Monday. Yet another Monday morning. Another day of pulling yourself out of bed and knowing you were walking into mundane repetition. Another day of weights and drills. Of lots of pushups and runs around the track. Of maintaining a routine for the better even if it felt worse. Another day after… what happened.

  But also something else.

  No, this wasn’t just another Monday. This was a new month. Time slipping over minds beaten to mush. And this wasn’t just any month. This was Power month. This was the last month. The last set of hurdles that stood between them and graduating as actual heroes. And better yet…

  The trainees were filing in and lining up, a giddiness in the air small enough to be crushed yet all they could muster. Because Para was center stage, and Aegis was nowhere to be seen. Yet so to were the power scouts. And every glance stolen was at a far doorway on the opposite side of the arena. Because it just looked ready to burst wide open.

  “Alright recruits. You’ve all made it this far. I, and by extension Aegis, have nothing left to really teach you. So from here on out you will be under the tutelage of the League’s volunteer power trainers. These are seasoned heroes, experts in their power types, who feel their abilities are better suited to teaching rather than helping people full time. So you’d better show them respect.”

  Even the mean mugging couldn’t crush this gid.

  “Each of your dossiers and stat sheets have been circulated, so don’t just expect to see faces you picked out of the onlookers. Each and every one of them has come because you impressed them, you appeared worthy of being a full-fledged hero someday. So they will treat you as such. So you’d better be grateful.”

  Unconscious nods and smiles refusing to wilt.

  ”They will be coming and going all day today, so if you aren’t picked up immediately don’t worry, just stay put and they will get to you. Heroes are busy people, and the defense of society takes precedence over you. Though I should say that, once you’ve proven your worth, you will be allowed on duty as sidekicks. But that comes later. For now… Meet your Masters!”

  That door finally burst open and a flurry of colors and capes came streaming out, supers of every conceivable type and stature storming into the light. At least those that matched the trainees. A smattering of very obvious flame heroes, martial artists, weapon masters, and elemental manipulators. Seth even recognized a few from his earlier fight watches. The fire hand super Cauterizer, the power couple Glacial Glaz and Phazer Shock-

  ‘Holy shit, that’s a member of the Gods’ Chosen! And… well it’s just expected that Makani Samurai would be here.’

  They all moved in behind Para, grouping up at random as if it wasn’t very clear who they each were here for.

  ‘Motifs are distinctive for a reason guys you’re not adding suspense.’

  Para was still conducting things, gripping the reins with clipboard in hand and matching faces to names.

  “First up, Water Boy.”

  In his still ever dismissive style. He moved off toward David, as two water based heroes followed out of the crowd. Both looking rather annoyed in his direction. These nicknames were a little too derogatory for even official heroes.

  “Meet Aquafirma and Depthcharge.”

  The two heroes pushed… splashed past Para while simultaneously side eyeing their common slightedness, but cheered up when they actually reached David. Aquafirma was a fairly tall man with ‘*cough*’ wavy blond hair and very bright blue eyes. He wore a modified diving suit with blue highlights on its stitching. But the biggest call out that he was a water super was the fact that his lower half was just that, water. He didn’t walk so much as flow around on a wave-like lower body that stuck together like a fantasy slime creature. Though he would probably not like the comparison.

  Depthcharge, on the other hand, wore an old style diving suit, helmet and all, but it was modernized heavily. Armored with seafoam green outer paneling, a helmet made of similar material, air tanks and tubes coiling around to their front. It was difficult to tell what they looked like under their gear, the porthole-like face plate offering nothing in return but glowing orange eyes and darkness. But despite this somewhat creepy exterior, they at least acted nice, silently shaking David’s hand with practically smiling eyes beaming out.

  Para moved over and let David get pulled away from the lineup. The order clear and the rest of their day no longer his to command.

  “Next up, Green Thumb.”

  Zeleny slumped at her nickname, but perked up as Phazer bid farewell to her husband Glaz and moved toward her. Phazer Shock’s eyes were a calm magenta hue and her hair was long, burnet, and swept back so it was out of the way. Her suit was surplus with a dark red base and almost highlighter pink detailing, along with photonic beam patches. Zeleny just started to light up brighter as she approached, literally as her suit’s green seemed a brighter shade. She was really looking forward to training with her. They were both laser supers after all.

  Next was “Combo Breaker.”

