Super Powereds: Year 3 (70 page)

                Instead, it flew backward, slamming violently into a concrete wall and nearly shattering on impact. As it slid to the floor, last flickers of green electricity already dying away, Vince had no doubt that he’d just registered a “kill” on his opponent.

                “I wish you’d just surrendered.”

130.

              As Vince stepped into the observation room, he was met with the expected reactions of applause and glaring from various parties. What he didn’t anticipate, however, was Dean Blaine putting a hand on his shoulder after a few steps through the door. The grip was gentle, but firm, rooting him in place. Thankfully, he didn’t have to speculate about the reason for this stop, as the dean immediately began to speak.

                “Some of you are probably wondering why two of Vince’s Sims voluntarily shut themselves down,” Dean Blaine said, addressing the unseen watchers in another room as much as his students. “That’s because, in each scenario, there is a randomized chance that each Sim will surrender if given the opportunity. The number will vary, just like the hallway layouts and formations, but it is an element in the exam.”

                “Why didn’t you tell us that before?” Allen asked, clearly still a bit peeved from his own merely-moderate performance.

                “We never tell any class. You should have figured it out,” Dean Blaine said, voice growing sharp. “I told you that you were informed of Supers
suspected
of gathering to commit a large crime. I told you that this was a real-life scenario. So, given those two pieces of information, why did each and every one of you thus far assume that all the Sims were guilty?”

                “Because . . . they were there,” Thomas answered, his own voice fading out as the truth of the dean’s words hit him.

                “Precisely. You all went into a situation where Supers were suspected of criminal activity, and immediately resorted to force as the best way to neutralize them. Many of you merely inflicted pain and injuries that can be healed, but some of you killed indiscriminately. And more than one of you killed an innocent Sim who would have happily surrendered if only given the chance.”

                “But, if we’d given them all chances, then we’d have risked way more collateral damage,” Amber pointed out.

                “That is also true,” Dean Blaine agreed. “I am not saying your strategies were inherently wrong, or that Vince’s was inherently right. I am just making you aware of a bias you all entered that field with. As Heroes, you will have to walk a very fine line when dealing with criminal Supers. Some will be bent on destruction, and every second you waste can cost lives. Others are merely swept up in something beyond their control and will jump at the chance to get out of it. Only you know your power; only you know if you can afford to offer someone the opportunity to surrender. Always be aware of what you’re doing, and the people it impacts. We’re training you to be Heroes, not tyrants.”

                Dean Blaine released his grip on Vince’s shoulder, and the silver-haired student scurried back to the area with his dormmates in it. The dean gave a nod to Professor Pendleton, whose long fingers plucked a fresh strip of paper from the jar.

                “Sasha Foster,” he announced, setting the scrap on the table with the other discarded bits.

                Sasha headed over to Dean Blaine, who allowed her to grab some weaponry off the rack and took her down to the exam field. Once they left, the room filled with the gentle hum of conversation as discussion about the newly revealed rule commenced.

*             *             *

                “I thought the dean had more subtlety than that,” Ralph Chapman said, shaking his head at the picture on the screen. This room was smaller than the one with the students, however, it contained monitors with views of all the same angles as theirs, plus two. The first showed the stairwell where Dean Blaine was currently explaining the procedure to Sasha. The second showed the observation room, where Vince was now speaking excitedly with his friends.

                “How do you mean?” Mr. Transport asked. He and Mr. Numbers had been asked to babysit the politician during the viewing. Ralph Chapman had clearance to be in the HCP’s halls, but there were still areas that were off-limits to him. Officially, they were there as his temporary aides in case he needed anything. In reality, they were making sure he didn’t try to sneak off and do some snooping.

                “Obviously, he told Vince about the surrender shut-down protocol. Wanted to make it seem like he was just such a smart guy that it had occurred to him all on his own. Too heavy-handed by far.”

                “And when, exactly, do you hypothesize this exchange took place?” Mr. Numbers asked. “We have watched them this entire time, since the exam was revealed. You saw them talk in the hallway before Vince went in. You even got permission to covertly use a telepath last night and ensure that Vince hadn’t been slipped any advanced information about the trial. So, please tell me how you believe this trick was pulled off.”

                “How should I know? You damn people can do impossible things. Maybe you had someone beam it into his head; maybe someone made instructions appear on his eyeballs. I’ve got no way of knowing how it was done, because you all make anything possible.”

                “Mr. Chapman, I get the feeling you don’t care for Supers,” Mr. Transport said carefully.

                “I don’t care for people who play by an entirely different set of rules than the rest of us,” Ralph replied. “Because of a genetic fluke, you people are born unique in one singular way, and yet almost all of you choose to use that to act like you’re special all around. This is America, and we’re all equal. That means no one is above the rules we’ve laid down, not even people who can bend the laws of nature.”

                “Yet, what Vince just did was well within the rules,” Mr. Numbers countered. “You read the briefing on the exam; you knew that the surrender shut-down system existed. Why are you so set against giving him credit for discovering it?”

                “Because there’s no way that kid actually figured it out. I’ve read the I.Q. assessments and seen his grades. He might not be an idiot, but he’s nowhere near smart enough to put that together.”

                “You’re right,” Mr. Transport said. He ignored the look Mr. Numbers tried to shoot him and kept talking. “Vince is far from the smartest member of this year’s class, and he almost certainly didn’t mentally work out that there would be a hidden protocol to account for innocent Sims.”

