Every minute of heroism you see is the result of a hundred hours of hard work.
- Promotional material for the United States Guardian Agency
#
The time was 7:02 AM Tuesday morning and Vivian’s alarm wouldn’t shut up.
Step one of Rachel’s fitness routine was cardio. Vivian had been planning on running anyway—gasping and wheezing to the extent of uselessness at the bank and after the museum had been enough of a wakeup call for her. She was generally fit, but she hadn’t realized just how out of shape her lungs were.
Unfortunately, that meant waking up early so she could get running. Rachel—the same “damn it the sun is rising and I haven’t slept yet” Rachel from high school—regularly woke up at or before 7 after seven to eight hours of sleep. Vivian hadn’t managed that much. The unfortunately familiar slurry of excitement and anxiety kept her up into the wee hours of the night, so she felt like shit right now.
She forced herself to roll out of bed, promising her aching head that she’d feed it enough caffeine to assuage the pain, then blearily brushed her teeth.
Vivian didn’t own proper cold-weather running gear, so she tossed a thin jacket over a sports bra and found the most reasonable pair of sweats she could find. That plus her wireless earbuds and she was as ready for a jog at 7:15 in the morning as a night owl like her could ever be.
Less than fifteen minutes later, she hacked out a cough, struggling for breath. According to her phone, she’d run about a mile and a half at six and a half miles an hour.
Not good enough, she thought. I have to do better.
“Better” was going to have to be a process. She walked her way back to the dorm, where she then realized that running—Rachel suggested three miles of running as if that was humanly possible—was the first of three different exercises followed by ten minutes of stretching in the morning alone.
This was not going to be fun.
#
The day passed by in a blur. Doing something kept the worst of her mind away, and Vivian’s schedule was jam-packed. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday were her fullest days, but Tuesdays still had two classes and Vivian had a new exercise routine to follow.
By the time her last class was over at 3:20 PM, she was a sore, sweaty mess. Rachel’s fitness routine was straight from the SRU’s, so it primarily focused on parts of the body that she was likely to use in situations where she had to fight superhumans. That meant cardio, climbing, swimming, and enough core exercises that Vivian swore some invisible super had snuck into the gym and gone to town on her abdomen.
Vivian had never been so appreciative of a shower. She spent what had to be half an hour luxuriating in the hot water of her suite’s bathroom before toweling off and grabbing her costume.
She opened her phone again, checking for updates from Lachlan. Nothing yet. She’d told him her intention to register herself under the name Mantis Shrimp in the system last night and he’d replied that he could figure that out, but he hadn’t made any progress since.
Vivian: hey any updates on the name situation or nah
And that was that. She was sorely tempted to flop into bed and sleep for three days and three nights, but she couldn’t do that now. After all, there was work to be done.
Homework, that is. Vivian knew she had to look for Pine’s gang, but without Lachlan actively guiding her, all she could do was listen in on the police scanner, and that GPA wasn’t going to maintain itself.
Her plan was simple. Fast-walk into Lafayette—which doubled as practice for Rachel’s hellish exercise routine—then grab a coffee, do her homework, and wait for something super-related to pop up. Vivian had already confirmed with Lachlan that he’d be alright telling her if anyone related to Pine’s gang exercised their powers in the city, and she planned on using the police scanner and calling Lachlan when she got something that sounded suspicious.
It was honestly an extreme pain in the ass to get downtown, since she had to figure out how to pack her costume into her backpack, but pains in the ass were good. Distractions were good.
No supers appeared. Hell, nothing on the scanner was a crime that Vivian could even help with. Lachlan was too busy to help her, and so she whittled time away doing homework and texting Rachel about how vicious her training routine was.
Eventually, she decided she was done for the day and went back to the dorm.
#
The headline came out on Wednesday morning, fifteen minutes after AS 120. Vivian thanked whatever higher power there might be that the article didn’t release until after class was over. She wasn’t subscribed to any local newsfeeds, so the first she heard of it was when her phone buzzed in her jacket pocket as she was doubled over, hands on knees, recovering from her run.
