Super Powereds: Year 3 (66 page)

                Dean Blaine had barely finished checking on Thomas when Roy stepped up, raring to go. “Mr. Daniels, I presume you’re ready?”

                “Damn straight. Sorry, I mean, yes sir.”

                Dean Blaine ignored the slip-up—in these situations such things were bound to happen. He was far more interested in the dark metal bat clutched in Roy’s left hand. Professor Cole’s expression was inscrutable thanks to her wrapped face, but judging from the twinkle in her eyes, Blaine guessed she was pretty proud of having talked a student like Roy into bringing along a weapon.

                “Very well then, follow me.”

                They started for the door, but before going through, Roy turned back to his class.

                “Try and pay attention, because I promise I’m about to put on a hell of a show.”

                Some of the students laughed at his bravado, others snickered, and a few glared silently. For his part, Dean Blaine mentally adjusted how much to budget for repairs to this training area. When students like Roy Daniels promised a good show, it was usually best to plan for destruction.

*             *             *

                “The hell are you doing?” Hank asked as Roy took his first few swings. Around them were the sounds of horses stomping, an inhuman gallery already jeering at Roy’s attempts.

                “You told me to attack you,” Roy replied, confusion evident on his face. “I thought you said your shield could handle it.”

                “Course it can,” Hank replied. The dark-haired man was built like a barrel, low and thick. He would have seemed entirely nondescript if not for the slight golden shimmer in the air around him. “My power produces an energy shield that would stop a damn rocket; your little love taps won’t do shit. I’m asking why you came at me swinging like that.”

                “It’s an opening attack,” Roy replied. “I was trying to pop you on the chin.”

                Hank stared up at the taller, younger man. It had only been three days since Sally Daniels dropped her boys off, and Hank already preferred the short, smart one. At least he didn’t need concepts rolled out step by step for him.

                “Let me come at this another way, why are you punching me at all? I said to attack me, not dance around with jabs. Come at me like you mean to do me serious harm.”

                “If you’ve got a better way, I’d love to hear it.”

                Hank let out a grin that all the riders knew meant to stand clear, because something very dumb and very violent was about to transpire. “Yeah, kid, I might just have a better way.”

*             *             *

                “Of course he’s shirtless,” Alice commented, watching Roy step onto the screen. His broad, muscular torso was easy to make out in contrast to his gray uniform pants. The gray stopped at his ankles, leaving his bare feet exposed to the simulated street terrain. “Oh, and no shoes either. Is he trying to do Chad’s sneaking thing?”

                “I highly doubt it,” Chad said. After finishing his test, he’d migrated back through the crowd to stand with his dormmates. “Roy has become far more aware of the limits of his skills over the past year. He should know that my technique for dealing with the situation would be ill-suited to him.”

                “Mary, want to let us in on what he’s planning?” Vince asked.

                The small telepath shook her head. “No chance. I’m a little bit sorry I know.”

                “That bad?” Alice said.

                “Maybe bad, maybe good. I don’t know how well it will go. Roy was truthful about one thing, though: it will be entertaining.”

*             *             *

                The halls changed every time the course was altered, as did the number of guards, but the basic situation was always the same. Some Sims as guards, patrolling the layout of the halls, with a bunch of Sims gathered together in a room near the center. It was only the small details, like layouts and numbers, that got tweaked, making sure every student encountered the unknown. At its core, the trial was always the same: stop the threats before they became actual dangers.

                Roy would never be able to pull off the stuff Chad and Shane did, he knew that going in. Chad could see the Sims without being seen, and Shane’s power came with enough range to take people out from a distance. Roy didn’t have those gifts. He could take Sims down, no doubt about that, but it was going to be loud and alert the others. Given those circumstances, it meant his best strategy was to take down the largest concentration possible in his first move.

                As he walked onto the field, Roy felt a sense of wild excitement burn through his exposed chest. The cameras had always focused on the inside of the building, with only a few angles watching the exterior. This meant that he hadn’t known if they’d built a high, sky-simulation-ceiling like the outdoor courses they’d used last year. It turned out, that for this field, they hadn’t. Roughly twenty to thirty feet from the roof of the building was thick black concrete, creating the impression of a starless night hanging overhead.

                Roy moved carefully, hoping dearly that none of the Sims he was going against had enhanced senses. This was the part where he needed to be quiet, in fact, the only part where that would be possible. With his bat tucked into the waist of his pants, he scaled the outer wall of the brick building, moving up the side as silently as he could. It was easy going, since, anytime he lacked a good handhold, Roy merely sank his fingers into the tough exterior and made his own. Within a minute, he was on top of the roof and tiptoeing toward the center.

                Now, it was time for the fun to begin.

123.

                “Look, you’ve heard people say stuff like ‘your whole body is a weapon’ right?”

                “Sure,” Roy replied.

                “Well, for pretty much everyone else, that’s horseshit,” Hank told him. “The human body is a big ole sack of tender organs and blood, barely protected by a skeleton that breaks at the slightest bit of force. There’s a reason people fight using specific limbs, and Supers with ranged abilities avoid even coming near their opponents: the human body is not a weapon. It’s the thing you’re trying to keep from getting wrecked by weapons.”

                “You said that was for everyone else.”

                “Pretty much everyone else, don’t get cocky.” Hank let out a protracted sigh to demonstrate his disapproval. “For people like you, the Supers who have enhanced endurance and strength at a high enough level, the saying holds a bit of truth. Since you’re hard to hurt, and can hit like a truck, your entire body really can be thought of as a weapon.”

