Super Powereds: Year 1 (27 page)

“Oh, right, froze your jaw there. Okay, I’ll make it simple. Just blink twice to show me you understand, and I think we can finally be done with this.”

Vince locked eyes with Michael. The smart thing was to blink twice, get free, and come at Michael again on another day. A day when he wasn’t totally helpless and fast running out of energy, a day when he had a real chance at taking this cock-bag down. It was the most basic strategic decision he could have been presented with.

Vince didn’t blink. His eyelid didn’t even twitch.

“That’s a shame, Vince; I really thought you and I had come to an understanding. I guess we need to continue the education, though,” Michael sighed. He pulled back his fist and focused his energy.

“I have severe doubts that this is a sanctioned match,” said a deep, male voice from behind Michael. Before Michael was able to turn and see who the speaker was, two beams of orange energy had snared him. One wrapped around his forearm and the other grabbed his torso, yanking him up into the air.

“Who the fuck are you?” Michael spit, jerking and twisting his arm to get free.

“My friends call me Thomas,” the speaker said, stepping into Vince’s view. “I have a feeling you won’t be counting yourself as one of those, though.” Thomas was a dark-skinned male, one Vince recognized from gym and their Ethics class. He was dressed as a Native American, and both of his hands were outstretched, a beam of orange energy emanating from each one.

“I’ve got him restrained,” Thomas called out. “You guys check on his victim.”

Vince heard three people approaching behind him. He would have turned to look if he’d possessed a full range of motion. As it was, all he could do was listen.

“He’s not a victim,” Michael yelled. “We were just having a fight.”

“An unsanctioned fight, in the middle of an alleyway where anyone could have seen you using your powers, and where it looks like you’re tormenting him after having won a long time ago. Yeah, this seems real legit,” Thomas said calmly

“I think he’s okay,” called out a deep female voice. “Violet’s going to weaken the ice so we can pull him out.”

“I wouldn’t be averse to a little help here,” Thomas called back. “He’s still struggling, and this guy isn’t the number three rank for nothing.”

“I’ve got to work on the ice and we’ll need Camille as soon as I’m done,” said a new female voice, presumably Violet.

“That just leaves me,” said the original female voice. She walked past Vince as she approached Michael. It was a girl he easily recognized from class. Thought she was dressed as some sort of Viking woman, the tightly braided hair pulled back gave her away as Stella, the girl in class that always asked questions without raising her hand. She strode right over to where Michael was struggling a foot or so off the ground and punched him in the throat. His twisting and jerking was immediately replaced by rasping and choking for air.

“That was excessive force,” Thomas chided her.

“No, it was the best solution,” Stella argued. “If I’d said to let him down and we’d fought him all honorably then he would have used his full power, so we would have had to do the same, and it would have caused a lot of property damage as well as creating a damn good chance we’d all be outed as Supers. Sometimes the only option is a quick punch to the throat.”

“I’m almost got him over here,” said Violet, still behind Vince. He wasn’t sure what she was doing, but he could feel the ice behind him cracking apart and giving way. All at once a chunk of it fell away and Vince felt himself tipping backwards. Two pairs of arms caught him and laid him down upon the pavement. His energy almost completely depleted and his life out of danger, Vince did the only thing he was capable of at that point.

“Thank you,” Vince mumbled weakly, and then passed out into sweet oblivion.

45.

Vince came around a few minutes later, shivering slightly, and pulled himself up off the concrete.

“Whoa there, buddy, I’d go slow if I were you. Camille patched you up, but cold has a way of seeping in on people,” said the dark-skinned boy dressed as a Native American.

“I’m getting used to it,” Vince said. “Sadly.”

“I take it you and Baldy have a history?”

“Only in his sad, angry little cue ball of a head,” Vince said. “Thanks for saving me, by the way.”

“Of course,” Thomas said. “It was an illegal match and you were down. There was nothing else to do.”

“Well, I’m still glad you wandered by. My name is Vince, by the way.”

“Thomas,” Thomas replied, extending a hand. Vince accepted and shook it.