One point seven miles, she thought, checking her fitness app. Still six and a half miles per hour. I’m improving. A bit.
Lachlan: heyo viv
Lachlan: announcemet’s out check it
It linked to a news article with an awful title—something about Mantis Shrimp “punching her way onto the scene”—which then linked to a page on the official SRU wiki.
Mantis Shrimp. Kinetic (D). Overall D-rank. Independent hero. Based in West Lafayette, IN.
Powerset: Mantis Shrimp is a Kinetic with a limited range and power but a wide variety of objects she can affect. For a list of items she has demonstrated control over, [click here].
History: Mantis Shrimp has been credited with playing a key role in mitigating the damage of the following events:
Vivian skimmed the rest of the article. She was doubly glad now that the article hadn’t published during class, because that would definitely raise a lot of eyebrows and start enough conversations to kill her inside.
Lachlan: hey viv——shrimp? Mantis? MS?
Lachlan: idk what you want to be called
Lachlan: you should really make a social media
She sighed, closed her phone, and got back to jogging.
#
Sarah returned just before dinner that night.
It was a quiet affair. Vivian was in the middle of her post-pushup stretches (she could still only do two sets of ten pushups before she needed to rest, and this was apparently part of it) when she heard shoes scuff the linoleum outside her door. She briefly wondered if someone was trying the room across from them, but then the lock clicked and her door swung in.
Her roommate looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Sarah’s usually-styled golden hair hung in a loose mop around her shoulders and her arms were bandaged from shoulder to elbow.
Still, it was a relief to know she was alive and—could she call it well? Not horribly harmed, at least.
Evidently, it was more than just a slight relief for Sarah, because her dull, tired eyes lit up with emotion and she dropped her bag, closing the distance between them in three swift steps.
Sarah threw her arms around Vivian’s shoulders and pulled her into a tight embrace. She almost stumbled back, taken off guard by the sudden hug and the feelings that brought with it, some positive and most bleak, but she returned it best she could.
Vivian’s roommate was a couple of inches shorter than her, which meant when Sarah mumbled a chain of sentences, it was into her shoulder and completely incoherent.
She let go just as suddenly as she’d near-tackled Vivian. “Sorry. I know you—sorry. I just, let me get my thoughts in order.”
“It’s fine,” Vivian said. “You’re still more in order than I usually am.”
And probably less sweaty right now.
Sarah inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “They wouldn’t tell me anything about anything for days. They—“
“They?” Vivian asked.
“The Guardians’ liasons at the ER. They said the situation was still undergoing or something, but the important part is that I finally got cleared for release today and I was so excited to see people I know again.”
“Your arms,” Vivian said dumbly.
“Something to do with the power they said I got,” Sarah said. She smiled weakly, raising a bandaged arm. “Isn’t that cool? I got superpowers for a day. I wish I could remember what I felt like, especially since the cop said I didn’t end up hurting anyone. Thank god for that.”
Vivian chuckled. She couldn’t help herself.
“You seem to be in decently good spirits,” she said. “You alright? I was worried.”
Sarah sighed. “The Guardians gave me more trouble than whatever Killjoy’s thing is. Did you get my text?”
“I did.” Vivian considered how much she wanted to tell Sarah. Too many people already knew her identity. She didn’t want to add one more. “Scared the shit out of me. I did call the police, for what it’s worth.”
“New super too, from what I’m hearing.” Vivian froze at that, but relaxed when it became obvious Sarah didn’t know anything more about that. “Though I haven’t heard much. I haven’t even been allowed on the phone.”
“What happened?” Vivian asked.
“The doctors told me it was antera—no, anteroretrograde amnesia.” Sarah sounded the word out carefully. “I don’t even remember sending that text. Apparently I was incapable of forming new memories for nearly three days.” She shuddered. “That scares me, but apparently it’s just like what happens when you get your teeth pulled.”
“Jesus,” Vivian said. “You’re fine now, though?”
"I’m fine now. I’m sure I’m going to get a thousand questions about it, though.” Sarah groaned. “Thanks for helping me. I’m gonna shower and sleep for three straight days, then I’m going to steal your homework, ‘kay?”
