Super Powereds: Year 1 (49 page)

* * *

“Hey, Nick, this is my friend, Bubbles,” Mary said, approaching him.

“Hey, Mary. Hi, Bubbles. Interesting name, story I should be aware of?”

“Hi, Nick. Nice to meet you. I really like your sunglasses. Why do wear them indoors, though? Is it a prescription thing? My mom does that when her contacts fall out or when she loses her normal pair or wants to look pretty because she thinks they make her look like Audrey Hepburn even though they don’t but no one tells her ‘cause we love her.”

“You know what, I think I can put the pieces together myself,” Nick said. He looked over this new girl. She was yappy, that was pretty much the definition of evident. She was chipper, though, and that was a plus. Happy people asked fewer questions and demanded less attention, or so he’d found. It didn’t hurt that she was cute, too. Tall, with chestnut brown hair and not easily ignorable curves to her body. Not to mention she was clearly at a ridiculous level of into him. This would work.

“Bubbles, I don’t mean to be forward, but would you like to dance?” Nick asked casually.

“Yes!” She grabbed his hand and began pulling him toward to the room where the music was blasting.

It wasn’t a perfect situation; Nick would freely admit that. She couldn’t talk over the music, though, and he had made the boast that he would next be on the floor with a beautiful woman. It could have been worse.

Meanwhile Mary, having been almost immediately abandoned, made her way back over to the others.

“That went fast,” Steve commented.

“What Nick lacks in game he makes up for in luck,” Mary said truthfully. Admittedly, the discrepancy was a much different ratio than those who couldn’t read his mind might guess, but the statement was still basically honest.

“She was into Nick,” Alice said, still somewhat coming to terms with the idea.

“It was bound to happen eventually,” Steve said. “Your friend is pretty good looking.”

“I... how am I missing this?” Alice asked uncertainly.

“Uh huh. While little miss not-big-on-facing-the-obvious wraps her head around some truth, you ladies want to keep an eye on them on the dance floor?” L-Ray asked. “At least you know we won’t try to cop a feel.”

“We?” Mary said. “I mean, I know you’re gay, but I didn’t know Steve was.”

“Gay as a Broadway musical ensemble,” Steve assured her. “We don’t all fit the stereotypes.”

Mary blushed. She was getting so used to her telepathy that she found herself making serious social blunders without it. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive and stupid of me.”

Steve patted her shoulder. “Nothing to worry about. It happens all the time. L-Ray is a little more flamboyant than I am, and that tends to draw the attention of most people’s gaydar.”

“I’m still sorry,” Mary repeated. “But I’d love to take you both up on your offer. Let’s go cut a rug.”

L-Ray laughed. “Oh, you are just precious.”

* * *

So it was that everyone except Vince, Will, and Jill found themselves on the dance floor. The sweaty, stuffed with people, assaulted by a symphony of screeching, dance floor. Still, it was contact with the opposite sex, albeit only a swiveling of hips and awkward placing of hands. It was a mash of friends, some old and some new, just trying to enjoy themselves in an environment designed for other things. It was even a little fun, too.

Pretty much everyone was terrible at the act of dancing, so no one knew how bad their particular partner was, Nick and Violet being the exceptions. They had natural rhythm and training, so they knew their particular partners sucked, but they pressed on anyway. There was no conversation to be had on the floor, only meaningful glances and more than one game of poorly-played charades. In a way this was a blessing, for if any word exchange had been possible things might have played out differently.

Hershel had been dancing with Stella for a few minutes when Nick and Bubbles wandered in. Hershel had to tip a mental hat to his friend; he’d come through on returning with a hottie in hand. Then he noticed the pair that had followed them in and begun dancing. By luck of the draw Mary had wound up dancing with Steve, whose broad shoulders and square jaw told the story of a powerful man. A man who was capable and strong, who could get things done. In other words, a man who had all the qualities Hershel only experienced vicariously through Roy.

Hershel’s heart sank. He should have asked her when he had the chance. Now this guy would dance with her all night. After all, who would be stupid enough to let Mary get away? Well, besides him. No, this guy would charm and woo her, then ask her out at the end of the night. They’d start a long lasting relationship, get married, and Hershel would never see that window of opportunity open again. It was over; he’d missed his shot.

