“Everyone, take a seat on the mat and we’ll get started immediately!” boomed the voice of Dirk Saber.

The first instructor towered just an inch or two over Zack, and he looked taller in all the videos Zack watched online. He was dark-skinned, with buzz cut hair along with a neatly-manicured beard. He was also ripped, with coiled round muscles pushing against his fitting black long-sleeved shirt.

Zack sat cross-legged on the gym mat, in the third row back among four dozen or other students. Zack concluded this must have been one of the most popular classes given the size. Dirk Saber’s reputation preceded him.

Dirk Saber continued to address the class.

“You probably already know who I am. If you don’t, you’re probably in the wrong class,” Dirk said. That brought a slight chuckle. “All you need to know is here, you will refer to me as Sensei Saber, and here, my word is law.” The training room didn’t look like much. Just a few blue mats set out on a vast gym floor. Zack had expected something far more advanced, like a holographic simulation, instead of this low-tech crap. The assembled students covered half of the interlocked polyethylene mats, all colored blue and gleaming in the overhead lights. The vast gym space unfolded its empty space before him. Zack spotted several bullseyes of various sizes. Wide open windows covered the ceiling, filling the gym with natural light.

Zack hoped his infiltration into Administration and Records had been worth it. Dirk Saber was the premiere fighter stationed at Innshadow University. He taught dozens of classes on supe combat. Even his father spoke of Dirk in high regard.

Competent and cordial. Skilled enough to land the killing blow on his father, especially if he never saw it coming.

Someone had skewered Knightbrand with a high-quality sword. That wasn’t an easy feat, given how mobile and well-armored the Knightbrand Suit was. But for someone as good with a blade as Dirk Saber, it could be done.

Another key factor was the blade used to bring down his father. It was pure Omegium, a rare alien metal, and one which just so happened to comprise Dirk Saber’s signature Edgesword.

Combine that with Dirk Saber’s tenure, and Zack already had his prime suspect figured out. He had the means and opportunity alright.

The only missing piece of the puzzle was motive, but Zack would figure that out soon enough.

“Let’s get started with the basics,” Saber said. He held up his cellphone.

“I trust you all have the InShade app downloaded onto your smartphones,” Saber said.

Zack cursed under his breath. He hadn’t even checked his smartphone. He barely even used one at all.

Saber continued. “The InShade app will contain all the most up-to-date information on leaderboard, class ranks and stats. Check it often.”

Professor Saber positioned himself around the classroom, still holding the classroom.

“The InShade app is connected to your login credentials,” Professor Saber said. “Meaning only students and faculty can access the information.”

Students and faculty? Zack thought about the login credentials he had gotten off Weave and Shaw. Maybe he could get additional information through the app using their access instead of his standard student login.

“Now let’s talk about rankings,” Professor Saber said. “Rankings are an important part of the Accreditation process. Super teams and law enforcement agencies use them to determine a superhero’s effectiveness in the field.”

“For your part, everything you do in this school affects your rank. Miss a class, your rank goes down. Score well on a test, it goes up,” Professor Saber explained.

Figures, Zack thought. In places like this, academic performance mattered just as much - if not more so - than actually doing the job. That’s why a couple of wannabe brown-nosing superheroes could memorize their assignments, get a high grade and then wind up on a high profile team of superheroes with minimal field work

“You’re probably thinking…there’s only so much room for error with this model. There’s only so many opportunities to boost your score in a school year,” Master Saber said. “But there is a workaround.”

Zack looked up

“Sparring matches also count towards your ranking. There are two settings for sparring matches. Practice matches count less, but distribute an equal number of points for both participants,” Master Saber said. “On the other hand, official sparring matches distribute all points to the winner only.”

He looked around the room. “To the victor, the spoils.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Are there any questions?” Professor Saber asked. Everyone remained quiet.

“Moving on,” the master said. “Let’s talk about stats.”

Stats was Dad’s most hated part of super schools. The idea that a person’s worth could be tabulated down into a series of numbers irritated his father to no end, and Zack couldn’t help but agree.

“Stats are divided up into eight categories: strength, speed, endurance, all pretty self-explanatory,” Professor Saber said. “There’s also agility, reflexes, intelligence, improvisation, and lastly, power projection.”

Saber continued. “Power projection will generally only affect supers will long-range energy powers.”

It was here that Zack started to lose interest. Statistics were a boring subject to begin with. Given the Knightbrand suit’s capabilities, very little of this would be relevant.