Vivian snorted. “Alright. Take care.”
Empty, useless words. If anyone had told Vivian that when she’d been hurting—and they had, by the dozen—they would and had disappeared into her mind like tears in rain.
She could only hope Sarah was managing better than her. The shorter woman seemed fine, but seeming fine was never the same as being fine.
Vivian didn’t let herself dwell on that lest she start self-reflection again. She dropped and continued her pushup routine.
#
“You run too?” Vivian asked, blearily rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she finagled with what she had now dubbed her “exercise outfit” to make herself feel better about how slapdash it was.
“Yeah, sometimes,” Sarah said. She was already dressed, and unlike Vivian, she actually looked like she wanted to run on five hours of sleep. “You’re just usually asleep by then.”
It was Friday morning and Vivian was doing her best to forget about the two overdue assignments she’d been meant to turn in last night. She’d meant to do them, she really had, but then she’d decided to add power practice to her routine.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
After 11PM, the fast-food plaza behind her dorm closed, which made it a prime spot for her to fool around with her powers largely unseen. Once the parking lots emptied out and the lights were all off, Vivian sneaked into the empty shut-down Dairy Queen, put on the costume she carried in her backpack, and practiced, recording her routine on a notes doc in her phone.
Day 1 power practice
30 min fine control (powders, 8 lb worth)
30 min weight practice (10 lb ball bearings)
30 min target (?) practice
She wasn’t entirely sure what to call the last one, and she wasn’t entirely sure if the training was actually doing anything for her power, but she thought that maybe it was a little easier to hit her makeshift paper targets than it was before.
The long and the short of it was that Vivian was now about twenty percent more confident in her power and about a hundred percent less sure about her ability to pass CS 250.
“You wanna come?” Sarah asked. If the events of the last week had bothered her at all, she didn’t show it. So unfair. She grinned evilly. “I’m a bit out of practice, but I’m not too slow.”
Fifteen minutes and two miles later, Sarah waited patiently while Vivian did her best impression of a fish out of water. The blonde wasn’t even breathing hard.
“Thanks for this,” she said. “I feel great.”
So fucking unfair.
But at least she’d saved someone. She’d done it.
I should be happier.
#
The first few days were incredibly punishing. Waking up at the same time every day, weekends included, was excruciating enough. The fact that it was so incredibly early just added insult to injury. Sarah got up most days alongside her and absolutely dusted her in the morning runs. The physical training regimen had her muscles screaming after every set, though the stretches were apparently supposed to keep that pain from setting in? She wasn’t sure on the details. Something to do with lactic acid buildup.
At the end of the first week, she could run just about two miles at six and a half miles an hour, and she could manage a hundred pushups done throughout a couple hours in sets of ten alongside far too many other core exercises.
Slowly, she grew more comfortable with it. Once she was at the point where the exercises actually came naturally to her, though, Rachel told her to increase the intensity.
So three weeks later, she was running two miles at seven miles an hour, doing a hundred fifty pushups, and near doubling the other exercises.
Now that she was a month into her training, she could see that she was making noticeable strides. Running, though still exhausting, wasn’t knocking her flat on her ass when she needed to take a break after two miles. Her abs were slowly coming into definition, and most importantly—her power was coming into its own.
She wasn’t going to be a building-crushing powerhouse like the Guardian leaders anytime soon, obviously, but where before she’d been able to barely even hold a ten pound weight aloft, she was now able to shakily move it around. Her fine control and targeting, too, were improved, though it was difficult to say how much knowing how to control each individual grain of pepper would matter until she got into a real fight again.
On top of all of that, she’d skimmed some biology notes off of Sarah, doing her best to not completely glaze over when the excitable blonde babbled about her major, and combined with some online searching, she was about 60 percent sure that she knew what body parts she could target for non-lethal takedowns.
Reluctantly, she’d started an Instagram. At Lachlan’s instruction, Vivian had taken a picture of herself in full costume on a remarkably chilly clear afternoon and posted it to her brand-new @mantis-shrimp. She hadn’t checked in on it since, but Lachlan said she was getting a fair amount of attention.
