Seth opened his eyes, the burn over his left gave him proof that he hadn’t been dreaming, though... it's not like he has dreams anyway. There wasn’t a scar, but he knew he would be feeling that burn for a while. He pulled himself up out of bed, he felt heavy, drained. He’d been passed out since yesterday, but he could feel the weight of what happened pull against him. He changed out of yesterday’s connector suit and prepped for a calmer morning. But stared at himself in the mirror a little longer than normal, nothing had changed but his demeanor. ‘Not… like anything was going to, right?’ The Garkah seemed silent, probably still working through everything that happened and giving him his space. Turning to leave though, he froze as he came face to face with the suit still standing at the door. The apprehension he felt couldn’t be fully described, like he was back in Berta for a third time. Like he was staring down another laceroid. The smell of phosphorus, blood, the heat, the caloys speed of his heart beating. He shut his eyes, gritted his teeth, slowed his breathing, and centered himself. That wasn't real, it's all the past. He was safe. But he still hesitated before grabbing the suit by the shoulders. Its weight was greater now, but he lifted it up and stood it back to the wall he had been leaving it against. A hand stayed on it, making sure it was inert, before breathing a shallow sigh of relief. He headed out finally, at least he had the rest of the week to relax a little.

Morning line up was off the schedule, so everyone was having or on their way to breakfast. He passed by Kabar as he exited his own room, the sullen and beaten look on his face signaled that Seth wasn’t the only one who went through hell yesterday. He was wearing standard trainers though. Seth only caught the slightest glimpse in his room, but saw his suit hanging on the wall mounts. It was torn and slashed, flames stained with blood. Para was going to fuck over every one with that Berta scenario it seemed. Kabar looked at him as he passed, sullen exhaustion shifted to marked agitation. He looked away to stymie any coming aggression, they both were too tired for that.

Entering the canteen, most of the trainees were already seated and eating the various choices that were laid out by Ambrose. Power Banana Pancakes, Super Steak n’ Egg Tacos, muffins. Ambrose was a good chef, but woefully unoriginal when it came to naming his dishes. Seth went straight for the pancakes, drizzled only a half portion of syrup on the side, but scooped up two of butter. He never really learned what Ambrose’s powers were, only heard of and saw its effects. Despite the buffet style trays being left out ala carte, everything was still hot like it had just been made. He assumed he had heat related powers, some theory crafted he had limited time powers, but really no one bothered to dig deeper since the result was so good. Seth sat down at an empty table, as he’d always done. No one really bothered him, so he would rather not bother others.

But today he felt the eyes of most of the trainees on him. The few bits he got in were amazing. The light banana bread batter was sweet but soft, and the syrup accented it with notes of brown suger. But this soothing meal was short lived as he looked up from his pancakes. Chairs were loudly pushed aside and his fellow trainees were approaching almost all at once save for Kabar, David, and Kaz. From the look of David it seemed like he was tested yesterday as well. Maya stormed up from in front of everyone and slammed her hands down on the empty table, rattling his meal. “Okay Tinman! You’re going to tell us just what the HELL you’ve doomed us all to! Because you better believe you’re going to pay for what happened to David…!! and Kabar I guess.” Seth returned agitated and accusatory stares with confusion. “What the hell are you talking about? You know I can’t tell you, but why are you blaming me for what I can only assume is Para’s doing?” Maya slammed the table again, almost breaking it. “Because whatever you did provoked him!! Do you have any idea how badly hurt David was? Medi had to heal him just so they could even wheel him out of the arena, he was in the medical unit for hours! Whatever it was you did, you need to apologize so we at least all aren’t torn to shreds!!”

