space left, the blades came to a sharp halt.
“Deathblow.” Shane’s voice was a whisper, but even so he knew they could hear him in the viewing room. And he knew how many Heroes had just started thinking of Shane as the kind of Super they could call in when something needed laid to waste. Maybe he’d never be able to completely get away from that. Maybe he would always be called on when wanton destruction was needed. But he could still decide the kind of Hero he was between those moments, and what causes he stepped over the line for. For better or worse, this was part of him, and it was time to stop denying that.
“And Shane DeSoto of Lander wins another match!” Victor was enthusiastic as always, and why not? He’d just seen a hell of a show. “You know the drill, off to the med rooms, both of you!”
With a thought, Shane dispersed the shadows, revealing Lesley posed awkwardly on one foot, the position she’d been forced into just before the blades stopped. She was perfectly unharmed, although looked quite a bit grumpier than she had at the start of the fight.
“If you could do something like that, you should have just opened with it.”
“If I was the kind of man who opened with an attack like that, I don’t think I’d be fit to call myself a Hero,” Shane countered. “It’s the kind of tactic I only use against someone I can’t beat any other way.”
Lesley still looked annoyed, but she nodded her understanding. “That makes it slightly better, I guess. Just don’t do anything crazier in the next fight. You’ll make
me look bad.”
280.
No speech this time. No call to arms or promises of glory. It would have been wasted seconds and pointless words. These people knew what they were here for, knew what awaited them if they succeeded. Wealth. Not money, wealth. The kind that would change their lives, and their family’s lives, for generations down. Charles Adair had spared no expense, especially not on this part of his security. Ten trained Supers, each strong enough to be considered a viable threat on their own, plus every guard with a half-decent power that hadn’t run for the hills already. That was who was waiting for Crispin when he appeared in the room.
Wordlessly, he set a hand on each of them, activating his ability and increasing the capacity of their powers. Crispin liked to see it as bringing out their true strength, showing them the best that they could be. The fact that they actually couldn’t be this powerful without him was a detail Crispin chose to overlook. It didn’t fit with the philosophy he espoused, so it was cast aside. One by one he went down the line until every Super present had felt his touch. Crispin turned to the man in the suit, expecting to be teleported out somewhere safe.
“This was just the first batch, the ones that are going to come in from behind and give our intruders trouble. Next we take you deep down, to where our forces are going to hold the line. That’s where you’ll stay until this is all over: protected by the people you enhanced, and easy to grab if we need your help again.”
“And what if the line gives, if these intruders break through your defenses?” Crispin asked.
“Then I imagine they won’t be too happy to see you. Seems like excellent motivation to give everyone you touch as much help as you possibly can.”
“Crafty. I expected as much,” Crispin admitted. “Not like I had much of a choice, though.”
“There’s always a choice. You could have stayed safe in your cell, but you wanted freedom. Freedom comes with risk and danger. Part of the package. But making sure an asset we acquire performs at peak efficiency, that’s just good business sense.” The man turned from Crispin to address the rest of the room. “You all have your orders. Just remember, your families will receive extremely generous compensation packages if you die in battle, but they get nothing if you run and we have to kill you later. Keep that in mind, in case your willpower starts to fade.”
With that done, he took Crispin roughly by the wrist. “Now then, let’s get you down there before it’s too late to make a difference.” The two men vanished, leaving behind a room of amplified, highly-motivated mercenaries, all with one single goal.
Stop Globe and his team, no matter what.
* * *
The med checks were getting quicker. Shane suspected the doctors were growing more accustomed to assessing his mind for post-battle issues, since the physical healing was as speedy as ever. Not that he needed much; aside from the rubber bullet to the forearm, he’d barely been struck in the last fight. Lesley had come out even better: she’d avoided every attack so thoroughly that she didn’t even have a small cut to deal with. Fast as they were, Shane was still surprised when he stepped back into the viewing room and found the next fight hadn’t started yet.
Dean Blaine was waiting for him at the entrance. “We’re taking short breaks between bouts now that we’ve reached the semi-finals. Not long, but enough time for everyone to watch the fights before theirs. It gives people a chance to hit the bathroom or grab a snack, plus makes sure you all have a fair amount of information to work with for the final match. Over the years, we found that doing it this way ensures that the last match is as balanced as possible, and that makes it more interesting for the Heroes to watch.”
“Good, I was a little worried I wouldn’t get to see the guy who beat Chad. Speaking of, how’s he doing?”
“Better, but this will require time to mend. You know he’s not a man to take defeat lightly, especially not with stakes like these. I do think that is helping, though.” Dean Blaine nodded across the room, where Shane now saw Chad was standing. It was understandable that he’d missed his friend, since Chad was currently under an assault of affection from a tall blonde woman who obviously had no sense of shame or decorum.