Then something stirred within Hershel he hadn’t felt since he was stranded on the mountain. Sheer, stupid desperation. Roy hadn’t been there to help him. His only way out had been to press on no matter what. It was a situation where all he could do was try and move upward, because there was no other option. He didn’t know why, but somehow it was the same now. He had to try.

There was no other option.

Hershel made a polite series of hand gestures to Stella, then began shoving his way through the crowd. It was hard, vaguely disgusting work due to all the sweat. He parted the sea of bodies swimming in sound, step by difficult step. He reached Mary and Steve just as the song was changing. Briefly he contemplated abandoning this foolishness and running like hell. Instead he tapped Mary on the shoulder.

She turned around and looked up at him. Mary wasn’t even bothering to try and read minds with the noise smashing all around her, but when she looked up at Hershel, she didn’t need to. What he wanted couldn’t have been any clearer. She looked at Steve, mouthed the words “Thank you for the dance” and then stepped into the arms of her new partner. In the grand scheme of things it really wasn’t very much.

But it was progress.

85.

“All right, ladies and gentlemen, today we take the first steps toward mastering the fine art of battle,” Coach George said. It was Monday afternoon and the combat class was back in the same room as they had been on Friday. The debris has mostly been cleaned up, though a keen eye could still spot a few remaining signs along the ground.

“Not surprisingly, this will start with learning how to fight,” Coach George continued. “Now, I’ll take a minute here to make sure I’m clear. When I say fight, I don’t mean zip around, or turn the ground into fudge, or any other such bullcrap. That’s called strategy, and that comes later. When I say fight, what I mean is the ability to get the crap kicked out of you and the strength to knock the teeth out of someone’s head, which incidentally will be a test later in the year.”

Some of the students exchanged worried glances. A few days ago they would assumed he was joking, but after Friday...

“We’re talking about today, though, and this will be the same thing we do for the next several months, so I’d pay attention if I were you. The procedure is simple. I’ll call you out in pairs. You’ll find one of the many red circles located on the ground in this room. You’ll both step in the circle. You’ll beat each other senseless until the end of class. You’ll go get healed and come back fresh next time. Wash, rinse, repeat.”

“What exactly does this teach us?” Stella asked from her place in line.

“Two hundred pushups for speaking without being called on,” Coach George snapped at her. “That kind of crap might fly in the dean’s class, but I think you’ll find me a lecturer much less appreciative of interaction.”

Stella looked like she was ready to object for a moment, but her eyes wandered to one of the scorch marks from the last class’s brawl. A brawl in which she’d been trounced with ease. She got down and began doing the reps.

“Since Hawkins was smart enough to take her lumps and shut her mouth, I’ll answer her question,” Coach George resumed. “This is teaching you all the basics of fighting. Not the movements, not the reflexes, not the martial arts, the real basics. Hit and get hit. Be hurt and push through. Feel the painful impact of your knuckles on another person’s bones. Those are the lessons you can only learn through experience. Now, I know some of you have had those lessons firsthand already, but these are ones you can never really have too much of. So for now you learn to fight. Once you’ve all got that down pat, then we move on to how to win.”

Coach George examined the students looking back at him. They were a little worried, most of them seemed to still feel confident, though. After all, they were warriors and this was sparring. How bad could it be?

"I do have a few rules you should know about, though. First off is that if you get knocked out of the circle, your opponent will get to take a penalty shot at your face, a shot you will not dodge or block. Secondly is that I'm the one who determines your opponent each day, so don't bother me with requests. Sometimes you'll fight people better than you, sometimes worse, but I'll be keeping careful track of how you all do and making my choices to maximize everyone's education. Third, the fights go on until the end of class. If you're knocked unconscious, we'll grab you a healer and you'll get back at it. I don't care how much you ache or how tired you are; you fight to the end, no exceptions. Fourth is the last rule, the most important rule, and my personal favorite rule."

A large, unsettling smile crept across Coach George's face.

"No powers."

* * *

“I trust everyone completed the weekend’s assignment,” Coach Persephone said as the students fell into line.