Seth quickly extrapolated what garbage Para was attempting. ‘That son of a bitch!’ “All I did was… was beat his fucking scenario. Blaming me for him taking it out on you isn’t going to help. And apologizing sure as hell isn’t either! You know damn well Para isn’t going to listen!” Most of the trainees' already sour looks worsened, worse yet Kabar got up from his barely eaten breakfast once he heard Seth say he beat the scenario. “The FUCK did you say!!!” He pushed past everyone and added his hand prints to Maya’s on the now definitely broken table. The rest of the heroes in the canteen now thoroughly aware of the ruckus being caused. “There is no way in hell that damn powersuit survived, that a powerless loser like you beat those…” Kabar held off, even he didn’t want to make things worse. “That… simulation. There is no fucking way!!” Seth hardened a little but looked down, his phantom scar itched. “You say that like it did. And again… it’s not a-” “What the hell are you all doing!?!”

The group parted and looked back toward the door, Para had walked in. “If you’re trying to intimidate your fellow trainee into getting an advantage, you’re only going to make things worse for yourselves.” Kabar broke off but continued sneering. Maya though redirected at Para. “Why the hell are you punishing us all for what Seth did!? Why are you taking out your frustrations on us?!” Para looked mockingly taken aback. “Well excuse me Combo Breaker for thinking my students should be held to the same standard. Surely the heroes of the League should be expected to outperform any powersuit on the market right? So if a powersuit can defeat my scenario, a super should too! Or do you not feel up to being a hero anymore?” Maya was visibly shaking with rage. Seth couldn’t stand it either. The scar was practically on fire now. He tried to get up, to tell Para off. It would probably to make things worse but- “All right ENOUGH!!!” But Aegis burst in before he could do anything and grabbed Para by the shoulder. The group reeled, a mad Para was expected, a mad Aegis was terrifying.

“Para you’re not in charge of the sims any more. Command doesn’t want to give our trainees PTSD before they even see true combat. And further more-” “More what!?” He leaned in to try and hide his words, but Seth could hear. “You and I both saw what happened. We can’t let that thing-” Aegis pushed him off. “It doesn’t matter. You’re throwing the recruits under the bus for your own sake.” Aegis turned to the group. “We are going back to actually personalized tests… Kabar… David… Seth, you don’t have to retake yours. But… If you feel like you need to, we can run you through a test actually meant for you and not… someone else.” Seth tried not to react to this, but sank back down hard in his seat, weighed down by more guilt. Kabar looked angry, but retreated back to his breakfast. The group dispersed as well, Jacob and Maya went back to David to comfort him as best they could. Aegis and Para lingered a little as Seth was left alone again. Para grimaced while Aegis’ concern came back as she ushered Para out. Seth held a hand to his eye, the burn was inescapable no matter how tight he held it. He tried to get back to his pancakes, but all this anger and guilt had ruined his appetite. And his fork was crushed absentmindedly in his other hand. Things weren’t going to get easier, that was for sure.

The rest of the week passed with little conflict at least. The other trainees each took their tests in kind and passed them. David eventually retook his test as well, passing it like it was nothing. Though comparatively it may as well have been. Seth spent most of his down time contemplating, training wasn’t mandatory after all. But he had to get himself together. He communed with the Garkah to get a better read on the abyss, and why it did what it did. “It’s rage, pure and simple.” Threat was being blunt unlike ever before. “It is the energy that was built up over decades of unjust atrocities and mindless conflict. Or at least a piece of it.” Seth felt Speaker straighten out the conversation. “The problem right now is not its origin, it is what is occurring with it now. Energy sources do not talk…” Seth felt a collective worry at this comment, but then a seemingly collective correction. ‘Aren’t they basically an energy source?’ He could feel Speaker run his hand down his face. “We are different, we have actually been physical beings, actually been… uggh… sapient. The ‘abyss’ was never even sentient, so it speaking is incredibly problematic.”

Seth could sense another Garkah take his attention, he was a scientist, one of the team that made the Ark. He had worked his title out to be Concoctor. His voice was mildly energetic, but wizened and stern. “Are we forgetting that the Threat’s energy went through the same process as we all did? The gene and conscious crossover gave each of us a simulated being for our consciousness to inhabit. This facilitated our retained identities, rather than our eventual disassociation and conglomeration. But this simulation is incredibly robust, practically down to the molecular level. Every separate entity that went into the Ark was given their own bodies, ‘their’ bodies, defects and all. The Threat was no exception, but remember his energy was separated. We were able to use and retain our own energy as a part of us. Threat on the other hand was completely separated, cut off and isolated as we feared for our newly fragile existences. And then another piece of these energies was sealed yet again, inside of Seth.”

