I chose an elevated blind, which was basically a little wooden shed sitting on a stand about twelve feet off the ground. A ladder led up to a door cut into the floor of the shed. The door was already open, and when I peeked inside, I saw a family of skunks - a mother and her three young.
I’m no skunk whisperer by any means, and I find it more difficult to interpret the emotions of animals than people. Nevertheless, I could feel the agitation of the mother, whose maternal instincts were kicking into overdrive. I tried to direct feelings of friendship and non-aggression towards her. After a few moments, she seemed to calm a bit - at least enough for me to have a look around.
Inside the blind, rough-hewn, squared-shaped windows had been cut into all four walls. The windows were covered by sheets of plywood hanging down on horizontal hinges. Peeking out, I had clear lines of sight of the other hunting blinds, where my two teammates were hidden.
I telescoped my vision. In short order, things did not go well for either of my teammates. They had each chosen hunting blinds on the ground, and Paramount and his team used the same basic tactic for both of them. They would rush the hunting blind from three sides at once, then fire inside indiscriminately until the person was tagged out.
After my second teammate was tagged out, I started thinking that maybe the hunting blinds weren’t such a great idea. One of the baby skunks made a mewling sound, which brought my attention back to them. The skunks were obviously using the place as a den; in fact, the mother may even have given birth here. An idea started taking form in my brain.
Paramount’s team was heading my way, having obviously figured out Team Blue’s plan to use the hunting blinds. I waited until I was sure they were looking in my direction, then - in a very open and notorious fashion - I lifted the plywood and looked out the window. One of Paramount’s teammates saw me and pointed at my hiding place. I quickly lowered the plywood, acting like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Turning to the skunks, I spent a few seconds sending a lot of negative emotions towards the mother, who began to make angry noises. Then I slipped out the door in the floor, leaving her riled up.
The foliage around the hunting blind was tall and dense enough that I was sure I couldn’t have been seen slipping out. I headed to a nearby bush, away from the direction Paramount’s team was coming from, and hid behind it. What occurred next was absolutely classic.
Peeking out from my hiding spot, I saw Paramount and his crew emerge from the trees on the other side of the hunting blind. Paramount held a finger up to his lips, calling for quiet. Then he tapped his thumb to his chest and pointed to the ladder leading up to the shed. His teammates nodded and fanned out as he approached.
I have to admit, for a big guy, Paramount moved with catlike silence and grace. He got to the ladder quickly and slowly climbed up. However, he’d barely had time to stick his head through the door when he suddenly shouted and fell off the ladder. The mother skunk had sprayed him full in the face. The only way it could have been better would have been if his mouth had been open.
Paramount got up screaming and rubbing his face. “A skunk! A skunk!”
His teammates ran to his aid, but began laughing uncontrollably as soon as they understood what had happened. I was in stitches myself, so much so that I didn’t even try to run when they closed in on me (my laughter was a dead giveaway) and tagged me out.
Word got out pretty quickly about what had happened. I had completely forgotten that the matches were broadcast back to the break area, so everyone had seen what had happened. (Someone even found the controls and put it on replay.)
I didn’t realize it then, but I had done the unforgivable. I hadn’t beaten Paramount, which would have been bad enough because the guy really was a sore loser. I had done something far worse: I had embarrassed and humiliated him - made him a laughingstock. And nobody laughs at Paramount. In retrospect, had I known what was to result from that paintball game, I never would have played.
*****
That evening, they announced which of us were deemed worthy of entering the Academy. I felt a great sense of relief when my name was called as one of the lucky ones. (Even more, the Alpha League was sponsoring me, so I’d be part of their team of super teens.) Naturally, they called Paramount’s name as well. However, he didn’t seem to care for the news. He was apparently still fuming about the skunk incident; he gave me the stinkeye (no pun intended) every time he looked my way. And it didn’t help that people were still talking about it. (Some kids were even calling him Polecat-Mount behind his back.) I slept uneasily that last night.
