The clear sky held a serenity to its gaze, passing clouds drifting by slowly. Beyond the clouds, the stars still remained, painting an impossible juxtaposition where they both coexisted in harmony. In the middle of it all, there was only me, my teacher and a strange wooden box.

Exquisitely carved, the box depicted a tree with thin branches, and big round leafs, half of it blossoming and the other half withering. I sat cross legged on top of it. All around me an open field stretched far beyond what the eye could see.

Unfortunately, my time here was precious and contemplation was a privilege that I couldn’t indulge in. There was only one goal on my mind, to befriend my stubborn foe. The flame fought against my will at every step of the way, unwilling to be conquered, but it didn’t matter. I would do it for as long as it was necessary.

As soon as Oberyn explained how much potential mastering these drills could unleash and how they could help me avoid my past mistakes, I was sold. There was no point in trying to be a great shot if I couldn’t draw my gun.

There was a simple task for the evening. Oberyn taught me a drill for me to perform within a week. Just to move the flame around my fingers. If I could do that, I would be able to store things in my horologium and begin my next phase with Milch.

Surprisingly the blue-eyed teacher didn’t show overt dislikeness towards his peer, but the short emperor didn’t seem to be fond of the gunslinger either, his comments a little bit more harsh on the topic, “it was as good as any for you to develop your sensibilities, but don’t rely on it too much, or you might become a brute like some.”

My guess was that the gun was a coping mechanism to mitigate my lack of raw power. If it would be a permanent cop out was anybody’s guess. Thinking about that, I redoubled my efforts. The flame was still hard to feel, and hard to control.

“Don’t cling on it so hard, sweetie. Use a gentle touch,” Oberyn advised. He wasn’t even looking at me, his eyes closed as he rested on the top of a fluffy pillow mountain. His cat on the very top, watching it all. “If you can’t feel it, you can’t use it. Let’s try again from the top.”

I was progressing slowly, it was only at the end of our training that I could make the tiny bluish flame hop from the tip of my finger, just to puff in an instant. We trained like this for the entire session. Giving me the same advice as Milch, Oberyn told me to keep practicing whenever I can, that it was a matter of time.

Before I realized our session was already coming to an end. Oberyn handed me a book on our way out. “Making money for dummies. How to make four figures working for The Company even when you suck.” The cover held a chubby man with his arms crossed wearing a standard Company suit. Only his torso on display. Out of curiosity I looked to see who was the author of such a fantastic masterpiece and I wasn’t surprised. Oberyn swore that it was a good book nonetheless.

At the very end of our session, I was allowed to relax. We talked for a little bit, but before we noticed it, we began to crumble, another day bites the dust.

The sun was yet to come out, but I was ready for my second day of school. I bought an entire new wardrobe which sadly wouldn’t see much use today. The schedule said to wear something light. It was going to be a busy day, according to my research, an entire day of extraneous exercise. I put on my usual running clothes, a white t-shirt and black track pants. They were reliable and comfortable. It seemed like the safest bet.

In the living room, I found Sweeney sharing peanut butter with Pringles. The japanese girl and my lovely buddy were using the same spoon. Sometimes even licking it at the same time. It made me a little bit sick. I thought Pringles had more class than that.

Sweeney said I looked really good, mainly because it was the kind of clothing that she might wear. I put on a coat just to hide my shoulder holster. We should be evaluated on our skills, and, for better or worse, I was registered as a gunman.

My new ID came through the mail. The official document was something that everybody wanted but very few possessed . The awful crimson card and its bright golden letters were a sign of status. The hit of the moment was “Certified bloody goons,” a song about powereds on the hip-hop industry. Almost every single rapper now either was under the protection of some powered or had powereds on their entourage. Tabloid-gossip and the late night shows were as reliable a source of information as any. With my brand new document and my horrible alias, I went to work.

My journey took a little longer this time, since bootcamp was far from the city. As I approached, I saw a big compound through the wired fence. Soldiers were placed atop of the high towers, watching it all. Inside the gate, there were another couple soldiers standing at attention.

As I approached them, I could feel the tension in the air. Their backs were ramrod straight and their faces focused, despite the intense heat on this bright summer day. They asked me for ID while holding their M-16’s. I handed it to them and they examined it carefully. Their moves jittery behind a veil of professionalism. “He… here we go, sir,” one of them stuttered.

