Pantheon flourished his ivory and gold cape dramatically as he continued to hover above the students. He pronounced, “In case you have never played Capture the Flag, listen closely to these rules.”
Despite Max having played Capture the Flag lots of times in grade school, he hung on Pantheon’s every word. Who knew what small detail might help him win the game? And, more importantly, the prize of getting off of Villains Island. Once back in civilization, Max was confident he could elude any chaperone assigned to ensure his return to the school.
Pantheon continued.
“The entire class will be randomly divided into teams, with six students on each team. Two teams will be pitted against each other, with all the teams competing simultaneously within the confines of their designated areas.” The Villain gestured grandly at their tropical surroundings, his demeanor that of a proud parent, as if he had personally birthed the vast island. “It’s not as though we lack for space.”
Already, Max’s mind was whirring. With such a massive prize at stake, he wished he could pick his own dream team. Damian would be on it, for sure—both because he seemed good at just about everything, and because his morphic field powers would come in handy.
Pantheon’s voice boomed, cutting through Max’s wishful thinking.
“Each team will be assigned a territory. And a flag, the symbol of your life in this game. Your objective is to infiltrate your enemy’s territory, capture their flag, and return it to your base. Simple, yet challenging, especially for minds such as yours. You are all exceptionally cunning and talented, or else you never would have been admitted to the academy to receive the gift of my tutelage.”
Max’s eyes scanned the beach and jungle, already thinking of potential routes and ambush points. The terrain would be a crucial factor.
“But,” Pantheon added, his voice dropping dramatically, “venturing into enemy territory comes with risks. If you’re tagged by an opponent on their turf, you’ll be banished to a designated jail area. Only a daring rescue by your teammates can free you.”
The students stirred, exchanging glances. Max could feel their tension rising. It was hard to not get keyed up when Pantheon was describing the game like it was a life-or-death struggle.
“And let’s not forget the most exhilarating part,” Pantheon added. “The game’s raison d’être: you are free to use your powers. Aim to impress me with how cleverly you can utilize them. You have my full authorization to use them as you see fit. With two notable exceptions:
“First, the use of your powers to harm another student is strictly prohibited. This is an exercise to further gauge your mastery of your powers, not to assess how barbaric you are capable of being.
“Second, you cannot simply snatch the flag from a distance with your abilities if you have a power permitting such a feat. No, you must physically grasp the flag to claim it.”
Pantheon let the students absorb his words before continuing.
“The first team to capture their opponent’s flag and return it to their home base will be the team to win the sabbatical from the island. The remaining teams will continue to compete until their respective games are over, but they will just be competing for bragging rights. And,” Pantheon added with an indulgent smile, “the coveted opportunity to make an impression on me.”
Max thought that Pantheon could stick his approval where the sun didn’t shine. All he cared about was his team coming out on top, and him getting his ticket off the island.
Whatever it takes, Max thought, my team is going to win this thing.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
* * *
Standing within the jungle in the island’s interior, Max nervously fingered his team’s flag. It was blood-red, embossed with a stylized mountain peak with a crown at its summit, the symbol of the Apex Division.
He and his five randomly selected teammates all eyed each other. The good news was that Gene was on his team. The bad news was that Ollie was also on his team, and both Damian and Ed were on the enemy team. Having both a speedster and someone as sharp as Damian on the opposing side was close to the worst case scenario.
It didn’t matter. Max was determined to find a way to win anyway.
Max and his team were supposed to use this time to strategize before the tournament officially began. But their awkward silence lengthened. Apparently, no one wanted to break the ice.
Impatient, Max took the reins. “The first thing we should do is tell each other our powers. That’ll determine our strategy.”
No one responded, a couple of people looking stubborn.
“Look,” Max pressed, “I know we’re all squeamish about sharing too much in a school like this. But this is no time to be shy. I want to win this thing. To impress Pantheon.” Max was shocked he was able to say that last part with a straight face. He couldn’t care less about impressing the head of the Apex Division. But it never hurt to butter up an authority figure, especially one as full of himself as Pantheon. Max knew the Villain was listening via the two spherical drones that bobbed silently overhead, a few feet above the six students’ heads. Similar drones accompanied the other teams, recording their every move. Pantheon had used his powers to divide himself into several different beings, and he and his replicants were monitoring the drones’ telemetry from high overhead, ready to intervene if someone broke the rules or got hurt.
Again, none of Max’s teammates responded to his statement about sharing.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll go first. I use shadows as teleportation portals. I drop into one, pop out of another. My range is limited, though, to about a stone’s throw.” He omitted his shadow camouflage ability. If, god forbid, his team didn’t win the tournament, people not knowing he could hide in plain sight might come in handy again, just as it had when he evaded Mrs. Rottingham. “I know what everyone but two of you can do. I’m about to spill the beans. If you’re opposed, speak now, or forever hold your peace.”
Again, no one responded.
“Koffi,” Max said to the dark-skinned, curly-haired man from Benin, “everyone saw how you pulled a diamond out of your mouth in Combat 101. What else can you do? Or is that it?”
“I can conjure any element, not just carbon,” Koffi said in accented English. His jumpsuit insignia indicated he was a Mystic in the Occult Division. “At my current power level, whatever I conjure must be small enough for me to regurgitate.”
“Gross,” Gene murmured under her breath, earning a flush from Koffi, a smirk from Ollie, and a glare from Max.
“I think your power is cool,” Max told Koffi. Though he somewhat agreed with Gene’s sentiment, saying someone’s power was gross was no way to build esprit de corps. “Gene, you can modify other people’s bodies. Can you also modify your own?”
Gene made a face.
“If I could, do you think I’d walk around looking like this?” She gestured at her plus-sized body. “I’d transform into a lingerie model faster than you can say Victoria’s Secret.”
Ollie, his eyes sparkling with malicious glee, opened his mouth to say something, caught the dangerous look Max shot him, and closed it before speaking. The Anarchy Division student was a lot less bold when his buddies weren’t around to back him up.
“I think you look great, Gene,” Max said sincerely. It was Gene’s turn to flush.
Max turned his attention to an Elementalist in the Henchman Division, a willowy young white woman with a shaved head. “I saw you flinging ice missiles at the imps. Gretchen, right?”
She smiled, pleased Max remembered her. “Right. I rode up from the beach to the castle with you, Ravi, and Damian.” She touched her skull. “I had lavender hair then, but had to shave it off because of the dress code.”
“Ollie, I have no idea what you can do,” Max said, silently adding, Other than run your mouth.
Ollie looked reluctant to answer, then finally said, “I manipulate sound. My power is currently limited to my own voice.
“I can throw it.” Gene’s hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. Ollie’s English-accented voice had seemed to come from her.
“I can also mimic other’s voices.” This time, it was Max’s own voice he heard, coming from Koffi’s closed mouth.
“And I can attack people with a high-pitched scream,” Ollie said in his usual voice from his own mouth. “Disorient them, burst their eardrums, that sort of thing.”
“Good to know,” Max said. “Let’s hold off on bursting people’s eardrums, though.”
Max turned to the last team member, a stocky Asian woman who looked like her favorite hobby was powerlifting. She was a Psionic in the Stealth Division.
“What can you do? I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t know your na—”
Max’s words were interrupted by the Asian woman surging into his arms.
Her lips pressed into his.