                “Then you see—”

                “Vince probably didn’t figure it out, but no one told him either,” Mr. Transport continued. “So that means he offered them the chance to surrender because he was treating it like a real-life scenario. He did it because he knew that’s how he would handle the real thing. Vince found the protocol because he understood the importance of a Hero showing kindness as much as power. He isn’t terribly smart, I’ll give you that, but you would be hard-pressed to find a more inherently kind and gentle boy in the entire school.”

                Ralph Chapman said nothing; he merely turned back to the screen to watch Sasha’s performance. Mr. Numbers, on the other hand, gave Mr. Transport the small nod that was their version of a high five. From him, it was a tremendous show of support.

131.

              Sasha put on a solid early performance, her speed allowing her to tackle many of the Sims before any of them could raise alarm. Unfortunately, when she had to fight her cluster—which was four Sims, two of which had red lights—she was hit by an area attack of energy and sent sprawling. She eventually recovered, but loss of momentum, both literal and metaphorical, cost her dearly. By the time she cleared the final Sim, the room was almost entirely rubble, and a back wall had been blown out. It was the most destructive result since Roy.

                After Sasha was Jill, who refused to be slowed down by the lack of ability to remotely shut down her opponents. She accessed the lighting system and the cameras, targeting her opponents one by one by turning out the lights on them, and then striking in the confusion. Will had clearly been making upgrades to her suit, as evidenced by the strength of her punches and the power of her weapons. It seemed he’d also added optic abilities, as she had no issue maneuvering in the dark rooms she created. When Jill came into the cluster room, she promptly offered them the chance to surrender, which one accepted, then turned on the same sonic Taser Will had used against Alex in the prior year’s matches. It didn’t work on all of them, but enough were incapacitated to allow her to handle the rest.

                No one wanted to follow such an impressive display, but someone had to. The fates chose Terrance Matthews, who headed into the trial with a solemn expression. If not viewed in comparison to Jill’s previous performance, it would have been a decent display up until the end. His shrinking and expanding projectiles worked well on all the Sims filling guard roles, and he even managed to take out several in the cluster room. When one of the red-light Sims got away from him, sneaking around to the back, Terrance took a serious blow to the spine that sent him crashing to the ground. The exam was halted as soon as it was determined he was unconscious, and for the first time that day, one of the students failed to finish.

                Terrance’s defeat put a pallor over the faces of those still remaining. Thus far, the trial had been filled with varying levels of success. He reminded them that failure was a very real, and horrifying, possibility. The room was silent as the jar made its way to Professor Hill, who broke into a grin wider than any administrator should have as he saw the name written on his slip of paper.

                “Alice Adair. You’re up.”

                Alice let out a breath she hadn’t even noticed she was holding and gave a nod of understanding. It would be inaccurate to say she was nervous—with all her training, she felt more than confident that she could handle the challenges she’d seen so far. No, what Alice felt was a sort of pre-battle jitters, the kind that come when one knows something should be doable, but is still wise enough to understand that victory is never assured. Her brain was running in overdrive, trying to anticipate what unseen alleyway defeat might try to spring from.

                As she and Dean Blaine descended the stairs, she listened attentively to his explanation of the instructions, even though she’d seen over ten people go already. She was hoping for some explanation of how the code word she’d found would play into shutting down the Sims, but none came. That part, evidently, was also for her to figure out. It was okay; she knew there was a way, at least. Will had jumped up to be first on the chopping block without even that much assurance.

                “Do you have any questions before you start?” Dean Blaine asked, standing outside the pair of doors with her.

                A short, harsh bark of laughter slipped free from Alice’s lips before she could stop it. “I’m so sorry; I wasn’t trying to be rude. It just struck me as funny that you’d ask me that, because honest to God, my life seems to be nothing but questions these days.”

                Dean Blaine looked at her with more compassion than she’d expected. For the briefest of moments, his professional, detached mask of HCP overseer slipped away, and she could see how deeply he cared for her, for all of the students in his charge. Very gently, he reached over and patted her on the shoulder. She expected a line about just doing her best, or maybe something about trusting her training. What he actually said was quite different.

                “Your mother would have been unspeakably proud of you.”

                Alice jerked her head up, words already trying to rush across her tongue, but Dean Blaine continued right on speaking.

                “Yes, I knew her. She was a wonderful woman, whom you greatly resemble, and not just in your appearance. I realize that things are confusing for you right now, and I deeply wish I had the power to alleviate that confusion with answers. But sadly, I don’t have them to give, so you’ll have to settle for some advice instead. Never let the uncertainties about your life overshadow the things you do truly know. Your power is incredible, as is your devotion. Your friends would die for you without hesitation, and I suspect you feel the same toward them. Your mother loved you more than anything else in this world, and that’s saying a lot. Shelby was never one who was short on love. In times like this, when you need mental strength, focus on the truths instead of the mysteries; that’s the best advice I can give.”

                “Thank you,” Alice said, pushing back the sudden swell of emotion that had tried to overtake her. “I think I needed to hear that.”

                “It’s what I’m here for. Now, go forth and win. The class could use a morale boost after that last unfortunate showing.”

                “It will be my pleasure.” Alice stepped through the door and saw the message on the screen prompting her to wait. That was fine by her; after that little talk, she could use a couple of minutes to gather herself.

                Alice forced her heart to stop beating so fast, and her nerves to calm down. She brushed away the nagging worries and doubts that had plagued her since last year: Nick, her mother’s mystery, her father’s deceit, the secret man in her dreams. None of those things existed anymore. Not here, not now. Those were another Alice’s problems; Alice the Girl, Alice the Rich Debutante, Alice the Powered. Today, she needed to become a new Alice, one that would be able to bear the burden of idiotic odds and do impossible things. It was time for Alice the Warrior to take over, Alice the Super.