Super Powereds: Year 3 (71 page)

                One day, perhaps, even Alice the Hero. She opened her eyes and saw a new message on the screen.

Your course is now ready. You may proceed forward at any time.

If you have anything to declare, please do so before exiting this room.

                “Cumulonimbus.” Her voice rang out, loud and strong. For a moment, it confused her; she nearly didn’t recognize it as her own.

First code accepted. Enter next?

                “No, I think that’s enough. I’ll handle the rest of these the old fashioned way.”

132.

                Professor Pendleton felt a strange mixture of pride and frustration as he watched the first group of Sims deactivate. Even getting one of the codes was an arduous task—something he’d determined to be a passing grade for his test. He’d suspected that maybe the top students would get two of them, and in truth, he’d never anticipated any of them to crack the third. Will was turning out to be the quite the gifted student. Part of Professor Pendleton dearly wished Nick were still around, so he could pit the two against one another. But then again, perhaps he’d made the cipher too easy. Alice’s decryption skills were far from spectacular.

                “Three students smart enough to get through the first one,” Dean Blaine said, sidling up to the professor. “Not a bad showing for your class.”

                “Yes, but only one of them got all three,” Professor Pendleton pointed out. Alice had appeared on screen, walking toward the building, which meant she was no longer able to input any codes.

                “I looked at that sheet,” Dean Blaine said. “Even the first one was ridiculously hard. The others may as well have said ‘genius only’ on the form. You should be proud of the crop you’ve raised.”

                “Somehow, I suspect that when Alice is done, no one will even remember that she cleared a Subtlety goal.”

                Dean Blaine wanted to protest, but he’d seen bits of Alice’s skill with her new power while observing Professor Hill’s class. Sean wasn’t wrong. Not in the least. “Well, we’ll remember,” he said, half-heartedly trying to comfort his old friend.

                Professor Pendleton said nothing; he merely kept his eyes on the screen as Alice entered the outer door.

*             *             *

                Though she was walking, Alice’s feet rested a good three inches above the ground. She’d learned that it was easier to maintain her normal reactions when she considered herself to be air-walking rather than floating. Plus, this permitted her to be silent as breeze, while not having to bother with removing her shoes.

                Unlike her other friends, she had no hidden skill or gift for locating the Sims in advance. She would have to rely on stealth and speed to overtake a Sim when she spotted it. Had she taken this exam a year ago, she would have likely been hoping for a miracle, or that they were easily confused by a woman flying about. As it was now, Alice felt a curious calm throughout her entire being. There was no fretting to do, or worrying to waste time on. She was in the battle now, her only options were to succeed or fail. All she could focus on was the doing.

                At a corner, she turned and found herself staring at a Sim’s back. A dull yellow color reflected off the walls, so she could easily surmise what color its light was. With a burst of effort, she cut its gravity, leaving it to float helplessly in the air. Before it could react, though, she clamped down on its limbs, just as she had Nathaniel’s. Alice floated over to it and whispered in the spot where its ear should have been.

                “Surrender now or I will take you down. This is your only chance.”

                The Sim refused to power down, so Alice quickly intensified the localized gravity field around its legs, shattering them in seconds. With a hop backward, and a moment to redirect the gravity field, she slammed it down onto the ground, using what she hoped was enough force to knock it unconscious without killing it. It definitely wasn’t moving when she left, and that would have to be enough.

                By her count, she still had five to go.

*             *             *

                “Thor’s tap-dancing hammer,” Violet muttered under her breath. “She has gotten a lot better since last year.”

                “She was good enough to defeat you,” Thomas reminded her. Violet had been a bit down since her showing, clearly berating herself for not doing as well as she thought she could.

                “True, but it was a tough fight,” Violet said. “She had trouble using that gravity ability on my arms. Now, she’s targeting limbs like it ain’t no thing.” As they spoke, Alice encountered a second guard—the last one she would find, since the other four Sims were clustered in the central room. Just as with the first, she sent it floating, and then whispered in its ear. This one, however, chose to power itself down, preventing another display of robotic limb-crushing.

                “She’s strong,” Thomas agreed. “But so far, she hasn’t done anything a good telekinetic couldn’t, save for the self-floating.”

                “You’re thinking too small,” Violet chastised him. “Wait until she gets to the room. Then you’ll see the difference between her power and telekinesis.”

                “Looks like I won’t have to wait long,” Thomas said, noting that Alice was now headed directly for the room with the four waiting Sims. His assessment was correct; he wouldn’t be waiting long at all.

*             *             *

                Alice air-walked gracefully into the room, noting the way the four Sims were distributed around it. Two of them had red-lights, and two had yellows. She’d need to be quick about this if she wanted to avoid collateral damage. Her mind took in the area, mentally mapping it out. Her area of affect for big gravity swings was only moderate, but if her estimations were right, she should be able to handle a room this size. Fancy things like mini-constraints were off the table, though. Alice would have to rely on the basics. Thankfully, her basics were still pretty damned powerful.

                Each Sim found itself suddenly floating upward, unable to control its trajectory. Almost simultaneously, a powerful female voice resonated through the room, reaching them easily despite their newly elevated height.

                “Listen up, and listen good. You are all under arrest. Put your hands on your head if you don’t want trouble, and do it right the hell now. Anyone who doesn’t is going to be treated as hostile, and I promise you’re not going to like it.”