There was a mumbling to the affirmative that was to be expected. Alice, for once, didn’t shoot her hand up to volunteer as an example. For some reason she’d felt all out of sorts since Friday night, unable to really focus on the assignment and come up with a cool experiment. She’d ultimately settled on trying to levitate just one part of herself, specifically her hair, Sunday evening. It had been even less successful than it was interesting or impressive.

“Rich Weaver,” Coach Persephone called out, pointing to a dark-haired boy with a goatee. “In what new way did you try to use your power?”

“I tried to seal a cat in its own mind,” Rich replied promptly. “I’ve never tried it on animals before.”

“Not much in the way of a new technique, but it was an honest attempt,” Coach Persephone said. “Did it work?”

“I’m not really sure,” Rich admitted. “The cat just sat there and stared at me, but it was doing that beforehand, too. Next time I think I’ll try a more active animal.”

“Good idea,” Coach Persephone agreed. “Britney Fletcher, what was your attempt?”

“I tried to make a force field,” Britney said.

Coach Persephone blinked in surprise. “I was under the impression your power was invisibility.”

“It is.”

“Then what would make you think that would in any way lend itself to sustaining a maintained field of defensive energy?” Coach Persephone asked.

Britney shrugged in response. “You said try something really different.”

“You overshot the goal a bit there, dear,” Coach Persephone told her. “All right, let’s move on to Nick Campbell. I trust after our little talk on Friday you decided to give your homework a try?”

“I did indeed,” Nick said. “I tried to use my power in a whole new way.”

“Do tell.”

“I tried to get laid,” Nick stated proudly. The silence that followed his statements lasted several seconds. Seconds that consisted of the others looking at him with a mix of entertainment, curiosity, and disgust from those who suspected the worst. Unfortunately, Coach Persephone’s particular expression fell into the last category. Nick at last acknowledged the stares by looking around and raising his hands.

“What’d I say?”

“You attempted to use your power, the thing that makes you a Super and places you in a class of elite beings more capable than any mere human, for sexual gratification?” Coach Persephone asked in a very strained voice.

“Dick’s not going to suck itself,” Nick replied.

“You used your gift to try and manipulate some unsuspecting girl into intercourse, and you have so little remorse you can make flippant jokes about it? Nick Campbell, I am very close to hurling you out of this class right now,” Coach Persephone threatened.

“Do what you have to do,” Nick replied. “But let’s get something straight. I did the assignment. I didn’t do anything illicit or manipulative, though. At our age sex is eighty percent pure chance of opportunity. I used my luck to heighten the probability of meeting a girl who found me to be a viable and desirable partner. No influence on anything but sheer chance. It was a valid attempt to try my power in a new way. I mean, hell’s bells, another term for sex is ‘getting lucky.’ I did exactly what you told me, lady, so don’t go getting too high on your soapbox.”

Coach Persephone’s lips were pressed into a thin line. The students nearest to Nick began edging away, just in case she let loose with more of the twitching on the floor power. Instead she released a long, deep breath.

“Were you successful?” Coach Persephone asked.

“Yes and no,” Nick said. “I probably could have been, but it turns out just finding someone who wants you doesn’t mean you’ll want them too.”

“True. Good job. And one more thing.”

“Yes ma’am?” Nick asked.

“You were right in that I was jumping to conclusions on what you’d done. You were also right to fully explain yourself before I acted. However, speak to me in a tone that disrespectful again and I’ll leave you a drooling piss-soaked mess on the floor,” Coach Persephone said with surprising evenness to her tone.

“Noted,” Nick said.

* * *

Coach George could see the desire to speak, to argue, to be contrary in the face of what he’d just told them. Hawkins was still on the floor pounding out her push-ups, though, and that was an audible reminder that unwarranted comments were not appreciated in his class.

“I know some of you are wondering why I would do this. Others of you have already put it together. For the sake of you dumber students I’ll explain. You’re going to fight people who are stronger and faster than you eventually. Right now I want you learning to fight at a base level. Powers come later, once you’ve proven you’re competent enough to handle them. We’ll use them, just not until you’re ready. Any questions?”