“So I heard,” Vince said. “Where are the rest of your friends?”

“Camille went to get some help, and Violet and Stella are escorting Frosty back to campus,” Thomas told him. “He’ll be less of an ass after he sleeps off the alcohol... we hope.”

“Michael was drunk?” Vince said in surprise.

“My understanding is that most students have a pre-party a bit before these events, especially the underage ones who can’t buy anything during. It seems he went a little overboard,” Thomas said.

“I guess I feel a little bit better,” Vince said. “Also, you should call your friend Camille. I’m going to be fine, I don’t need any more help, and I really don’t want to cause a fuss.”

“You sure about that? You took a pretty nasty beating there.”

“I’m sure,” Vince confirmed. “Your healer took care of nearly everything except the exhaustion. Right now all I want to do is catch a bus home and sleep for a day.”

“Your call, I guess,” Thomas shrugged.

“That it is,” Vince agreed. “Thanks again for saving me though. I can’t express how glad I am you guys stopped him.”

“A person was in need,” Thomas replied. “That’s the exact reason we’re going through this training anyway, right? Besides, once we report him on Monday I’m pretty sure you won’t have to worry about Michael anymore.”

“Report him?” Vince asked.

“Of course. He broke the rules,” Thomas answered.

“Sure, but I mean I’m okay and everything. Like I said, I’d rather avoid a fuss,” Vince said.

“He broke the rules,” Thomas said again. “That means he has to be reported so he can face the consequences.”

“Yes... yes, you’re right, of course,” Vince agreed. “By all means make the report on Monday. If you’ll excuse me, though, I really am feeling drained from my ordeal.”

“Of course; go home and rest. Are you sure you don’t need any more help?”

“I’m positive,” Vince reassured him. “But tell your friends thanks as well from me.”

“Will do,” Thomas agreed.

* * *

"Mr. Reynolds," Dean Blaine called as Vince entered Ethics of Heroism on Tuesday. "May I speak with you a moment?"

"Um, sure," Vince said awkwardly. He had pretty good inclination what this was going to be about and it was something he'd been hoping dearly would slide by unnoticed.

"It seems Coach George would like you to go to the gym today instead of attending my class," Dean Blaine said, any possible resentment at his class being snubbed hidden artfully in the smile that stretched across his face.

"Is that okay?" Vince asked. "I mean, we start presentations today."

"You and Mr. Murray are scheduled for Thursday since, as you know, we weren't able to fit all of them into just one class. I do hope you'll hurry back to watch the others if possible, but if Coach George feels this is important enough to pull you from class, then you should make sure and give him your full attention," Dean Blaine assured him.

No other option coming to mind, Vince waded against the incoming crowd and made his way to the gymnasium. Nick noticed idly that Vince was exiting instead of entering, but he'd been suspecting something was up since Saturday, anyway. Vince wasn't the kind of guy to flake out, so when he'd vanished early in the night only to text Sasha that he'd gotten suddenly ill and had caught a bus home, it was obvious he was lying. Inconvenient too, since he'd had Alice's keys when he ditched. Fortunately Sasha was able to dash over and recover them, so the pilgrimage home had been possible.

Whatever Vince was dealing with obviously was tethered to what happened Saturday, but Nick's attention was focused on his task at hand for the day. He and Alice were scheduled to present, and he had a bad feeling he knew exactly the spot they were going in. Sure enough, as the class settled into their seats, Alice's tall frame remained standing, speaking hurriedly to Dean Blaine and gesturing to the mountain of poster-board she had dragged along with her. One might think she hadn't heard of a slideshow program, but one would be wrong. The posters were supplemental to the slide show. She'd worked extra hard to get them done in time. As she motioned for him to come up to the front, Nick groaned inwardly. He should have picked a worse subject to do the report over. Not even Globe was going to drag them down enough with her putting out this kind of effort.

"Class, it seems one of today's teams brought along some materials that would be inconvenient to store, so they've kindly volunteered to start us off today," Dean Blaine told the students as Alice ordered Nick around behind him, the duo quickly setting up their posters and loading the presentation onto the computer. "I'm sure all of you feel just devastated by this loss of opportunity, but please try to keep your disappointment to yourself."

