Another Monday morning. Another month to turn these recruits into heroes. Power month had finally come. The trainees filed in and lined up, Para was center stage but Aegis was nowhere to be seen. The power scouts were gone, but the doorway to the opposite side of the arena looked ready to burst open.

“Alright recruits. You’ve all made it this far. I… and by extension Aegis, have nothing left to really teach you. So from here on out you will be under the tutelage of the League’s volunteer power trainers. These are seasoned heroes, experts in their power types, who feel their abilities are better suited to teaching rather than helping people full time. So you’d better show them respect. Each of your dossiers and stat sheets have been circulated, so don’t just expect to see faces you picked out of the onlookers. Each and every one of them has come because you impressed them, you appeared worthy of being a full-fledged hero. So they will treat you as such, and you’d better be grateful. They will be coming and going all day today, so if you aren’t picked up immediately don’t worry, just stay put and they will get to you. Heroes are busy people, and the defense of society takes precedence over you. Though I should say that, once you’ve proven your worth, you will be allowed on duty as sidekicks. But that comes later. For now… Meet your Masters!”

The door to the ready room finally burst open and a flurry of heroes came streaming out, supers of every conceivable type. That at least matched the trainees. A smattering of very obvious flame heroes, martial artists, weapon masters, and elemental manipulators. Seth even recognized a few from his earlier fight watches. The fire hand super Cauterizer, the power couple Glacial Glaz and Phazer Shock, holy shit even a current member of the Gods’ Chosen was here. And… well it was probably expected that Makani Samurai would be here. They all moved in behind Para, grouping up at random as if it wasn’t very clear who they each were here for. ‘Motifs are distinctive for a reason, sheesh.’ Para looked like he was still conducting things, clipboard in hand and matching names.

“First up, Water Boy.”

Para moved off toward David, as two water based heroes followed out of the crowd, both looking rather annoyed in Para’s direction. His nicknames were a little too derogatory for everybody it seemed.

“Meet Aquafirma and Depthcharge.”

The two heroes pushed… splashed past Para while simultaneously side eyeing their common slightedness, but cheered up when they actually reached David. Aquafirma was a fairly tall man with ‘*cough*’ wavy blond hair and very bright blue eyes. He wore a modified diving suit, it had blue highlights on its stitching. But the biggest call out that he was a water super was the fact that his lower half was just that, water. He didn’t walk so much as flow around on a wave-like lower body that stuck together like a fantasy slime creature, though he would probably not like the comparison.

Depthcharge, on the other hand, wore an old style diving suit, helmet and all, but it was modernized heavily. It was armored with seafoam green outer paneling, with the helmet made of similar material. It was difficult to tell what they looked like under their gear, the porthole-like face plate offering nothing in return but glowing orange eyes and darkness. But despite this somewhat creepy exterior, they at least acted nice, silently shaking David’s hand with practically smiling eyes beaming out.

Para moved over and let David get pulled away from the lineup, no sense crowding everyone together.

“Next up, Green Thumb.”

Zeleny slumped at her nickname, but perked up as Phazer bid farewell to her husband Glaz and moved toward her. Phazer Shock’s eyes were a calm magenta hue and her hair was long, burnet, and swept back so it was out of the way. Her suit was surplus with a dark red base and almost highlighter pink detailing, along with photonic beam patches. Zeleny seemed to light up brighter as she approached, literally as her suit’s green seemed a brighter shade. She was really looking forward to training with her.

Next was “Combo Breaker.”

Maya was still leering at Para as an absolute mountain of a man stomped up to her, though the stomping seemed less on purpose given his motif. His ‘suit’ was little more than large brown shorts just so he wouldn’t be naked. The rest of him was made of near solid rock, the surface a near statuesque rendition of a bodybuilder made of pure granite. Complete with wavy chiseled hair and detailed quartz eyes. He moved smoothly, like he wasn’t a few thousand pounds of living stone, no scraping or creaking of rock chafing together. He towered over Maya almost oblivious to her presence given the size disparity. But suddenly the ground below her shook as a square of sand hardened to stone under her feet. This stone rose up and leveled Maya to the mountain's cheerful face. He even introduced himself rather politely, though his size made it less a personal conversation.

“My name is Strata, a pleasure to meet you Maya.”

He moved away from the lineup with her in toe on her pedestal.

“Toaster.”

Para was moving on.

“Meet Cauterizer, Dr. Kallinikos, Friction Sweep, Phoenix Tech, and Hothead.”