“Before in the Ark these neglected and semi-conscious energies would have been left isolated in the storage sectors, cut off from the host they were formed around. In turn they would have melded together and destroyed each other before any sort of sentience could be created through random chance. But now there is a single contained and stifled source that more than likely has access to Seth’s experiences, just as we do. I contend then that Threat’s energies are working through a passively accelerated sentience, it is gaining a stable personality all its own, a being all its own. If it is allowed to progress it may very well learn to break its binds and consume us all, Seth included. Therefore I suggest we… head it off at the pass… A full consciousness should be able to take in this energy and wipe away this proto-personality growing within it. Thus reverting it to just that, energy.”

Speaker and Threat both moved to speak, Threat thought better and let Speaker up first. “The only issue is who can withstand that much power, especially if it is now possibly sentient?” Speaker directed his regard at Threat, but he seemed to rebuke it. “I can’t…” A tinge of collective surprise. “Holding that power wears down on you, it eats at you. I didn’t come in with much left of me. I can’t hold that power again. And honestly, I’m surprised you would even think of letting me. But really… we have a better candidate.” Seth felt Threat focus on him. ‘W-wait…’ The collective rustled but understood. “You’ve handled it before, dealt with the personality to boot. Not to mention if you claim it, we can support you in controlling it. You’re the only one who can really do this.” Seth was apprehensive… no he was downright incongruous. “I… I can’t! That… That thing took control before, almost took away my humanity. I…” Seth seemed inconsolable. He shook at the thought of having to relive that feeling again. Like a gravity that seemed to pull him away from himself and replace him. Speaker rose to assuage him. “This is only one solution… we have not been through the full process of decision making. If you do not feel like you are capable, then we can find other means. Please… just rest. We can take it from here.” Seth released the commune, he was lying in bed, not wanting to deal with the world right now. But he knew in the back of his mind, he knew what he was going to have to do.

Monday morning. Power month had finally come. The trainees filed in and lined up, Para was center stage but Aegis was nowhere to be seen. The power scouts were gone, but the doors around the arena looked ready to burst 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. 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. So they will treat you as such, and you’d better be grateful. 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!”

The doors to the ready rooms finally burst open and a flurry of heroes came streaming out, supers of every conceivable type. That at least 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 even a current member of the Gods’ Chosen was here. And… well it was probably 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, sheesh.’ Para looked like he was still conducting things, clipboard in hand checking names.

“First up, Water Boy.” Para moved off toward David, as two water based heroes followed out of the crowd, both looking rather annoyed in Para’s direction. His nicknames were a little too derogatory for everybody it seemed. “Meet Aquafirma and Depthcharge.” The two heroes pushed passed Para while simultaneously side eyeing him to voice their slightedness, but cheered up when they reached David. Aquafirma was a fairly tall man with ‘*cough*’ wavy blond hair and very bright blue eyes. He wore a modified diving suit, it had 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. It was armored with seafoam green outer paneling, the helmet was a similar material. It was difficult to tell what they looked like under their gear, the porthole-like face plate offered 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, no sense crowding everyone together. “Next up, Green Thumb.” Zeleny slumped at her nickname, but perked up as Phazer Shock bid farewell to her husband Glacial Glaz and moved toward her. Phazer’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 seemed to light up brighter as she approached, was probably looking forward to training with her.

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 brown shorts just so he wouldn’t be naked. The rest of him was made of near solid rock, the surface a near statuesque rendition of a bodybuilder made of pure granite. 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 stone rose up and leveled Maya to the mountains cheerful face. He introduced himself rather politely, though his size made it less a personal conversation. “My name is Strata, a pleasure to meet you Maya.” He moved away from the lineup with Maya in toe on her pedestal.

