I woke up to the twin smells of iodine and alcohol with a side order of peroxide, a sharp difference from the stench of blood, rot and carrion I'd slowly been desensitized against over the past couple of days. There was far less pain than expected, only my stomach painfully cramped and my mouth having the consistency of sandpaper to go along with a serious headache. Opening my eyes felt like too much work, so I decided to sleep in the very comfortable bed. It really had actual sheets and a mattress. They were even warm! After days of sleeping on the floor, mostly passing out wherever I happened to lie post-battle, it felt like heaven even though it was only a hospital bed. I'd grown to hate hospitals during the week of hell after the accident a few years before; now I was ready to reconsider.

Opening crusty eyes only to receive a stab of too-bright light reminiscent of freshman year after-party wake ups, I winced, rubbed away the gunk and waited for them to adjust. Once they did, they revealed a small, low-ceiling room with white and pink walls, cabinet after cabinet full of bottles and packets of various medicine locked behind thick, probably bullet-proof glass, an examination table that looked way too tiny, and dozens of childish posters of medical advice that would have been more in place back in kindergarten. Not a hospital then; I was in the place every member of every team had to suffer through several times a year just for the mandatory health checks, the school's infirmary. It looked emptier than I remembered... until I realized I had to be lying on the single patient's bed that used to be behind those awful brown curtains, except someone must have ripped those off since my previous visit; there were still some of the torn hooks hanging from the curtain rod with tufts of brown fiber stuck to them.

"Ah, you're awake," a barely five foot tall man with silver hair and a broad face with too many laugh lines said as he suddenly popped up.

I did not yelp like a little girl. I very calmly turned around and fixed the old school nurse with my best glare for daring to sneak up on me. Unfortunately Dr. Beth, who used to be a doctor in a big city hospital, had been glared at by everyone at one time or another including the Mayor and the Chief of Police. A teenage girl's wrath would be a paltry thing in comparison.

"How are you feeling?" he asked while I was deciding whether I should feel annoyed with his continuing tendency to sneak up on his patients or grateful that he'd apparently been taking care of me during a zombie apocalypse. Unconcerned about such things, the even tinier-seeming old man started poking my arms with a stirring rod. "You seem in very good health given the state you were brought in. Your vitals were... abnormally strong even. Then again, what passes for normal these days would have cost me my license to report a week ago."

"Is that your official medical opinion?" I sat on the bed and wrapped the sheets around me tightly, suddenly very self-conscious. They still felt soft and comfortably warm as before, but I'd just noticed why that feeling got across so... conclusively. "What happened to my clothes?" The arm holding the sheets tightly wrapped clenched until my knuckles creaked.

"You mean the rags full of corrosive mucus melting into your skin? I lost three pairs of surgical forceps pulling them off before they killed you," he said blithely. "Mr. Kuroda informed me you leaped on a corrosive alien and strangled it to death; I am now informing you that a repeat performance could kill you, seeing as sixth degree burns are usually diagnosed in autopsies. Those are where charring goes down to the bone, in case you didn't recognize the medical term."

For a moment I drew a blank, my brain not quite grasping what he meant. Then I remembered Tommy's actual name was Tomio Kuroda, thought nobody but the most stickler for accuracy teachers called him that. As for the burns, I had superpowers, didn't I? "Don't worry Doc, I can regenerate."

"Yes, I was certain you wouldn't appreciate the extent of the damage, miss Wennefer. People your age never do," Dr. Beth said with a sigh. "I could point out that over the last eleven hours you regrew over thirty pounds of tissue which was either dead or completely absent, but you lack the knowledge to understand what that would mean. Not to worry though, I also took pictures which I'll be deleting after you see them."

"Let's get this over with," I said with an eye roll. Adults, especially responsible ones, always exaggerated the consequences to get us teenagers to listen but we always caught on to their "cunning" plan; we were teenagers, not five-year-olds. Honestly, they'd be far more credible if they stuck to the truth rather than trying to scare us. Maybe then we'd actually lis-

I stared at the picture on Dr. Beth's cellphone, eyes wide. There was this rushing sound in my ears, the too-rapid beat in my heart as I really took in the details. The more I looked the more my arm shook until the cellphone slipped through suddenly loose fingers. The horror I thought I'd gotten over after staring at too many hideous things came back with a vengeance. That... that... had been me?