                “We covered this in Close Combat,” Roy said. “Knees, elbows, head, forearms, all of the body can be used as a weapon.”

                “See, you keep saying you understand, then telling me things that make it clear you don’t,” Hank snapped. “What you just listed was a bunch of body parts. I’m not telling you the
parts
are a weapon; I’m saying 
you
 are a weapon. One you’ve got fuck-all idea how to use properly, but I guess that’s what I’m supposed to fix.”

                “I . . . don’t think I get it,” Roy finally admitted. He was trying to follow Hank’s reasoning, he really was; it just refused to make any sense in his head.

                “You will soon,” Hank assured him. It was nice to see the egomaniac show a bit of humility on occasion. That, more than the understanding, was what Hank had been waiting for. “Come on, we’re going to go to the bulls’ pens.”

                “Oh come on, I’m sorry I’m going slow, but they ain’t due to be shoveled for hours.”

                “We’re not going for that, yet. I just want you to watch something with me. While I’m showing you all this, you need to keep one word constantly in mind.”

                “What’s that?” Roy asked.

                “Overrun.”

*             *             *

                Standing on the roof, knowing there were Sims waiting below, Roy took a moment to collect his thoughts. This maneuver would take quick reflexes and split second action. He wouldn’t have another chance; this was his only shot at taking out the cluster in a surprise attack. If he got lucky, he might even be able to grab a guard or two before they scattered, but there was just no way he was getting out of this with low collateral damage. Strongmen didn’t work that way. This was the best he could do with his ability, and he was at peace with that.

                Or, at least, he would be if it worked.

                Taking a firm grip on his bat with his left hand and filling his lungs with a deep breath of air, Roy slowly spread his legs out and went into a crouched position. After checking the ceiling above him one last time, he pushed off the roof with a generous amount of strength, which he hoped would be enough to close the distance without slamming him into the overhead concrete.

                His guess was good, but not perfect. Roy approached the ceiling too quickly, the dark barrier growing rapidly in his vision. If he struck before he got into position, he would tumble back to the roof in a ruckus and give away his location. He hurriedly rose through the air, desperately willing his body to listen to the panicked signals going to his brain.

                Had it not been for his constant training with Chad, being routinely flipped and flung about, Roy wouldn’t have made it. All that practice had gotten him just a little bit more accustomed to maneuvering his body while in midair, though, and, as a crash seemed unavoidable, his reflexes finally kicked in. Roy did a half somersault forward and grinned from ear to ear as he felt the soles of his feet crash roughly into the concrete ceiling. This would certainly leave an imprint, but he didn’t care. Especially considering he’d already expected to leave a crater.

                As Roy’s legs contracted, the force of the jump finally dissipating, he looked below to make sure his target was still in sight. Not that it really mattered; at this point, it would be impossible to make serious corrections. No, from here on out, he was just going to have to play the cards as they fell.

                When Roy pushed off the ceiling, his second jump in a matter of instants, he didn’t use some of his strength, or a fair bit of his strength, or even a lot of his strength. Roy rocketed himself down toward the building with every ounce of power he could muster. The concrete under his feet shattered, sending fractures along the ceiling as he blasted back down toward the building, moving so quickly he barely had time to put his arms up in front of his face.

                The Roy-shaped missile exploded through the roof, tore through the building’s flimsy protection, and slammed down into the hard stone floor of the central room, bringing debris down with him. A thin cloud of broken concrete-dust filled the air, partially blinding the five already confused Sims that were rapidly trying to figure out what had just happened. One of the red-light Sims headed toward the smoky impact site, crackles of green electricity already rippling across its black metallic body.

                Quick as this one was, it didn’t manage to avoid the sudden rush of dust-colored young man as he barreled out of the cloud. It did manage to let off a few blasts, easily enough to take any human and most Supers. Unfortunately for it, Roy Daniels was not most Supers. Those electricity coated arms were quickly snapped, along with its legs, and pulled around behind its back. It was still operational though, so it was able to watch as Roy fully emerged from the dirty cloud, the now dented bat still in hand, and greeted the remainder of the Sims in the room.

                “I’m not sure if robots are capable of shitting themselves, but if so, then now’s a great time to start.”

                With that warning delivered, he charged.

124.

               “Remember,” Hank said, “people who are new to bulls think you only have to avoid the horns. Those that are a little smarter learn that you should also worry about the hooves and the shoulders. But the experts, matadors and wranglers from all across the world, they’ll all tell you the same thing: fuck the components, you should be avoiding the goddamned 
bull
.”

*             *             *

                At first, it was hard to make out what was happening on the screen. The same debris and dust that had clouded the vision of the Sims was also making it hard for the cameras to get a clear shot. A faint buzz of surprised conversation still echoed through the room, many students shocked at Roy’s roof-smashing gymnastics. It was only when the first Sim was violently jerked into the dissipating cloud that silence bloomed once more. They watched as green sparks lit the room on-screen, before finally coming to a stop. When Roy emerged at last, the room relaxed.

                “Do you think he can take them all?” Vince asked.

                “If he were going to fight them as I would have to, then no. Their abilities are too varied; even assuming one wasn’t able to incapacitate him, he would allow far too much collateral damage,” Chad said. “However, given that Roy has no intention of fighting them that way, I suspect his chances of success are much higher.”