Super Powereds: Year 1 (50 page)

No one raised their hand. They were learning slowly, but they were learning.

“Good. When I call your names, grab your partner and get in a circle. Once everyone is assigned, the circles will glow red. Start smacking the shit out of each other and don’t stop until those bastards go dark. Clear?”

“Yes, sir!” This was yelled by a large majority of the students, almost instinctually. Coach George loved the sound of that chorus. It meant he was forging order from the chaos.

“Excellent. Castillo and Reid, pair up. Foster and Dixon. Riley and Wells. Reynolds and DeSoto,” Coach said, rambling off the names. He read quickly, leaving no doubt in his students’ minds that they were expected to move with just as much speed. There was a scramble as the students searched through somewhat familiar faces, trying to find their opponent and get inside a square as rapidly as their bodies would permit. Before long Coach George had reached the end.

“Sullivan, grab Hawkins when she’s done with her push-ups. Lastly, Daniels and Taylor report to me,” Coach George finished. Roy and Chad looked at each other with some confusion, but neither had any more idea of why they’d been singled out than the other.

“Okay everyone, you have five minutes before your circles glow. Shake hands, stretch, pray, or do whatever revs you up before a fight. I’ll be here watching when it starts, so make sure you come out swinging,” Coach George instructed them. He then turned his attention to Roy and Chad.

“You two follow me. I have a special place for you to fight.”

* * *

“Here’s the deal,” Coach George said once they had arrived at an even lower level. This one was as bare as the last, though on the ground were a series of red rings, each one within the last until the final ring that was only five feet across. “You two are now permanent training buddies. Shake hands, make nice, and find peace with it.”

“Works for me,” Roy said with a grin. “But why am I the only one who gets to pound on Blondie?”

“Because, dumbass, you have to use your powers when you train. It doesn’t do Roy any good if Hershel is the one learning the lessons,” Coach George explained. “And Taylor here has remodeled his whole body from the ground up. He can’t really just turn that shit on and off in the blink of eye. It works out, though, because you’re both strong enough to ring each other’s bells.”

“I don’t feel this will be adequate training for me,” Chad said. “He doesn’t offer me a significant challenge or the opportunity for learning.”

“Try letting him smash you in the face and work on your pain tolerance,” Coach George snapped at him. “It’s what we’ve got to work with, so I suggest you find a way to get some gain from it.”

“I’ll do my best,” Chad replied.

“Goody for you. Now, you two are going to start in the smallest circle. I have to be back upstairs to watch the others so I’ll review tapes of your training at night. When I think the time is right, we’ll move you to bigger circles.”

“Aw, why bother with that bullshit?” Roy complained.

“Because given enough room to move around, Taylor would utterly crush you at your current skill level like he did a few months ago. At least in close proximity you stand a chance of hitting a lucky blow,” Coach George told him.

Roy thought about yapping off again, then reconsidered. He really couldn’t have asked for better circumstances. He was training against the strongest guy in class every single day. There was no better way for him to improve than this.

“Fine, I guess it’ll do,” Roy said, walking toward the center circle.

* * *

“It’s Shane, right?” Vince asked as he and his opponent stared at other from within their circle.

“Right. And you’re Vince, the guy who can absorb energy,” Shane replied.

“Bingo.”

“Nice ability. Not to mention you must have some exceptional combat skills,” Shane continued.

“Thanks, I think. What makes you say that, though?”

“You were beaten in the first round but you still made eighth rank. You’ve fended off Michael multiple times despite his presence in the top three. And then of course there’s the fact that you’re fighting me,” Shane explained.

“I take it you’re good too, then,” Vince said, catching his meaning immediately.

“If not for the experience of fighting Chad I would have thought myself easily the best in our year,” Shane told him.

“I have heard he’s pretty talented,” Vince said.

“Talent has nothing to do with it. Chad Taylor is a man possessed. I’ve been working to be a Hero since I was a small child. I’ve been instructed in various forms of martial arts and had the opportunity to hone my power to a level of refinement it would take the others in this class years to match. And I still cannot match the intensity with which Chad trains for battle,” Shane said. “He lives and breathes it. His free time is spent thinking of new strategies and techniques. Even when he’s resting he trains new reflex sequences into his muscles. It is literally his entire life.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” Vince said. “And kind of sad. I mean, there’s more to life than just fighting.”

