Citadel (Book 1): Training in Necessity

by Clevenger, J.

  Isaac narrowed his eyes. "And just what would you know about that?" he asked, even as he bent and scooped up a piece of the stone floor like it was nothing more than mud. A light squeeze and he had a handful of fragments the size of his thumb.

  "Fear of helplessness, especially when combined with the thought of being unable to protect someone you see as weaker than yourself. Lifelong history of anger, usually channeled towards a productive end and a touch of Super Shock. Likely triggers are crowds, the smell of blood and the sound of metal tearing." Duncan rattled off as he dodged the stones Isaac was throwing at him.

  Isaac blinked. "That... was not exactly what I meant." He paused his throwing in surprise. It gave Duncan just enough time to bend down, scoop up his own chunk of the ground, and fling it at Isaac. He felt the impact on his shield, not enough to be a danger on its own but a lot harder than Duncan's earlier blows. "How do you know that, boy? It's supposed to be privileged information." Isaac had known that Duncan would get stronger the longer this match went on but he hadn't expected him to get this strong. A little more and he'd have to be a lot more careful.

  Duncan snorted. "Knock off the boy and kid stuff Isaac, I'm older than you." He flung another rock but his aim was off. It missed. "And yeah, privileged. That means that Jessie won't share it with anyone but another psyche professional. Specifically, one who's responsible for helping you learn to cope."

  Isaac threw his last fragment at Duncan and, before he could recover from his dodge, rushed forward. The distraction was enough to let him get a grip on his opponent, by his uninjured arm, and hurl him at the combat dome's wall. He still held back, but this time it was more out of fear that Duncan might breach the wall and end the match, rather than concern for injury.

  Before Duncan could recover again, Isaac took two long steps to the side. If Duncan tried throwing anything at him again, he'd risk hitting one of the Hector clones that were behind him now.

  "You're saying you're some kind of Healer. Duncan Nightmare. Our class's most disruptive member. The bully. The one who mocks and insults anyone he sees as an outcast or a weakling."

  Duncan stood up, putting a little weight on his bad arm in the process. If it caused him any discomfort, Isaac couldn't see any sign of it. "Yeah, pretty much. I'm the one no one likes." He sped forward, ducked under the blow Isaac aimed at his head, and planted his shoulder into Isaac's stomach. The big man staggered back, shocked by the power of the impact. "In fact, they dislike me so much that every time I pull that crap, someone steps in to stop me. They rally around the outcasts, support the weaklings and come together as a team."

  Isaac reached down and tried to pry loose the boy- the young looking trainee. His forcefield kept Duncan from getting a good grip on him but their strengths were a lot more evenly matched now. "You-" he grunted, "You mouthed off to Instructor Richard, challenged Coach Achala as soon as you could." He managed to pry Duncan's arms loose but couldn't get him into a position for a throw or hold. His field's lack of friction was working against him now.

  Duncan tried to knee him and Isaac twisted to take it on his thigh. It felt about the same as a blow from a normal teenager, painful but not serious. Isaac hadn't had any idea how strong Duncan could get. Was this his top end or...?

  "Yep. And I got slapped down both times. Notice that no one gave either of them any crap after that?"

  Isaac shifted his grip and got ahold of Duncan's wrist. By now it was clear that Duncan's power set included some kind of regeneration. Isaac didn't try throwing him again, just kept that grip on his wrist and started punching him. Duncan didn't have enough mobility to completely avoid the blows.

  "You're saying... what, that this is your job?" Isaac asked.

  Duncan gave up trying to dodge or block and hunched over Isaac's hand, trying desperately to pry loose Isaac's hold while shielding himself from attack. It wasn't working.

  "Negative- negative role model." Duncan stuttered. "Get trainees- do right thing- show them by doing wrong."

  Isaac let go and Duncan fell to his knees. Another punch and he collapsed to the ground. Isaac used his foot to roll him over, face down, and knelt by side. He took ahold of his hair, raised Duncan's head off the ground, and asked him a question. "So why are you telling me all this. That sounds like the sort of thing you should be keeping to yourself." He slammed his head into the ground, then raised it again.