‘Jesus fucking Christ how many fire heroes does the fucking League employ… Wait. Hothead?!’

On queue the obvious fire heroes pulled away from across the crowd. Cauterizer was a man with short dark hair, brown eyes, and an olive bard green surplus suit that had several additions on it. An army medic vest, arm patches, and a stowed old style helmet with a red cross on it. The suit had white, orange, and red detailing in the shape of fire all around it, but it predominantly covered his forearms.

Dr. Kallinikos wore a modified heavy firefighting suit, the kind with a reflective outer layer that volcanologists sometimes use. It was fully enclosed, but he had some kind of apparatus on his back that tubed into the suit. It also tubed into a flamethrower hung on his side. If Seth remembered correctly he was made of fire, kind of like Aquafirma but bipedal.

Friction Sweep was a woman with a short crimson mohawk and deep green eyes. Her suit was a cut short tan leotard with a dress-like apparatus at her hips. She sported what looked to be nunchucks, but with match-like surfaces on the ends.

Phoenix Tech was a man with multi colored hair, kind of like a fiery rainbow, and goldish eyes. His suit was a fully closed off bodysuit except for his head, some kind of custom creation. It was lab white with orange striping on one side of the chest, like it was a prototype. It also had metallic ports on the heels and palms, and a jetpack like apparatus on the back. He was a flyer, but his powers weren't very contained so he used those ports as jet nozzles.

Hothead though… ‘He’s just wearing a hoodie and jeans like he just walked in from the street.’ His hair was brown and unkempt, and his eyes dark blue. He’s the last member of the Elite, a fire hero of an almost unimaginable caliber, but he’s sure not looking the part.

These heroes, though, all surround Para as even the lax looking Hothead wheeled about on him. All staring like that nickname had been directed at them, Friction even cracking her knuckles over his shoulder. Para just looked up from his clipboard and returned their glares with a smug smile. The heroes collectively gritted their teeth, but didn’t move to beat the shit out of him like they all obviously wanted to. Instead they just pushed past him and toward Kabar. Hothead reaching him first and wrapping an arm around him protectively.

“Come on Kabar, let’s go someplace where firepower is actually appreciated.”

Para smugly shrugged and moved on.

“Snow-"*sheee*

Glacial Glaz beat Para to the punch and covered his mouth in ice.

“That’s enough stupid nicknames Para.”

He didn’t react, simply watched Glaz walk up to Jacob and greet him. He wore an ice blue base surplus suit, but the grey armored sections and black accents made it less offensive to the eyes. His hair was grey as well, and his eyes were dark brown. Para wiped away the ice sheet from his mouth and continued on.

He stopped in front of Kaz, who was already bowing to his dad.

“Father son. Son father.”

He feigned an introduction and moved on as Samurai chuckled and led his son away. Well it’s not like it wasn’t completely expected. Para continued unabated.

“Tabby, meet Paleorus and Malerina.”

They were both women, but with two very different styles. Paleorus wore a similar suit to Tabby’s in that it was a size too big from the look of it. It was a matte dark brown material with tan accents. Her body though was where she stood out the most. She was at least two feet taller than Para, and her rolled up sleeves revealed tannish yellow fur on clawed hands. Her hair was almost like a mane, a shaggy and unkempt mass of light brown hair that was cut short at the sides but trailed down to her back. Her eyes were deep green, and slit like a cat’s. And she had a pair of fangs that hung out of her mouth only just clearing her bottom lip. Malerina by contrast was dressed in a full body black leotard, complete with mildly frilled tutu that hanged down like a short dress. Her hair was a moderate dark bob, but her face was done up in heavy makeup. Heavy black eye shadow against bone white face paint, it… ‘Yeah, she’s wearing skull face paint.’ Her fairly bright red eyes only made things more unsettling. She looked to have a ballerina’s dancing shoes, but… ‘I don’t think dancing shoes are supposed to be steel tipped.’ Tabby looked like she was going to have to choose a specialization.

Para kept going, looking ready to ruin Razor’s day.

“Butterknife…”

Yup there it is.

“Meet Blade Tone and… Needle.”

He wasn’t hesitating for nothing. ‘Oh god.’ Blade Tone was a man with simple short brown hair and eyes. His suit was surplus with a steel base and black accents. It had a series of holsters though, not too dissimilar to Razor’s, but they were normal dark leather and housed full on knives. But the main piece seemed to be a pair of gladiuses latched to his back with holes along their edges. Seth remembered he was a sonic type like Para, but differed in obvious ways.