The next morning is when everything went to hell in a handbasket. Those of us from my region were taken back to the city bright and early (by plane this time, as opposed to Rune’s magic), and then brought to a local television station. The plan was to introduce us, one at a time, on a live broadcast as the newest members of the Alpha League Division of the Teen Development League, and as future students at the Academy. Several members of the Alpha League were there to oversee the event: Esper, Buzz (a speedster), Alpha Prime, and Power Piston, an armored hero whose metal suit boasted an impressive array of armaments.
We were all seated on a low stage in a small auditorium, wearing our new Academy uniforms: plain khaki pants/skirts, white zippered shirts, and a cape to top it all off. (We’d been given official Alpha League overnight bags to put our original clothes and personal effects in.) The seats on the stage were just folding chairs arranged in a neat row facing an audience of about three hundred people, mostly reporters and paparazzi. Cameras were placed strategically throughout the place, capturing every angle.
Esper stood at a podium on one side of the stage with Alpha Prime next to her. She called each teen’s name, at which point the person would stand up and approach the podium. Esper and Alpha Prime would then pin an emblem - essentially a pledge pin - on the teen’s uniform, officially marking them as a teen superhero with Alpha League.
Paramount was seated three chairs away from me. I should have known that something was going to go wrong; menace and malice were emanating off him in powerful waves that were almost palpable. They were emotions I had been feeling from him ever since the paintball game, and they were squarely focused on me. However, I had spent most of the morning trying to ignore him, choosing instead to trade lighthearted jokes with some of the other super teens.
When my name was called, I stood up and walked towards the podium, leaving my overnight bag tucked under my seat. I was a little wary as I went by Paramount, but nothing happened so I felt that he was just stewing. I accepted my pin and was heading back to my seat, waving to the crowd as they applauded. I could still feel acrimony pouring off Paramount like summer heat. Then the emotion changed to something like maniacal glee and satisfaction. That’s when Paramount purposely stuck out his foot and tripped me. I was so caught off guard that I actually hit the floor.
I shot an angry look at Paramount as I braced myself and started to rise. He put a hand up to his mouth, as if to hide his snickering. I can’t explain what happened next, but fury such as I had never felt - all-encompassing and all-controlling - exploded inside me.
I switched into super speed, moving so fast that later, even on film slowed down as much as possible, my movements were a blur. I grabbed the chair I had been sitting in, and in one smooth motion folded it up, spun around, and hit Paramount with it squarely on the chin in uppercut fashion.
I mentioned before that I don’t actually have super strength, but I can mimic it pretty well. Paramount’s head snapped back and he went sailing bodily up into the air. He hit the back wall with an audible smack that shattered plaster, then slid down to the floor.
I stood frozen, still gripping the chair. I seriously doubted that I had hurt him; at only sixteen, Paramount was already practically invulnerable, like his father. The lick I’d just laid on him was probably akin to an adult getting poked in the eye by a baby. It catches you a little off-guard, but it’s more irritating than p
ainful, with no lasting effect.
The room suddenly seemed to flash light and dark, like a strobe light on speed. Camera flashbulbs were going off like fireworks during Chinese New Year as photographers in the audience maniacally snapped pictures. And then a freight train hit me.
I was off my feet and on the floor again, this time with the big man himself, Alpha Prime, looming over me. He’d given me a light shoulder bump, relatively speaking, after snatching the chair out of my hands. He stood there, alternating between a somewhat angry look at me and concerned glances at Paramount. In other words, he’d zipped over and put the kibosh on me when it was his jerk of a son, his bullying son, his disgustingly petty son who had started it all!
I got up breathing heavily and furious, fists balled so tightly it felt as though blood had stopped circulating. Alpha Prime looked at me without concern over his welfare.
“You don’t want to fight me, son,” he said. “It’ll be over like that.” He snapped his fingers in my direction.
“Oh, I know,” I hissed, totally incensed. “Like that.” I snapped my fingers – and Alpha Prime disappeared.