“Toaster.” Para was moving on. “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 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. A 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. If Seth remembered correctly he was made of fire, kind of like Aquafirma but bipedal. Friction Sweep was a woman with a short crimson mohawk and deep green eyes. Her suit was a cut short tan leotard with a dress-like apparatus at her hips. She sported what looked to be nunchucks, but with match-like surfaces on the ends. Phoenix Tech was a man 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 white with orange striping on one side of the chest, like it was a prototype. It had grey metallic ports on the heels, palms, and a jetpack like apparatus on the back. He was a flyer, but his powers weren't very contained so he used those ports as jet nozzles. Hothead though… ‘He’s just wearing a sweatshirt 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’s not looking the part.

These heroes though all seemed to surround Para, even the lax Hothead. All staring at him like the nickname was directed at them, Friction even cracking her knuckles. Para looked up from his clipboard and returned their glares with a smug smile. The heroes collectively gritted their teeth at him, but didn’t move to beat the shit out of him like they all wanted to. Instead they pushed passed him and toward Kabar. Hothead reaching him first and wrapping an arm around him protectively. “Come on Kabar, let’s go someplace where firepower is appreciated.” Para smugly shrugged and moved on.

“Snow-"*sheee* Glacial Glaz beat Para to the punch and covered 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. 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. Well it’s not like it wasn’t completely expected. Para continued unabated.

“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 grey 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 and unkempt 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 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. Heavy 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.

Para kept going, looking ready to ruin Razor’s day. “Butterknife…” Yup there it is. “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 grey base and black accents. It had a series of holsters though, not too dissimilar to Razor’s, but they were dark grey 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 ringed holes across every outward facing surface. These holes seemed to house a series of three inch long combat needles and the holes that didn’t have them opened to bare skin. Her head, while not covered in spandex, instead was covered in more needles. She was bald, hair shaven away and replaced by needles dug straight into her scalp… maybe even her skull. Her eyes were ice blue. ‘I… I think she’s wearing contacts.’ She’s taken the piercing gaze thing a little too heavily. Her expression topped it off, completely monotone with her eyes possibly stuck wide open. Once she was given leave to approach Razor she practically rushed up to him with nonchalant intent… or just excitement, it is 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.” She pulled a needle from her head and held it out to Razor like a guiding hand. Both Razor and now Blade Tone hanging off his shoulder were reeled back and a gape. “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 and looked monotonously down at her rejected needle, running her fingers over it before sticking it back in her scalp and walking away. ‘I… think she was sincere, she just doesn’t know how to be fully sociable… Probably should 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 a back in the slightest.

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 Para’s introduction. “You forgot, Go Champion of the League 10 years running.” He smiled 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. 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. Slowly, an actual ancient Egyptian mummy formed from the sand, like it was made of it 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. Suddenly the wraps began unraveling, giving the man freedom of movement. He pulled down his wrappings to unraveled his head, revealing… not a mummified corpse. ‘Holy shit he’s actually handsome.’ Flowing ‘golden’ brown hair loosed from the wrappings as he materialized a pair of thick rim spectacles from the sand. He put them over his blue green eyes, thoroughly finished with his grand entrance. Cleo even fucking curtsied to him. “Greetings your highness.” The wrappings continued to dissolve away, revealing he was wearing a tastefully embroidered tunic and silk finery. “Hey, how’s it going?” ‘Gah! Okay that just shattered that image.’ He even 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?’ They walked away, finally relieving the formality gut check that ate at Seth understanding of noble civility.