"You do understand then," the old doctor said and that moment he came a hair's breadth away from having his head punched off his shoulders. How dare he do something like- "Good. In the past three days I had to deal with over a dozen kids I saved, kids who would have otherwise survived till now, dying to abject stupidity. 'Oh, we got superpowers now!' they said. 'We can slay the undead and save the school!' they said. Then they split from the school to go hunting, thinking it all some demented game, and got killed or worse, got back too injured and infected and died in that same bed you are now sitting on, worried about clothes."

I sat there and sad nothing as he dropped an aspirin and several drops of iodine into half a wine glass of medical alcohol, stirred with the same rod he'd poked me with and muttered under his breath. The liquid took on a ruby glow almost like a candle burning behind it, except the faint light came from within. Dr. Beth raised the glass before his eyes, muttered some more and took a few notes, then handed it over to me.

"Drink," he ordered and I did so. It felt hot going down, not the dry searing of the alcohol or the gag-worthy taste of the aspirin used in its making but like chicken broth hot from the stove and freshly made chocolate milk in a cold winter night at the same time. With every gulp my headache went away, the cramping in my gut faded, even the cold fear and shaking went away till I felt like running a marathon without superpowers. The doc nodded at me, returned the empty glass to his desk, then mentioned offhandedly "Healing potion. I learned how to make it the first time I had to put down a patient who died and rose as a zombie."

I threw a pillow at his head.

xxxx xxxx

Name: Maya Wennefer Bio: female human, 17y3m5d

Powers [5/11 pts]

Force Adjustment II

Forced Acceleration I

Progressive Regeneration I

Proximakinesis I

Attributes [3/11 pts]

Might 8, Agility 7, Reason 2, Vigilance 3, Ego 4, Luck 1

Almost getting killed - just thinking about that picture sent me shuddering once more - came with rewards. There were enough enemies going down in the big fight for a total of five power-ups, the last two probably from the last and biggest monster alone. A couple of points I'd already spent just to survive the fight and given my new might score if my clothes hadn't melted away they'd probably be too small and too torn to fit me. Not that I'd noticed anything of the sort during the fight itself; I'd been too busy trying not to get eaten and almost failing.

There were enough points to get the third rank of Force Adjustment, but no. Two points to improve Progressive Regeneration to the second rank and I only regretted there weren't enough to get the third as well. I could always flee from a fight when - not if - enemies proved too powerful or play for time so winning the first time, every time was an unreasonable goal. Surviving any injuries I did take however was an absolute must, obviously. Plus if my regeneration was rapid enough, attrition fights against stronger opponents became a viable option.

Forced Acceleration II: boost internal forces at all levels, speeding actions and internal processes by up to 100%.

Like the first one, the second rank of Forced Acceleration seemed rather underwhelming. In fact, looking at the events of the fight with the benefit of hindsight, there had been several moments where the speed boost was totally out of proportion with its stated effects. When outrunning half the flayed freaks or seeing the pre-mutation monsters move around in slow motion I'd been much faster than a point in the Agility attribute and a fifty percent speed increase could account for, unless my grasp of attribute scaling was way off.

No, that couldn't be it. Furtively checking to confirm Dr. Beth wasn't ready to sneak up on me from around the fridge or behind the filing cabinet, I wrapped the sheets around me for better coverage, nicked a pen from his desk and threw it in the air a few times. Then I activated my current rank of Forced Acceleration and repeated the throws. They seemed slower, yes, but not as much slower as the monsters had been. Not even close. Finally willing myself to become as fast as possible, I threw the pen once more. This time it was as slow as a falling feather, except it was me going faster rather than it slowing due to air resistance. Just to confirm the test was repeated several times, each time its apparent speed adjusted more or less but every time more a boost than Forced Acceleration should have granted me.