  "Thought- thought about- recruiting you for the job." Duncan's voice was slurred but still understandable. Isaac rammed him into the ground again. "Saw your act. Thought- thought you had- a talent for it."

  Isaac let him lie there for a moment. "What makes you so sure it's an act?" he asked.

  Duncan stirred, slightly, before answering. "I... I can sense it. Fear, anger, hate. Pretty much anything negative." He raised his head and stared straight into Isaac's eyes. "Not from you. Don't know why, not exactly, but I know it's not real. Just a show you're putting on."

  Isaac leaned in and whispered into his ear, told him what he was planning. Duncan let out a disappointed sigh, nodded, then collapsed to the ground. He went back to slamming the Negative Role Model's face into the now shattered ground. It was the silence that let him know Duncan was out. Hector, all of him, had stopped screaming in fear.

  As the tone rang, signaling the end of the match, he stood up and stepped back. It took Isaac more work than normal to restore the look of contempt on his face.

  * * *

  Beneath the Tower

  Melody Shift had to work at keeping herself alert while the others gave their reports. It wasn't that the Directors of Stationary and Intervention had nothing of importance to say, simply nothing unexpected. The rate of violent Empowerments was higher than usual, unsurprising in the wake of the Abigail Werner incident. Most of the damage had been removed by now, though full repairs would take longer in most cases. Of course, that didn't take Columbia into account. At least the power grid had enough redundancy to absorb the loss of a single solar plant, along with the nearby city.

  "We finished identifying the bodies. Congressman Randall is dead." said Cynthia Strong, the Director of Intervention.

  The Director of Training's head snapped up. This definitely qualified as unexpected. "That makes three. Three times, someone pushed for a Nemesis team to go after Monster and they died in an 'accident.' Two plane crashes and a car wreck, I think."

  Cynthia nodded stiffly. She'd supported the idea, this time, even though she hadn't liked the Representative. Melody's opposition had been just another point of contention between the two former classmates.

  "Analysis has a tentative theory on the method of action he may have used." said the Director of Stationary, Jill Smith. "The pilot, Theodore Plum, died of a massive heart attack. It isn't much of a stretch to assume that led to the crash." Melody and Cynthia both nodded at the information. "However, in the normal course of events, Plum wouldn't have been flying. He was recalled from a vacation after the Interruption, the Werner incident. Further, the airline's normal scheduling practice would have had a pilot named Christian Turam flying that plane. He was injured in an automobile collision about a month ago."

  "That's suggestive, but-" Cynthia began.

  "The other driver, Jorge Saucedo, was only on the road because of an unusual incident at a corner store." Jill cut her off. "An unidentified robber murdered a customer, took a sandwich and a soda then destroyed their security system before leaving."

  Melody gave a disgusted sigh. "That definitely sounds like him."

  Jill went on, "Analysis recommends we continue to adhere to the current Monster Protocol."

  "So he gets to fucking murder anyone he wants, take whatever he wants, and we're just going to let him? That's our actual, official plan?" Cynthia asked. Her voice was somewhere between angry and disgusted.

  "Yes." Melody said.

  Jill added, "Because if we leave him alone, he kills around half a dozen people a month. When we try to stop him, when anyone tries to stop him, he kills more.
Sometimes it's a lot more. Worse, we fail. Every. Single. Time. He's been wandering around like some kind of murder hobo for decades and no one's ever managed to so much as slow him down, much less beat him." Jill's voice didn't hold any anger, or disgust. Melody was certain she felt them, they just didn't show.

  "Fine." Cynthia said. "Let's talk about your little project instead. I could use some good news for a change."

  Melody didn't smile. What she'd ordered done to those trainees, what she knew would happen to most of them in time... It was nothing to smile about. Even so, she couldn't stop the pride from leaking into her voice. "They're exceeding expectations in every way. The inter-class training exercises required us to use the top ranks from the other classes as well as a few operatives. Anything less and it would have been a massacre."