“Like power projection, there are other stats which will only apply to certain cases, such as psyche rate for telepaths and mach speeds for fliers,” Professor Saber went on.

“Here’s the most important thing to know about a super’s stats,” Professor Saber said. “They are, for the most part, complete garbage.”

Saber’s words jolted Zack out of his boredom.

“Don’t get me wrong, the Innshadow Institute of Data and Research puts a lot of work into those stats. But they have their limits,” Saber said. “What if the villain you’re fighting just got an upgrade from a Faustian pact with some sort of extra-dimensional imp? Then all those stats are about as helpful as asking a crystal ball to do your taxes.”

That got a laugh.

“You ever hear the stories of a mother lifting a car to save her children. It happens to supe all the time. An adrenaline rush can super-charge half these stats,” Professor Saber said. “Aren’t getting enough sleep? Your stats are going to take a nosedive.”

“And it goes without saying, these stats are only good for Accredited heroes whose capabilities have been thoroughly studied and demonstrated by Accredited institutions,” Professor Saber said.

A hand went up. Professor Saber gestured to a wide-eyed freshman sitting in the second row.

“What about his stats?” he pointed up to the windows along the ceiling.

Knightbrand towered above the class in the middle of the sky, visible only through the sprawling skylight. He maintained his perfect posture as he stared down impassively, his arms crossed.

It was about damn time, Zack thought.

Dad modified the Knightbrand to include a remote piloting mode as well as a standby mode. Combining the two allowed Zack to use the armor essentially as a drone. After Knightbrand’s surprise appearance yesterday, people were already talking. They knew Knightbrand was doing something around campus. They didn’t know exactly what.

If Saber was surprised by Knightbrand’s sudden appearance, he didn’t show it.

“Knightbrand’s capabilities are a matter of great debate. Since he’s an Unaccredited superhero, we can’t be sure what exactly his stats are. We only have estimates, I remind you, are in fact garbage,” Professor Saber said.

Zack had to admit, he was struggling not to like this guy. He was confident, charismatic and straight to the point. Then again, he thought, most killers are charming, and straight to a very different kind of point.

Professor Saber continued. “Knightbrand, as you might have heard, is investigating a private matter on campus. As such, you should pay him no mind. Unless you’re the subject of his investigation, at which point you likely have bigger concerns.”

This got another, bigger laugh.

Even Zack chuckled. He expected Knightbrand to rattle him. After all, two years ago, Dirk Saber left Knightbrand in a pool of blood, and here the hero was, hovering above his class, poking around. He expected a reaction, not a cool professor cracking jokes to a crowd of eager freshmen.

But even in standby mode, Knightbrand could see things others wouldn't. The empty Knightbrand suit would record everything Dirk Saber said or did. Zack could then use sophisticated AI-enhanced software to confirm Dirk Saber made the killing stroke on his father two years ago.

But he wasn’t going to get it watching Saber crack wise to a class of freshmen. He needed a better angle.

“There will be several opportunities for you to spar with me through the semester, both as a way to assess your capabilities and note improvement,” Saber said. “But don’t worry - that’s at least two weeks away.”

Zack spoke up. “Why wait? I’ll take that action now.”

“Who said that?” Saber said, his tone serious.

Zack stood up, defiant. “I’m ready to go if you are.”

Saber just shook his head and sighed. “There’s another one every year. We haven’t fully cleaned off the blood from the last one.”

Zack ignored the joke and started to move towards him. Saber was sizing him up. Let him. Zack was an All-American Quarterback for two years in a row, and that was before the rigors of actual crime-fighting hardened him up.

“What’s your name, son?” Saber said. The son part aggravated him, but Zack did his best to keep his cool.

“Zack Kestler,” he said. Saber’s eyes went wide.

“You’re the son of…” he pointed upwards subtly, not wanting to alert the class to Zack’s celebrity status.

“That would be him,” Zack said.

Saber paused for a moment, and then chuckled.

“I get it what you’re doing, but there are way less humiliating and painful ways to impress your pops, kid,” Saber said.

Zack couldn’t back down. “I get where you’re coming from. Pretty humiliating to get your old ass whupped by a freshman on your first day back.”

Saber’s face betrayed no emotion. He stared at him for a long, hard moment.

“Clear the floor,” he yelled.

“Miss Ducane will be our TA this semester. She will act as referee for the match,” Saber said.

Miss…Ducane…

Zack turned around to see an equally horrified Rachel staring at him as he took off his open button-up flannel and prepared to fight. His ex-girlfriend was his arch-nemesis’ teaching assistant.

Of course she was.