  Maya was still leering at Para as an absolute mountain of a man stomped up to her, though the stomping seemed less on purpose given his motif. His ‘suit’ was little more than large black shorts just so he wouldn’t be naked. Because the rest of him was made of near solid rock, the surface a statuesque rendition of a bodybuilder made of pure granite. Complete with wavy chiseled hair and detailed quartz eyes. He moved smoothly, like he wasn’t a few thousand pounds of living stone. No scraping or creaking of rock chafing together. He towered over Maya almost oblivious to her presence given the size disparity. But suddenly the ground below her shook as a square of sand hardened to stone under her feet. This sudden podium rose up and leveled Maya to the mountain's cheerful face. He even introduced himself rather politely, though his size made it less a personal conversation.

  “My name is Strata, it is a pleasure to meet you Maya.”

  He moved away from the lineup with her in toe on her pedestal seeming more embarrassed than catered.

  “Toaster.”

  Para was moving on of course.

  “Meet Cauterizer, Dr. Kallinikos, Friction Sweep, Phoenix Tech, and Hothead.”

  ‘Jesus fucking Christ how many fire heroes does the fucking League employ… Wait. Hothead?!’

  On queue the obvious fire heroes pulled away from across the crowd. Cauterizer was a man with short dark hair, brown eyes, and an olive bard green surplus suit that had several additions on it. An army medic vest, arm patches, and a stowed old style helmet with a red cross on it. The suit had white, orange, and red detailing in the shape of fire all around it, but it predominantly covered his forearms.

  Dr. Kallinikos wore a modified heavy firefighting suit, the kind with a reflective outer layer that volcanologists sometimes use. It was fully enclosed, but he had some kind of apparatus on his back that tubed into the suit. It also tubed into a flamethrower hung on his side. If Seth remembered correctly he was made of fire, kind of like Aquafirma but bipedal.

  Friction Sweep was a tall woman with a short crimson mohawk and deep green eyes. Her suit a cut short tan leotard with a dress-like apparatus at her hips. Roughly textured rectangles that were more like thigh armor than anything else. But in turn she sported what looked to be nunchucks, with match-like surfaces on the ends.

  Phoenix Tech was a guy with multi colored hair, kind of like a fiery rainbow, and goldish eyes. His suit was a fully closed off bodysuit except for his head, some kind of custom creation. It was lab coat white with orange striping on one side of the chest, like it was a prototype. It also had metallic ports on the heels and palms, and a jetpack like apparatus on the back. He was a flyer, but his powers probably weren't very well contained so he used those ports as jet nozzles.

  Hothead though…

  ‘He’s just wearing a hoodie and jeans like he just walked in from the street!’

  His hair was brown and unkempt, and his eyes dark blue. He’s the last member of the Elite, a fire hero of an almost unimaginable caliber, but he was sure not looking the part.

  These heroes though all surround Para, as even the lax looking Hothead wheeled about on him. All staring like that nickname had been directed at them, Friction even cracking her knuckles over his shoulder. Yet all he did was look up from his clipboard and returned their glares with a smug smile. The heroes collectively gritted their teeth, but didn’t move to beat the shit out of him like they all obviously wanted to. Instead they just pushed past him and toward their new student. Hothead reaching him first and wrapping an arm around him protectively.

  “Come on Kabar, let’s go someplace where firepower is actually appreciated.”

  Para shrugged his smirk and moved on.

  “Snow-”

  *sheee*

  With Glacial Glaz beating him to the punch and covering his mouth in ice.

  “That’s enough stupid nicknames Para.”

  He didn’t react, simply watched Glaz walk up to Jacob and greet him. He wore an ice blue base surplus suit, but the grey armored sections and black accents made it less offensive to the eyes. His hair was grey as well, and his eyes were dark brown. They shook hands and started away as Para wiped away the ice sheet from his mouth and continued on.

  He stopped in front of Kaz, who was already bowing to his dad.

  “Father, son. Son, father.”

  He feigned an introduction and moved on as Samurai chuckled and led his son away.

  “Careful. One of these days you might actually make someone mad at you. Hahaha!”

  Para continued unabated, though stared suspicion into the back of Samurai’s head.

  “Tabby, meet Paleorus and Malerina.”

