Valerie held Fiona tightly, shielding her from the blast. The smoke began to clear as she checked on her friend. "Fi? Are you alright?" Valerie asked, brushing some dust from Fiona’s face.

Fiona nodded, but her voice trembled. "I’m fine. No, no, no, Val, please tell me you’re okay—there was an explosion—"

Valerie grinned, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "Oh, I’m fine. It’ll take a lot more than that to even scratch me. What matters is that you’re safe."

She stood, glancing around at the wreckage of the store. Shelves were overturned, walls scorched, charred clothes scattered everywhere, and shattered glass lay across the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Kian, shielding the cashier and another customer with his own body, a wall of fire flickering around him as a protective shield.

Her gaze shifted outside, and her instincts kicked in as she started to head toward the culprit. But before she could take another step, Kian, now fully engulfed in flames, bolted past her at blazing speed, heading straight for the culprit.

Valerie stepped outside with Fiona close behind. There, she saw Kian facing off against a man in a fully armored suit, bulky and mechanical, his mask obscuring his face. The armor was laced with glowing lines and thick plating.

Kian threw a punch, sending a searing column of fire toward the armored man, who staggered back but remained standing. The villain raised an arm, deflecting some of the flames, his armor absorbing most of the heat. Kian responded with a quick follow-up, igniting the air around him, and then unleashing a fiery punch to the villain's chest, creating a small explosion that rattled the windows around them.

Fiona leaned toward Valerie, wide-eyed. "So… that’s his power, huh? Fire… man?"

Valerie smirked, watching the intense fight. "Should I jump in?"

Fiona squinted. "I think he’s got it…."

But just as she finished, the armored villain blasted Kian with a surge of icy mist from his gauntlet. The vapor instantly froze over Kian, encasing him in a block of ice mid-swing.

Valerie raised an eyebrow, amused. "Looks like the fire got put on ice. Guess that means it’s my turn. Take cover, Fi. Things are gonna get ugly" she warned Fiona. “Everyone! Take cover!” She shouted to the crowd.

As she approached the armored man, she called out, her voice carrying a playful edge. "Hey, tin man! You might want to consider surrendering because you’re not gonna like what I’m about to do."

The villain turned, and a machine gun emerged from his wrist, unleashing a rain of bullets straight at her. Valerie’s eyes glowed with a dangerous glint as she kept moving forward, unflinching as the bullets bounced off her skin, completely ineffective.

"Oh, come on, Sardine Man! Really?" she taunted. "Get it? 'Cause you're in a can?"

The villain’s mechanical voice dripped with irritation. "Think that’s all I’ve got, freak?"

He raised both arms, launching an ice blast followed by a fiery surge, alternating between his offensive tricks. Valerie barely flinched, walking straight through the barrage, the cold and flames sliding off her like a second skin. Within seconds, she was right in front of him.

"My turn," she said, her tone suddenly chilling. She drew a deep breath, releasing an icy blast that struck the villain’s legs, freezing him to the ground. With a light tap, she shoved him backward; his frozen legs shattered as he fell, leaving him on the ground, immobilized but conscious.

The armored man struggled, lifting his head to glare at her. "What are you going to do? Kill me? Go ahead, hero. Or maybe you’ll just arrest me? Because trust me, I’ll be back in no time."

Valerie crossed her arms, considering. “Why are you doing this, anyway? What’s the point?”

The man chuckled, his voice bitter. “Why would I tell you? Go ahead—kill me, in front of these people. Show them who you really are.”

Valerie’s eyes narrowed, glowing red-hot as she stared down at him. A pair of laser beams burst from her eyes, searing the ground beside his head, leaving a molten crater that sank deep into the planet. The villain’s bravado faltered as he stared at the smoldering hole, his face paling.

“Nice try,” Valerie murmured, crouching close. “But I’m not giving you that satisfaction…”

She leaned in, lifting him up off the ground, her voice a low, menacing whisper. “But don’t get me wrong. I will kill you—so keep an eye out.”

She straightened up, releasing him just as sirens blared in the distance as the police and hero squads approached. Dropping the villain unceremoniously onto the street, she turned to Fiona with a casual shrug.

