Super Powereds: Year 3 Read online

  “That is my understanding as well,” Thomas chimed in. He was taking his new rank, seventh in the class, with his usual taciturn demeanor. If not for the episode with Vince, he would have felt the rankings unfair; however, the act of running away had wounded his pride so much that he was thankful to still be in the top ten at all.

  “I think that’s long enough for everyone to have seen their ranks,” Dean Blaine announced to the junior year class, a not-so-subtle prompt that it was time to get the real work started. The students moved to the usual starting line, whispering with curiosity over why the dean was in attendance. Usually, one of the combat professors oversaw their physical training, Professor Fletcher being the most common, though Professor Cole showed up quite a bit as well. Their curiosity was short-lived, though, as once they were arranged, Dean Blaine began speaking once more.

  “Now that you’ve all seen your standings, I wanted to have a brief discussion with you about what exactly the ranks mean at this point in your HCP career. Those are an assessment of your overall combat potential, what you can do in a physical altercation based on what we’ve seen you do so far. Will Murray, please step forward.”

  Will took a quick hop forward immediately. In this gym, obedience was automatic. That was one of the lasting lessons George had imprinted on them all.

  “I’m sure you saw the board. What is your current rank, Mr. Murray?”

  “Nineteenth in the class,” Will replied. If he held any shame about being one away from the bottom, it wasn’t evident on his narrow face.

  “That it is. Given that we only take fifteen students in our senior course, would that lead you to believe you’re on the shit list and likely to be cut?”

  “It seems a logical assumption,” Will admitted.

  “It does seem that way, doesn’t it,” Dean Blaine agreed. “Mr. Murray, you are, currently, the student with the top grades in Subtlety. Professor Pendleton sees a tremendous amount of potential in your ability, but more importantly, he thinks you have the ingenuity and resourcefulness to be a very effective Hero in the Subtlety field. You are far from the shit list. You are, in fact, one of the top contenders for graduation. Step back in line, please.”

  Will complied, somehow keeping the grin that was tugging at his cheeks under control.

  “These are combat rankings, nothing more, nothing less,” Dean Blaine continued. “We do them because fighting is an undeniable part of what Heroes must do. Strength, speed, resistance to damage: all of these are essential for many of the functions a Hero fulfills. Many functions, but not all of them. Professor Pendleton’s ability gives him excellent defense, but minimal offense in combat. My own power does nothing to stop general means of incapacitation or injury. Yet we are both graduates of a class renowned for the caliber of Hero it produced. We are not exceptions in that grouping; we are counted among them. So, if all of that is true, why even bother with the ranking system? That’s what some of you are surely wondering.”

  Though no one nodded overtly, several faces wore a sentiment of agreement with the dean’s words.

  “Because, for some of you, this is the only path forward. Roy Daniels, for example, has no talent for anything other than combat, at least not on a Super level. For him, that ranking is very important. All his training, his energy, and his time needs to go toward getting it as high as it will go. Alex Griffen could excel in both combat and recon missions. For Will Murray, the ranking as a whole is far less relevant. You all know your abilities better than anyone else. You know where your strengths lie. The rankings have their place in our system, but do not take them as a gospel list of where you stand in ultimate usefulness. Figure out what gives you the best chance of moving forward, and focus on that. Talk to your professors. Everyone is here to help you find the right path. But now is the time to start making those commitments. Your final two years will go faster than you imagine, and setting the wrong goals early on can leave you with no opportunity to correct yourself. Something to keep in mind when you select your ultimate major at the end of the year.”

  Dean Blaine finished his speech and headed out of the room, leaving behind a group of students far less certain of their overall standing than they had been minutes earlier.

  Which, truth be told, was exactly the point.

  12.

  Mary was surprised to find herself called into Professor Stone’s office after the first day of Focus. The upside to having a pair of telepaths in proximity was that there was no need to send notes or give a message in front of the rest of the class. Mary had long ago grown accustomed to listening to her professor’s thoughts while she taught; it was not only considered proper, it was part of her training. So it was that, as the rest of the students filtered out the door, off to their next course of the day, Mary walked over to Professor Stone’s desk and took a seat in her usual place. They’d had several after-class conferences over the last year, usually to discuss some area Professor Stone felt she should change tactics or improve on, and Mary had no reason to suspect this would be anything different.

  “I want to know,” Professor Stone began, taking her own seat behind her desk, “why it is you’ve been neglecting your training?”

  Mary inched backward in surprise. Nothing in the older woman’s thoughts had betrayed this sentiment, but then again, she was likely very adept at controlling what rose to the surface of her mind.

  “I haven’t been,” she said after a moment. “I do the concentration exercises, the listening exercises, and the precision exercises, all just like you instructed me to. I’ve improved my level of delicacy with telekinesis by quite a bit, and I still make sure to keep up with telepathy.”