  They were both women, but with two very different styles. Paleorus wore a similar suit to Tabby’s in that it was a size too big from the look of it. It was a matte dark brown material with tan accents. Her body though was where she stood out the most. She was at least two feet taller than Para, and her rolled up sleeves revealed tannish yellow fur on clawed hands. Her hair was almost like a mane, a shaggy mass of light brown hair that was cut short at the sides but trailed down to her back. Her eyes were deep green, and slit like a cat’s. And she had a pair of fangs that hung out of her mouth only just clearing her bottom lip.

  Malerina by contrast was dressed in a full body black leotard, complete with a mildly frilled tutu that hanged down like a short dress. Her hair was a moderate dark bob, but her face was done up in heavy makeup. Deep black eye shadow against bone white face paint, it…

  ‘Yeah, she’s wearing skull face paint.’

  Her fairly bright red eyes only made things more unsettling. She looked to have a ballerina’s dancing shoes, but…

  ‘I don’t think dancing shoes are supposed to be steel tipped.’

  Tabby looked like she was going to have to choose a specialization. Bigger cats or deeper plies.

  Para kept going, looking ready to ruin Razor’s day.

  “Butterknife. Meet Blade Tone and… Needle.”

  He wasn’t hesitating for nothing.

  ‘Oh god.’

  Blade Tone was a man with simple short brown hair and eyes. His suit was surplus with a steel base and black accents. It had a series of holsters though, not too dissimilar to Razor’s, but they were normal dark leather and housed full on knives. But the main piece seemed to be a pair of gladiuses latched to his back with holes along their edges. Seth remembered he was a sonic type like Para, but differed in obvious ways.

  Needle though… She was a nightmare straight out of Cleo’s playbook. A solid… SOLID spandex bodysuit, complete with random tiny ringed holes across every outward facing surface. These holes each housing a series of three inch long combat needles, though the ones that didn’t have them opened to bare skin. Her head, while not covered in spandex, instead was just covered in more needles. She was bald, hair shaven away and replaced by pointy metal spike dug straight into her scalp. Maybe even her skull. Her eyes were ice blue but-

  ‘I… I think she’s wearing contacts.’

  She’d taken the piercing gaze thing a little too heavily. Her expression topping it off, completely flat with her eyes possibly stuck wide open. And once she was given leave to approach Razor she practically rushed up to him with nonchalant intent. Or… just excitement. It was impossible to tell. Razor was caught off guard as she stopped short of spiking him like a wanton porcupine. Her voice was eloquent, but wholly monotone.

  “You have shown promise with the blade, but you can be so much more. Come… let me show you the true pleasures of the metallic edge.”

  As she spoke she pulled a needle from her head with delicate fingers and held it out to Razor like a guiding hand. Both Razor and now Blade Tone hanging off his shoulder were reeling back and agape.

  “I… I think I’m going to go with Blade Tone instead.”

  All at once both Razor and Blade Tone shuffled backward at speed, not wanting to turn their backs on her, but still wanting to get as far away as possible. Needle retracted her hand with an almost… suppressed reel, and looked monotonously down at her rejected gift. Running her fingers over it before sticking it back in her scalp and walking away.

  ‘Was she actually genuine right there? Or does she just not know how to be fully sociable? Should… should probably work at that.’

  Para didn’t stop, understandably.

  “Ditto, meet… ugh…”

  Para looked toward the few heroes left in the crowd, but then suddenly pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.

  “Marvelous.”

  The shadow behind him rose up and pouted over his shoulder, a pair of light purple eyes seemed to pout anyway. A soft young female voice responded.

  “You’re no fun Para.”

  The shadow flowed around him and in front of Alex, and very much she was a shadow. A dark roiling mass in the vague shape of a person took Alex by the hand and introduced herself, and Alex didn’t seem taken aback in the slightest. Hell, she was ecstatic.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Para continued on toward Marco-

  “Polo. Meet Master Da Feng, creator of the Wind Scythe Fist, tamer of the Winds of the Four Corners, and proprietor of the only good Chinese restaurant in the whole of Kadia’s Asian district. Did I miss anything?”

  A spry yet elderly man almost floated up at his introduction.

  “You forgot, Go Champion of the League 10 years running.”

  He snickered through his bushy mustache and goatee. His hair was grey with age, but not balding, still holding on to a moderate shock of it. He wore a billowing robe that cut short of his shins and yet was weighed down by beads and charms all showing a quartet of wind gusts flowing away from an inner circle. Marco bowed to him like he was his new master already. His duty done, Para moved on.

  “Princess! Meet Pharaoh Shephten.”