Because it wasn't working just by itself. Because it didn't boost my speed by accelerating time or altering my biology. It did so by adjusting all internal forces, literally pushing around all the fiddly bits down to molecules and maybe atoms to go faster than they should have. It was probably a less effective means of super speed than other powers, which explained its unimpressive results... unless its user had another power which selectively adjusted all forces to and from them by several times over, including those applied by powers. Two more points spent and my speed would not double; it could be increased as much as five hundred percent.

Power synergies were a big deal. They were the reason I'd taken Proximakinesis along with Force Adjustment and could now explode zombie heads with a five hundred pound finger-flick. The problem was, neither power descriptions nor the instinctive understanding of using them received along with the power covered synergies at all. Just like proper technique, it was something you had to discover yourself and while I thought I'd been doing well enough, having to make several rapid, do-or-die decisions depending on the ability of the list to sift through powers for those you needed or wanted meant at least one major synergy had been missed. Were there others?

Force Adjustment II: adjust forces and force-like effects from and on you by a factor of up to five, selectively. Automatic trigger vs harm.

Forced Acceleration II: boost internal forces at all levels, speeding actions and internal processes by up to 100%. Progressive Regeneration II: slowly recover from harm, the faster the more hurt you are, the longer such harm lasts and the more you've been similarly hurt. Proximakinesis I: apply up to 100 pounds worth of force to any one target you touch at the point of contact.

Dr. Beth's cabinet of surgical tools was locked... and then it wasn't. Something, possibly some magical disturbance or a prior visitor to the infirmary, must have messed with the lock and now anyone could open it. That was my story and he couldn't prove otherwise; the security camera built into the smoke detector had been blocked by chewing gum since a few days after it'd been installed courtesy of the Arts and Crafts Club's blowgun project.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The stolen scalpel looked very shiny and very sharp against my forearm and for a few moments I reconsidered. Was I really doing this? Knife play was usually the province of unfortunately suicidal people or depraved morons and my current situation leading so easily into believing it necessary sent alarms ringing in my mind. Unlike many others though, superpowers meant it was less monumentally stupid than normal people would think and there were good reasons for doing it.

"I bet every other idiot thought so too, possibly including the superpowers bit" I mumbled to myself and sliced a two-inch line just deep enough to bleed. Over the course of a second the cut sealed up and after a few more seconds even the tiny white line faded into unblemished skin. Activating Forced Acceleration and pushing it to maximum with Force adjustment I repeated the process, observing and counting carefully. No difference. Maybe it was too small a wound to notice the difference? The third and fourth cuts I made were halfway from elbow to wrist, the sting of the blade only a mild annoyance compared to wounds I'd suffered through in the last forty-eight hours. Still no difference. Yet there was something about the bleeding that seemed odd...

"Oh, I'm an idiot." Going through with the test once more, I selectively boosted the Forced Acceleration of my healing alone and the difference was rather obvious - as in multiple times faster. Of course I couldn't tell whether my healing got faster, that power boosted every internal process perception included.

The final point of powers would need going through the list to pick something new, thus was left for last. There were three attribute points that needed spending and as with powers the first was a no-brainer; Agility. As the attribute increased to match my Might the usual condensing and streamlining followed so that once more looked like a swimmer or boxer instead of a body builder. A really tall swimmer or boxer, as tall as the tallest female basketball players. Everything around felt too small, my own frame and limbs too large and awkward even though my relative proportions weren't that much different and the last increase in height had been smaller than the previous one. There was nothing really wrong with my body, it was healthier than it had ever been; it was just a trick of perspective.

Two more points to go. The first time I had several free points after getting my first pick and I was at a loss of where to put them. On one hand, Might and Agility were absolutely crucial for survival and meshed well with my very physically-oriented powers. On the other hand, I would never know what the other stats did if I never spent any points in them. I was in a place of relative safety, with multiple allies to watch my back, Dr. Beth could apparently make healing potions and... and all those were excuses, weren't they? The truth was, growing any larger didn't feel right even if that growth was already tapering off. For some time now, the feeling that a different attribute choice would just fit better had been growing and with no immediate threats to force me otherwise that's what I did.

