Trainee Superhero (Book Three) (3 page)

“And you will,” mutters
Past
Prime
.

“And you will,” says
Dark Fire
, “but
only if you can prove yourself. Now get out of my office.”

They cancel my team assignments. I start
training harder than I ever have, but my three instructors have
abandoned me. I stay in the training hall from morning to night,
skipping meals to get more time in the simulator, setting the
difficulties higher and higher. I spar with the multi-armed
training robot until I can best it two times out of five at a
medium setting. It’s not a great record, but it’s better than
nothing. My sparring draws a crowd of superheroes who enjoy
watching me take a beating. I know there’s a betting pool going on,
and that means that some people are going to get egg on their
heads. Literally.

The superheroes have no need for money, so
they bet the right to throw eggs at each other. They bet on
everything, from who can get the most kills on a mission to when
Chef will make lasagna again. My duels with the sparring robot are
the flavor of the week, and so far over a hundred eggs have been
bet on me.

“What are the odds on me hitting that damn
bell on the climbing wall?” I ask
Bad Day
at dinner
time.

He gives me a long, slow look, taking in my
many bruises.

“Three hundred to one, the largest odds we’ve
ever seen. No one’s taken it up yet.”

I head back to the hall after dinner and
start climbing the wall.

“Hey kid,” someone calls out.

It’s
Pet Shark
, and he seems happy to
see me.

“What?” I say cautiously.

“I heard what happened. Both
Never
Lies
and
Small Talk
voted to promote you but
Past
Prime
and
Dark Fire
said no. What’s with that?”

“I dunno,” I lie.

“Liar. You just need to prove yourself.”

“How?”

“Climb the wall and hit that bell. The rest
of us have, it’s a piece of cake. It’s embarrassing that you can’t,
really. The wall is out for maintenance until midnight, but you can
try then. Hit the bell and you’re in.”

I don’t know whether to trust him, but what
else can I do?

I train in the simulator until midnight and
then head down to the wall. It's dark and quiet in the training
hall, and I am alone.

“Lights on,” I say.

I walk to the bottom of the infinity wall and
look up. The bell isn’t that far up, really. It should be easy,
right? All I need is someone to help me start the wall moving.
Pet Shark
steps out of the shadows.

“Need a hand?” he asks.

He’s smiling again, and that worries me.

“Why are you being so helpful?” I ask
suspiciously.

“Just being friendly,” he says
innocently.

I doubt it, but
Pet Shark
has a
perfect poker face. I consider my options, but it’s not like I have
anything to lose.

“Let’s do this.”

I climb, fall, repeat.
Pet Shark
laughs at me, but I ignore him.

“I do enjoy watching you fall,” he says, “you
will never make it.”

He’s right. I won’t make it by climbing, so
there is only one other way for me to hit that bell. I can see it
in my head, and it ends badly. I take a break at the bottom of the
cliff as I think about my options.

Past Prime
is standing by the wall
watching me. I didn’t see him arrive, and I don’t care about what
he thinks of me. He doesn’t say anything, but he glares at
Pet
Shark
.

I start climbing, pushing myself harder than
I ever have. The wall slides past me, the handholds getting smaller
and more spaced out as the levels go past. I’m almost at the top of
the wall as ‘Level Seven’ passes me. I know I have ten seconds of
relatively easy climbing before the next level drops me. I lose a
little ground as the wall speeds up, but then I find a good
foothold and leap right into the air and towards the bell. I slap
it and the tips of my finger just miss it.

I fall, hitting the ground hard.

Past Prime
makes no move to help me.
Small Talk
is standing next to him, as silent as ever.
Never Lies
has joined them, and I feel like I’m being
judged.

“Where’s
Dark Fire
?” I ask, “I want to
show him I can do this.”

My instructors ignore me, but
Dark
Fire
steps out of the shadows to join them. He doesn’t look
pleased.

I start my climb again, but this time I feel
a surge of adrenaline that pushes me up the cliff. I’m not
climbing, I’m flying, and no wall will keep me down. I make the
eighth level, the first time I’ve ever got so far, then launch
myself up and at the bell. This time I touch it.

