“Are you sure about this?” Lucien asked again, frowning at Tiberius from on top of one of the rocky outcroppings of Yosemite National Park.

“Dude it’s fine. I checked the tour schedules and everything. We’re solid.”

A resigned sigh followed Ty’s reassurances, but Lucien nodded his understanding, rolling his shoulders. He was wearing a simple tank-top and shorts, stamped with apparel branding. A pair of sneakers covered his feet, and that was it. They’d specifically chosen to go to the park on a weekday, very early in the morning when there was less chance of being seen. It had been Tiberius’ idea, but Lucien couldn’t exactly fault the logic.

“Alright!” His god-brother declared. “Super Power Test number 26! Ready when you are, Luc.”

Lucien nodded to Ty and put himself into a sprinter’s ready position. Left leg back, right foot down, fingertips braced against the sparsely vegetated rocky surface he stood on. “Ready, set…” He felt the familiar hum of energy course through his veins as he tapped into his abilities, noting the pleasant tingles that ran down his spine as he willed his power into being. “… go!” He announced before erupting forwards.

Everything seemed to blur and freeze as Lucien surged out, each stride covering a compressed tract of land while he raced around the outcropping. His footing never wavered during his run, his feet creating sluggish eruptions of rock and dust with every impact against the terrain he crossed. While depictions of superspeed as a state of moving normal while everyone else moved slow were not wholly inaccurate, the nature of the movement was also improperly represented in most popular movies and books. It wasn’t just that everything else seemed slow, but reality itself seemed to warp and bend as he ran.

Distances of hundreds of metres were compressed down into a single step, and kilometres — or miles as some stubborn New Avalon residents still referred to — became much the same as a few steps. Lucien’s top speed, at present, was close to 452 in miles per hour, which was still (quite frustratingly) the culturally recognised form of speed measurement outside of New Avalon, in the mainland USA. He surged around the massive rocky formation within the park and back towards his starting point, finishing the total circuit in approximately three seconds.

When he returned to normal speed, his initial dust cloud had only just properly exerted its presence in reality, and the subsequent discharge of air from his arrival dispersed it almost instantly. He grinned to himself as he came to a halt, enjoying the tingle of exertion in his limbs and the feeling of power thrumming through his body as he turned to Tiberius. “How’d I go?”

“You shaved almost half a second off your initial time!” The other boy said excitedly. “That’s serious improvement when you’re talking superspeed, dude!”

Lucien’s smile widened at the news, and he fist-pumped in happiness before cracking his neck. “Alright, how many more?”

“Fifty more laps, then we move on to strength drills.” Ty said with the confidence of the football captain he was. “You remember where you put those boulders?”

“Yup.”

“Dope. Let’s knock out the speed drills, then we can move on to the lifting.”

Since the initial shock of awakening to find himself suddenly in possession of super powers and a new body, Lucien’s life had slowly changed the definition of what was ‘normal’ by his and Tiberius’ standards. They had tried to extricate the reason for Vanessa and Leonidas’ lack of surprise at Lucien’s manifestation several times, only for their guardians to shut them down each time, stating it wasn’t something they had the right to tell. When pressed further by Lucien, Vanessa had only said that he’d learn the truth when the time was right — saying she was following instructions from his mother.

That had given both him and Ty pause, and the boys had grudgingly accepted the fact that Vanessa was trying to honour her deceased best friend’s wishes. Lucien had almost argued further anyway, but Ty had convinced him not to. Trusting the last wishes of his mother was the right thing to do, Tiberius had argued. It was what she would have expected. It annoyed Lucien that he couldn’t find a reason to disagree, but he’d acquiesced regardless upon seeing the sound logic of Ty’s argument.

Lucien’s first accident had occurred the second day after his awakening, when he’d tried to go to the bathroom, and instead had accidentally super-speeded through his door and smashed apart the frame. It had served to highlight both his movement and the incredible durability of his body, which had quickly led to the discovery of his super strength. Combined with his enhanced senses and — as evidenced by his physical changes — accelerated healing, Ty had grinned from ear to ear while declaring him an easy shot for an A-Class ranking.