Fiona joined her, looking shaken but impressed. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

“Nah… You’re fine”

Valerie and Fiona made their way to the still-frozen Kian, who stood encased in a layer of ice, his once-blazing form now extinguished. Valerie took a deep breath, and this time, as she exhaled, a warm stream of fire melted the ice around Kian. The moment he was freed, he dropped to his knees, dazed but alive. The gathered crowd erupted into cheers, phones flashing as people snapped photos and recorded videos. Valerie and Fiona exchanged waves with the crowd.

Kian attempted to stand, shaking off the last of the ice. Valerie raised an eyebrow, then grinned, throwing out a playful warning. “Whoa, easy there, tiger! Maybe don’t stand up just yet… unless you’re planning to give the people an extra show.”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

He glanced down, catching sight of his singed, barely-there clothing and gave a sheepish smile. “Right! Happens more often than I’d like. My power’s not exactly outfit-friendly. But hey, you’re one to talk, Miss Dragon.”

Valerie frowned. “What? Why?”

“Uh… Val?” Fiona gave her a knowing look, then pointed. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but… your clothes aren’t exactly doing their job anymore either.”

Valerie looked down, her cheeks instantly flushing. Her shirt and jeans were charred beyond saving, barely hanging together in pieces. “Oh... right! Good call, Fi. We should probably get going before this gets any more embarrassing.”

Just then, as if by fate, a rescue team arrived, blankets in hand. They handed one to Valerie and another to Kian, who gratefully wrapped himself up.

A tall hero in a military-style uniform, with gleaming metal accents and a crisp emblem, strode toward them with a grin. “Nice work, young guns. You really handled that situation well.”

“I didn’t do anything but thank you, sir,” Fiona replied, standing a little straighter.

The man chuckled, looking them over. “So, Astoria Hero Uni, huh? Well, they’ve got some promising talent over there. But seriously… you two might want to look into getting some proper supersuits.”

Valerie’s voice was low. “Yeah, I am sorry. Sir.”

With a nod, the hero gave them an approving pat on the shoulder before moving on. Moments later, an officer from their university stepped up, clipboard in hand and looking a bit anxious.

“Valerie Nordin? Fiona Allen? Kian Drexler?” he called out, eyeing them each in turn. “You’re all needed back at the university immediately. Press is already on their way, and we’d like to keep this quiet for now.”

Kian exchanged a glance with Valerie, raising a brow. “Keep it quiet? Kind of hard when half the city was filming us.”

The officer pursed his lips. “Yes, well, we’ll be handling the media from here. Right now, we just need you all back at the Uni for a debrief. We don’t want this spiraling any more than it already has.”

Fiona grinned, nudging Valerie. “Guess we’re already making a name for ourselves.”

Valerie chuckled, readjusting her blanket. “Let’s hope it’s the right kind of name.” She gave Kian a look, then smirked. “Alright, ice boy. You ready to make a dramatic exit?”

Kian laughed, wrapping the blanket around himself like a makeshift cape. “Lead the way, Miss Dragon.”

—

Valerie leaned back on the sofa of the dean’s office, barely stifling a smirk as she sipped her tea. The luxurious setting of the dean’s office felt oddly mismatched with the tension crackling in the air. Professor Thomson’s glare was unrelenting, as if he were trying to drill his frustration directly into her mind. Professor Kohn, on the other hand, looked ready to observe the exchange as though it were a sparring match.

Across from them, Kian and Fiona watched, trying not to laugh as they sensed the impending clash.

“What are you going to say now, Nordin?” Thomson snapped, his tone heavy with disdain. “You tore a man’s legs off. That’s not what heroes do.”

Valerie raised an eyebrow, setting her teacup down with deliberate calm. “The motto was ‘We don’t kill,’ right? I didn’t kill him. I just… limited his movement.” She shrugged. “What’s the problem now?”

Thomson clenched his fists, barely containing his anger. “This little girl thinks she can twist the code however she pleases.” He shot a glance at Kohn for support. “Permanent injury isn’t something a hero inflicts!”

Valerie leaned forward, voice smooth but dripping with defiance. “Again, I’m not exactly little, Professor.” She paused, her gaze narrowing. “But thank you. You just gave me ideas for the future: villains will live but with a fate worse than death. Next time, maybe I’ll rip their arms off, then their legs off. And then, of course, I’ll rush them to the hospital to keep them alive.”