They handed me back my identification and I didn’t know what to think of it. Conflict was very common every time heroes were involved, most of them far too young to know better. It is one of the reasons that led to the approval of legislation demanding our registration in the first place. However, the level of nervousness on those two made me wary.

As I walked inside the compound I saw people chatting and running. Jeeps crossed the premises while brand new facilities were being built. It was hard to know who was military and who belonged to the league, which is exactly how the government wanted to appear as, a seamless integration of the very best the country has to offer.

I asked for directions from a cadet who gave me precise instructions of where I should be. Sweat ran down his neck as his pitch rose through the explanation. Again a hint of fear. Didn’t like the picture that was being painted in my mind, but I decided to hope for the best while expecting the worst.

A group of teenagers stood in the middle of a clearing in the far end of the compound. I assumed that was the place I was supposed to be, since there was the only open display of powers I saw so far. A handsome indian boy was showing his fiery wings, smiling proudly. I don’t think he could be older than eighteen. I made sure not to be very close to them in case somebody decided to chew their ear off, but not as far as to not hear their conversation.

The group proceeded to chat, nobody acknowledging my existence. Just like highschool, I searched for my peers and found two uncomfortable old guys who looked like they didn’t belong.

I waved at them. They seemed receptive. A white man probably in his sixties waved back. His hair completely white, he had a warm smile.

“Hello there,” the man said. Looking over the group as a pretty skinny girl flexed her arms in a bodybuilder pose. Her muscles bulging and increasing, showing a fearsome goliath where the frail teen once stood.

“Hello.” I responded, looking around. “It doesn’t look like we’re the cool kids here,” I said, making idle conversation.

“No, we’re definitely not. Tried to talk to one of them and it was called a Vanp and a boomer in a single breath. Well, there is a first time for everything, I guess.” He shrugged with a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head.

“Hi, I am Ernest.”

We shook hands. “I am Richard and this is Carl.” He pointed at the man next to him. Probably in his late sixties. Dyed black hair, some extra pounds on his frame, not unusual for our age.

The man waved without saying a word. He looked anxious and I didn’t blame him. The two of them had to go under physical evaluation along with teenagers and other young people. In other words, they were bound to be left behind.

From our side we could see the young heroes peeking at us from time to time, following a hushed exchange of words between them, giggling following afterwards. I spent forty years watching from the sidelines and now I am back in this endless world of powers and possibilities, watching the same highschool drama unfold all over again. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

Richard waved at the group, a green-eyed red haired girl promptly turning her back, pretending she didn’t see him. Instantly more laughter ensued.

“If I may give you a piece of advice, Richard. We were already chosen as the kids that get bullied. Accept your fate and try to lay low, otherwise things will begin to escalate.”

Richard’s eyes darted between the group and me. “But… but we are not one of them. Why would they treat us like crap? My kids aren't much older... they would never behave like… like that.”

The girl with incredible muscles was not only showing her strength but also her other attributes. Apparently her ability extended to isolated muscles… and the muscles she chose to isolate made Richard avoid his gaze. Cheers erupting from the crowd as she did so.

“We are prey, Richard. Pure and simple. Most of the kids in that group are just trying to fit, they are probably nice kids just like your own children. But some of them are trying to assert their dominance over the group, and when that happens some people would be chosen as pariahs. This kind of dynamic is as natural as breathing. We are not going to be popular, that is impossible, but we do need to make sure that we are not a target. If things get bad we throw somebody else under the bus.”

Richard laughed. “I think you are exaggerating, Ernest. It will be awkward, but it won’t be that bad. They are just teenagers for Christ sake.”

Hands in my pockets I shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But when I add a ton of hormones and unlimited power there is only one result that I can see and it doesn’t favor us. But hey, I’ve been wrong before, we never know...”

As the spectacle of the main group gets louder and louder, I see a six foot five absurdly muscular man in uniform striding confidently towards our direction, he was trailed by three soldiers. The moment the man stepped in, everybody went silent.

