"Jesus," Javon breathed, as another deafening crash rang out somewhere far too close at hand for comfort. He understood the necessity of letting them battle like this, of gauging the students' progress both in combat and mastery over their powers, as well as the level of strategic thinking they could employ against such a wide variety of opponents, but some of these students were definitely taking it too far.

He was alone in his corridor, trotting down the path at a swift pace. So far, he had managed to secure two chips, which was two more than he had expected.

His opponent seemed to have barely escaped his last battle with his limbs, panting so hard his lungs seemed to be on the verge of exploding. It felt almost wrong to attack him when he was in such a state, but it came with the territory. Plus, his opponent had had three chips on him, a sign that he had managed to defeat at least two opponents, which meant Javon couldn't give him the time to recover.

He had a sneaking feeling his next opponent wouldn't be so easy, however.

As he walked, two more students came into view in front of him. One of them was bouncing backwards on his toes, his fingers outstretched like guns, and firing off pellets of green energy at the girl who was advancing from the other end of the corridor, but they bounced harmlessly off of her. The girl was even bigger than Charlie, and her facial features seemed oddly distorted, which confirmed Javon's suspicions that she had somehow transformed. With the grunts of rage she was emitting as she stomped through the hall and the way the boy's energy blasts were proving utterly ineffectual, Javon had a strong feeling this fight wouldn't be going on for much longer. The duo disappeared down a hallway to the left, taking absolutely no notice of him.

Javon expelled a sigh, then resumed his slow trek onwards. He didn't know what he had expected. Of course he would have loved to be charging into the heat of battle like everyone else, testing himself, showing the progress he had made, but his abilities simply weren't suited for battle.

In a family of practicing Heroes, all of whom were making their mark in the field as established powerhouses taking down criminal after criminal, it was one of the biggest disappointments of his life being born with the skillset he had. Either he lay helpless, unable to do anything but heal his opponent and give them an even greater edge to beat him down with, or he would simply kill them. There was no in-between.

Wildfire had done his best with his hand-to-hand training, and the results had certainly shown themselves, which was how he had managed to defeat his earlier foe in the first place. Still, the boy had been quite tough, even as he looked like he'd just escaped from the clutches of an industrial blender. But judging by the noises emanating from all around him, fists weren't going to do much against whoever was lurking around these corners. It was excruciating. He wanted nothing more than to be done with this, to throw his chips at whoever rounded the next passage and call it a day, but a part of him would be ashamed of such an act. He wanted to fight, even if he couldn't. Surrendering without even trying would be worse than trying and failing at the hands of someone superior.

Javon idly wondered how the others were doing, whether or not any of them had been eliminated yet. Then again, through sheer dumb luck or whatever it was, he was still here. Most likely they were too.

"Well, this is a surprise."

Javon stopped dead, halting in place with his foot halfway off the ground. He turned slowly towards the source of the voice, unfamiliar and male. The boy standing at the opposite end of the hall donned the gold and white of Zeus. He was tall, lean, and muscular, with a wide smile beneath a head of bright brown hair slicked back over light blue eyes.

"A surprise to be sure, but a pleasant one," he added.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"No, I don't think you do. My name is Kurt. But I already know who you are. Given how few of us there are at Helix, much less in the first year, I like to keep tabs on the ones that are actually here."

"Right." Javon didn't have a clue what he was talking about, but it didn't matter. If he was going to be eliminated by anyone, he supposed a Zeus resident wouldn't be too bad. "Well, can we get this over with, then? Though I'd ask you to avoid the face. Healing there takes a lot more effort than normal for some reason."

Kurt blinked in evident confusion. "Sorry?"

"You're gonna beat me up, right? Then afterwards take my chip and move on to your next victim. Whatever, I can't stop you, I'm just asking you to make it quick."

"Ah, now I understand. But see, I think you're the one who's confused here. You believe that I'm like the classmates we can hear going at it from all around us, abnormally strong and destructive and ready to beat you to a pulp."

"Well, aren't you?"

Kurt actually laughed. "I can't tell if you're curious or annoyed, but no, I'm not. See, the reason I said this was a pleasant surprise is because I find it amusing that of two hundred odd students down here, I stumble into you. You think I'm like them, but you're wrong. Ironically, I'm more similar to you than anyone else. Like you, I'm also a healer."

Javon heard the words, but didn't process them. He remained silent for a few seconds, frowning in puzzlement as he gazed at his new adversary.

"A healer?"

"Yep."

"You?"

"Mmm hmm."

"In Zeus?"

"I feel like I've already answered this question."

"But that's impossible!" Javon cried.

"Is it?" Kurt took a step forward, and though he didn't give even the slightest sign of aggression, Javon felt a shiver of tension race down his spine. "See, that's why I'm glad I found you. There's a pretty awful stereotype surrounding our category of hero, perpetuated even by the very people who fall into that category, stating that because our primary power is recovery, we can't handle ourselves. That we're useless. That may be true for you, and, yes, for many other healers, but it's not the same for all of us. Nor does it have to stay that way.

