Training with his armor was something of a priority. It could mean the difference between life and death in a fight (although dying wasn’t super likely, especially down here. Killing another super tended to bring more heat down on a rookie than they were able to handle), and it certainly could mean the difference between being injured and getting away clean.

And, hopefully, it would allow him to move at speeds beyond what a human should be capable of without liquefying his insides. Even though he had done it before, the thought still excited Dylan. He had dreamt of powers for so long, and he was finally living his dream. It wasn’t quite like he had imagined when he was younger. He had always pictured himself with some other power, like super strength, or something like Judgement had, becoming a being of living energy.

Dylan wasn’t disappointed with what he got, however. His power was extremely versatile, if not as strong as some others. If he had to put it in terms of sheer power, it would probably rank in the middle of mid-tier. However, in terms of versatility, it was almost certainly high tier. That alone was something to be thankful for.

He could have gotten a useless power, like the ability to know how to comb his hair perfectly, or the ability to see an extra color. Powers this weak were rare, with most falling into the mid-tier, but they did exist.

Or even worse than that, he could have gotten a burdensome power. These weren’t always weak. In fact, most of them were too strong. Too strong to be used, often too strong to be around people at all. The most famous example had to be that of Helion. He wasn’t an ancient god, despite the name.

Instead, he had the power of a star inside of him, quite literally. He was nearly invincible, one of the strongest to ever walk the earth, but it came at a cost. He leaked. Out of his pores pored radiation and heat. Opening his eyes caused intense solar flames to boil forth. Because of this, he couldn’t be around humans very often. He had an extraordinary physique, granted by his powers, that lent him near perfect control over himself. He often sat in the upper atmosphere, pores sealed, eyes shut, meditating, waiting to be called upon.

Helion was one of the coolest examples of burdensome powers, one both noble and useful. Others were not so lucky. Some exploded. Others had to live with terrifying mutations, or lost their minds. There were a whole host of negative, terrifying effects that could come with a burdensome superpower.

Dylan remembered hearing about the story of one young man, a wannabe superhero from about 20 years prior. He was fantastically powerful, with the ability to emit terrifying blasts of energy from his hands. He could use this energy to fly, move at superhuman speeds, create shields out of it. It was a high tier power, bordering on peak.

As for the rookie hero, he was loved by the community. He was selfless, quick to respond, always happy to help. Nobody had a second thought about him, until some of the villains he captured started to die of cancer.

When it happened to the first one, it didn’t raise any red flags. Being in the business was dangerous. Plenty of people got exposed to chemical, or radiation, or were experimented on or some such. Hell, the guy could have just been unlucky enough to get cancer randomly.

It was when the second incarcerated villain went down that people started to look closer at the situation. Forgotten reports of people getting sick in the new hero’s passing were recovered. Investigations into old battle sites were undertaken. Investigators found high levels of radiation present.

Once they were able to confirm that the source, the super, was locked away, deep in a government vault under the earth. He was delivered food through lifts and pipes nearly half a mile long.

Dylan couldn’t remember his name, but he could remember the cost to fix all of the damage: Nearly 500 million dollars. The super was only active for about 2 months.

It was powers like such as those that made people afraid of their children developing them. There were more mundane examples. Powers that weren’t particularly useful but covered up a particular body part. Imagine being an ordinary salaryman, and one day you wake up and have flippers instead of hands, and can’t accomplish nearly anything anymore. Or being unable to control your ability to swap places with anyone within 5 feet of you. Potentially dangerous, and certainly annoying.

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With all that in mind, Dylan had gotten lucky. But that still didn’t change the fact that his powers weren’t directly suited to one on one combat. He needed to train his body and mind to be more capable, but he also needed to start coming up with ways to work around his weaknesses. Traps, robots, turrets, these were all classic parts pf the Formens playbook, and it would be to his benefit to make use of them.

Dylan filed his ideas aside in his mind, to be revisited at a future date. For now, he had training to do. His mother was out again, so now was the perfect time to do it. He didn’t want to have to answer the questions that would inevitably pop up if she saw him, but he also didn’t want to go somewhere public to train. That seemed like a bad idea. People normally accepted supers, but supers floundering around with their powers? That was less acceptable socially. Actually pretty likely to get the police or heroes called on you, if you were unlucky.

Dylan started stretching. He figured that if he was going to be exercising, he might as well limber up first. His warm-up didn’t last long. For one, he didn’t know many stretches. Also, he had so little muscle that there wasn’t much for him to stretch in the first place.

Finishing his preparations, Dylan stepped into his suit. He ran through some range of motion exercises, just to get used to the basics, but there wasn’t much preparation to do. He realized that he was nervous, heart beating in his chest as it was. It didn’t take long to figure out why. Despite how cool dashing in the suit was, it also hurt. It made him feel like he was going to pass out. It wasn’t at all comfortable, and Dylan had the distinct feeling that it could even be dangerous.

And that was without considering what would happen to him if he fell while doing it. He would probably survive without major injuries, but despite how protective his suit was, getting hurt still hurt. And he wasn’t hopped up on adrenaline right now, unlike his earlier fight.

Plus, what would happen if he hit the fence, or damaged something? His parents would be furious. This wasn’t a good idea. He didn’t really need to-

Stop. Dylan forced his worries down. He could make excuses until the sun died, but if he wanted to be a hero, he would have to do this. Or, be an alive hero, he supposed. Dylan could keep getting into super battles without knowing what he was doing.

Crouching down, Dylan steadied himself. He focused his vision on where he wanted to go, and took a deep breath. Then he dashed.

Immediately, all of the air in his lungs was expelled. Dylan's vision darkened, and when it cleared, he was looking at the sky, gasping for air. He slowly pushed himself to his feet, power armor doing it’s best to stabilize his unstable limbs.

It took him a while to catch his breath. That was terrible, even worse than pushing off at full power before, and he had been trying to hold back. Doing that more than once or twice in a row would probably kill him. How much stronger did his suit become with the newest upgrades? Dylan wished he had more control over his power. He mostly just had an intuitive understanding of what he was doing, and the ability to black out and make things happen. He didn’t have anything exact, which was proving to be troublesome.

It was obvious that Dylan needed to dial back the force he was jumping with even more. Once he was sure he was as steady as he was going to get, and most of the dizziness faded, he crouched down again, fixing his eyes on his target destination. This time, he was extra careful to moderate the force he pushed through his legs.

While the corners of his vision darkened, it didn’t all go. The surroundings blurred, and Dylan found himself standing close to where he had intended to go. He was a bit out of breath, but it didn’t feel like his lungs had been flattened by a steam roller, so there was that.

He spent the next hour practicing, trying to dash with less and less force each time. It got easier to control the distance and speed that he moved at, but it still took a toll on his body. Dylan eventually realized that he could press down with a small amount of pressure, using just one foot, and move like has running for a few feet. This, at least, didn’t really harm him, so it should be viable to use repeatedly in a fight. As for the rest, he could dash at a restrained level a few times before the toll was too great for him to continue, although he’d rather avoid it if he could. As for doing it at full strength, he could maybe do it once, in the case of an emergency. He would have to finish the fight immediately though, or at least give his opponent a significant amount of pause, because it would leave him vulnerable for nearly a minute afterward, as he recovered.

Dylan stashed his armor behind the shed. He still had more that he wanted to do, but for now, he would be calling it a day. His practice had taken a lot out of him, and he didn’t want to fatigue himself too much, in case he needed to go back out and do more hero stuff.

Letting out a contented sigh, Dylan headed back inside. It was nap time.