Meanwhile Para seemed to be holding something over Ohm that he really didn’t want to hear. “Clarence,” ‘Wait, that wasn’t it?’ “Meet Terawatt,” ‘No?’ “Breaker Box,” ‘Not him?’ “And Zeus’ Strike” ‘Fucking hell that was it!’ Ohm was staring down and gritting his teeth almost audibly as that last one came straight up to him, standing menacingly over him. All at once though, he scooped up Ohm in his arms and bear hugged him. “Haha it is good to see you again my son!!” ‘…’ Ohm was visibly in pain as the comparatively massive man lovingly snapped his spine in half. He wore a bright white surplus suit with… ‘Is that real gold 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 odd spiked capacitors for her electrical powers, but she didn’t have any power running through her. ‘She must only control it, but not generate it herself.’ 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, lines seemed to radiate out from them through the wires on his suit. The two walked 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.

It was finally Seth’s turn, but the realization had set in as Para moved ahead of him. There were no heroes here to train him. The crowd was gone, spread out with their chosen trainees and vying for their teachings to be learned. Para stopped in front of him, barely hidding 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 away and Seth took a step to follow. “What do you mean by-” “I SAID SIT TIGHT!!!" And the mask fell away. "Or do you want to be expelled so late in the game?” The instant Seth had taken that step, Para had dropped all pretense. He didn’t turn back, but Seth could feel the malice he gave off, the fear burning to fuel it. He wasn’t bluffing. Seth retracted his step and stood at attention. Para continued walking off as he watched, his own fear and anger keeping him rooted as Para left the arena.

Seth was ignored, standing stock still as the rest of the trainees were gradually drawn out by their trainers until the arena was empty. He was alone again, he couldn’t even talk with the Garkah. The open roof of the arena letting in the wind and noise of the city. He was left with nothing but his own thoughts, and the itch of his phantom scar. Para must have falsified his stat sheet to dissuade anyone from coming to train him. But if he’s threatening the nuclear option at the slightest misstep then he must feel threatened. Seth couldn’t challenge him, he was still trying to just keep himself. The anger was hollowning him out, and no one was coming to help him any time soon.

Time passed. Minutes. Hours. Lunch was long over. The heroes didn’t return, neither did the trainees. The sun was getting lower, his legs weaker. He knew Para was probably still watching in some way. Listening with his fucking sound powers or something! Then he finally felt it, someone in the control booth. He couldn’t tell who, but knew that they could see him. *bwo* Seth turned to regard the booth, the person who could likely release him. His eyes were sullen, tired. And he was hungry, too hungry. He felt whoever saw him in the booth sympathize. 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 toward the door, hunched slightly as the weight of his body burdened him. As he closed in he could feel the healing field around Mediknight, it wasn’t enough, but its warmth felt nice at least. He powered through and walked out the arena entrance, bee lining straight for the canteen.

It was packed, the trainees were still crowded by their trainers, still passing what wisdom they could while the trainees were still undecided. Seth didn’t care, he just needed food. He hated being hungry, too many memories tied up in that feeling. All of them from the crisis. But he had his saving grace now Ambrose had prepared Golden Tempura Chicken and a plethora of dipping sauces, and holy shit it smelled good. Seth took up the tray… the last tray, must have been more people here than expected. He took his food to the only empty table he could find, but quickly he felt the eyes on him again. A good chuck of the heroes looked at him with disdain, the worst glares coming from the fire heroes surrounding Kabar. He give a shit about them, he was too hungry. He took a bite after dipping. It was like his fatigue and misery melted away. The meat was still moist despite how light and amazing the breading was. The orange sauce he used was tangy but balanced. Even the smoke smelled good… ‘Smoke?‘ Seth looked down at his chicken, fire lapping and blackening it away. He looked up from the charcoal that was once his only salvation for the day to see Hothead with a leveled hand pointed at his plate, heat waves still distorting the air between them. Seth shook like a compressed spring as Hothead lowered his hand and laughed, rising out of his seat with a few of the other fire heroes as they approached his table. “Whoops, sorry. Thought your food looked a little cold from over there. Guess I over did it a little.” The shit eating grin on his face tore at Seth's psyche, his scar clearly defined in its burning itch. But it wasn’t deep yet, he could hold his anger at bay. He took a breath, the spring tension died down. He still had the piece of chicken he was eating in his hand. A small consolation against utter bullshit.