“Attention! Everybody forms a single straight line,” he shouted. At first everybody froze not knowing what to do or where to stand, but the man jolted us into action. “Come on, drop your dicks, move!” After that, most of the line formed rather quickly, but a handful of stragglers decided to take their sweet time, walking leisurely towards their spot. Not surprisingly, winged indian boy and gluteus maximus on command were among them.

The humongous soldier gave them the nastiest stare I’ve seen in my life but didn’t comment. He started pacing around the line, hands behind his back, his chest out. He was probably in his forties, squared jaw immaculately shaven and a buzz cut. His hair showed the first signs of grey. He looked positively fierce.

“My name is Sergeant George Tilman. I am your official drill instructor. You can think about me as your superior officer, as your new pope, as your dad, hell… you can even think of me as your own living God. I don’t give a shit. But you will respect me,” his voice echoed with a cold certainty.

However, someone didn’t take Sergeant Tilman for his word and decided to prove him wrong, wings out of puberty thought this was a good time to interfere. “Yes, daddy!” he responded in a high pitched voice. Laughter ensued between most of the group, but not us three old farts. We’re old folk. We knew better. Ahem, most of the time. Right now though, caution was our motto and we knew a royal fuck up when we saw one.

The Sergeant’s head snapped back immediately, pure hatred emanating from his eyes. He walked slowly towards the jokester, his face one inch away from the boy’s face now. If the Sergeant didn’t look like death reincarnated, I would say they were about to kiss each other.

“Do you think you’re funny?” Sergeant Tilman's voice was even now, which only served to raise my suspicions further.

The boy had a smirk on his face as he responded confidently. “Sir, yes sir.”

Tilman nodded. Looking around and gauging our reactions.“Before I lose my patience, can you explain for the rest of the class why you choose this course of action?”

For some reason, the tall skinny indian took that moment to make a sloppy salute. “I don’t take orders from civilians, sir.” Gasps and laughter could be heard in equal measure coming from all sides. Gotta give to the kid, he knew a thing or two about disrespect.

The Sergeant pointed at one of his subordinates. “Does our brave friend right here already have a powered name?”

His colleague looked at his clipboard. “Yes, sir. He is registered as... Anand, sir.” he responded without any enthusiasm. It was not a disrespectful response by any means. He just acted like he went through this a thousand times. And that was exactly what rubbed me the wrong way, Tilman’s subordinates were eerily calm.

They shook their heads and smiled just like some people in our group. But there was something fundamentally different between the two groups. The young people standing in attention had a half-smile of barely concealed mischief. It was nothing but a funny incident to them. When I looked at the soldiers on the other hand, I saw a predatory smile, a palpable malicious intent hidden among their relaxed posture. It made the hairs on my neck stand up.

Nine point five seconds passed while Sergeant Tilman measured the teen up and down before saying something. “Fair enough.” Tilman turned his back to the winged teenager. Anand took a brief glance towards the hulk girl with a smile and she smiled back at him. When his head turned back a deafening blow was heard. Dust immediately rose as Anand’s body ricocheted against the hard floor. Sergeant Tilman’s hand was covered by layers of metal, the alloy quickly unfolded to cover the rest of his body. To my surprise, Anand stood up, fiery wings letting in a ferocious heat. Dreading the lethal clash, everybody stepped back, some even running for cover.

Anand's nose was bleeding, his smirk gone. He seemed focused and in control despite the bad start. In exchange, Sergeant Tilman had a ferocious grin, his eyes sparkling with excitement. In the next second they were all over each other.

Tilman looked composed. His guard up, his feet unmoving. Anand was delivering solid kicks and punches. Most of them were too wide, giving more than enough space for Tilman to dodge. Despite the lack of experience, his wings gave Anand the mobility to get in and out relatively unscathed. Tilman landed some good punches, but not enough to hurt the fiery indian yet.

“Come on, boy. You can do it,” Tilman taunted, dodging another haymaker. Anand’s eyes showed unfiltered anger, but somewhere in there you could see fear too. He probably didn’t realize the Sergeant was a powered military when he challenged him.

Anand sprinted forward, throwing a front kick that Tilman casually side stepped. The nimble giant responded by taking advantage of the opportunity, using the dark-haired indian momentum against him. Anand turned around faster than what he let on until now, blocking the Sergeant’s elbow just in time before taking an uppercut to the chin. He staggered back, his face was bruised, his eyelid cut and hemorrhaging freely.