A polite chuckle rippled through the class. People learn early on to laugh at the jokes of those in charge, and that goes for Supers just as much as humans. Dean Blaine cast a glance back at Alice, who flashed him a grin and a thumbs-up, so he continued. "It seems our group is ready. I urge you to give them your full attention and ask any relevant questions once they are finished. Remember, participation is a vital part of my class."

With that, Dean Blaine took a seat at a desk formerly occupied by one of the ever-mounting number of students who had washed out. Nick cleared his throat and stepped to the center of the classroom. He'd managed to talk Alice into letting him speak on the grounds that he had more practice at it than she (truth) and that he would give a better presentation overall because of that (lie). The reality was that he wanted to control the flow of the presentation, hindering where he could and helping it if he had to. Nick was determined to squeak out of this incident as nothing more than an afterthought in the minds of the class, no matter how much effort it took.

"Alice and I chose something of a controversial Hero for our presentation," Nick began. "In fact, I think many would argue whether he should still even be rightly categorized as one. Certainly there have been outcries by some to strip him of any semblance of that title, even in reference to the years he served dutifully as one. There is some validity to those opinions, just as there is some in the beliefs of a few people that this Hero was a victim of some deeper problem, or that his fall from grace was orchestrated. Today, we are going to look over the known life, and ultimately the demise, of a Hero with the code name Globe."

Nick's monologue was interrupted by a loud CRACK that echoed through the room. The source was immediately visible, as a part of Chad's desk fell heavily to the floor. Chad hastily rose from his seat.

"I'm so sorry about the interruption," Chad apologized to Nick. "My hand slipped while I was resting it on the corner of my desk. I think I must be feeling ill, so I'll excuse myself to the infirmary and let you get back to your work. Again, very sorry." Without so much as a glance for confirmation to Dean Blaine, Chad strode out of the room.

"Okay... right then," Nick said, damning that blond bastard for making sure this presentation would stick in the mind of every single person in attendance. "Anyway, Globe first appeared as the top graduate in his year of the Hero Certification Program..."

46.

"I assume you know why you're here, Vince," Coach George said as the silver-haired youth entered his sparse office and took a seat down on the opposite end of George's considerably wide desk.

"No, sir," Vince lied.

"Good boy," Coach George complimented him. "Never give away more information than you have to. No sense in confessing to a crime I might not know about."

Vince blinked in surprise, unsure of how to react to such a statement.

"It's the right strategy," Coach George continued. "Unfortunately for you, it’s not any good in this case. You're here because of the fight you and Michael had on Saturday night."

"I'm not sure what you mean," Vince said.

"The point at which is a lie is exposed is when you give it up for a better one. You don't cling on to the one that's no good anymore. Now, I've got a full report from Thomas Castillo about how he and some friends pulled your ass out of a mini-glacier. Let's be clear here: I didn't call you in to dock you or punish you for having an unsanctioned fight," Coach George informed him.

"I... I wouldn't really call a jumping much of a fight," Vince admitted, taking the coach’s advice and giving up on denial.

"Get in enough of them and you will," Coach George assured him. "Now, I don't really care that much about the fighting. I know we make a big deal in the beginning, but that's mostly just to cover our own asses legally. My concern is about what I read in this report."

"What do you mean?" Vince asked.

"I mean Michael had you dead to rights. It didn't sound like there was any real struggle between you two from how unharmed Michael was. I know what your power is, kid, and I know they never successfully found a limit on how much energy you can absorb. You should have at least given that little nutjob a run for his money. So I want to know how much power you had stored up when that guy surprised you," Coach George demanded.

"Enough," Vince said, crossing him arms and sitting back in the chair.

"See, that's the one amount we know you didn't have. Enough," Coach George shot back. "You threw one fire punch in your ranking matches, and this time I'm guessing you only had enough heat stored up to fight hypothermia while you got the shit knocked out of you. We both know you can do a lot more than this, so I want an answer. Why are you trying to scrape by on the bare minimum with your power?"