He ignored the heroes as they gave him the stink eye, grabbing the orange sauce he was enjoying. Before he could dip it he felt Hothead inch closer over the table. “You know if you’re going to be this rude to someone saying they're sorry” *woosh* He swiped the chicken piece from Seth’s hand. “Maybe you don’t deserve Ambrose’s-” *crack* Seth snatched his hand like a turbo charged vice grip before he could pull it back in. The spring tension was at terminal levels, his eyes may as well have been burning holes in Hothead’s head, his teeth gritted like a starved animal, and scar was tearing its shape into his skull. The bones in Hothead’s hand snapped more and more with every passing second, his expression a mix of pain and malice at being defied. The other heroes reacted last, leveling nunchucks and powered hands at Seth, but receiving no attention.

“Put the chicken down Hot.” Wait, that's… Makani Samurai? He had walked up behind him without notice, even Kaz had moved up as stealthily. 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 releasing his death grip. Quickly he dipped it into the sauce and scarfed it down like a ravenous beast, glaring at Hothead with a silent growl trying to get him to fuck off! The heroes glared back as they retreated back to their table. Noticeably Kabar stayed, still agitated but not malicious like most of his trainers. Hothead passed Samurai on the way back. “Just needed him to be aware, his ilk aren’t-” *bonk* “Agh!” 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, his smile returned. He and Kaz sat down at Seth’s table, Kaz having brought a leftover plate. Seth eyed it 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 a little too quickly. Seth slumping over, happy and full on the empty tray. He was hamming it up, but the sentiment should be clear. He was grateful.

Kaz and Samurai both looked 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 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 what marginal tension there was. 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 was. He at least avoided personal questions, Seth wasn’t sure he could lie to him anyway. Once dinner was over Seth headed back to his room with the firm knowledge he had three people with power looking out for him now, but also more jackasses to deal with.

The rest of the month was dedicated fully to each trainer’s personal courses. ‘If you had one anyway.’ The lucky few who got multiple either chose one or split their time among each to approach their powers from as many angles. Kabar was spoiled for choice, but had a lot to learn from each of his five fucking masters! The rest chose a favorite or only had one to learn from in the end. David chose Depthcharge, wanting to get stronger through the application of aquatic armor. Also Seth overheard that they were a friend of his mom, so it felt right. Tabby ended up choosing Paleorus, either wanting to enhance her transformations to their highest levels, or just not wanting to go back to overbearing ballet class. She still retained Malerina as a weekend coach so her skills didn’t dull.

Maya’s statuesque… statue, taught her fine control of her constructing. Mixing concrete and slathering it on your hands wasn’t good enough, so Strata taught her how to fully control her materials. Levitating them and shaping them at will. Though she never really bothered lightening her load. Zeleny thrived under Phazer Shock’s tutelage. It seemed like her lasers drew visible light in from around her and used it as power. So the more colorful an immediate area, the more damage her laser could do. It’s probably why she’s so damn green, so she has a more concentrated base to work with. Under Phazer though she learned to use her lasers tactically, dazzling and disrupting as well as destroying. Jacob learned to ice sculpt from Glacial Glaz, creating solid constructs as his team needed. But in turn he crafted more direct attacks with this knowledge, ice spikes, barricades, and even a bit of armor. He also trained up his reaction time, apparently Glaz was pretty quick on the draw like a lot of defensive heroes.

Razor learned some pretty amazing knife techniques from Blade Tone, but also learned to use his creation of knives as a more refined tool. He worked at it and was able to create custom blades, even swords, as well as retain some of the metal created for limited armor use. Though it seemed odd when he first dropped it on Blade Tone. Alex learned proper stealth from Marvelous, how to track eye lines, mimic voices, and blend into the shadows most others would disregard. ‘I mean being a doppelganger is one thing, but a ninja as well… sheesh.’ She also refined her copying even more, using her target’s powers more effectively. Kaz just honed his skills with his dad, though it sure felt like he didn’t really need the training. Marco, under Master Da Feng, learned to harness the air around him to scary levels. Not just straight up attacks, but limited fight, gas separation, even a bit of vacuum creation.