Needle though… She was a nightmare straight out of Cleo’s playbook. A solid… solid spandex bodysuit, complete with random ringed holes across every outward facing surface. These holes seemed to house a series of three inch long combat needles and the holes that didn’t have them opened to bare skin. Her head, while not covered in spandex, instead was just covered in more needles. She was bald, hair shaven away and replaced by needles dug straight into her scalp… maybe even her skull. Her eyes were ice blue. ‘I… I think she’s wearing contacts.’ She’d taken the piercing gaze thing a little too heavily. Her expression topped it off, completely flat with her eyes possibly stuck wide open. And once she was given leave to approach Razor she practically rushed up to him with nonchalant intent… or just excitement. It was impossible to tell. Razor was caught off guard as she stopped short of spiking him like a wanton porcupine. Her voice was eloquent, but wholly monotone.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“You have shown promise with the blade, but you can be so much more. Come… let me show you the true pleasures of the metallic edge.”

She pulled a needle from her head with delicate fingers and held it out to Razor like a guiding hand. Both Razor and now Blade Tone hanging off his shoulder were reeling back and agape.

“I… I think I’m going to go with Blade Tone instead.”

All at once both Razor and Blade Tone shuffled backward at speed, not wanting to turn their backs on her, but still wanting to get as far away as possible. Needle retracted her hand and looked monotonously down at her rejected needle, running her fingers over it before sticking it back in her scalp and walking away. ‘I… think she was sincere, she just doesn’t know how to be fully sociable… Probably should work at that.’ Para didn’t stop, understandably.

“Ditto, meet… ugh…”

Para looked toward the few heroes left in the crowd, but then suddenly pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Marvelous.”

The shadow behind him rose up and pouted over his shoulder, a pair of light purple eyes seemed to pout anyway. A soft young female voice responded.

“You’re no fun Para.”

The shadow flowed around him and in front of Alex, and very much she was a shadow. A dark roiling mass in the vague shape of a person took Alex by the hand and introduced herself, and Alex didn’t seem taken aback in the slightest.

Para continued on toward Marco-

“Polo, meet Master Da Feng, creator of the Wind Scythe Fist, tamer of the Winds of the Four Corners, and proprietor of the only good Chinese restaurant in the whole of Kadia’s Asian district. Did I miss anything?”

A spry yet elderly man almost floated up at Para’s introduction.

“You forgot, Go Champion of the League 10 years running.”

He snickered through his bushy mustache and goatee. His hair was grey with age, but not balding, still holding on to a moderate shock of it. He wore a billowing robe that cut short of his shins. Marco bowed to him like he was his new master already. His duty done, Para moved on.

“Princess! Meet Pharaoh Shephten.”

As if on cue the sand in front of them rose up into a pillar. Slowly, an actual ancient Egyptian mummy formed from the sand, like it was made of it in the first place. It wore no head dress and carried no finery, but its wrappings were very old and tightly bound leaving only the barest form of a man standing in front of them. Suddenly the wraps began unraveling, giving the man freedom of movement. He pulled down his wrappings to unraveled his head, revealing… not a mummified corpse. ‘Holy shit he’s actually handsome.’ Flowing ‘golden’ brown hair loosed from the wrappings as he materialized a pair of thick rim spectacles from the sand. He put them over his blue green eyes, thoroughly finished with his grand entrance. Cleo even fucking curtsied to him.

“Greetings your highness.”

The wrappings continued to dissolve away, revealing he was wearing a tastefully embroidered tunic and silk finery.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

‘Gah! Okay that just shattered that image.’ He even nonchalantly walked up and shook her hand like a goddamn philistine. ‘I mean what the hell even was all that fucking for in the first place!?’ They walked away, finally relieving the formality gut check that ate at Seth understanding of noble civility.

Meanwhile Para seemed to be holding something over Ohm that he really didn’t want to hear.

“Clarence,”

‘Wait, that wasn’t it?’

“Meet Terawatt,”

‘No?’

“Breaker Box,”

‘Not him?’

“And Zeus’ Strike”

‘Fucking hell that was it!’ Ohm was staring down and gritting his teeth almost audibly as that last one came straight up to him. Standing menacingly over him like a dark cloud. But all at once he scooped up Ohm in his arms and bear hugged him into submission.

“Haha it is good to see you again my son!!”