I had teleported him; I knew that much. But I hadn’t intended to, hadn’t even known I was about to do it. I didn’t even know where I’d sent him. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to dwell on it, because in the next few seconds I had the fight of my life on my hands and for the first time I was truly able to put to use the years of training I had been given.
Everyone had frozen when Alpha Prime disappeared, and there were shocked gasps from both the audience and the stage. Buzz was the first to recover. He had actually been at the back of the auditorium, near the exit doors. He came zooming down the aisle at full speed. You didn’t need to be psychic to realize that he was in attack mode.
I reached out and mentally grabbed his ankle, telekinetically tripping him much as Paramount had physically done to me. Suddenly he was a flailing mass of arms and legs tumbling end-over-end at Mach speed. He slammed into the lower portion of the stage with bone-jarring force.
I felt a smug satisfaction at having stopped him, but the feeling was short-lived as someone applied a crow-bar to my brain. Esper. Recognizing them now as a feint, she’d scattered the cursory thoughts I generally keep on the surface of my mind and forced her way into my mental castle, ready to wreak havoc.
Straining with the effort of mentally fighting, I turned towards her. Her brow was furrowed and her eyes glowed as she focused on trying to mentally incapacitate me. Suddenly she drew in a sharp breath. The glow left her eyes and her face went slack. Then her body went stiff as a board and she fell over backwards, as if participating in some sort of trust exercise - only no one was there to catch her. She hit the floor like a plank of wood.
I smiled inwardly. Esper had fallen into the mental equivalent of a trapdoor in my mind. My brain, my rules. However, she was a powerful psychic. My trick would only work once, and it wouldn’t work for long.
The sound of hydraulics and the whirr of machinery in motion brought me back to myself. Power Piston had stood up and was pointing some kind of weapon at me. I moved at super speed as he fired.
A small ball came out of the weapon’s nozzle. It looked crumpled and oddly shaped, but slowly expanded into a semicircle of mesh. I recognized it as Power Piston’s taser net. It would wrap around a target and then emit a charge to shock it into submission.
Still in hyper-speed mode, I stepped aside as the net came towards me. As it went past in what appeared to be slow motion from my point of view, I reached out and grabbed the ends of it with both hands. Pivoting, I then spun around and flung the net back at its point of origin. It wrapped around Power Piston, then dispersed its electrical charge. I could hear the person in the suit of armor scream, and then the armor appeared to shut down, its circuits apparently overloaded.
I looked around. All the League members present were down. (Correction: I saw Buzz’s gloved hand come up over the edge of the stage, meaning he’d be up in a minute.) Paramount was getting to his feet again, and the other teens on stage were trying to figure out whether to fight or not. Not that it mattered; I was ready to put them all down for the count. It hadn’t even been a minute since Paramount had tripped me, and I wasn’t even out of breath.
That’s when I realized things had gone horribly wrong. Was I really ready to go toe-to-toe with these kids who I was just joking with an hour ago? We had somehow veered down the wrong path if that were indeed the case.
Just like that, my anger began dissipating. I needed to get out of there. My overnight bag was still on the floor where I’d left it. I teleported it into my hand, slung the strap over my shoulder, and took a step towards one of the stage walls, preparing to phase through, when a stick of mental dynamite went off in my head. Esper again, I realized. The force she’d applied before was a love tap compared to what she was doing now.
Caught unprepared, I staggered to the side under the pressure of Esper’s attack. I put out a hand to steady myself, presumably against a wall but instead came up against something else, firm but yielding. I looked and saw that it was actually a person who I had come up against - Electra. Then I saw where my hand had landed on the front of her uniform. Not good, dude…
Electra drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Then she screamed. Not the movie scream of a woman in danger, or the scream of someone facing complete frustration, or even the scream of a person in unimaginable pain. It was a scream of a teenage girl (and belted out as only a teenage girl can) of complete and utter angst and despair, a scream that voiced every emotion in the spectrum, stating I-hate-you-how-could-you-why-me-I-hate-life-I’m-so-embarrased-let-me-just-die-you’re-awful-I’ll-kill-you…
As Electra let out her long, undulating, bloodcurdling shriek, the air became ionized. I felt the hair on my head and arms begin to stand up. Little bolts of lightning crackled through the air around her, and several of the overhead lights blew out in showers of hot, glowing sparks. People in the audience began screaming and running. I felt Esper shift her concern from my mind over to Electra, trying to calm her. It didn’t seem to be working.