Cleo… learned some dangerous things from Pharaoh Shephten. The full on art of constricting enemies with bindings, the creation of more adaptive creations, and even the means to somehow dye your hair with gold. ‘Seriously, how is his fucking hair gold like that, does he shampoo with gold dust?’ At any rate, she learned to craft proper defensive and offensive constructs, as well as adding strength to the ones she already used. Ohm, for the most part, was unchanged. Under his father he barely learned anything he didn’t already know, but over time his mood seemed to soften at least. That’s all he really needed to do in the end, get his head out of his ass. He did learn to better regulate his intake though, no good losing control just because you needed a few extra joules. Seth on the other hand, he gained a hell of a lot more than anyone could fathom.

Week one had passed with little incident, Seth had been released from waiting for a trainer and resigned his hopes to ever receiving one. Instead he focused on keeping up with the others and training with the Garkah. He never really had the space before, or a private time slot he could use. He just had to time it right so no one was in the control booth watching and no other training sessions were present so he could let loose. When Seth focused, he could feel and see hardlight projectors in the arena, use them as conduits. He’d borrow a little off the top and practice various techniques with the Garkah. They created a few helpful constructs in their spotlight, things he could run data through on his own. They also helped him push his focus outward to pull energy from distance. But they stopped short on a few aspects of his power, apparently it was better for him to find out on his own.

The constructs helped though. Using them he learned to interpret various electrical signals, computerized ones anyway. Organic ones were a completely different ballgame. Using this new internal hardware, he found his way into the Hill’s file systems and found his dossier. It was practically blank, he wasn’t even sure they processed his application completely. He couldn’t edit it yet either, too risky. And he didn’t really know how to, encryption’s hard. But he at least confirmed it. He was getting blacklisted by Para and left to flounder. So… he was going to have to show he had something other than a bit of strength and a suit of armor, show a little power to make things clear. He swapped his next time slot out, at least two other trainer sessions would be present. He was going to show them he wasn’t so powerless.

Seth sat in his room, waiting, focusing, dreading. He held the helmet of his suit in his hands, blank eyes staring back as he played out a few possibilities in his head. If he showed too much he could get in deeper shit. It’s bad enough just having Para hate him for the Berta scenario. If he showed too little he’d be just reinforcing their ideas about him, the bullying would get bad and he’d run the risk of a meltdown if they pushed too hard. It had to be just right, within the bounds that he’s shown off before, and a little more on top to get the point across. This meant using the whisper. He was still working through what the Garkah said he would have to do, take control of all that power, all that hate and anger that narrowly took control last time. His terminal chimed an alert breaking him out of his spiraling thoughts. It was time for the show. He stood up, kept the helmet in one hand and grabbed up the suit in the other. He hoisted it over his back by the open collar and walked out into the periphery. A few of the other trainees milled about waiting for their trainers. Maya, David, and Jacob were hanging out in David’s room as he walked by. The glare from Maya and the fear from David impossible to ignore. But he passed them regardless, he had more pressing attitudes to check.

He reached the door of the arena just as Para came through. Neither changed expression as they stared each other down, but Seth couldn’t help feeling his scar burn deeper into his skull. He looked away first, needing to keep what calm he had, and chose a different door. But that glare held to him, an overly attentive fear still driving Para's attitude. Walking out toward the south side section, there were only the two other teams training. Razor and Blade Tone were sparring, the whistling sound of Tone’s gladiuses was… rather relaxing. It was overlapped by Razor whimpering at the unending assault he was desperately blocking. The other team… just had to be fucking Kabar’s. ‘I mean… it's better if they see it. But dammit why couldn’t it be someone fucking else?’