‘…’ Ohm was visibly in pain as the comparatively massive man lovingly snapped his spine in half. He wore a bright white surplus suit with… ‘Is that real gold trim?’ His hair was a mild greying and dark shock, but the big thing was his beard. Damn near a spitting image of his name sake, in length at any rate. And his eyes were very much glowing gold. If they even matter at this point, Terawatt and Breaker Box both looked at each other like they had just wasted their time.

Terawatt was a woman with dyed chlorophyll green hair in a very high and thick mohawk. It even had yellow lightning bolts dyed on the sides. She wore a similar green and yellow surplus suit with green metal gauntlets on her arms. Seth could see they were specialized spiked capacitors for her electrical powers, but she didn’t have any power running through her. ‘She must only control it, but not generate it herself.’

Breaker Box was a guy wearing a rubberized and cut short leotard, complete with boxing shorts. Light steel grey base with black, blue, red, and green detailing that looked to be wiring. He also had gauntlets, but they were rough rubber and studded with the same wiring. The parts covering his fists looked frayed, exposed wiring crisscrossing into makeshift kick boxing gloves. Seth could see his power was only concentrated in his hands, lines seemed to radiate out from them through the wires on his suit. The two walked off as Ohm desperately tried to get their attention.

“Wait no! Stop! Help mhhe!”

But his father was hugging him too hard for him to successfully vocalize it.

“We are going to finally bond as father and son through the glorious medium of HERO TRAINING!!”

“GAAAAHHH!!!”

‘Well then… that explains why he’s such a jackass. He’s had all the love in him smothered by his dad’s affection.’ At least he wasn’t some closet villain or something.

It was finally Seth’s turn, but the realization had set in as Para moved ahead of him. There were no heroes here to train him. The crowd was gone, spread out with their chosen trainees and vying for their teachings to be learned. Para stopped in front of him, barely hiding something beneath his smug demeanor.

“Looks like you’re the odd man out again, Tinman. So far anyway. Who knows maybe someone will come along later? Just sit tight right there till then.”

Seth looked disappointed, but puzzled. Para moved away and he took a step to follow.

“What do you mean si-”

“I SAID SIT TIGHT!!!"

And that mask fell away again.

"Or do you want to be kick out of the program so late in the game?”

The instant Seth had taken that step, Para had dropped all pretense. He didn’t turn back, but Seth could feel the malice he gave off, the fear burning to fuel it. He wasn’t bluffing. Seth retracted his step and stood at attention. Para continued walking off as he watched, his own fear and anger keeping him rooted as he left the arena.

Seth was ignored, standing stock still as the rest of the trainees were gradually drawn out by their trainers until the arena was empty. He was alone again, he couldn’t even talk with the Garkah. The open roof of the arena letting in the wind and noise of the city. He was left with nothing but the itch of his phantom scar. and his own thoughts. Para must have falsified his stat sheet to dissuade anyone from coming to train him. But if he’s threatening the nuclear option at the slightest misstep then he must feel threatened. Seth couldn’t challenge him, he was still trying to just keep himself. The anger was hollowning him out, and no one was coming to help him any time soon.

Time passed. Minutes. Hours. Lunch was long over. The heroes didn’t return, neither did the trainees. The sun was getting lower, his legs weaker. He knew Para was probably still watching in some way. Listening with his fucking sound powers or something! Then he finally felt it, someone in the control booth. He couldn’t tell who, but knew that they could see him. *bwo* Seth turned to regard the booth, the person who could likely release him. His eyes were sullen, tired. And he was hungry, too hungry. But he felt whoever saw him in the booth sympathize. So thank god it was Mediknight.

“Go on… I’ll take care of Para.”

All at once he felt the pressure to stay up come crashing down. He stumbled around toward the door, hunched slightly as the weight of his body burdened him. As he closed in he could feel the healing field around Mediknight, it wasn’t enough, but its warmth felt better than the empty hole in his stomach. He powered through and walked out the arena entrance, bee lining straight for the canteen.

It was packed, the trainees were still crowded by their trainers, still passing what wisdom they could while the trainees were still undecided. Seth didn’t care, he just needed food. He hated being hungry, hated this feeling. It was just another vector to throw him back into Berta. But he had his saving grace now. Ambrose had prepared Golden Tempura Chicken and a plethora of dipping sauces, and holy shit that smell was enough to burn that memory away all on its own. Seth took up the tray… the last tray. There must have been more people here than expected. He took his food to the only empty table he could find, but quickly he felt ire on him yet again.