After the advent of real life ‘powered people’ entering the world stage, a ranking system had been created and quickly adopted to sort them into various levels of power. The strongest were the original Metas; the group known as the ‘Seven Trumpets’. Six of the Seven had terrorised and changed the shape of the world as humanity knew it. Calamity, Messiah, Baal, Amun-Ra, Nephilim, and Quetzalcoatl had been responsible for the deaths of a combined number climbing past two billion.

Only Olympus had stood against them. The Primus of the Seven. The First Superhero. The greatest Metahuman to have ever lived.

“Hey Ty, do you think we’re doing the right thing?” Lucien asked, pausing after his tenth lap around the circuit, hands on his hips as he quickly regained his breath.

“What do you mean?” His god-brother asked, looking up from his position behind the camera.

“I mean we talked about the idea of saving people, but…”

“Nervous?” Ty asked, no judgement in his voice.

“No!” Lucien said a little too defensively, before sighing and rubbing his forehead. “No, no it’s not that. I just wonder like… How many comic books and movies have we seen where vigilantism goes horribly wrong?” Despite what he said, he was nervous, though he tried not to show it. “I could ruin a NAPD sting, or attack undercover officers, or worse I might run into a super who mistakes me for a criminal or something.”

Tiberius nodded thoughtfully at Lucien’s words, considering them as he fiddled with the camera. “That’s all true.” He looked around them for a moment, then smiled and turned back to Lucien. “It also shouldn’t matter, though.”

“Huh?” Lucien said, blinking at his friend. “What do you mean?”

“Well think about the worst thing that could happen, right? You fuck up a Sting and end up fighting a Superhero as a result. Okay, that sucks, but do you plan on killing anyone when you’re out patrolling?”

“What?! No!” Lucien said, mildly taken aback.

“Exactly. You’re not going around breaking necks and tearing people in half like some teenaged version of Ravenor.” Ty’s mention of the notorious cannibalistic supervillain made Lucien shudder.

“You’ll stick to the small stuff at first, right? Liquor store hold ups, gang violence, drug dealers. That sort of thing.”

“Right. The ‘small stuff’.” Lucien repeated flatly, hands on his hips with a frown.

“Dude, think about your power set. Speed, strength, healing, durability, fucking laser vision. Contextually speaking, the stuff I mentioned is small time. The big leagues for you are taking on the damn Supremacy Corps. When you’re throwing down with Major Mayhem or foiling Doctor Gaia’s latest attempt at ‘rejoining mankind with Mother Nature’, then we can call it big leagues.”

“I know this is kind of serious,” Lucien said after a moment. “But I can’t be the only one who thinks Doctor Gaia is kind of hilarious, right? He’s literally a hippie that murders people.”

Tiberius snorted. “No dude, I think everyone would agree with that assessment.”

Lucien laughed along with Ty, grinning at the memory of Doctor Gaia’s last villainous monologue. “Well, I guess it’s better than having to face Messiah or something.”

Ty’s laughter trailed off at that, and his friend nodded more seriously. “Yeah… Can you imagine that? The thought alone gives me anxiety. It took Olympus to stop the other Six Trumpets, and even he barely succeeded.”

“It was pretty cool how he threw Nephilim into space, though.” Lucien said, grinning.

“Dude, are you kidding? That was the best part about studying the Trumpets. Imagine pissing someone off so much they throw you into space. Holy shit.”

“Think there’ll ever be another SS+ Meta, now that all the Trumpets are dead?” Lucien asked, staring at his hands in thought.

“I dunno, man. I meant what I said when your superspeed first started: I think you’re a shoe-in for an A rating, but Hyperion is the strongest Meta in the Elite tier, and he’s only S+.”

“True, and he was trained by Olympus…” Lucien murmured, flexing his fingers idly.