  As if on cue the sand in front of them rose up into a pillar. Reaching just short of her height before slowly, methodically, an actual ancient Egyptian style mummy formed from out from it. Like it was made of sand in the first place. It wore no head dress and carried no finery, but its wrappings were very old and tightly bound leaving only the barest form of a man standing in front of them. Till suddenly the wraps began unraveling, giving the man the freedom to unwrap himself. He unraveled his head, revealing… not a mummified corpse.

  ‘Holy shit he’s actually handsome.’

  Flowing, magnificent ‘golden’ brown hair loosed from the wrappings. Spackled and shining as he materialized a pair of thick rim spectacles from the dissolving wraps. He put them over his deep blue green eyes that seemed to look past everything and into very stars themselves. The wrappings continued to dissolve away, revealing a more tastefully embroidered tunic with silk finery instead of shoes. And then he smiled as he finally took in the immediate arrayed before him.

  “Greetings your highness.”

  Cleo even curtsied to him.

  “Hey, how’s it going?”

  ‘Gah!’

  Okay that just shattered that image. He even just nonchalantly walked up and shook her hand like a goddamn philistine.

  ‘I mean what the hell even was all that fucking for in the first place!? You’re a damn God King!! Act like it!!’

  They walked away, relieving the formality gut check that ate at Seth’s understanding of noble civility. He’d been learning too much from the Garkah nobles, this was ridiculous, but come on!

  Meanwhile, as Seth regained his internal composure, Para had been holding something over Ohm that he really didn’t want to hear.

  “Clarence, meet Terawatt,”

  ‘Not that?’

  “Breaker Box,”

  ‘Not him?’

  “And Zeus’ Strike.”

  ‘Fucking hell that was it!’

  Ohm was staring down and gritting his teeth enough to break bone as that last one came straight up to him. Standing menacingly over him like a dark storm cloud called by the one and only. But before the tension could reach anything but crushing, all at once he scooped up Ohm in his arms and bear hugged him into submission.

  “Haha!! It so good to see you again my son!!”

  ‘…’

  Ohm was visibly in pain as the comparatively massive man lovingly snapped his spine in half. Pressing him into his bright white surplus suited chest with all its…

  ‘Is that real gold for the trim!?’

  His hair was a mild greying and dark shock, but the big thing was his beard. Damn near a spitting image of his name sake, in length at any rate. And his eyes were very much glowing gold.

  If they even matter at this point, Terawatt and Breaker Box both looked at each other like they had just wasted their time.

  Terawatt was a woman with dyed chlorophyll green hair in a very high and thick mohawk. It even had yellow lightning bolts dyed on the sides. She wore a similar green and yellow surplus suit with green metal gauntlets on her arms. Seth could see they were specialized spiked capacitors for her electrical powers, but she didn’t have any power running through her.

  ‘She must only control it, not generate it herself. But where is she going to get it from with those?’

  Breaker Box was a guy wearing a rubberized and cut short leotard, complete with boxing shorts. Light steel grey base with black, blue, red, and green detailing that looked to be wiring. He also had gauntlets, but they were rough rubber and studded with the same wiring. The parts covering his fists looked frayed, exposed wiring crisscrossing into makeshift kick boxing gloves. Seth could see his power was only concentrated in his hands, power seeming to radiate out from them through the wires on his suit.

  But it really didn’t matter much how they looked, they were both walking off as Ohm desperately tried to get their attention.

  “Wait no! Stop! Help mhhe!!”

  But his father was hugging him too hard for him to successfully vocalize it.

  “We are going to finally bond as father and son through the glorious medium of HERO TRAINING!!”

  “GAAAAHHH!!!”

  ‘Well then… that explains why he’s such a jackass. He’s had all the love in him smothered by his dad’s affection.’

  At least he wasn’t some closet villain or something.

  But, now it was finally Seth’s turn.

  And a realization was setting in, as Para moved ahead of him.

  There was no one left here to train him.

  The crowd was gone, spread out with their chosen trainees or heading out of the arena to share in private. All vying for their teachings to be learned… by someone else.

  Para stopped in front of him still, barely hiding something beneath his smug demeanor.

  “Looks like you’re the odd man out again, Tinman. So far anyway. Who knows, maybe someone will come along later? Just sit tight right there till then.”

  Seth looked disappointed, but puzzled. Para moved to walk away and he took a step to follow.

  “What do you mean si-”

  “I SAID SIT TIGHT!!!”