                Alice paused for a mere smattering of heartbeats, waiting to see if any of the Sims made motions to comply with her orders. The only movement she saw was one of the red-light Sims turning its head to get a good view of her. Assuming that to be a bad thing, she decided that she’d waited long enough.

                “Have it your way.” Alice raised her arms and narrowed her focus, seeing the whole world as nothing but angles—angles that struck through the room in all manner of directions. Since Roy got away with smashing the whole area, she hoped she wouldn’t be docked too much for busting up the walls. Her next words were barely more than a whisper, yet they still carried to every Sim clutched in her gravitational grasp.

                “Timber, bitches.”

                The Sims came crashing down, slamming into the ground at a forty-five degree angle. Before they could react, they were moving again, this time smashing into a wall nearly halfway to the roof. Then they were hitting the roof, then another wall, then the floor again; light, humanoid pinballs with glowing lights in their center. Each impact was enough to damage them, but not enough to destroy them, and the constant shifts made it impossible for any of them to actually formulate a counterattack.

                It took a full minute of this assault before the final Sim powered down. Alice lowered all four of them gently to the floor, then turned and looked up to where she knew the camera would be staring down at her. Unable to help herself, she gave an exaggerated wink and blew a kiss, then turned and walked out of the room with her head held high.

133.

               Alice gave Professor Pendleton a wry look as she walked by, all but daring him to comment on the surely surprising fact that she’d managed to use one of his precious code words. The teacher said nothing, merely giving her a blank-faced nod as she sauntered back over to her group of friends, surrounded by some polite applause and a lot of uncertain stares. Though the people in the Control course had seen some of Alice’s power, and Violet had experienced it first-hand, much of the class had still been in the dark about the extent of her abilities. After the show she’d just put on, that was now far from the case.

                “‘Timber, bitches’?” Mary asked as her blonde friend came within earshot. “That sounds like something Roy would say.”

                “No, it . . . yeah, actually I can see that,” Roy agreed.

                “So I’m new to the witty banter, I’ll work on it. There’s bound to be a class covering quipping during senior year,” Alice said. She embraced her best friend in a quick hug, more for physical support than emotional. Though she’d done well suppressing her nerves, the strain was still there, and now that that adrenaline was fading from her system, she found herself having difficulty standing without allowing her legs to sway.

                Though the friends were chatting, the rest of the room continued with the business at hand. Professor Cole reached a bandage-wrapped hand into the jar and produced a slip of paper with a name on it: “Adam Riley.” Her voice was as powerful as ever, and Adam stepped forward before the sound of his name had finished ringing in his ears.

                “Adam,” Dean Blaine said. “Do you need to grab any weaponry before we head down?”

                “Not off the rack, no. I do have a question, though.”

                “By all means,” Dean Blaine said. He had a suspicion he already knew where this was going, but if Adam wanted it, then he was going to have to work for it.

                “You’ve said this is supposed to be a real-life situation, right? I’d be out, patrolling the streets, and then I’d get the call and have to go into the building. That’s the scenario we’re working with?”

                “Correct.”

                “Then I have an issue, because I obviously wouldn’t be patrolling as myself,” Adam said. “I’m a mimic, and without another Super’s abilities to draw from, I’d be useless. It stands to reason that I would have someone else’s form if I was out doing Hero work, presumably someone from my team, or from my teacher, if I was still in my intern days. I’d like to be allowed to copy someone before I go down.”

                Dean Blaine had been right about what Adam wanted, and it was actually a fair request. It would be an idiotic mimic indeed who went on patrol without borrowed abilities. Even if they encountered a Super to steal from, the time without powers represented a tremendous amount of risk that could cause them to be injured. This situation was even worse, since Adam wouldn’t be able to steal any abilities from the Sims. Still, there were practical limitations that had to be addressed.

                “Your assessment is correct,” Dean Blaine agreed. “But, for the sake of realism, let us say that this incident is coming at the end of the night, the last legs of your patrol. Would you still have the borrowed form from your teammate at that time?”

                “I feel confident I would,” Adam said. “I can easily stay in a form for eight or nine hours, and if I really push myself, I’ve held it as long as twelve.”

                Dean Blaine cast a quick glance to Professor Fletcher and Professor Baker, both of whom nodded their agreement with Adam’s self-analysis. When the boy had first arrived, he’d maxed himself out at six hours, but clearly, he was pushing himself hard to have stretched his limits to such an extent.

                “Very well, then we can assume you kept your form. The question that remains now is what form would you have? You speculated that it would be from a team member, someone who trusts you enough to wear their face and power for eight to twelve unsupervised hours. That is no mean feat, even amongst team members. I’d say it requires the same amount of kindness or trust that would also be needed to allow you to use their form for an exam, knowing that, without it, you will not be much competition. To that effect, you may assume a form, but only from someone in this room who is willing to volunteer it up. Everyone who will let Adam mimic them, please step forward.”

                The room grew silent as the students stared at Adam in a new light. One less competitor off the bat, one less person fighting for the fifteen spots to move on to the next year . . . it was incredibly tempting to just let Adam flounder about on his own. For a moment, it seemed that no one would agree, and Adam would face those towering robots as nothing more than his very human self. When someone did finally step forward, Adam breathed a sigh of relief, which was quickly drowned out by the gasps of shock from the others.

                “He may mimic me, if he is so inclined,” Chad said, walking out of the crowd.