“So were Tempest, Atlas, King Raven, Lady Midnight, Dreadnought…” Ty shrugged. “The Golden League are the closest thing we’ll probably ever see to an SS+ Meta, dude. You can’t worry too much about that. No one is going to expect you to be the next Olympus.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Lucien said after a moment, smiling at Ty. “I’ll be happy just being able to make a real difference, honestly. All that crazy ‘Apex Meta’ stuff seems like it’s just inviting drama, not to mention way more DMHA attention than I’d ever want.”

The Trumpets had all received SS+ ratings, with Olympus alone receiving the SSS+ signifier to show how utterly incredible his powers truly were. No Metahuman since then had achieved anywhere near that power scale, with the closest being the impossibly rare few like Hyperion who had accrued the incredible S+ rating. There were less than a hundred S+ Metahumans on the planet, and all of them were revered and feared in equal measure.

From S+, S, and S- which were known as the ‘Elite’ tier, there came the rest.

From A+ to D-, metahumans of superhero, villain, and neutral disposition were eventually rated and catalogued. Rankings changed often, based not solely on powers, but on the use of them and the growth experienced by different Metas. Some heroes like Silver Rose, in example, had started out at B or even C rank — and climbed up through a mix of training and demonstrable victories that altered their rankings.

With the coming of hero sponsorships and heavy corporatisation, rankings became more than simply a way to track power: They became the measuring stick by which metas were assessed and weighed. The higher the rating, the more lucrative the investment and sponsorship deals. Some Metas like Hyperion founded their own Superhero Agencies, receiving government contracts and immense corporate endorsements. They also received ‘licenses’, allowing them to operate independent of governmental influence in the opposition of villains and even common criminals.

It was the United Nations’ DMHA that watchdogged the licensed metahumans of the world, backed by world governments and powerful superheroes like the New Avalon-based Golden League, the UK-based Lions of London, or the Russian-based Crimson Patriots. There were hundreds of superhero agencies across the world, each belonging to a different city — or sometimes multiple in one city — and competing for the top spot in state, national, and global agency rankings.

“Hey Ty,” Lucien asked as he prepared for more laps. “What do you think is my coolest ability?”

“Honestly man?” Ty asked, hesitating for a moment as if choosing whether or not to say it. “I know it’s a sore spot, but flying. I think the fact you can fly is insanely cool. That’s the power I’d want.”

Lucien’s expression flickered at the mention of flying, remembering back to when he and Ty had reviewed the footage of his transition after he’d mentioned feeling as if he were floating. True enough he’d been right, and mid-changed he’d hovered off his bed, clearly floating in the air as free as a bird while writhing in agony. Each time he’d attempted to repeat the feat, however… He grimaced as he felt the anxiety return, clenching down his jaw to fight back the panic. Each time he attempted flight, he flashed back to the sheer agony of his manifestation — and the beginnings of comprehension for how to use the power vanished.

Ty had noticed something else, too. Whenever he started trying to fly, his hair changed. It wasn’t substantial, but repeated and panic-inducing attempts had resulted in enough footage to spot several strands of hair shifting to a pristine snow white colour. The comparisons to Hyperion, whose hair turned a radiant gold whenever he used his powers, were immediate and exciting — and it had inspired Lucien to keep trying, until he’d eventually lost his temper in frustration and punched a chunk off of a boulder.

“You ready to start, Luc?” Tiberius said, rallying him from his dark thoughts. “We’ve only got a couple hours to get all your drills done.”

“Yeah!” Lucien said, shaking his head and bending down to prepare for his eleventh of fifty circuit sprints. “I’m ready.”

“And go!”

Lucien took off and lost himself in the practice, all thoughts of flight forgotten.

Days turned into weeks as Lucien and Ty continued his training regime, steadily increasing his speed and strength by leaps and bounds. They’d even discovered, through the course of trial and error, an ability for him to generate highly focussed beams of pure white energy from his eyes. The first time it had happened Lucien had thought he was having a migraine, and had cut down three trees and scorched massive gouges in a nearby cliff face before he’d shut his eyes and brought the power under control.

