I only needed one thing from the room that had been my home for the past six years. At the bottom of the locker where I stored my masks and jumpsuits was a bundle that I had been saving since before I came to the Academy. It contained everything I needed to transform into Death’s Dancer.
“Death’s Dancer,” I whispered my name to the empty room, and it shivered slightly in response. Or maybe that was just the adrenaline making me shake. I’d been calling myself that for years, but soon the whole world would fear that name and the masked face behind it.
Unzipping the backpack, I discovered a pair of jeans, a black t-shirt, and a grey hoodie. With time rapidly ticking away, I wasted no time in stripping off my black jumpsuit and stuffing it in the backpack, along with the bundle containing my costume.
I hesitated for a moment, scanning the room. Like the rest of the Academy, it was a featureless grey box. The only personal item was a small framed picture of my parents, sitting on the nightstand. I picked it up and traced a finger over the glass. They had given it to me when I first came to live here so I wouldn’t feel lonely, or so they claimed. To tell the truth, I felt no more alone here than I had when I lived with them in our cookie cutter suburban house on the outskirts of Calgary. They were always off working and had little time or interest in their only child.
I tucked the picture into my backpack anyway. No point leaving it for whoever cleaned out our rooms.
With five seconds to spare I stepped into the hallway, where Gran was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Without a word she set off, past the eleven doors of my classmates who lived on the same floor, and to the main staircase. We zigzagged down the levels in complete silence, with only the thumping of Gran’s boots and the much softer squeaking of my new running shoes marking our passage.
It was fully light out now, although the sun still hung low in the sky over the stunted trees north of the Academy. My breath fogged in the crisp air, creating a miniature cloud, in the centre of which sat a black car with tinted windows.
The cloud dissipated, but the car remained. It was sitting in the front driveway, a rarely-used expanse of gravel covered in the remnants of badly-cleared snow. The Academy’s location in a remote northern region of Canada meant we got a lot of snow, little fresh food, and almost no visitors, which was precisely what the organization running the school wanted. The Rubes liked everything to run in a controlled environment.
Gran slid into the driver’s seat and revved the engine. I hurried to the passenger side before she could leave without me, barely closing the door before she pulled away in a crunch of gravel. I pressed my nose against the tinted window to get one last glimpse of what had been my home, grey and depressing as it was. We turned a corner, placing the sun behind the building, which turned it into a dark boxy shadow, looming over me. I shivered at the sight and quickly turned around in my seat, suddenly happy to be leaving it behind.
“Where are we going?” I asked Gran, watching the featureless white landscape flash past. The Academy was the only building for at least a couple hundred kilometres in all directions, and the barren tundra surrounding it offered no clues about our destination.
Gran remained silent for long enough that I had resigned myself to the fact that she was simply ignoring me, when she unexpectedly spoke.
“We’re on our way to the nearest train station, where I’ll drop you off with a direct ticket to Toronto.”
“Toronto...” I stared blankly out the window as I ran through my mental list of everything I’d learned about the city, which wasn’t much. It was the largest city in the Great Lakes area and a founding member of the Intercontinental Free Trade Agreement in the year 2101. And I only remembered that because we’d been discussing the relationship between free trade and smuggling in class a few weeks ago.
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It was also one of only fifty cities around the globe with a permanent RUBE headquarters. I scowled. Even as a full-fledged supervillain it looked like I wouldn’t be able to get out from under their thumb. I hadn’t really expected to - after all, they did pay for my training, and we had been told they would help us get set up in a new city. Still, it would have been nice to spend some time without the Rubes breathing down my neck, watching my every move.
As far as I could remember, there hadn’t been a supervillain in Toronto for the past two years, not after the last one died in that tragic accident involving his own death trap and a bucket of nuclear waste. We had analyzed his death in class, but our teachers never explained why the Rubes hadn’t bothered to replaced him. Maybe I would have a chance to find out.
I grinned then, enthusiasm bubbling up inside me. Rubes or no Rubes, I was heading off to my very own city. If I played my cards right, this time next week I could be a world-famous supervillain. There would be proper skyscrapers, and crowds of people to terrify, and...
The car lurched to a halt in front of the train station, putting a stop to my fantasizing. Gran booted me out of the car before placing a cellphone, a passport, and a rectangle of stiff paper in my hands.
“I’ll leave you now,” Gran said, shaking my hand with a grip as solid as steel. “Someone will be picking you up from the station in Toronto. Don’t worry about finding them, they’ll find you. And take that mask off before you go inside.”
My hands flew to my face. Now I understood why one corner of Gran’s mouth was curled upwards in what might have almost been called a smile.
“Oh, don’t act like I just asked you to undress in public. They’re not going to let you on a train looking like a supervillain, so you had better get used to it.”
My hands shook as I slipped the elastic strap from behind my head, letting the mask fall away from my face. I crumpled it tightly in my fist. The cold air sent shivers up my spine as it brushed against my unprotected cheeks. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been anywhere without a mask on. Despite my hoodie and jeans, I felt naked, my face exposed to the world. “There.”
Gran said nothing, just gave a terse nod. Then her eyes clouded over and she grabbed my shoulders, leaning in close. Her breath smelled of peppermint, fresh and sharp.
“You don’t have to do this, you know.” Gran’s grip was painfully tight. “I could help you escape, start over. Live a long, full life, free from heroes and villains.”
I stared at her, not sure I had heard correctly. She gave me a little shake, and then I understood, everything snapping into clear focus. This was another test, just like everything else had been in the past six years at the Academy. I pulled free from Gran’s grasp.
“Thanks, but I know what my future holds, and it’s full of triumph and supervillainy, not hiding under a rock until I die of old age.” I expected Gran’s typical nod of satisfaction at a correct answer, but she only looked away, eyes fixed on the gravel at my feet.
Before I had time to ask any more questions, she hopped back into the car and gunned the engine, peeling away with a speed reminiscent more of race car drivers than old ladies. In a matter of moments, I was alone outside the train station.
I pulled up the hood of my oversized black sweatshirt, drawing some comfort from the way it drooped over my forehead, partially obscuring my face. I was suddenly painfully aware that I had not left the Academy compound in six years. All the practice scenarios in the world weren’t enough to prepare for real life.
The train station loomed in front of me, its fluorescent outside lights creating a multitude of shadows on the ground around me as they battled with the early morning sunlight. There was a faint scent of oil in the air, the smell of far-off places and adventure.
I stuffed the cellphone and passport into my backpack before examining the rectangle of paper Gran had given me. It was a first-class ticket for a high-speed train leaving for Toronto at 8:30 am, which, based on the convenient clock hanging above the station’s main entrance, was in 25 minutes.
Squaring my shoulders, I glared at the entrance to the train station, daring it to defy me entrance. I was Death’s Dancer, the most powerful supervillain in the world, and I was ready to start my reign of terror.