  “Yes, Mary, you’re very diligent in working with your advanced mind abilities—at least the standard ones. Perhaps I should have been clearer: I want to know why you haven’t been trying to achieve a better skill level with your dream-walking talent. You’ve yet to come to me to discuss it, and I’ve never picked up any thoughts about you experimenting with it, or even musing on how to get better.”

  “To be truthful, my plate was already pretty full with trying to keep my team nudging along and making sure my own skills improved. The dream thing seemed rather unimportant by comparison,” Mary admitted.

  “That is . . . fair,” Professor Stone said, her tone somewhere between a grumpy sigh and a stage whisper. “This program does put a heavier emphasis on the abilities that produce more tangible results, especially in the first few years. I’ve never quite agreed with that strategy; however, it has proven to be effective overall. Still, I’m sure you were paying attention to the dean’s speech today, yes?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Mary replied immediately.

  “Then you know that there are considerations made beyond raw damaging power when we select who will graduate. Yes, with your strength, you could qualify going that route, but it would be a waste not to use your time here to explore this very rare gift you’ve been given.”

  “Is dream-walking really that rare?”

  “Incredibly so,” Professor Stone said immediately. “Dream-walking is what we refer to as a deep-mind ability. Telepaths like you and I are considered to have a shallow-mind, or upper-mind, ability. We skim the surface of a person’s thoughts. We see only what’s going through their head in a single moment, and even then, a trained person can control what gets into our view. Some of the best telepaths can go a little bit deeper, sensing what is dwelling beneath the surface, but those thoughts aren’t as well organized, and even if one can see them, it doesn’t mean that person can correctly interpret them.”

  “I think I follow,” Mary said. “So, since, when I dream-walked, I was able to go into Nick and Vince’s subconscious, I was accessing a part of their brain most telepaths can’t get at.”

  “Precisely. My own skill to view a willing subject’s memories is another example of a deep-mind ability. We’re breaking through the surface and interacting with the core of what composes a person’s very consciousness.”


  “If deep-mind abilities are that rare, how do they wipe memories at the other HCP schools? Do you travel to them at the end of the year?”

  Professor Stone’s expression clouded, the genial look she wore during conferences giving way to the hardened eyes of someone uncomfortable with the situation. “Beg pardon?”

  “I know you’re the one who wipes people’s minds when they fail out,” Mary replied, her own eyes not quite, but nearly, as unyielding. “I’m not saying it’s wrong, and I’m not trying to take you to task over doing it to my friend, but you’re the one I have the most to learn from at this school, and I thought it was time to put all our cards on the table.”

  Professor Stone let out a slow breath as she perused her student’s mind. This was a conversation she’d managed to have thankfully few times during her tenure at Lander, but it was one she definitely never looked forward to. At least Mary seemed to be telling the truth; the girl was holding back judgment, since she saw the necessity for such precautions.

  “I only have to travel on occasion. There are two other Supers who can do what I do, or at least a close enough approximation of it,” Professor Stone said, after a few moments had passed. “Much like the way a chartable percentage of elemental controllers have the ability to emulate or turn into their element, approximately one in ten Supers who possess the advanced mind power will also have some form of deep-mind ability. Of those, about twenty percent will have the ability to engage the memory in some form or fashion. Dream-walking manifests in less than five percent of those with deep-mind abilities.”

  “I see. That’s why you want me to work on mine,” Mary surmised. “But, I feel like I should point this out—so far, that power is really limited. I’ve never walked into a genuine dream. I was only able to do it when Rich put someone under, and then only when I was touching them and had been put under myself.”

  “Yes, it does have a lot of limitations so far,” Professor Stone agreed. “Yet, just as you didn’t gain telekinesis and immediately throw a two-ton boulder, so must this talent be worked on and honed to be more useful.”

  “Great, so how do I start?”

  “The same way all training begins,” Professor Stone informed her. “Lots and lots of repetition.”

  13.

  Weapons class was starting off differently than Roy had expected. During their first year of it, Professor Cole had focused on learning about a tremendous amount of weaponry, both ancient and modern, as well as their strengths, weaknesses, and purposes. Some were meant to incapacitate, others to kill. Some were structured in a way that increased the power of the wielder’s blows, while others counted on a thin edge and dexterity to be effective. Some were electric stun batons, and some were pepper spray. It was a foundation of comprehensive knowledge, so that, by the time the first year ended, any student could identify a sword or morningstar by name, style, and proper way to be held.

  The second year began with Professor Cole having them arrange themselves in a wide circle, while she stood in the center of it. She wore her usual vestment of cloth wrappings and layered clothes, an overdressed mummy with visible eyes and the occasional tuft of hair. The difference was that this time, her large sword was not in its sheath, instead, it was clutched in one of her hands. Several of her bandages wrapped around it up to the hilt as she clutched the sword with seemingly little effort. It made more than a few students wonder if her power was enhanced strength.

  “I am not a coy woman,” Professor Cole announced, causing a few students to jump involuntarily. It was easy to forget the power in her voice, how it was strong, yet delicate all at once. “Many of your other classes will keep you in the dark as to what the test events will be. They’ll want you guessing, want you to prepare for multiple scenarios, want you to push your versatility to its limits. I don’t care about any of that. I’m telling you today what your tests—all of them—will be.”