Professor Kohn stifled a cough, and Fiona’s face contorted as she tried to contain a laugh.

Thomson’s face was nearly crimson with suppressed anger. “It doesn’t work like that, you—”

Kian chuckled, and Fiona quickly covered her mouth to hide a smirk. Even Professor Kohn joined in with an amused smile, which only made Thomson clench his fists tighter, looking like he was about to explode. But just then, the door swung open, and Dean Thorne entered with the gravitas of someone used to calming storms.

"Enough, Thomson," he said firmly. “The students did well. They followed the guidelines—whether intentionally or not—resulting in an effective resolution with minimal collateral damage. That’s exactly the right way.”

Thomson, still visibly frustrated, opened his mouth to argue, but the dean lifted a hand, silencing him.

Thorne turned his attention to the three students. "Miss Nordin, Miss Allen, Mr. Drexler," he began with a tone of respect. “Today, you showed admirable restraint and control, taking swift action without significant damage to the city. For that, I want to thank you.”

Valerie and Kian exchanged a glance, nodded and smiled at the dean. Fiona, ever the diplomat, gave a polite nod and replied, “Thank you for the kind words, Dean Thorne. But if I may ask—is there a reason we were summoned here? Is something the matter?”

“Oh, nothing serious,” Thorne replied, his tone lightening. “We simply wanted to congratulate you—and give you a small reward for your quick thinking.”

Thomson grumbled under his breath, “But, Dean, they’re radicals—”

“That’s enough, Thomson!” Thorne cut in sharply, then turned to Professor Kohn, who stepped forward holding three neatly wrapped boxes.

“Please accept these gifts as a token of appreciation,” Professor Kohn said warmly. “You’re welcome to open them now, or if you’d prefer privacy, you can wait until you’re back in your dorms.”

Kian raised an eyebrow, clearly curious. Valerie smirked, but nodded in gratitude. Fiona stepped forward, saying, “Thank you, sir. We appreciate it.”

With that, Dean Thorne smiled, looking each of them in the eye. “You’re dismissed. Keep up the good work. And remember, the world is watching now.”

The three students nodded respectfully and headed toward the door. But as they walked out, Valerie couldn’t resist throwing a wink in Thomson’s direction, which made him grumble under his breath as the door closed behind them.

—

As soon as the door closed behind Valerie and her friends, Dean Thorne's smile vanished, replaced by a steely glare fixed directly on Professor Thomson.

"Thomson," he began, voice dangerously low. "What was that display? Did I or did I not tell you that we need to tread carefully with them?"

Thomson flinched slightly but squared his shoulders. "I apologize, sir. You did tell us. Allow me to—"

"Allow you to what?" Thorne snapped, cutting him off. "To jeopardize everything we’re working toward? We need them on our side, Thomson. Those two are among the brightest of this new generation. Do you grasp that?”

Thomson hesitated, his frustration clear. “But—”

"No fucking 'but.' She bested you, and you’re acting like a petulant child. You're a professor—act like one."

Thomson's mouth opened as if to retort, but he seemed to think better of it, lowering his gaze instead. "Of course, sir," he muttered.

The dean straightened, his icy gaze unwavering. “Professor Kohn, please guide Professor Thomson to the exit.”

"Right away, sir," Kohn responded, her tone a mix of amusement and professionalism.

Kohn gestured toward the door. “Come along, Thomson. The council has plenty to discuss, and you’ll sit this one out. I’d suggest cooling off in your office.”

Thomson clenched his fists, his face contorting with barely contained rage. “You can’t do this. I’m a member of the council, too.”

Kohn shrugged, giving a small smirk. “I’m just following orders.”

Thomson stormed out, his footsteps echoing down the hall as he muttered under his breath, "Just you wait, Nordin. This isn’t over.”

Unbeknownst to Professor Thomson, two figures lingered in the shadows, observing his outburst echo down the hallway.

A woman leaned forward, her silhouette barely discernible in the shadow. “What do you think, boss?”

The man beside her chuckled softly, his voice a low rumble. “He’ll do…”