The people in her class proved that right again and again on the occasions she still went to lecture. Vivian shuddered, thinking back to the comments some of the dudes had made towards the mediocre photo of herself. At least nobody’s speculation on the true identity of Mantis Shrimp (usually referred to as Mantis or Shrimp, depending on the person) was anywhere near accurate.
With everything she was doing to improve herself as a hero, something had to give. In this case, it was academics. Her second set of midterms were coming up and she still hadn’t studied at all. Of course, she was still telling Dad that she was doing fine, but Vivian was treading water with her assignments and it wasn’t getting better.
It would’ve been fine if she was getting anything done, but even though all that training was shaping her into someone she could envision as a real superhero, she couldn’t find anything to do with her powers. Sure, she helped get someone’s backpack out of a tree once or twice and her social media presence was ballooning at rates that were honestly scary, but she was still mostly a nobody in a town where nothing happened.
Every night, she would go downtown, find a coffee store, and wait for something to happen. It was October 15th now, but still there were no super events for her to respond to.
That first few days she’d been out had been such outliers that she’d nearly forgotten how lame a city Lafayette was. With Killjoy gone for the time being—apparently for the warmer, noisier shores of New York City, according to Lachlan—the college town and adjacent end-of-the-line city were dead silent.
So now here she was, trying to finish the last of her assignments at this cafe before it closed at 10:30 with her breakcore playlist at an unhealthily high volume, waiting for something to happen.
She sighed, checking her phone for the umpteenth time tonight.
vivy77: bro its so fucked
vivy77: I rlly should just focus up on school
sparrow: hey I mean good thing the city’s safe right
vivy77: oh for sure just yknow
vivy77: I have nothing to do
And the restlessness is back, she didn’t add. Learning that Lisa was still alive, if barely, and very slowly recovering had sapped at the stew of negativity within her, but it had quickly been overtaken by the buzzing. Even when she used her power, it barely went away.
How did the other supers manage? Lachlan had told her that the Lafayette Guardians were semi-regularly contracted out to other cities to deal with their issues, but what about the villains? What the hell was Pine doing to cope with this?
sparrow: I mean if u REALLY need it u could honestly go to like indy or something
sparrow: just stay out of chicago. Trust me.
vivy77: fuck man maybe this weekend we’ll see
sparrow is typing…
The temperature dropped ten degrees.
Vivian’s skin prickled enough for her to whip her head around, looking for the source of the sudden chill. The barista looked just as confused as she must.
That was when they heard the sirens.
“All units,” the police scanner app blared into her ear roughly seven seconds later, “Guardians are engaging with an unidentified super at the Tippecanoe County Superhuman Jail. Available units, shut down the Sagamore parkway at the Wabash and North 9th intersections. All units at the jail, do not engage. Evacuate immediately. Intel says it’s an A-rank. If you’re close, run.”
It went silent.
“Ah, shit,” Vivian said. “You mind grabbing this for me?”
The barista made a noncommittal grunt. “Cold out. You gonna be alright?”
“Yeah.” Vivian was already out the door.
She shrugged on her costume as quickly as she could once she found a dark alley. It was absolutely frigid out, so she kept her gloves on. The skirt stayed in the backpack this time. It impeded her ability to run, and she needed that.
According to her maps app, she was two miles from the jail. Her record time for two miles had been set two days ago. She’d done two miles in fifteen minutes, and that had been in running clothes, not her costume.
Vivian put her helmet on and inhaled deeply.
I can’t be too late. I won’t.
She ran like she had never run before.
#
Thirteen minutes. It took her thirteen full minutes to sprint to the jail.
The temperature drop had been noticeable in the cafe, but it only got worse as she continued. Vivian was deeply grateful that she was both running and wearing insulating clothing, because the temperature went from “cold snap in October” to “snap your nose off frigid” in a matter of minutes. By the time she was within half a mile of the jail, the exposed parts of her skin physically hurt.
