“Everybody quiet!”

The murmuring stopped. Some measure of silence fell over the fifty or so students. Less than the number at the beginning of the term. At this point a few usually realized this was not the life they wanted. This year many had been urged to leave.

“Against my advice,” Tobias Quachiri began, “We will be continuing with the mentorship program. Wherein you get to sign up to assist a professional hero of your choice for a week. This could be any hero in the state. However, there can only be ten per, chosen by the pro themselves, so have multiple options.”

There were already people talking over him, exploring the possibilities and exchanging what their personal choices would be.

“These kids can’t focus for two minutes,” Tobias remarked to Samantha, one of his TA’s, who shook her head in agreement.

“Maybe if you put up a big screen,” she said.

The gym began to morph; the period was about to start.

“Alright, people, let’s take attendance,” Tobias shouted.

One by one hands shot up as names were announced—always a little loudly for comfort. The students had concluded Tobias did it on purpose.

Lian Tenant was beginning to feel the walls close in. The upper-years warned of this. The longer the year went on, the more talent was concentrated and skills honed, until you felt constricted by inadequacy. Students were constantly filtered by the violence of competition. The act of excelling ensured someone else would take last place. To take an average was to condemn half a population to mediocrity.

She would know a lot about averages. Hers was a hybrid gift. Telekinesis and telepathy. A little bit of both, in which she had trained all her life into relevance. Having two gifts wasn’t a blessing. It took twice the effort to attain half the progress. Maybe that was why she had been so willing to help that girl. Lian did not regret doing so, but it did burn to see her make it so far alongside Vortex.

Vortex was a giant, not in the same way Colossi was, but she was not sponsored by a top tenner. She came from privilege, but that was more trivia than evident; no one would be able to tell upon first glance. Vortex was deafening in combat, but utterly silent anywhere else. It would be easy to dislike her if she wasn’t sociable, but she would speak as casually as anyone else if approached that way.

To be powerful and humble, immense yet self-aware; it wasn’t fair. The greats ought to have character flaws.

“Alright,” Tobias said. “New program. We wrote it after the big happening.”

The students stood in a normal midtown setting, like an alternate New Langshir. Sirens began to blare. Smoke rose. Explosions from far away reverberated. It was all happening everywhere. The murmuring among the class grew louder. The voices were laced with the beginnings of panic.

“We usually do these kinds of scenarios in the second year, but after the Awakening, the Director has accelerated our schedules somewhat,” Tobias explained. “Don’t worry we’ve scaled things down to an appropriate first year level.”

“What do we do?” Someone asked.

Tobias shrugged. “Take pictures?” He said.

Vortex went into action first, taking to the skies. She began to report the worst to the rest of the class. After some stumbling and arguing, groups splintered off to deal with the scenarios. Water manipulators for the fire. The physically imposing held up collapsing structures so the quick could clear its innards for robotic civilians.

“Look out!” A student shouted. A building began to collapse, despite the strong back of a nascent hero holding it up. After all, stress was force per area. The weight of a five storey apartment on the cross-section of a man’s back was unlikely to last. The collapse caused the geometry of the hallways to suddenly change. There was a speedster still inside. Despite their fast reflexes, hallways did not lend much to flexibility. They tripped on the rapidly disintegrating structure and barreled out a nearby window. A flight-gifted saved them and landed on the street just as the whole apartment came crashing down.

“You’re still stuck on movie tropes,” Tobias said. “During disasters, situations devolve quickly. It’s not enough to do things right, you have to do things fast. And if you have to expend effort saving one of your own, what happens to the civvies?”

The students picked themselves up, covered in dust and defeat. Most of the robotic citizens had been recovered, but there were a few arms and legs sticking out of the rubble, spitting sparks. Tobias would not have them be finished.

“Pick yourselves up and keep going!” He shouted. His gift-amplified voice was like a whip, driving them into motion.

Lian doubled her efforts. Telekinesis; thought into motion. She was the most versatile. She had the potential to do the most good.

In another neighborhood a machine spewed fire in all directions while it flailed about in mimicked panic. No doubt a scaled down parallel of what had happened during the Awakening. She pulled slabs of already broken walls, bits of cars, shards of asphalt, and wrapped them around the out-of-control ‘gifted’. At the same time, she sent out a call through the realm of the mind.

“Need a water manipulator!” She ‘pathed, careful not to spill any of her emotions into the message as well. Best to keep things professional.

“On it,” someone thought.

The fire was growing, spilling out of the holes and cracks in the makeshift barrier Lian had created. She added more vectors, closing up the gaps. It was like plugging leaks in a boat; she only had so many fingers. Sweat was drawing streaks down her face. Her concentration was slipping. Should she send a message again with more urgency? No, that would suggest she couldn’t handle it. The shame of it would haunt her nights. Why was it so hot? She could feel her pulse inside her skull.

The metaphysical sprained, like a thought-tendon or a mind-capillary. The fire spewed in geysers, melting through the barrier like a warning. She could no longer hold it back. It erupted. The light overwhelmed her eyes. The heat licked her unprotected skin.

But the flames did not reach her. Another vector held the fire back, perfectly wrapping it like an all-encompassing palm. The fire pulled away. Lian followed the much stronger telekinetic vector to its source.

Edward Cognis— Metalobe to some, hovered above her, holding the ball of fire at bay.

“You looked like you needed help,” he said. “Though you could’ve spoken up sooner.”

“I’m here! I’m here!” Carrie shouted. She was riding down the street on a river of water. With one massive torrent she doused the fire-breathing machine, shutting it down. She whooped with success, a beaming smile on her face.

“Good work,” Metalobe said. “You too.”

“Right,” Lian said.

In the distance, a red beam of light cut a ten storey structure at a slanted angle.

“Oh shit,” Metalobe said. He started to move, but the building came to an abrupt stop midair. It was so sudden the glass shattered, falling towards the ground ahead of the structure.

“I don’t recall someone else with telekinesis this strong in our class,” he said.

“It’s not,” Lian said.

A single figure stood in the air on a platform made of metal. She had one hand outstretched, fingers curled in a claw-like grip and trembling with exertion. But her expression was empty, as though she was always elsewhere and apathetic.

“I think I remember her from the games,” Metalobe said. “She’s a multi-gifted, right?”

“Yes,” Lian said.

“Impressive.”

Lian did not like what she was feeling. She picked herself up, fighting against the mental sprain. She couldn’t stop looking at her, floating in the sky above them, uncaring and stoic, as if she had been always like this.