  And that mask shattered in focused thunder.

  “Or do you want to be thrown out so late in the game?”

  The instant Seth had taken that step, Para had dropped all pretense. He didn’t turn back, he didn't even bother trying to facewho he was threatening, but Seth could feel the malice in every syllable. In the reverb that beat through his bones yet never echoed off the walls. Like this was all meant for him and him alone.

  Because Para wasn’t bluffing, as he let a side eye voice what he couldn’t. Wide, roiling, watching for the slightest misstep. He beyond serious, would throw him out without a second thought. Because he was afraid below all that hate.

  So Seth retracted that step, stood back at expected attention, watched as Para took his time and realigned the shattered pieces of his smug. And continued out without even a hint that he’d nearly lost his cool.

  Nothing, but a shiver running through his gate. Like he was holding back even more, but would accept this as peace. This...

  He was just as afraid as Seth was of what he’d done. Of what had happened in that simulation.

  No one was going to be without regret for it, without something staining them now. But... but Para would rather drop it all on him?! All that happened and would happen would be upon him!?

  The class moved on, and Seth was ignored. Standing stock still as the rest of the trainees were gradually drawn out by their trainers until the arena was empty. None had heard, none had seen, or none had cared to free him of this callousness. He was alone again, alone with himself. The open roof of the arena letting in the wind and noise of the city. Keeping the Garkah from reassuring him. They tried regardless, tried to ease his strain. But he was left with nothing but the itch of that phantom scar over his eye.

  And the breadth of all it dredged up from his mind.

  No one come for him, come to train him. No one saw him as worth it, worthy. No one wanted to see him become a real hero, no one wanted him.

  But that was all bullshit!

  They should have seen, should have known about what he’d done to that scenario! Should have been given his records from that first day to now and seen him keep up if not outpace the others! Seen he wasn't just a damn kid in a suit! Which just made everything all the worse.

  His stat sheets, his records, the recordings, Para must have falsified them. Hidden them to dissuade anyone from coming to train him. And yet was threatening the nuclear option like he just wanted Seth to break all over again! Because what, he felt threatened?! Because he didn’t like what he’d seen?! Like he wasn't the fucking cause!!

  But…

  But he couldn’t challenge him, couldn’t call him out after everything. After... already losing himself once. One fight had been too much already, anything else would just destroy everything he’d worked for. And he was desperately still just trying to keep himself. To deal with whatever was happening to him. And this burn carving into his skull wasn’t helping.

  Every thought clouding and staining red, every attempt to calm meeting anger hollowing out his resolve. Everything becoming a fight just to stay his place.

  Because no one was coming to help him.

  Because…

  No one...

  Cares...

  Time passed.

  Minutes.

  Hours.

  Lunch was long over. The heroes didn’t return, so neither did the trainees. Sessions and time slots passed unfilled. Like everything was just stacked up to leave him trapped. In a cage only he could feel. The sun was getting lower, his legs weaker. He knew Para was probably still watching in some way. Listening with his stupid fucking sound powers! Just waiting for him to slip up so he could be rid of the monster he’d…!

  “*grrrhh*”

  It was getting to be too much, things were compounding. He was hungry… too hungry. He hated being hungry. It reminded him of walking the cordon without a real meal for days on end. Scrounging through trashed stores and bombed out holes. Bringing back everything that came along with it.

  The screams.

  The blood.

  The pain.

  And-

  And the feeling. Eyes on his back! Someone in the control booth. He couldn’t tell who, but knew that they could see him. Knew… that they at least held sympathy.

  *bwo*

  Seth turned to regard the booth, see the person who could likely release him. His eyes sullen, tired beyond what hours could do alone. His stomach growling on more than empty. His head spiraling and wanting to just get off the ride back to hell.

  So thank god it was Mediknight.

  “Go on… I’ll take care of Para.”

  All at once he felt the pressure to stay up come crashing down. He stumbled around, nearly fell over as he ambled toward the door. Hunched and hollow. As he closed in he could feel the healing field press down like a warm blanket. It wasn’t enough, but it felt better than the empty hole in his stomach. Than the empty hole trying to…to blot him out. He powered through and walked out the arena entrance, bee lining straight for the canteen.

  It was packed, the trainees were still getting crowded by their trainers, still passing what wisdom they could while the trainees were still undecided. Or just hanging out and being buddy buddy. Seth didn’t care, he needed food. And so he had his saving grace so gloriously left out for him. Ambrose had prepared Golden Tempura Chicken and a plethora of dipping sauces, and holy shit the smell was enough to burn that memories away all on its own.