  "Speaking of massacres," Cynthia interrupted, "that thing with the Dust kid..."

  "Is that still in the news cycle?" Melody grimaced. "I can't believe the media's making such an issue over it. If he'd been an off-duty cop, rather than an operative in training, no one would've thought twice about this."

  "That's exactly the point." Jill told her. "He's not a police officer. He's a Citadel operative, training or no. The people know which one's more dangerous and something like this... well."

  "I think it's the whole Interruption mess." Cynthia said. "People have to know that we did the impossible, found a random Empowered girl less than an hour after she developed powers despite what amounted to no evidence. But... they also blame us because people died, a lot of them. I'm not even talking about Columbia. Between the people who lost control of their cars and the ones who had something like a pacemaker malfunction... well, there's damn few that don't at least know someone that was hurt. You mix it all up and it just makes sense that they're looking for an excuse, something to latch onto.

  Melody thought about it for a moment. "Very well. I already had a request from Support. They're letting a reporter in with a camera crew. She's supposed to do one of those human interest stories that remind everyone we're still people. Anthony Greer wants me to let him interview a few trainees as well. I'll make sure to include a few from my 'project.' Maybe Donald too, if he's up for it."

  She looked down to check her notes, reminding herself where they'd been before Cynthia Strong derailed the conversation. "The special Class's progress has been remarkable. The majority will be ready to graduate in two weeks. The rest can be folded in with some of the more standard classes for a little more polishing."

  "A month early?" Cynthia asked, at the same time Jill said, "That seems a little soon."

  Now Melody smiled. "This is my area of expertise and Bruce agrees. A few were arguably ready as soon as a month after they started training."

  "How many is a majority?" Cynthia wanted to know.

  "Thirty three, possibly as many as thirty eight." Melody answered. "It'll depend on the next few group exercises and next week's challenge matches."

  "Well then," Cynthia said, "that means it's time to finish arguing over who goes to each branch."

  "Excellent. I've been keeping an eye on the evaluations and there are two, maybe three, that could each handle the Stationary load for an entire city on their own." Technically, Jill Smith didn't have eyes. Her Empowerment had left her a floating silver orb. Her new body was only a little bigger than a basketball. Despite this, Melody could have sworn she saw the Director of Stationary's eyes light up with avarice.

  "If you're talking about the Stasis kid, or Jenny Awesome, you're nuts." Cynthia told her. "They've got Intervention written all over them."

  Melody Shift, the Director of Training, settled back to watch them argue. It went on for some time.

  * * *

  Instruction Area

  The class watched as Director Shift stepped up to the podium. Some of them, the less observant, saw an old woman. Her hair was greying; she walked with obvious difficulty, leaning heavily on a cane and sometimes shuffling a bit. The rest... well, the rest saw a very different woman. She moved slowly but her eyes never rested. They settled on everyone in turn, seemed to weigh them in an instant, then moved on. When she reached the podium, she turned to face the trainees and began speaking without hesitation.

  "There are a few things I'd like to discuss, before we move on to today's lecture." The room fell silent. "Over the next two weeks, some of you may encounter a woman by the name of Suzanne Nguyen. She's a local reporter from San Francisco. The Citadel is allowing her, and a camera crew, access to the Hub for PR reasons. All this means to you, is that an eager young woman with a microphone may ask you a few questions. So long as they're accompanied by a senior Citadel staff member, you are free to answer, or not, as you see fit. That said, there are a few areas where you must be discreet. A list should be in your mailboxes before the end of the lecture." There came a short, excited babble of voices, people that liked the idea of being on camera. Here and there, a few trainees were visibly nervous about the idea.