  She twirled her blade absentmindedly. Will noticed the tip always came down at the exact same distance from the floor. Even if her action was effortless, it was still incredibly precise.

  “Did you ever wonder how both George and Professor Fletcher were able to fight you combat folks as a group? Seems like a strange skill for two men in very different fields to have acquired. The reason is that both of them have spent time in the real world, and out there, taking on a group is almost more common than going one-on-one. Gangs existed before Supers, and they’ve rolled out the welcome mats to our kind now that they know about us. It’s why Heroes work in teams so frequently. But sometimes, shit happens, and you’ll have to handle multiple enemies on your own. That’s what this year is about. This is where you get the training to put five criminals on the ground, instead of letting them beat the hell out of you.”

  The blade was still twirling, still staying on the same path without so much as a millimeter of deviation.

  “For your first test, you’ll be facing three classmates of my choosing. Second test will be five. Last test will be you against everyone who is still here. Yes, still here. I won’t kick you out of the program; however, every year, a couple of people always come to me and ask if they can drop my course early. Turns out, once the weapons become real, they lose their nerve. And make no mistake people, we will be using real weaponry. The street thug you go against isn’t going to use a dulled knife, so I don’t want you trained against one. People will be hurt; however, I will make certain no one is killed. That is my promise to you, and it is the only one I’ll be making. Other than that, you’re on your own. I want you to get hurt during these sessions, because I want you to feel the consequences of not respecting an opponent’s weapon.”

  The sword halted with no warning. One moment, it was steadily in motion; the next, it was still.

  “All of an opponent’s weapons. Everyone, please look at the third button from the top on your uniform coats.”

  The students did as they were instructed. Nestled dead center in the mass of each button was a small silver needle that hadn’t been there when the coats were put on. Upon removal, some realized that the needles were balanced and weighted, specifically designed for throwing.

  “Misdirection is an important skill in fighting groups,” Professor Cole informed them. “Control your opponent’s vision, and you can control what they don’t see, which is infinitely more important than what they do. Keep that in mind. I know several of you aren’t the type with physical gifts,” her eyes lingered on Will and Britney just a few moments longer than either would have preferred, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t defend yourself. Battle is about so much more than who punches harder. Each one of you has the capability of getting through, if not passing these tests. If you didn’t, then I wouldn’t have allowed you in my course to begin with. Now, the first step for each of you is choosing your preferred weapon. You’ll be using several different kinds throughout the year, but this will be your home base, the one to which you’ll apply all the things you learn. We’ll spend the next week making sure each of you finds a good fit. After that, we start learning how to use them.”

  She gestured to the racks of weaponry that lined the cement wall of her large classroom, indicating that it was time to start seeing if they could find a good match. Most of the students followed her implied orders, however, one lingered behind.

  “Is there a problem, Mr. Murray?”

  “There is. I don’t think I’m going to find the right weapon for me in the classroom stock,” he replied. “I have no physical augments, nor do I have a talent that would allow me to approximate them like my sister does.”

  “Is this your way of asking if you can drop the course already?”

  “Very much the opposite,” Will said. “I think the only chance I have here is to design a weapon customized for me specifically. My body, my natural movements, my capabilities. I wanted to ask if that was against the rules.”

  “No,” Professor Cole confirmed. “The rules here are that, if you can create it, then you can use it. It’s why
we’ve let you bring all your high-tech inventions into fights, while everyone else is restricted to nothing more advanced than a Taser.”

  “You’ve allowed Jill to bring in my works as well,” Will pointed out.

  “Cultivating resources is a Hero skill too. Jill got them from a fellow HCP student, so as far as we’re concerned, she procured them under her own power. I’m sure that was your roundabout way of seeing if you could make something for her too.”

  “Perhaps a bit,” Will admitted. “However, in this case, my own needs are first priority. Jill can get by with what she’s got. I seem to only have a week to craft a tool that will give me a fighting chance.”

  “Do you need more time?”

  “No, that should be plenty, though I may consult you for your expertise. Personally, I think it should prove quite the rewarding project.”

  14.

  “Again, we both really appreciate this,” Vince said, repeating his thanks for what Camille guessed was the fourth time.

  “It’s no big deal. This address is only fifteen minutes from campus anyway,” she replied, trying to soothe him. The overflowing gratitude was likely due to jittery nerves. Vince might be able to face down a horde of angry Supers without so much as a twitch; however, social situations he was unfamiliar with still put him a bit on edge. In that regard, Camille could certainly relate.

  She saw the street she was looking for and turned the wheel to the side. Kent Mears had gotten all of the Melbrook group interviews on the same day, no doubt assuming they would carpool. What he hadn’t realized was that sending Alice and Roy to one location, while Vince and Mary went to another, left the latter pair without transport. If not for Camille’s sedan, free time, and willingness to help, they would have been in quite a pickle.