“Perhaps. But he is the best, and we are not. So maybe we’re the ones who’ve taken a wrong turn,” Shane pointed out.

Vince would have said more, but the soft hum from behind him was the only warning he got that the circle was beginning to glow.

“Good luck,” Vince said.

“Move swiftly and surely,” Shane replied.

* * *

The first clash lasted only seconds. Before Roy could even blink, Chad had drilled him in the ribs and knocked him on his back. He didn’t press the attack, surprisingly. Instead he took a few steps back and allowed Roy to climb to his feet.

“Thanks,” Roy said as he rose. “But you didn’t have to do that.”

“Kicking you mercilessly while you lie on the ground isn’t really a great learning experience for either of us,” Chad said.

“True,” Roy agreed, rushing him. Chad slid out of the way with ease, catching Roy’s shoulder and putting him right back on the ground. Roy pulled himself up again.

“Listen, I don’t do this often, but something’s been bugging me,” Roy said once he was up.

This time Chad stepped forward and caught Roy in the sternum, sweeping out his legs at the same time.

“What’s that?” Chad asked as he looked down.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” Roy replied, rubbing his chest as he got on his feet. “I’m sorry I insulted your power before. I still think mine is stronger, but I’ll admit yours is a lot more impressive than I would have guessed.”

Chad closed the gap between them and punched Roy in the jaw. As Roy’s head reeled to the side, Chad grabbed his right arm and hurled him over his shoulder. This time he didn’t just land on the ground, he was slammed there with an impact that left concrete chips on his shirt.

“Apology accepted,” Chad said in his usual even tone.

* * *

Vince and Shane were both dripping in sweat as they gasped for air, circling one another.

“You’re better than I expected,” Shane complimented him.

“You, too,” Vince agreed.

Each boy was covered in small gashes and bruises. They’d put each other down several times and taken the fight to the concrete more than once, but neither had managed to get so much of an advantage that he could own the day. Plus, they had been unable to drive each other out of the ring even a single time.

“You look tired,” Vince told him.

“You look exhausted,” Shane replied.

“I think the others are about out of gas,” Vince noted, watching the lackluster battles around the room. It might not have been so bad if they hadn’t done the usual two hours of hard training before this part of class.

“That your way of asking me if we can softball it ‘til the clock runs out?”

“Not in the slightest,” Vince replied. He dashed forward, sweeping at Shane’s legs. Shane stepped back on his right foot, bringing his left swinging for Vince’s head. Vince moved his whole body with the blow, doing a half flip only a few inches above the ground and driving his legs into Shane’s chest. Shane dropped to his knees rather than have the momentum send him sailing out of the ring, and both boys scrambled to get to their feet.

“Not bad,” Vince said to Shane as they both sucked in air.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Shane replied.

* * *

“You’ve gotten better since last time,” Chad told Roy as Roy dragged himself from the ground.

“I get better hang time in the air?”

“No, you’re thinking when you come at me now. And your reflexes have improved. Not much, but some. You’ve been learning some martial arts,” Chad said.

“Guilty,” Roy replied, swaying slightly. “Lot of good it’s done me.” He hadn’t landed a blow on Chad yet, and Chad was hammering away at him every time they came together. Roy was resistant to damage, of course; however, Chad dished out enough to cover that gap and more. In truth, Roy knew the only reason he was still conscious was simply because Chad didn’t want to knock him out, and that knowledge made him want to crush that blond bastard even harder.

“It’s a process. You should keep that in mind. Steady groundwork is what bears results,” Chad told him.

“I’ll make sure to remember,” Roy replied, stumbling forward. He was too slow, he knew it as soon as he was moving. Chad would capitalize. Sure enough, rather than use a quick series of blows to knock Roy down, Chad instead took a step forward and smashed him in the forehead with a powerful kick. Roy saw static all around him, and when his vision finally cleared, he was on the ground again. It was beginning to have a familiar, almost homey feel.