“Well, she made it after all.” Shane wasn’t entirely sure if he was happy or annoyed that Angela had shown up; most likely some combination of the two. That was the nature of their dynamic, and probably always would be to some extent. But as long as the happy outweighed the annoyed, they could make it work. He’d barely formed those thoughts when someone whispered to Angela, who whipped her head around and spotted Shane across the room.
Without a moment’s pause or hesitation she bounded over and wrapped Shane in a strong hug. “Holy shit! Little brother, that was a hell of a fight. I almost thought she had you on the ropes a few times.”
“Please, you think I’m going to let you be the only DeSoto who gets to say they won Intramurals? I came here to make it all the way.” Shane paused, remembering there was a practical issue he needed to sort out quickly. “Wait, who won between Vince and the fire-woman?”
“Oxygen manipulator, actually,” Graham DeSoto interrupted, having quietly made his way over to his grandchildren during the chaos that was Angela. “And she was defeated by Vince Reynolds. You’ll be facing him in the next match. Alice and Conrad have already gone to the prep rooms to prepare for their fight, which should be starting any minute now.”
Quickly doing the math, Shane realized that if Vince won, everyone but the Lander students and Conrad were out of the running. On the surface, that seemed like a great victory for his class, but one glance around the room gave away the issue. Lander was already seen as a bit full of itself, thanks to the reputation they had with the public of churning out more well-known Heroes. Whether they perpetuated the myth or not, it was a reputation that hung on its students’ shoulders, and they’d just wiped every other school from the tournament while losing only one of their own.
Almost every student in that room – and undoubtedly some of the Heroes – was pulling for Conrad to win. Not all out of malice or anger, but simply because they wanted to root for the underdog over the apparent dynasty. Lander had been the dominant force, the one whose students had consistently hidden how strong they really were. Even if the feelings of the crowd changed nothing, it was still a strange sensation to stand there, aware that nearly every eye on him was hoping he would lose.
Angela wrapped an arm around Shane’s shoulder and pulled him close, whispering into his ear. “This is the view from the top of the mountain, little brother. This is what it means to be the best. Even the people who love you hate you just a bit.”
“Any suggestions?” Shane whispered back.
“Yeah. Never give them what they want. Stay here, on top. Stay the best. They don’t have to love you; they just have to trust that when shit gets real, you’re someone they can call on. Respect that you’ve earned is better than mindless adoration. When your turn comes, go out there and show them why you’re a man to be respected.”
281.
No pressure. That was the phrase Alice kept repeating to herself as she stepped into the combat cell. After a field and a mock-city, she’d finally drawn a more boring, straightforward combat arena. It was bigger than the usual cells, about twice the size, with tall ceilings that she absolutely intended to use. Conrad could manipulate something in the ground, rocks or dirt or something, so Alice’s best chance was to stay airborne the whole time. In theory, it should be a pretty straightforward fight. But in theory, Chad should also be her opponent. That was what she’d been expecting if she made it this far, and that idea had been daunting enough. Now she had to defeat the man who’d beaten Chad, a task several degrees harder because she hadn’t been fighting with or against Conrad for the past four years.
But no pressure, right?
Alice took a deep breath, steadying her nerves as Conrad stepped out from his entrance, a door that then closed behind him. Sure, no pressure, except the eyes of every Hero in attendance,
all the students who were already out, and her friends who were pinning Lander’s hopes on her victory. Because if she didn’t pull this off, it came down to Vince or Shane, neither of whom could easily avoid the floor falling out from under them, especially not if Conrad was fast enough to also change the spots where they landed.
Alice blocked all that out. It was ancillary information, unrelated to her task at hand. She had to be at the top of her game for this: ready, smart, and above all else – calm. Conrad fought intelligently; he’d neutralized one of Lander’s biggest threats without a single punch. If Alice wanted to win this one, she had to be able to think and adapt on the fly. So she ignored the stares, and the expectations, and the hopes on her shoulders. Or tried to, anyway.
“For our first match of the semi-finals, please introduce yourselves,” Victor called.
“Conrad Booker. I’m a Control major, and my Hero name is Seismic.”
“Nice to meet you, Conrad. I’m Alice Adair, Subtlety major and future owner of the Hero name Legacy.”
As soon as the words were spoken, the air between them grew tense. This was unlike the earlier matches, where a sense of mystery accompanied the start of a fight as opponents tried to figure out what the other could do. Both Alice and Conrad had put cards on the table. He knew she could fly, and she knew he could change the ground. There would be a brief window, just at the start, where she was easily in range. This match kicked off with a race that had the potential to end the fight before it even properly got going.
“Very well, the first match of the semi-finals begins, now!”