Bing.

I fall, sliding through the air, past the
mats below the infinity wall and towards the ground headfirst. I
stick my arms out to protect myself and hit the ground hard. My arm
snaps and my forehead bangs into the floor. The pain is terrible,
worse than anything I’ve ever felt. I look at my arm and a bone
poking through the skin. I roll over and see
Pet Shark
smiling at me.

“Help?” I ask.

“Look at you, bleeding everywhere. How
untidy,” says
Pet Shark
reproachfully.

I didn’t think he was a compassionate man,
but he fetches the medical kit from beside the infinity wall and
pulls it out of its plastic package.

Thank goodness.

Pet Shark
hands me the plastic cover
and puts the medical kit back in place.

“Try and bleed into that, you'll make less
mess.”

I stick my arm in the bag and blood starts
pooling in the bottom. I’m losing a lot of blood, but my
instructors don’t make a move to help me.

“I told you this would happen if we pushed
him,” says
Never Lies
, because she enjoys being right.

She turns her back and walks away.

“He did better than you ever have,” yells
Pet Shark
, but she just gives him the middle finger without
even turning around.

Small Talk
gives
Dark Fire
an
intense look and then follows
Never Lies
, leaving my two
doubters to watch over me.

“Guess she was right… I’ve changed my vote,”
announces
Dark Fire
, “coffee, sensei?”

Pet Shark
grabs my shirt and helps me
to my feet.

“You did great, kid,” he says loudly, but
then pulls me close and whispers in my ear, “I never thought you’d
make it. No one ever has, I just wanted to see how far I could push
you.
Dark Fire
doesn’t mind me playing with the trainees,
but if you tell anyone else I put you up to this, I’ll kill you.
Now get!”

I get.

I find a steward in the corridor and she
helps me to the medical bay. The nurses don't even bat an eye at my
injuries, but just sit me down and pump replacement blood into my
arm. They work with such practiced efficiency that they don’t even
take their eyes off the late night TV show on the monitors. The
doctor arrives, scowls at me, and points me towards a big black
auto-surgery box. I stick my arm in the box. It whirls quietly as
it sets my arm. The nurses give me a glass of orange juice and a
pack of pills while they check my head. I'm feeling pretty good by
the time I finish the juice and pull my arm out of the black box.
It's wrapped in bandages.

“That wasn’t so bad,” I say.

“We haven’t even started yet,” says the
nurse, and pushes a needle into my neck.

I wake up in the sick bay. This has become
such a frequent occurrence that they’ve set up a bed just for
me.

“You should apply for a frequent fliers
card,” says the younger nurse.

The doctor,
Got Greedy
arrives. He
checks me over and leaves without a word.

“He doesn’t seem to like me much,” I tell the
nurse.

“No,” she says with a smile, “but don’t take
it personally. He’s been grumpy ever since he was conscripted for
this role as an alternative to going to jail for selling med tech
on the black market.”

“He’s a criminal?” I say, only somewhat
surprised.

“A talented criminal,” she corrects me,
“which is why your arm is now more metal than bone. Now get some
rest.”

I wait for her to leave, and then I stand up.
My arm is in a cast, but I feel fine. More metal than bone? I can
live with that. I’m doing one-armed push-ups when
Never Lies
walks into the room. She gives me a bemused look and shakes her
head.

“You’re an idiot,” she says.

That’s a fair assessment.

“No one has ever hit the bell, you know. It’s
meant to be an impossible challenge to teach trainees to push
themselves in a situation they can’t win.”

I didn’t know that.

“I don’t know what possessed you to throw
yourself around like that. What were you thinking?”

I shrug.

“I wanted to impress you. I guess I was too
stupid to know when I was beat,” I say.

“
Past Prime
tried to argue that you
mother wouldn’t want you fighting and that this incident proved you
take too many risks.”

“I guess my mom wouldn’t want me fighting,” I
admit.