“Just stay down already,” Chad told him. “I’ll go fetch a healer and we can tell Coach George that this won’t work because you can’t keep up with me. By this time tomorrow we’ll both have people more appropriate to our skill level.”

“Fuck you,” Roy spat out, along with a bit of blood.

“I beg your pardon? I was trying to show you mercy.”

“You were trying to show me condescension,” Roy sneered, getting up for what felt like the billionth agonizing time. “Yeah, you’re faster than I am, and more skilled than I am, and a hell of a lot better practiced than I am, but who cares?”

“Off handedly, I’d say your battered body. Don’t get the wrong idea here, Roy. I’ve been going easy on you. This can get much worse.”

“Blondie, there’s a few things you should know about me,” Roy said as he found his shaky footing. “I love whiskey, dumb blondes, and my momma. I don’t welch on bets and I don’t cheat at pool. And I never, repeat, never give up.” Roy locked eyes with Chad and gave him the legendary Daniels’ family grin. “Now bring it the fuck on.”

To his credit, Roy stayed conscious for the rest of the fight, even if a part of him truly wished he hadn’t.

86.

“Yeesh, this guy took one hell of a pounding,” said the healer, a female junior. Roy could make out the words dimly over the ringing in his ears.

“That’s what she said,” snickered a male voice next to her.

“Damn it, Ed, that doesn’t even make sense. Try to show a little respect,” the girl snapped at him. “Just because he’s passed out doesn’t mean you can act like a jackass.”

She was wrong; Roy was still awake. He could hear them after all. It wasn’t worth the effort to correct her, though. Not right now.

“Sorry, sorry,” Ed apologized. “I just get kind of weirded out being too somber around people this messed up. I don’t want to treat them like they’re already dead or something.”

“No worries on that for this one. He’s already healing up on his own. To be this hearty and still be so pummeled... it must have been one hell of a beating,” the girl commented.

“Maybe he wasn’t fighting back,” Ed suggested.

“No way,” the girl told him. “Didn’t you notice all the impact wounds? This guy kept getting up over and over and getting put right back down. He was obviously outclassed, but I’ll give him one thing. He did not want to lose.”

Roy’s head swam and he finally lost the tenuous grip to consciousness he had been clutching so adamantly.

* * *

“Thank you for coming, Mrs. Daniels,” the principal said, raising from his desk and shaking her hand. “Will Mr. Daniels be joining us?”

“I’m afraid he’s out of town at the moment,” Mrs. Daniels said. “His construction company got a job down in Florida that he’s overseeing.”

“Ah, I understand,” the principal said. “In that case I suppose we can begin. Please, have a seat.”

“Not that I’m not eager to find out why you called me down here so urgently, but shouldn’t you excuse the student already here before we talk?” Mrs. Daniels asked. She glanced at the small plastic chair he was sitting in, reclined back and feet swinging freely.

“I’m afraid that boy is actually part of the reason you were called down,” the principal said hesitantly.

“Was he in a fight with my son? I know Hershel has been getting bullied since we moved here.”

“Not exactly. You see, that boy sitting in that chair is your son. Sort of. I’m afraid it’s somewhat complicated, Mrs. Daniels. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a seat?”

Mrs. Daniels didn’t take the open chair. Instead she walked over to the small boy and got on her knees. She looked him in the eye for a long time, long enough that the boy began to squirm uncomfortably.

“What’s your name?”

“Dunno,” the boy replied.

“Do you know I am?”

“Mommy,” the boy replied.

“Are you Hershel?” she asked.

The boy shook his head. “Hershel was crying cause they kept making fun of him. He couldn’t make them stop, so I did.”

“For the record, ‘stopping them’ consisted of several children with extensive bruising and an overturned jungle gym,” the principal interjected.

“Is that true? Did you hurt the other children?”

The boy looked down at the floor. “It was an accident. They wouldn’t stop making Hershel cry. I just wanted to stop them.”

“I understand. Well, we’ll have to get you some help in learning to stop people without hurting them,” Mrs. Daniels said, giving the boy a reassuring squeeze of his hand, then standing up to her full height.