Vivian saw the police cars first. Ice formed on windows, which were impenetrably frosted over. She kept herself moving, intent on keeping the blood flowing so she didn’t die of hypothermia here and now.
Half a dozen police cars sat with their strobe lights flashing, though Vivian couldn’t see any officers outside their cars. Good decision, she thought. She was freezing. A corner of her helmet’s display told her the temperature here was about negative fifteen degrees Fahrenheit. At best, she was dressed for forty degrees warmer. Vivian’s teeth chattered involuntarily. Her hands and feet had long since gone numb, which was odd since they still hurt despite the lack of sensation when she touched anything.
Despite the biting cold, there was one person outside, hovering ten feet above the ground with a megaphone by his side.
Normally, Vivian would’ve said she was growing tired of seeing Alexander’s face by now, but it had been a while. She was grateful that there was one hero, at least.
“Alexander!” she shouted. “What’s the situation?”
The other hero wasn’t even shivering. So unfair.
He turned to her slowly, rotating midair. “Mantis. Good to see you’re here. There’s an unknown A-rank super inside the jail by the holding cell where we keep Ephialtes. Lycoris is inside trying to contain them, but she’s not going to be able to hold them down. We don’t want casualties here, and the A-rank knows that, so he’s holding them hostage.”
Alexander delivered the entire monologue in a quick, snappy few seconds, then went back to the megaphone. When he spoke through it, his demeanor shifted entirely. Vivian wondered if he was trying to sound better on any potential recordings of the act.
“Unknown super! This does not have to end in disaster. Lower your power and come to the table to talk to us. The Guardians can do a lot for you. More than you can possibly imagine.”
If Vivian wasn’t so goddamn cold, she would have made a face at that. Here stood a man who’d clearly been coerced into the Guardians trying to coerce others in.
Well, she knew he was an asshole anyway. He’d told her a lot of pretty words and justifications, none of which made up for the fact that he’d directed a Washer to control Vivian’s mind.
But she was chilled to the bone, and right now that cold-generation super seemed like a lot more of an issue than any moral qualms she had with the Guardians.
“If you had our comms, this would be a lot easier,” Alexander said. It took Vivian a moment to realize he was talking to her. The cold was addling her response time. “Lycoris is—“
“Who is Lycoris?” Vivian asked.
“B-rank Eso/Mover from Chicago. She’s trying to figure out a way to get the hostages out. They’re sheltering in a bunker in the center of the jail.”
“What does she do?”
“That’s classified.” Alexander winced, putting a finger to his ear. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell her.” Was he—ah, right, he’d implied he had a line of communication to his fellow hero. Lycoris must’ve chewed him out, given the expression. “She can take herself out of the line of fire a few times per day via teleportation to a pre-designated anchor. That’s all you need to know.”
Great. Now she had a half-baked idea of what one hero did and another “your path is worse” sales pitch from Alexander. And she was still freezing her extremities off.
“How much do we know about—“ Vivian started, and then Alexander barked out a warning and she stepped back in confusion.
The Aegis reached into a pocket of his Greek-armor-resembling costume and withdrew a perfectly preserved red lily. It started to wilt immediately the moment it came in contact with the frigid air, but it wasn’t just the frost forming on its surface that killed it. The vibrant red petals blackened as it shriveled like it was rotting in fast motion, and then it crumbled into dust.
A crack that sounded entirely too much like Lachlan’s pistol split the quiet night apart and a woman clad in red armor and a red cloak tumbled into existence out of thin air.
She landed hard on the frosty ground, catching herself in a half-roll and getting to her feet with a flourish. Her mask hid only her eyes, so Vivian saw the self-assured showman’s smirk Lycoris offered her. To her credit, it looked genuine. Vivian wondered how long she’d been working on that.
“So you’re Shrimp!” Lycoris exclaimed, not quite able to hide the chatter in her voice. Vivian startled at the sound of her voice—she’d expected someone older, since the Esoteric-type was a good half foot taller than her, but Lycoris could’ve been Vivian’s age or even younger. “I’ve seen the clips! So excited to meet you. Wish it was at a better time.”