I phased, becoming insubstantial as Electra pointed in my direction. An arc of electricity shot out from her fingertips, passed through me and struck… Paramount. Apparently he had launched himself at me while I’d been distracted, only to get shocked for his trouble. He screamed in anguish as the electricity shot through him and knocked him back against the wall, much to my amusement.
I teleported behind Electra. I kicked her legs out from under her, and her bottom hit the floor with a thud. Grabbing her by her cape, I dragged her to a nearby wall. I made the wall insubstantial, pulled her cape through it, then solidified it again. Then I teleported to the other end of the stage.
Everyone - Esper, Buzz, the other teens - was rushing towards Electra, who was struggling to get to her feet but couldn’t; she had no leverage due to the height at which her cape was stuck in the wall. Again, I felt anger welling up in me. I was the one who had been attacked - by almost everyone - and nobody seemed concerned for my welfare. I put my fingers to my lips and gave a shrill, heads-up whistle. Everyone turned to look in my direction. I flipped them the bird, then phased through the wall.
I came out on the street outside the studio. People were still fleeing the building, so concerned for their own welfare that no one had noticed me yet. That wouldn’t last long, though, since I was still in the Academy uniform. I changed my appearance to that of a young punk rocker with spiked hair. I reached up to unzip the Academy shirt, and as I did so my hand touched the pledge pin. In fury, I yanked it out and flung it to the ground. Then I stomped on it.
There was a small crackle of electricity beneath my foot. I reached down and picked up the crushed pin, then telescoped my vision to take a closer look at it. I saw a small spark in the mangled remains, but also loads of circuitry and wiring. The spark died, and a tiny wisp of smoke rose up. More out of curiosity than anything else, I shoved the pin into my pants p
ocket, then quickly removed the Academy shirt and cape, flinging them into a nearby garbage bin.
There was a hot dog vendor on the corner, and I had used up copious amounts of energy in my fight. Pulling out the little cash I’d brought to the Super Trials from the overnight bag, I approached and ordered three chili dogs, wolfing them down in record time. Then I ordered three more. I was eating the last of them when someone shouted something and everyone started to look up. I followed suit, and saw a streak of black and gold zooming towards the studio. Alpha Prime. As he approached, a noise like a thunderclap rang out through the atmosphere, the telltale sound of a sonic boom as he dropped down to subsonic speed. He had clearly been moving at a record pace in order to get back here. It wasn’t until later that I found out - courtesy of various news reports - where I had teleported him:
Bobby Trione’s treehouse.
Chapter 7
My on-camera fight with the Alpha League became one of the most-watched pieces of film of all time. As the only person to have an interview with me, Sylvia Gossett was propelled to overnight stardom and became host of her own nationally syndicated show. Braintrust examined the League pin I had received and eventually determined that it read and tracked biometric data, among other things, about the wearer. In short, from the second I put it on, it had gathered and relayed information about every power that I used.
As for me, some people said that I was a criminal who viciously attacked the League on national TV. However, the general consensus among the public was that Paramount had started the fight by tripping me. One headline read, “Kid Puts Up Sensational Fight Against Alpha League!” Although I hadn’t made a public appearance as Kid since then, the media (and the general public thereafter) had taken to referring to me as -
“Kid Sensation,” said a sudden voice out of nowhere.
I looked up and saw a girl, Electra, approaching me. Lost in thought about my prior tryout, I hadn’t even noticed that I had wandered back to the Academy’s student break room.
The Kid Sensation Series Box Set Page 7