  "On a different note, I think congratulations are in order. A Citadel operative needs a certain mindset, a certain attitude. Above all else, they must be practical, willing to do what's necessary. After that, decisive. Hesitation is death and haste leads to failure. Neither is acceptable. An operative must be creative, able to work effectively as part of a team or alone. Fear is acceptable, even a good thing, but an operative must not let it control them. All of that makes for a tall order, but we don't take anyone unless we think they have it in them. Screening for that potential is a big part of why it takes six months for the average applicant to be accepted." Her voice had grown lower as she spoke. Most of the trainees didn't even notice they were leaning forward, paying rapt attention.

  "Everyone in this room has reached that point. You've all shown that you have the attitude of a Citadel operative. The next thing we try to instill, is how best to utilize your powers. Some are difficult to control; a few are far more effective with the right supplementation. Regardless, you're all well started on that path. I say started, because it's a process that shouldn't ever end. An operative is constantly trying to get stronger, whether by pushing themselves harder, gaining new capabilities or finding new ways to utilize what they already have. Anything else? That's an operative that's not likely to live long." She stopped talking for a few moments and used that time to look over the class of trainees. Whatever she sought, she seemed to find it. The director gave a satisfied nod and resumed speaking.

  "Having said that, I'm pleased to announce that your class's expected graduation date is two weeks from today. I'll be honest, a few of you won't be ready in time. There's no shame in that. As a whole and as individuals, you've made remarkable progress in very little time. Those who do not graduate on that day will join another class for additional training. I'll be very surprised if they don't manage to gain the skills they still require well within the standard four month period. The remaining time will be spent focusing on group exercises and some practical skills. Don't be surprised if a few of your days run a bit longer than you might be accustomed to, in order to meet the new graduation date." She smiled as the class cheered.

  "With that said, there are two things I'd like to cover today, threat classification and Operative's Privilege. I know that this isn't the first time you've been spoken to about the classification, that it seems simple. Class five through one, a threat to a single life, a small group, a large group, a city or the nation. I trust that extinction level events are self-explanatory. But that description is vague, lacking. There's a simple reason for that. Classification is meant only to serve as a rough guide. In most cases, a threat is ranked by the first operative on the scene.

  “Its only purpose is to help Analysis and any other responding operatives establish a priority. In the event that more than one threat occurs simultaneously, it helps us decide how to prioritize our resources. It gives operatives on the scene an idea of how much collateral damage is acceptable. In short, if a solution costs fewer lives than the threat was likel
y to cost..." she trailed off as the class thought through the implications. Well, we call that a win. Not a good one, but a win.

  “Operative's Privilege. Operatives are given a great deal of latitude in how they handle a situation. Is it necessary to murder a newly Empowered individual, just to stop a threat they don't have any intention or desire to cause? Is it better to risk that threat in order to spare that innocent Empowered? That's something you'll have to decide eventually. Analysis and your superiors will advise you, if possible, but in the end... that's something you'll have to determine for yourself. If you think the best method, the safest one, is to kill someone without hesitation, if you think that letting them live is worth the risk, the Citadel will back you. Operatives Privilege. A pretty way of describing one of the most terrible burdens imaginable."

  Melody Shift didn't speak for several minutes. She simply relaxed her control, allowed the students to see the effects of living with that burden written on her face and her body. Pain. Regret. Exhaustion of the soul. All of that was there, but there was pride as well.

  "Judge, jury and executioner. That is what it means to be an operative."

  * * *

  CHAPTER 15: RESPONSIBILITY

  * * *

  The Tower

  Suzy Nguyen wasn't a reporter because she wanted to expose corrupt politicians or uncover labor scandals. She had no desire to be famous. No, when it came right down to it, Suzy just liked knowing things. She was especially interested in finding out things about other people. That hunger for knowledge had always served her in good stead, but today...

  "Holy crap." she said, nearly breathless with wonder.

  She'd just taken a step, a single step. It brought her from San Francisco to the Citadel Hub, somewhere between San Diego and LA, all thanks to the silver-blue glowing gate that step had taken her through.

  "First time at the Hub?"

  She turned and saw a familiar face, dressed in the all-white uniform of a Senior Operative. Dully, she nodded.