It didn’t seem like the teen would make it. Sergeant Tilman just looked superior in every way. Stronger, faster, calmer. However, Anand seemed to have one last trick up his sleeve. The fire on his wings started to spread all over his body. The flame seemed hungry and alive, burning brighter than ever.

Even Tilman’s maniac smile wavered for a second. However, the juiced up soldier didn’t waste any time, immediately going into the offensive, afraid of whatever the burning teen was setting up.

When they both clashed again, Anand had the upper hand. Forcing the giant soldier to back-pedal as he pushed for an advantage. George Tilman scowled while suffering the bitter end of the barrage.

Finally, Anand managed to crack Tilman’s defence. Slipping kicks and knees through Tilman’s body. The indian’s last move was deafening. Gathering every ounce of strength that the teen could muster, his punch connected perfectly to Tilman’s jaw, making everyone in the entire compound stop to see who would prevail.

The dust settled down slowly. I could see apprehension in Anand’s eyes, his wings snuffed out of existence. His ragged breath showed that he gave everything he had.

However, as I saw the armored giant’s face, I knew it hadn’t been enough. Not even close. His ferocious grin remained the same. His uniform was in shambles and his body was blackened due to the heat, but the man was intact.

“I gotta give it to you boy. That tickled me a little,” Tilman said.

Anand’s eyes widened, and that was his second and final mistake. Taking advantage of his surprise, the sergeant grabbed him by the waist and threw him on the floor. The next twenty five seconds made this one of the most brutal experiences I’ve ever witnessed in my life.

The military man proceeded to pumble the teenager mercilessly. The impact from the punches were sickening. When the Sergeant stood up I thought it was all over, but that wasn’t the case. Anand crawled away from Tilman, but the behemoth flipped him around with his boot and proceeded to kick him with everything he had. I had to cover my ears. The wet noise of his shin hitting the wannabe hero’s chest was that loud.

Richard pulled me back to reality as I saw his pale face, his body wobbling beside me. I caught his arm just in time. The soldier with the clipboard snorted as he saw me helping Richard. I brushed it off, the part that made me really concerned was Anand. I was reluctant to look at him again, the glimpse that I took was already a terrifying experience.

I looked around and most of the people were averting their gaze, others were crying, but I knew better. I knew that this was just a small step. I had big plans and to achieve them I would see some bad sights, so I slowly turned my head facing the horrible scene. His body was completely broken, his clothes torn apart while a pool of blood spreaded on the floor.

Sergeant Tilman was also covered in blood, it didn’t look like it belonged to him though, his metal exterior shining against the morning sun. The folds of metal retracted from his body as he walked towards us. My heart was pounding and I could feel my legs shaking, but I stood still.

Something inside of me screamed that this was the fate I avoided just yesterday. I took a deep breath while I tried to listen to the Sergeant. Anand wheezing and gurgling noises could be heard clearly in the background.

Tilman took the clipboard from his subordinate as he addressed us one more time. “I apologize for our little discussion back there.” He turned his head back, taking a glimpse over Anand’s body. “I know you guys are worried, but Anand has superhuman regeneration. We are professionals here after all,” he nodded gravely.

An olive-skinned girl immediately corrected him. “No, he doesn’t! He is my brother, he doesn’t have any healing ability!” The panic in her voice showed just how grave Anand’s physical state was. Her eyes jumped from the Sergeant to her brother without stop.

Tilman scratched his head. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He smacked his lips and cleared his throat. “Well... this is proof that even I can make mistakes sometimes.” The soldiers around Tilman were all laughing, some shaking their heads, grinning. The tall man sighed. “That will be a ton of paperwork. Alright, let’s get moving, we have physical tests to perform, people. Let’s go!”

Just like that, we all started to run. Anand’s sister was the only one who stood behind, tears in her eyes. The soldiers were running alongside us. Every single one of them had their own clipboard now. As we ran laps around the compound, we couldn’t help but pass next to the spot where Anand laid. To my relief one of the soldiers was kneeled beside him, two fingers on his neck, a greenish hue enveloping the teen.

The day had barely started and it was terrifying...