  Seth took up the tray… the last tray on the line. There must have been more people here than expected because there was almost always extra. He took his food to the only empty table he could find, but quickly felt ire on him yet again.

  A good chunk of the heroes held a common disdain, the worst glares coming from most of the fire heroes surrounding Kabar. Seth couldn’t give a shit about what they thought though, he was too hungry!

  He fell into his chair and agonizingly slowly started eating. Dipping a thick tender in and taking a bite that just made the world disappear. It was like his fatigue and misery melted away to a juicy barrage of orange battered goodness. The meat was still moist despite how light and bready the coating was. The orange sauce was tangy and flavored with real orange rinds pulped in. Even the smoke smelled…

  ‘Smoke?‘

  Seth looked down at his chicken, at the fire lapping and blackening it on his plate. Melting the plastics and cracking the ceramics. He looked up, as the charcoal that was once his only salvation for the day charred apart, to see Hothead with a leveled hand pointed right at it. Heat waves still distorting the air between them.

  The acrid smell of burning plastic caught in his throat, his chest seemed to harmonize in its ache as his heart beat to the pit in his stomach. His body shook in place like a compressing spring. And his eyes could not but star to hurting into nothing at all. All while Hothead lowered his hand and laughed, rising out of his seat with a few of the other fire heroes to approach his table.

  “Whoops, sorry. Thought your food looked a little cold from over there. Guess I overdid it a little.”

  The shit eating grin on his face tore at Seth’s will even as he couldn’t see it. His scar so clearly defining itself, like a brand long since healed yet searing anew. But it wasn’t deep yet, he could hold this at bay. He took a breath, accepted that caustic linger in his face, let the spring tension die down and turn to pain more mundane. He still had the piece of chicken he was eating in his hand. A small consolation against some juvenile attempt to get him to lose his shit. He ignored the bastards giving him the stink eye, grabbing the orange sauce he was enjoying to make what little he had worth it. But before he could dip it he felt Hothead inched closer over the table.

  “You know if you’re going to be this rude to someone saying they're sorry”

  *woosh*

  And swipe the third eaten chicken strip from Seth’s hand.

  “Maybe you don’t deserve Ambrose’s-”

  *CRKKKccccc*

  And so Seth snatched his hand like a turbo charged vice grip before he could even move another violating muscle!! The spring tension at terminal levels! His eyes may as well have been burning holes in Hothead’s head! His teeth gritted like a starved animal! And that phantom scar burning its shape into his brain!

  The bones in Hothead’s hand snapping more and more with every passing second, his expression a mix of agony and malice at being defied! The other heroes reacted last, leveling nunchucks and powered hands at him, but receiving no attention. Because Seth was going to eat even if he had to take chunk out of this asshole’s hand to do it-

  “Put the chicken down Hot.”

  Wait, that's… Makani Samurai? He’d walked up behind the fiery goon squad without notice, even Kaz had moved up as stealthily with his hands full of tray. Hothead turned to see a very much not smiling Samurai staring him down. He released the chicken over the middle of the table, Seth catching it before it hit with his other hand and throwing his death grip aside.

  Ravenously dipping it into the sauce and scarfed it down like the beast he had been reduced to. Glaring at Hothead with a silent growl trying to get him to fuck off for good! The heroes left to only glare as they retreated back to their table rather than be surrounded. Noticeably, Kabar had stayed. Still agitated but not malicious like most of his trainers. Yet Hothead shrugging to his teammate on the way back.

  “Just needed him to be aware, his ilk aren’t-” *bonk* “Agh!”

  For which Samurai bonked him on the head with his sheathed sword.

  “Then you should be aware that he’s already earned his shot like all the rest.”

  He turned around and re-latched his sword to his hip as his smile returned to face Seth. He and Kaz sat down at his table, Kaz bringing their leftover plates along with him. Even if the records were falsified, first hand word was winning out. Seth tried to thank them, but kept eyeing the chicken apprehensively. As Kaz slid it over.

  “Go ahead, Ambrose’s food is too good anyway.”

  All at once Seth looked up with maybe over done tears in his eyes before immediately tearing through the leftover chicken. It was gone maybe a little too quickly.