Seth walked without regarding either team, no sense in looking like you want the attention. But he felt their eyes on his back despite his nonchalance. He put his suit down in the middle of the sector’s training circle, turning only then to meet the glares he was receiving. Kabar was sparring with Phoenix Tech, a few bits of rainbow flame sticking to his suit, but the rest of his trainer group were milling about, all leering at Seth. He grimaced in return, but went back to prepping his suit.

He pulled up the helmet, reaching a hand in and uncoupling a band used to join his head movements to that of the helmet. On the surface it looked technological, circuitry written over it in copper. In reality it was just a piece of conductive metal that he could form around his head. Today though… it became a shadowboxing relay. He put it on his head and socketed the helmet back on the suit. Turning it slightly, he focused up internally. The suit lit up with internal power, arms moved to mimic his. On the surface, he looked like he was setting up to spar his suit with a common shadowboxing program, it read and mimicked the user’s actions through bands similar to his. In reality, the Garkah were tethering to the suit, feeding it his movements to build the illusion. He was going to show them that he was stronger than his suit, and that it was little more than dumb metal. Squaring up to it, he again looked into the now lit up eyes, soft blue light from the ocular sensors. But he still felt the Garkah behind those eyes, and they felt him. He focused, severed the whisper, disseminated the power it offered. It was louder than before, clearer. But still just noise to him. Seth looked up and took a stance, mirrored by the suit with near perfect timing. He held his left up as a block, pulled his right in for a jab, and moved in. Mirror images closed within range and made contact.

Seth shot his jab out, meeting the mimic’s blocking left, while the mimic did the same. The armor clanged loudly, resounded through the arena for all to hear. The plated fist rebounded off his forearm with an added tone. Then he shifted, right block, left jab. Another clang, louder. Again, left block right jab. A steady pace, back and forth. The clangs began resonating, getting louder, shaking the air of the arena. Again, right block left jab. Then suddenly Seth broke the cycle and shifted low on his left jab. The suit ceased mimicking, instead moving to block the low jab. The suit shifted next, a high right, Seth blocked it, all the while the resonance maintained. Seth shifted back up, swinging a right into the suit’s blocking left. The suit shifted back and threw a left, but Seth threw his left in kind. Both recoiled, adding to the resonance, but he was speeding up. Dropping low, he shifting around the suit and struck at the knee. The suit moved to block, but he moved high and struck forearm. He kept the resonance, the rhythm, but outpaced the suit. And it was starting to get louder. He smacked it in the side before it could react, circled it and struck at its other knee. He felt it… the anger seeping in, the scar burning. He snapped a left guard out of the way. He fought it. ‘Keep the rhythm, make them feel it.’ He swung a left across the helmet, turning it on its mount. He gritted his teeth, he couldn’t fight it. He felt the Garkah in those softly glowing eyes. He flashed forward, a right low but pointed up. He slammed an uppercut into the helmet’s chin, shooting it off the collar and into the air. All at once the resonance stopped, Seth stopped. The headless suit slumped over and fell to its knees. Seth snapped back, he over did it, again. ‘Shit shit!!’ He panted and heard the helmet slam back down behind him. He turned to look, taking a deep breath as he saw it wasn’t broken. That was enough, that had to be.

He released the whisper, let the power slip away and dissipate. He put a hand on his suit, it was still warm from the power used to move it, very warm. Grabbing it up, he moved toward the helmet. It was almost at the wall of the arena. So, may as well take a break. Try to work through this shit. He scooped up the helmet as he heaved the suit against the wall, sitting back as well, still breathing heavy. He wasn’t strong enough to hold it back, to stop it influencing him. And it was getting stronger. He held his head in his hands, trying to calm himself, trying to block out the rest of the arena, but it wasn’t enough. He looked over, metal plated head beckoning a little too much. He took up the helmet, staring back into those dead eyes. He dusted it off and put it on, snapping the band on his head back in place and shutting the world out. The gel layer tightening and muffling everything. It worked, he couldn’t hear the whispers of the trainers or even the noise from the city, it was quiet again. Quiet enough to…