"A lot of heroes don't have inherently battle-oriented powers, yet they still find their place fighting on the front lines and rescuing civilians. And that's my goal. To be out there, with my peers, driving back the bad guys while using my gifts to save the lives of those who we were sent to protect. It is possible to do both."

"And how do you do that?" Javon's tone was caught somewhere between skeptical and aggressive, but inwardly, he was genuinely curious. Hand-to-hand was a great skill to have, but if that was the only thing in Kurt's arsenal, he wouldn't last long on the front lines.

"I'm glad to explain. Partially because I want you to know that this doesn't have to be your limit. And partially because you won't be able to replicate this skill anyway. At least, not at this point in time.

"You already know how the Dorms are sorted, of course. They examine our individual physical attributes, then give us a final test to secure an orb, where we'll demonstrate the combination of all of those qualities, plus our level of tactical thinking and how well-developed our powers are. The reason I'm in Zeus, which you obviously have some trouble believing, is because I have excellent physical prowess, and a very tactically sound mind."

"Don't forget great humility."

"There's nothing wrong with taking pride in your achievements," he said unabashedly, brushing off the sarcastic barb. "But the biggest reason I'm there is because I'm not an ordinary healer. See, the power to heal is a hereditary trait in my family. My grandfather had it, and so did my father as well. It's an excellent ability to support one's allies, but my grandfather found a way to utilize it in his favor as well."

His hands, which had been folded behind his back the entire time he spoke, now came around. He grasped his index finger in one hand, and by the time Javon realized what he was about to do, it was too late. A sharp crack echoed through the hallway, making Javon jump.

"Why did you do that?!" he said, fighting a sudden, powerful urge to dash over and heal him. Much as he hated being a healer, helping others was a habit that had been deeply ingrained in him.

Kurt hadn't so much as winced when he snapped his finger. Instead, still looking perfectly serene, he held it out to Javon. There was the tiniest of pauses, an infinitesimal hesitation, then he heard the telltale crackling of bone realigning itself with inhuman speeds. Except, Kurt had made no effort to heal himself.

"So you can regenerate?" Javon asked, calming down as the pieces fit into place. That's your secret?"

"Not quite. Regeneration is a useful ability, but not on the same level as this. As a healer, I have the power to produce a unique kind of energy that initiates and speeds up the healing process on contact. You know how that works, seeing as you have the same power, albeit with some minor differences. That's what I'm doing now. I infused my entire body with that energy, galvanizing my cells and keeping them suspended in that state. Not only does it make them more resilient and increase longevity, the instant something is damaged, no matter the severity, the healing process kicks in and immediately repairs it.

"Hit by a car, stabbed in the heart, arms lopped off — you name it, it's probably happened to either me or my father or grandfather. And yet, here we are, as perfectly healthy as we were the day before. While this power is in effect, we can't get hurt. So no, not regeneration; think of it more as pseudo-immortality."

Somewhere down the line of his explanation, Javon's mouth had fallen open. That was far more impressive than regular regeneration, he had to admit.

"So that's how you'll fight on the front lines?" Javon asked. "By being virtually unkillable?"

"Well, that, plus refined fighting skills and a superior intellect." Kurt shrugged, then his face lit up with a mischievous smirk. "Possibly even a few more tricks as well. But in essence, yes. But don't worry, if you're still having trouble believing me, I'm more than happy to give you a practical demonstration."

Before, Javon was content with simply letting himself be eliminated. After all, there wasn't much he could do like this. But now a fire was burning within him, most likely the same one blazing in the hearts of the students scattered around them.

"Bring it on," he said, and pausing only to give him another cheeky grin, Kurt charged forward.

The song of bone and metal colliding in midair filled the narrow hallway. It was an odd, grating sound, yet strangely melodic in a way. Maddison twisted and turned in the corridor as more and more stakes came zipping her way. Some she met before they got too close, knocking them off course with a well-aimed knife. The others, the ones she wasn't fast enough to stop midway, she blocked, switching gracefully between offense and defense as she wielded two long, slender rods of bone shaped like femurs.

It was a long, grueling, tedious battle, forcing her way forward while she had to repel ten different projectiles all of which seemed to be sentient, weaving through the air of their own volition. That was a testament to the wielder's skill; each movement was not only fast and sharp, but well-calculated. No doubt this boy had been training hard for years on end, to great reward.

The talking stage of their battle was long over. Now, the only sounds that swept through the hall were grunts and yells of effort as each fighter struggled to overwhelm the other.

To an outsider, at best, it would seem like a stalemate. At worst, it was definitely not in Maddison's favour. That had some truth to it: long ranged battles were poor match-ups for her, which was why she had worked so hard to perfect her aim, learning to throw these knives with enough accuracy and force to pin down distant enemies and deal deadly damage. Of course, there would obviously be more trouble with mobile opponents, such as ones who could fly, but this was different. Her enemy wasn't bouncing around, dodging wildly. No, he was almost completely still. The problem was that his vicious offense could also pose as an impeccable defense.