Ego had been my highest attribute originally, along with Agility, and putting a point in it after so long was a relief. Like a day at a pricey spa when you were feeling down or several days of shop therapy or lazing around after exams or a week of hard practice, it was a jolt of pure energy to the system you hadn't known you needed. Not just physical energy - that was closer to Might - but that mental recharge that let you feel more like yourself, more human. The shake in my arms went away, my clenched stomach relaxed, the need to check the area every two minutes, to hunt or to hide, they all faded. A lot of the lingering fear, anxiety and horror of the worst days of my life, of every surviving student's and teacher's lives because nothing short of outright torture would have been worse than facing actual monsters, did not go away but... was put into perspective. I had not only survived, I'd personally crushed the worst monsters around so far. Not just one of them but whole groups at once; they were still disgustingly ugly and gross and horrible for what they did but compared to me they were just a pack of wild dogs. Dangerous, possibly lethal even, but well within my abilities to face. I had faced them and won and now felt more confident I would do so again not because of blind bravado but based on facts and my own growing power.

The same confidence and will spread to the rest of me, my awkward slouch going away and my own body feeling more like my own. No, it was more like my own. The same strength and stamina, explosive speed and great control came together in a way that felt less artificial, went deeper than just the streamlining of agility. Infinitesimal changes, minor shifting or muscle and rearrangement of bone and even changed texture of skin made me feel more like... a better me. Immediately and dropping all previous plans, I put the second point in Ego too. This time, the change was undeniable; everything felt closer to what I'd had before, yet more at the same time. Better balance because my legs matched my expectations. Better coordination, because it felt like I'd lived with these arms my whole life. No, like I'd just taken the ballet and gymnastics lessons of my middle school years all over again and this time beaten all the slimmer, lighter-on-their-feet girls I'd been so jealous of. Screw diets to fit some absurd weight requirements, those weren't healthy and they weren't me.

There was a full-length mirror in the infirmary and checking what the changes meant would only take dropping the bed sheet for a second. I didn't even hesitate, my new confidence brooking no awkwardness, and what I saw made my whole day. The girl in the image was me. Taller perhaps than I'd have expected, more toned, yet still beautiful. Broad shoulders and hips forming a hourglass figure better than I remembered, a healthy skin with neither scars nor any other sign of wear, lips a little narrower and naturally redder, cheeks a hair higher, eyes just a little larger and bluer. Hair as long as before but brighter, fuller and healthier, with a shade of that natural curl everyone tried for at least once but usually needed a professional stylist to achieve. As for my bust, the girls stood firm despite their size and messed neither with my balance nor were a pain in the back - a solid proof of honest to God superpowers if there ever was one. I looked like a supermodel would have if someone had thrown those asinine ideas about anorexic bean poles aside and went just by what looked beautiful. Not quite world class, but solidly state level without the least bit of make-up or other artifice. It was more than just looks; it was the grace and the presence of actresses and idols that could fill a room and draw the eye the moment they walked in.

I didn't know how long I stayed and looked at my reflection, but it felt longer than a few seconds. What finally shook me out of slack-jawed stupor was the chill and the realization that I was posing naked in the infirmary where at any moment other people might come in. I was confident but not shameless; the bed sheet went all over me again. My old clothes might or might not have fit, the superpowered makeover had put me closer to my original size though the jury was still out on how much, but they were long gone according to Dr. Beth. Where would I find new clothes? The gym... would probably have something. If only it weren't halfway across the school with several truckloads worth of monsters between here and there, ones I wasn't about to fight in either the bed sheet or my birthday suit.

There were boys' clothes to be had. Tommy had certainly found some to account for his new size and he'd been larger than I was, even now. That option came with a host of its own drawbacks such as the stink of unwashed teenage boy, the sweat, the stink, the ick factor, the stink, the lack of underwear, and the stink. Plus whatever I wore was probably going to be cut, torn, burned, melted or otherwise horribly damaged in the next even moderately difficult fight.

