Super Powereds: Year 3 (10 page)

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.

“Did he tell you anything about the place?”

“Only that it was a restaurant,” Mary answered from the car’s back seat. “He said it was somewhere that my eyes and Vince’s hair wouldn’t stand out.”

Camille couldn’t picture many businesses where that would be true. Though it was fashionable to emulate the strange physical characteristics some Supers, like Vince and Mary, were born with, it was still frowned upon in a professional setting. Much like nose rings or tattoos, there was definitely a crowd that appreciated them; however, that crowd was rarely staffing the human resources department at major corporations. Mary would be able to get by if no one looked too closely at her eyes. However, if Vince wanted a non-Hero career after college, he was going to have to get used to the idea of shaving his head, or wearing a lot of hats.

One last turn put them in a half-filled parking lot with a sizable building in the center. The color scheme was garish, to say the least, and a large neon sign announced the establishment’s name proudly for all to see. Through the windows, they could see a woman in a bright blue-and-yellow outfit showing a family of four into a booth, then setting down menus in front of them.

“Supper with Supers,” Vince said slowly, reading the words off the glowing sign and taking in the colorful business where he was scheduled to interview.

“Well, you guys definitely won’t stand out,” Camille said, trying to point out a silver lining. It was not terribly effective.

*              *              *

“That is . . . not a whole lot of clothing,” Alice said, eyeing the uniform critically.

“No, it is not,” Angela agreed, “which is why it gets us such generous tips.”

Alice had been surprised to find Angela already working at the place where she was set to interview, but it made sense. There could only be so many businesses that had agreed to take in HCP students, so some overlap was unavoidable. Alice had been sitting by herself, since Roy was interviewing first, when her fellow blonde had recognized her and come over to chat. It seemed Angela genuinely enjoyed working here, and was adamant that Alice apply for a position as a fellow shot girl, a prospect she’d initially found appealing, until she took in exactly what the uniform consisted of.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to start as a waitress?” Alice asked. “What do they wear?”

“Jeans and a low-cut top, though they can also go with shorts if they want. The plaid half-shirts are all us though. Makes sure the customers know they can buy booze right off us, not ask for more lemons or napkins or any of that bullcrap. Trust me, shot girl is much more fun than waitress. They have closing duties and cleaning and all that. Us? We are agents of alcohol delivery, and nothing more. We flirt, we get guys to buy more rounds, and we take a few shots ourselves, if the customers feel generous.”

“How often do they feel generous?”

“Often enough that I carry an empty beer bottle for spitting some shots into.”

“I think I saw that in a movie,” Alice recalled.

“It’s a trick that’s been around for ages. Trust me, you’ll want to carry an empty.” Angela paused and looked her fellow Super up and down critically. “Actually, with your chest and waist, you might want to carry two.”

Alice noticed the discussion had somehow maneuvered from whether or not she even wanted the job to what she should know before starting it. Some might have thought Angela was manipulating the conversation to lead her to a conclusion, but the truth was much simpler than that: Angela had already decided what the outcome would be, and the idea that she could be wrong hadn’t even occurred to her. Alice decided to steer the topic of conversation back to something that didn’t require her to walk around half naked.

“How can you keep this up senior year? I sort of assumed things would be . . . busier.” Discussing the HCP in public, even when it seemed they were alone, was always handled with careful word choices and vagueness.

“Oh it is, but you’ve got to make time for other things, or you go nuts,” Angela replied. “Besides, I’m still top of the class, so graduation is looking imminent. My biggest worry is lining up an internship, and even that’s not
too
stressful, thanks to some connections.”

“Internship?”

“Yeah. Blaine should have told you all about it back in freshman year.”

“I think he mentioned something, but never explained it.”

“Oh, well he’ll do that before the end of this year, don’t worry,” Angela assured her. “I can’t go too much into it right now, obviously, but you know how, after doctors finish med school, they still have to work under the supervision of more experienced doctors before they’re trusted on their own?”

“I actually didn’t know that,” Alice admitted.

“Well, now you do,” Angela said with a smile. “Anyway, same basic premise.”

There were an abundance of questions Alice wanted to ask, but she didn’t. Partially because this wasn’t a safe place to talk about HCP business more than they had, and partially because, at that moment, the owner and Roy emerged from his office, and he motioned for her to come over.

“Remember,” Angela encouraged as Alice walked across the bar, “you want to be a shot girl!”

15.

Brenda, the general manager of Supper with Supers, could be faulted on many fronts, but lack of enthusiasm was not one of them. She’d greeted Vince, Mary, and Camille at the door, and immediately pulled all of them into her office, either ignoring or not hearing Camille’s protests that she would wait outside.

“As you can see, we have licensing arrangements to allow our employees to wear the costumes of many famous Heroes,” Brenda said, gesturing to the wall lined with staff photos, all of them in some sort of costume. “However, for the most part, our staff wear generic ones, designs we have ample stock of. It makes accommodating different sizes much easier. For those who have been here more than six months, we allow them to design their own outfit and name, if they want to be unique. Of course, we retain all rights to those designs, so not many of our HCP workers take us up on that opportunity.”

“So, it’s just a restaurant where people wear costumes?” Vince asked.

“It is a theme, dear boy. We transport the customers to a world of high-paced action, where capes and costumes are everyday occurrences. The point is to submerge them in the culture, to turn a simple meal into a memorable experience.”

“It seems lovely,” Mary said, defaulting to politeness, since she had no idea what else to say.

“Thank you very much. I’m quite proud of it, and we have a great reputation for fun and delicious food. Now, I’ve got two openings for wait staff,” Brenda said, checking her folder. “And I can squeeze one of you in as a host.”

Camille debated speaking up once more; however, by now, it seemed obvious her protests were not making any dents in Brenda’s enthusiasm. Plus, if she were honest with herself, the idea of working with Vince wasn’t totally unappealing to her.

“The waiting jobs require more social interaction. You have to chat with the table, remember orders, that sort of thing. Host duty will revolve around charting the wait times and making sure to seat customers in a rotation that lets the waiters serve them best.”

“I think Vince and I should be the wait staff,” Mary suggested. Camille threw her fellow small-statured girl a glance and received a not-too-sly wink in response. There were definite benefits to having a friend who was a telepath. “Knowing Camille’s sense of organization and sweet demeanor, I think she would excel at the hosting position.”

“She does seem downright adorable,” Brenda agreed. “Any objections to that, Camille? Don’t worry, you still get to wear one of our amazing costumes!”

“Sounds . . . great,” Camille said weakly. She was immediately beginning to regret going along with this; however, if it had been hard to back out before, then doing it now was well beyond the realm of impossibility.

“Fantastic. Now, that leaves you two as servers. The training process is a little more arduous for those positions, but I’ve never had an HCP student who couldn’t hack it. Running food and pre-bussing is much less stressful than fighting or robot battle or whatever it is you folks do in there.”