The only saving grace was that, unlike Hyperion’s solarfire beams, his seemed to be more akin to highly focussed lasers. They did burn and emit steel-melting heat, but didn’t seem capable of igniting forest fires or massive infernos unless he very specifically started targeting combustibles. They had come up with a theory that, with enough practice, he might be able to learn to spread the beams for a shorter range but wider area of effect. It wasn’t something Lucien really had an interest in trying, however, until he got the power absolutely and without a doubt under control.

By time the last weekend before school resumed came around, Lucien had changed completely. His new body, which had already been impressive initially, was by then even moreso. He’d developed rock-hard muscles across his chest, back, biceps, and legs. His six-pack was more powerfully defined, and he no longer subtly hunched over when he walked out of passive self-esteem concerns.

A large factor in his newfound confidence was Tiberius’ insistence on them venturing into central New Avalon often, in spite of Lucien’s worries about being seen.

“Nobody’s going to look at you and think ‘oh my god, a meta!’, Luc. You can’t let fear of that keep you locked up inside. You’re sixteen, man. You gotta live your life.” The words had been sensible enough that Lucien had not been able to refuse, and so they’d started what would become regular trips into the heart of New Avalon.

After enough outings and more than a few rewarding encounters with girls he’d normally have expected to be happy to ignore him, Lucien’s confidence had skyrocketed. Even some boys his own age had made comments, passing suggestive looks at him which had initially bewildered him — until he remembered that New Avalon was considered the safest place for LGBTQ people in the world. Sexual liberty and anti-discrimination laws were hallmarks of the New Avalon Charter. The culture was partially a holdover from San Francisco, and pre-Calamity California as a whole.

His mind wandered back from a particularly delicate-featured boy he’d seen that had given him confusing feelings, and refocused on his reflection in the mirror. He was shirtless as he stood in his room, wearing boxers and little else while carefully roaming his eyes over his body. There were no scars, no blemishes, almost no markings of any kind to be seen anywhere. The only exception was the birthmark on his left pectoral that he’d had since childhood, which was shaped almost like a two-headed eagle. Meanwhile his hair had grown longer, and he’d taken to wearing a pair of sunglasses to keep his bangs out of his eyes. No matter what he did, his hair always seemed to be the perfect blend of unkempt and stylish, shining with health and volume. He definitely didn’t miss the lank, dark mass of strands he’d had prior.

His skin tone had become a natural olive colour, which had prompted questions about his parentage until he’d realised that he’d basically only darkened by two shades. He was still lighter than any latino or black person he knew, though he now had the bronzed complexion of a surfer to round out his handsome features. They were his features, too. He’d carefully examined them to look for similarities, and had found them much to his relief. His mother’s nose, the vague shape of her full lips — though less feminine than hers by a fair margin. He saw nothing of the father whose picture his mother had kept in the house, but that train of thought raised questions that Lucien wasn’t ready to ask. His overall facial shape was the same, just… refined. It was as if someone had taken an incomplete sculpture and properly brought it to its full potential.

He was still Lucien, just — in his opinion — the best version of Lucien.

He smiled at himself and turned away from his reflection, retrieving one of his shirts from the entirely new set of clothes Vanessa had bought him and pulling it over his head. Another Hyperion tee, with the words ‘HONOUR ABOVE ALL’ written boldly beneath a fists-on-hips rendition of the world’s (arguably) most powerful hero. He smoothed his hand over it, smiling as his fingers brushed the image of Hyperion where it rested just below his pectorals. “One day I’m gonna join you in the sun.” He promised as he looked down at the shirt. “Just like you offered us all when you formed the Golden League.”

Lucien turned and made his way to his bed, grinning to himself non-stop as he did, feeling giddy with anticipation.

School was going to be a very, very different experience for Junior Year.