If absolutely necessary there was always needle and thread to make something out of... yeah, no way to finish that even in my mind. Stupid middle school house economy class, stupid needles, even stupider teacher treating us like we were back in kindergarten. ...screw it, solving my problems with superpowers had worked so far; there had to be at least one solution to my nakedness on the list.

Create Camouflage I: temporarily create mundane camouflage appropriate for your situation. It adjusts to terrain, illumination and the weather as you move.

Infinite Wardrobe I: once per minute, permanently create any mundane article of clothing of common materials tailored specifically to you. Innocuous Disguise: summon mundane disguise appropriate for your situation. Includes clothes, make-up, masks and other props. Only works as a disguise.

Sheath of Acid I: fully coat yourself in an inch of supernatural acid that doesn't hinder you in any way. Twice as damaging as grappling with your own strength.

Sheath of Fire I: fully coat yourself in supernatural flames that don't hinder you in any way. Twice as damaging as grappling with your own strength. Sheath of Illusion I: you may appear as any individual of roughly your own build, wearing any mundane attire. This is only illusion with no physical substance.

Sheath of Metal I: fully coat yourself in millimeters of metal that doesn't hinder you in any way. As tough as your own body or as steel, whichever is best.

Sheath of Stone I: fully coat yourself in two inches of stone that doesn't hinder you in any way. As tough as your own body or as granite, whichever is best. Size Adjustment I: adjust the dimensions of mundane objects up or down by up to 50%, at will, for as long as you remain conscious. Super Suit I: create custom costume over an hour. As resilient as your own body, unharmed by your powers, can change/repair hourly. Only you can wear it.

...seriously? Just as many clothing or clothing adjacent options as for defense? Fortunately the powers list could still use my own preferences as filters otherwise I'd still be cooped up in the infirmary for the foreseeable future. Going through the short list of ten, there were options from the mundane but plentiful, to powers that were more combat-oriented with providing cover as a side-effect, to clothing with minor powers. While everything looked interesting, I was leaning towards something mundane-looking to ground me after all the craziness that nevertheless would remain useful in a fight. In that, the appropriately titled Super Suit was the best option and with the power acquired all my options had settled for the time being.

Name: Maya Wennefer Bio: female human, 17y3m5d

Powers [0/11 pts]

Force Adjustment II

Forced Acceleration II

Progressive Regeneration II

Proximakinesis I

Super Suit I

Attributes [0/11 pts]

Might 8, Agility 8, Reason 2, Vigilance 3, Ego 6, Luck 1

xxxx xxxx

An hour later I exited the infirmary in my spiffy yet perfectly comfortable full-body suit, ignored a barricade of thick metal bars that looked more at home in some max security black site than a school, turned left then left again to enter the kitchens. Several people just stared - the form-fitting leather, including boots, gloves and a stylish miniskirt were quite attention grabbing - but I ignored everyone and everything and just followed my nose.

The youngest cook manned the single functional cooking station that hadn't been thrashed behind even more of those metal bars, a huge pot of what looked like vegetable stew bubbling merrily on it. I wouldn't have cared if it had been dog food. I just grunted a greeting that might or might not have been fit for polite company, took the offered bowl in both hands and didn't stop gulping down until it was empty, boiling temperature or no.

My stomach growled in contentment, the ravenous hunger that had struck as soon as the divine smell of sustenance had wafted into the infirmary halfway through my costume being ready finally satisfied. Only the horrors of a full zombie apocalypse must have held it at bay; Regeneration meant only surviving the results of hunger, not being happy about missed meals.

It was only then that I noticed the dozen other survivors sitting all over the visibly fortified cafeteria, fellow students and adults both. Fifteen people along with me, Tommy and Dr. Beth were all that had survived out of a school of more than a thousand, unless more of them were hidden somewhere else.

Neither Mandy nor Jerry were among them.