A good chunk of the heroes looked at him with disdain, the worst glares coming from the fire heroes surrounding Kabar. Seth couldn’t give a shit about what they like though, he was too hungry. He took a bite after dipping. It was like his fatigue and misery melted away. The meat was still moist despite how light and amazing the breading was. The orange sauce he used was tangy and really flavored with oranges. Even the smoke smelled good… ‘Smoke?‘

Seth looked down at his chicken, fire lapping and blackening on his plate. He looked up from the charcoal that was once his only salvation for the day to see Hothead with a leveled hand pointed at his plate, heat waves still distorting the air between them. The acrid smell of burning plastic caught in his throat, his chest seemed to harmonize in its ache as his heart beat to the pit in his stomach. His body shook in place like a compressing spring. All while Hothead lowered his hand and laughed, rising out of his seat with a few of the other fire heroes to approach his table.

“Whoops, sorry. Thought your food looked a little cold from over there. Guess I overdid it a little.”

The shit eating grin on his face tore at Seth’s will, his scar clearly defined like a brand long since healed. But it wasn’t deep yet, he could hold his anger at bay. He took a breath, accepted that caustic linger in the air, let the spring tension died down. He still had the piece of chicken he was eating in his hand. A small consolation against utter bullshit. He ignored the bastards giving him the stink eye, grabbing the orange sauce he was enjoying to make what little he had worth it. Before he could dip it he felt Hothead inched closer over the table.

“You know if you’re going to be this rude to someone saying they're sorry” *woosh*

He swiped the chicken piece from Seth’s hand.

“Maybe you don’t deserve Ambrose’s-” *CRKKK*

Seth snatched his hand like a turbo charged vice grip before he could pull it back in. The spring tension was at terminal levels, his eyes may as well have been burning holes in Hothead’s head, his teeth gritted like a starved animal, and scar was burning its shape into his skull. The bones in Hothead’s hand snapped more and more with every passing second, his expression a mix of agony and malice at being defied. The other heroes reacted last, leveling nunchucks and powered hands at him, but receiving no attention.

“Put the chicken down Hot.”

Wait, that's… Makani Samurai? He had walked up behind him without notice, even Kaz had moved up as stealthily. Hothead turned to see a very much not smiling Samurai staring him down. He released the chicken over the middle of the table, Seth catching it before it hit with his other hand and releasing his death grip. Quickly he dipped it into the sauce and scarfed it down like a ravenous beast, glaring at Hothead with a silent growl trying to get him to fuck off! The heroes glared as they retreated back to their table. Noticeably Kabar stayed, still agitated but not malicious like most of his trainers. Hothead regarded Samurai on the way back.

“Just needed him to be aware, his ilk aren’t-” *bonk* “Agh!”

Samurai bonked him on the head with his sheathed sword.

“Then you should be aware that he’s already earned his shot like all the rest.”

He turned around and re-latched his sword to his hip as his smile returned to face Seth. He and Kaz sat down at his table, Kaz bringing a leftover plate along with him. Seth eyed it apprehensively as Kaz slid it over.

“Go ahead, Ambrose’s food is too good anyway.”

All at once Seth looked up with maybe over done tears in his eyes before immediately tearing through the leftover chicken. It was gone maybe a little too quickly. Seth slumping onto the table, happy and full. He was hamming it up, but the sentiment should be clear. He was grateful. Kaz and Samurai couldn’t help but look more concerned than welcome, so Seth wiped his mouth and straightened up.

“Sorry… I… don’t like going hungry. Thank you.”

Samurai smiled, a more sincere smile at least.

“Don’t worry about it. Hot is just one of those people who are…”

“He’s an asshole when threatened passively.”

Kaz interjected without holding back in the slightest. Samurai looked at him with parental surprise.

“What? You said to remain truthful in all things.”

“I didn’t mean be that truthful.”

All three chuckled away what marginal tension there was. Seth hadn’t had this kind of socializing in a while, the Garkah are difficult to count in this regard. Can’t hold a punchline if you can feel each other’s thoughts. So this… this was nice. They sat and talked through the rest of dinner, mostly passing time with idle chatter. Seth felt that Samurai was gauging just what kind of person he was. He at least avoided personal questions, Seth wasn’t sure he could lie to him anyway. Once dinner was over he headed back to his room with the firm knowledge he had at least three people with power looking out for him now, but also more jackasses to deal with.