  Seth slumping onto the table, barely above breaking down into tears at having a full stomach like it hadn’t been just a few hours. He was hamming it up, just trying to forget the pain, but the sentiment was all too clear. He was grateful. Though Kaz and Samurai couldn’t help but look more concerned than welcome, so Seth wiped his mouth and straightened up.

  “Sorry I… don’t like going hungry. Thank you.”

  Samurai smiled, a more sincere smile at least.

  “Don’t worry about it. Hot is just one of those people who are…”

  “He’s an asshole when he feels threatened passively.”

  Kaz interjected without holding back in the slightest. Samurai looked at him with parental surprise.

  “What? You said to remain truthful in all things.”

  “I didn’t mean be that truthful.”

  All three chuckled away the obliterated tension. Seth hadn’t had this kind of socializing in a while, the Garkah are difficult to count in this regard. Can’t hold a punchline if you can feel each other’s thoughts. So this… this was nice.

  They sat and talked through the rest of dinner, mostly passing time with idle chatter. Seth felt that Samurai was gauging just what kind of person he actually was. He at least avoided personal questions, Seth wasn’t sure he could lie to him anyway. It seemed like Para hadn’t held back everything. Samurai admitted that he’d heard Seth cheated during the midterm scenario, but didn’t believe it much. Kaz had defended him with his own observations. But they were still worried, if not curious what he’d done to piss Para off so much. Seth thought better of saying the whole truth, but admitted he wasn’t managing his powers too well. Samurai just reassured him, control was the whole point of this course anyway. And if he needed a sparring partner, he and Kaze were more than happy to oblige.

  Dinner passed easier after that, the canteen quiet by the time he headed back to his room. Now with the firm knowledge he had at least three people with authority looking out for him, but also more jackasses to deal with. At least he wasn’t going into this month alone anymore. He just wished Aegis had been here. Would really have helped.

  Waves. Darkness. A vague shape listing about. Empty. Well… emptied. The Coast Guard cutter below holding on to its cargo. Sorry, the people who were aboard. Both willing and unwilling. Being trafficked across the ocean to what they thought would be a better life. But were more likely to be pressed into work for the lowest bidder. Practically slaves by convenience as any support they could have came only from them. If only them could be known. But unknown bidders were the least of the worries. Almost all of those saved were supers. Nothing high level, nothing impressive, but still. Too much to ignore.

  It wasn’t like it was uncommon. The East Asian blocks were still a bit leaky. Some governments still a little too heavy of hand. But the turmoil was over from the collapse of the ‘middle kingdom’, so people were looking abroad for opportunities. And choosing the lowest bidder with the fastest route there. And paying for it. Success has its costs, people want a piece of the peace you’ve made. And will be preyed upon for it.

  But this was a better success at least. The people would get actual lives, apply for asylum, work off the cost of immigration without being a step above indentured servitude. Just good all around. It had been a good operation too. Mag proved he was more than a… “hemph” wet cape. Found and stopped the ship when even radar was ineffectual. Still trying to figure out why that was, it had just been a standard bulk freighter. But despite, if not in spite, Aegis hadn’t been allowed to storm it while it was stopped dead. Not allowed to infiltrate and disrupt it all once the speedometer mysteriously read zero knots. Just left flying high scanning the waters for any runners… swimmers trying to escape. And coming up empty as well. And was feeling more annoyed by the minute.

  Because…

  “…Again? Seriously?”

  // Recommendation: Deploy highest class investigator…

  “*bbzzt* Sorry. You’re all we have ma’am. We really need those new recruits huh.”

  Dispatch had poor timing for her sanity.

  The speed and success of this interdiction outright invalidated, as a call and relay ran down the slate in her hand. The grand map of Kadia full of already in progress calls, but only one was demanding her specifically. Again! This time damn near halfway out of the state. Some testing ground for military hardware.

  “…Suit hardware? Ugghh. These bastards again! Let me guess… It’s run by United Armors?”

  “*bbzzt*Ye- yes ma’am.”

  “Huuggghhh… Why is everything happening this week?”

  The cutter below bobbed in the dark water. A mildly straining Maglev on its stern towing the emptied smuggler back to port with it. A process that was going to take hours. And once back to the city, she was going to have to fly all the way to the fucking desert on the southern edge of the state to scrounge around another halfassed crime scene with little to no evidence left.

  “If I make it back and Para’s caused another incident, I am going to kill him.”

  Would yall like a third chapter a week?