“No one’s mother wants their kids to fight,
but
Past Prime
is too old to remember that. Anyway,
Small
Talk
said you have the kind of stupid we need, and even
Dark
Fire
was impressed.”

“So you voted to let me join?” I ask.

“I did. I don’t think you are the worst
superhero I’ve ever seen. Now get some sleep.”

They keep me in the sick bay for another
three days, although I don’t really see the point. I’m ready to get
out of here. I play with my tat-a-gotchi, making it do tricks. It’s
grown bigger now, a long serpent with crystalline wings and a sharp
beak.

“I remember when you were a lame little
worm,” I tell it.

Someone coughs politely to get my attention.
It’s the grey-haired steward.

“They want you in the armory,” he tells me,
and I’m finally free.

Second Best
and
Talented Brat
are standing in the middle of the armory waiting for me. A crowd of
technicians are gathered around them, and everyone seems
excited.

“Come here, lad,”
Brat
says.

He points me towards a suit of armor in a
dark corner. I can’t see any details.

“Turn on a light or something,” I say.

A single spotlight turns on and illuminates
the suit. It’s a squat and bulky thing, all sharp corners and flat
surfaces with no concession to aerodynamics. The helmet is a thick
cube of black glass, and the chest and legs are covered in bulky
flat metal.

“Woah,” I say.

The left arm is a thick rectangle ending in a
barrel, the right arm is a set of rods encased in a set of clear
glass cubes and a heavy prism sits on each shoulder. The prisms
look like short-range cutting lasers. It’s a heavier suit than any
I’ve ever seen, with overlapping metal squares all over.

It looks like the kind of suit that’s
designed to
mess things up
. I look for a name on the chest,
but the suit looks polished and new, unpainted and without a
label.

“Like it?” asks
Second Best
.

“It’s… brutal,” I say, “but I like it! Whose
is it?”

They share a confused look, and
Brat
slaps his face in exasperation.

“Idiot.”

I’m being dense; this suit was made for
me.

“Really?” I ask, and for the first time since
my mom died I break into a genuine smile.

“Really,” says
Second Best
, “just for
you.”

I put it on; it fits perfectly. This suit is
the first piece of clothing made just for me.

“Ready?”
Brat
asks.

I am; I fly right out the armory hangar and
into the sky. The suit feels solid, like I’m a flying rhino made of
steel. I feel good.

No… I feel invulnerable.

“Fly east,” whispers
Second Best
in my
helmet.

I check my compass and fly east. The suit
turns well, for all its bulk, and flying slowly barely uses any
power. I loop and dive, yelling in pleasure.

“I kept this power source just for you,” says
Second Best
, “it was your mother’s favorite, some of her
best work. It’s got a lot of juice.”

I fly until I reach a rocky island.

“We have mounted two multiblasters in the
right arm and the color cannon in the left. The shoulders are
cutting lasers for short range work. You control them with your
eyes, but they will take up a ton of your power, so don’t fire them
for long.”

I use the lasers to cut some rocks into thin
slices, and then I blast the slices with my multiblaster until the
stones are nothing but dust.

“Nice,” I say.

My helmet ticks loudly.

“I have a weapons lock on me,” I say.

“Seventy-three missiles heading your way,”
agrees
Second Best
, “I’d prefer if you didn’t shoot them
down. Fly into them and we’ll see about your shields.”

“Fly into them?” I ask. That seems like a
pretty stupid thing to do, so naturally I start immediately.

The first missile hits me right in the chest
but green shields shimmer around me and the rest of the missiles
either swerve past me or explode harmlessly against my shields.

“Shield check,” says
Second Best
.

“98%,” I say.

Second Best
whistles, impressed.

“That’s some good work,” she says.

“Thanks.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,
Red Five
, I
was talking to myself. I’ve built a flying tank.”

I hover in the air, taking in the ocean and
earth below me, the sky above. I can see the
Cerberus
in the
distance, and a few other warships on the horizon. Clouds stream
out above me, leading out into the distance, and part of me wants
to follow them.