Every stray knife she threw was immediately intercepted by one of ten bolts of metal moving so fast they were almost blurs. Every time she drew closer a swarm of them rose up to push her back, like a hive of avenging iron bees. But the thing was, she was drawing closer. Inch by inch, step by step, she was making progress. True, she had quickly been rebuffed nearly every time she did, but she was pushing back with equal measure, and her quarry, no doubt recognizing this, was inching backwards more and more.

He was immensely skilled, there was no denying that. The problem was, Maddison had more or less figured out his strategy. A few minutes of careful observation had revealed several important truths to her: one, his range wasn't as wide as he would have liked. If it was, Maddison had no doubt that he would have been standing at the very end of the corridor, letting his stakes do the dirty work from an even greater distance than he was currently at. Yet though he was steadily inching backwards, it didn't escape Maddison's notice that he maintained roughly the same space each time. Which meant there was only one likely conclusion. Those strings couldn't work outside of a certain distance.

The second thing she noticed was the pattern. He had clearly, and smartly, trained to weave the movements of these objects with perfect grace and speed, being able to manipulate each object simultaneously, but he was still only human.

Effort, concentration, could only last for so long. The human mind could only do so much. Eventually, if only for a brief second, he would fall into a lull, unable to split his focus on every single stake at once given the number of things he was trying to do with all of them. Either he would fall back on muscle memory, letting the objects rove around in a random, but still practiced manner, or they would remain still for a second too long. The fight had been going for as long as it was because Maddison was taking her time, making the proper assessments and formulating appropriate countermeasures.

Her opponent was fighting with surgical precision, despite the fact that he was caught in the heat of battle, which usually tended to be messy. She respected his efforts, but she really did need to get along, she had three more chips to collect.

The opening she was looking for came moments later. As she had expected, a few steps forward brought two stakes rushing towards her, while a third held back, his focus split on stopping her advance and using the other stakes to deflect the shower of knives she had just flung. She let them come, slamming into her unusually dense body. As expected, he immediately recognized the situation and moved to act on it, curling the stakes around her limbs once more. Maddison moved with as much speed as she could muster, using her staff to repel the stakes, but instead of completely batting them away, she followed up with a hastily produced knife. It had sprung into existence so quickly that it was rather sloppily designed compared to her usual standard, but given the circumstances she felt it was a forgivable mistake. This time she focused on the cutting power of the blade, making it far sharper than she would have dared use on any student. As she had hoped, the strings burst apart as the knife cleaved through, and the metal stakes clattered lamely to the ground.

Now an expression of pure, unbridled shock overtook his furious visage. This was something that had never happened before; the way his jaw dropped was proof enough of that. But she wasn't done there. She turned and threw a second knife, batting away the third lolling stake and opening the path for a third dagger that she took great care to conceal until the moment it left her hand.

True to his nature, he absorbed the shock and readied for battle almost immediately, his fingers probing through the air once again. Unfortunately, the dagger had reached its target before any nearby stakes could intercept.

"Ow!" He yelped furiously, flashing his hand as the blade slit the backs of his fingers. Streaks of red peppered the floor and Maddison seized her chance. She leapt to the wall, her jumps boosted by her minor levitational powers, and then pushed off towards him. She turned her fall into a roll and jumped up, sweeping his feet out from underneath him. Giving him no time to regain his bearings, she forcefully folded his arms over his chest and tenderly placed a dagger on top of his interlaced fingers.

"What — what is this?" He tried valiantly to rise, but found that his body couldn't move an inch.

"You'll find that dagger a bit difficult to shift away. I increased the density a hundredfold before I dropped it. Maybe our super strong classmates wouldn't have much trouble with it, but I doubt you're going anywhere any time soon. Do you want to do the countdown to four minutes, or should I?" Maddison asked, smiling down at him.

He glared up at her, struggled for a few more seconds, then sighed in defeat.

"I concede," he said loudly and clearly.

With that, she plucked the knife off of him, restoring it to its normal density once again. Declaring defeat signified the end of the match. Even if one said it to trick their opponents, speaking the words aloud meant that the fight was completely over in the eyes of the teachers, regardless of context.

He got to his feet, his left hand caressing his bloody right.

"That was a very good match," Maddison said. She didn't say it out of politeness, or to spare his feelings. It really had been an excellent battle.

He sighed again, this time managing to slip in a groan. "Yes, I suppose it was." He reached up to his throat, where his starting chip was suspended around another bright green thread. She took it, but held up her hand as he made to slide up the back of his compass.

"No thanks, I got what I needed."

He stared at her, an eyebrow raised. Then he shrugged. "No points for work not done, right?" he said, echoing Professor Elliott.

Maddison nodded but otherwise gave no response. With that, she turned back down the corridor she had been walking before the ambush. To her surprise, she was only a few steps away when his voice called out behind her.

"Any hope for a rematch in the future?"

Maddison didn't turn around, but she stopped, considering the question. Finally coming to her decision, she set off once again. "I'm always in the Gym on Saturdays and Sundays, usually up to Lunchtime. If you can find the time, I'll be there."