“Lycoris. Hurry it up.” Alexander lowered himself to the ground and set the megaphone aside. “You got hurt.”
“Walked it off,” Lycoris said with an easy smile. “The super’s a dude, black bodysuit and sunglasses, total douchebag. Five foot seven, maybe eight? I’m taller than him. Don’t think he liked that. He’s got Ephi—Ephiuh—help me out here, man.”
“Ephialtes,” Vivian supplied. She shivered. Under better circumstances, indeed. Lycoris seemed something like Sarah, and Vivian would’ve loved to talk to her if she wasn’t currently bouncing from side to side to keep her blood from freezing in her veins.
“Yeah, her!” Lycoris said, snapping a gloved finger. “So I threatened to shoot him and said there were a bunch of police officers out here ready to shoot him if he moves and then he said that if I shoot him he’ll freeze all the workers there to death. I think there’s like twenty of them.”
Okay, not quite like Sarah. Lycoris delivered the entire story in a single breath without pausing and somehow managed to sound relaxed throughout the entire thing.
“Oh, right, I think he tried to make a point by freezing my arms off.” The casual indifference with which she said that impressed Vivian. Nobody my age should be that calm about almost dying. “That’s when I jumped back. I only have one anchor left for now.”
“Timeframe on an escape attempt?” Alexander asked. “Lockdown was asleep. He’s on his way, but it’s going to be ten, maybe fifteen minutes before he gets here.”
He didn’t even look in Vivian’s direction. Lycoris gave her glances as she talked, but even she was barely considering her.
“Definitely less than that,” Lycoris replied. “He’s running out of patience. Can you get him fast?”
“I’m not a Brawler,” Alexander said, frustrated. “Anything I do won’t debilitate fast enough. Damn. We might just want to do damage control here. Let Ephialtes go.”
Let her go? When Vivian had gone through so much to take her in in the first place?
She must have said part of that out loud, because Lycoris shrugged in response. “Sorry, Shrimp. Is what it is. Sometimes you lose. It’s just part of the game. Can’t have anyone dying, hey?”
“We’ll see what we can do,” Alexander told her. As if he was talking to a civilian.
Vivian needed to make herself useful. Prove that she had what it took to get into Arina. Show these two—well, mostly Lycoris—that she was worthy of their respect.
Except it was freezing out, and it wasn’t going to get any better. Vivian was already slowing down as numbness crept up her limbs.
That just means I need to do something now.
What would a real hero do? What would Sunrise do? She couldn’t ask him now, but she could imagine.
Look at the variables, he’d said in an interview once. Understand what I’m working with. That’s part of my response to everything, whether that’s helping an old man cross the street or fighting a Cataclysm.
Variables. What did she have? Alexander and Lycoris—if they even wanted to help her and share more about their powersets—and her own gear. That was it.
Her power buzzed as loud as it ever had, practically begging to be used, and Vivian formulated an idea that could charitably be interpreted as a plan.
“H-hey,” she said, cringing at the uncontrollable shaking in her voice. It was way too cold. Both heroes turned to look at her. “I want to t-try something.”
She explained the thought she’d had.
And, unfortunately, realized quite quickly that it sounded even dumber spoken out loud. Vivian soldiered on anyway.
When she was done, neither of the other supers replied for a long handful of seconds that may as well have been hours.
Lycoris burst out laughing, breaking the silence, and Alexander just sighed.
Vivian’s heart sank, tight in her chest, but then Lycoris threw an arm around her shoulders.
“You got a spark,” she said. “Don’t know if you’re brave, suicidal, or just plain powerful, but I like it. Let’s do this, Shrimp.”
Mantis, Vivian didn’t correct her. She hadn’t earned the right to do so yet.
“Fine,” Alexander said. “It’s your funeral.”
“Ready?” Lycoris asked once the first step was complete. She held out an open palm, a fresh lily placed between her fingers.
Vivian grinned nervously, rubbing her hands together. “Never.”
She sprinted towards the iced-over jail, and the other supers followed.
For the first time since she’d murdered a man, she felt like a real hero.
Time to see how long that would last.