Dominick was bored. Though his better nature told him it was in his best interest to pay attention, he simply couldn't bring himself to do so. The day up until then had droned on, and having this to end it helped little at all. No matter how he tried, the prevailing sense that he could be doing something better with his time scratched at the back of his brain.
He was in class, the last of his typical high school day, to be exact. His seat was more or less in the middle of the white walled room, just one row closer to the window than the door. He couldn't stare outside said window without looking across his fellow classmates and, considering the cute girl between it and him, zoning out in her direction probably wasn't the greatest of ideas.
It wasn't even the subject matter that put him so far off. Not strictly, anyway. His seventh period, just like everyone else's, was dedicated to the newest required course, Neohuman Studies. This would be its first year in the curriculum. Dominick was sure the things being talked about were absolutely fascinating, but he was Flashbang, an actual superhero and member of the local hero team. There was nothing this course could cover that he hadn't already been over in excruciating detail. He had to know this stuff in order to be successful in his field.
Not that any of that really mattered in the moment. Very few people knew who he was, just like every other hero. Even if he was Flashbang, that didn't change the fact that he was stuck in class for at least a little while longer. He looked up at the clock. Three minutes since class started, and forty-two until it ended. He sighed.
His eyes trailed up to the mostly barren whiteboard. There were a few words on it pertaining to the subject, but he didn't bother reading them. Again, why go out of his way to obtain old information? It was a waste of time.
Distantly, Dominick realized he was doing the exact thing his most hated peers did; acting like he knew more than the teacher. Nothing within these four walls annoyed him more than when someone interrupted class to either add on some random fact to the lecture or, even worse, correct the teacher. The only person who should teach the class was the person getting paid to teach. The way he saw it, everyone else could shut up.
That in mind, he decided to at least try and pay attention. Maybe there would be some new information in whatever Ms. Cormack was saying. Probably not, but maybe. The teacher was a tall middle-aged woman with shoulder-length dark hair, a beak of a nose, and a nasally voice. She stood just in front of the whiteboard, occasionally writing things on it for emphasis.
"I know all of this new terminology can be a bit confusing," she said, "especially considering how quickly it all changed around. That's why I'm taking my time in class to make sure you all know what these words mean, and how they came to be. The world is rapidly changing. It's important to keep up with the times. Make sure to put these words in your notes for future reference."
It was only after she called attention to them did Dominick realize the words on the whiteboard were all of the modern colloquialisms and slang terms for powered individuals. They were, quite literally, the first thing he'd studied prior to becoming Flashbang. Maybe listening in wasn't the best of ideas. Too late to tune back out, though, as the teacher carried on. She drew a star after the first word in the list.
"Neohuman. To me, this is the most unnatural sounding on the bunch, and I'm sure plenty of you agree. It was honestly kind of a rush job. After Pulse made herself known and other powered individuals began coming out of the woodwork, the media scrambled a bit to figure out what we should call them. Originally, news outlets like the New York Times and Wall Street Journal published stories containing the word 'Metahuman.' We all ran with this for a time, but the copyright holders for that terms—D.C. Comics—weren't exactly fans of their word being used to describe real supervillains. A couple lawsuits later, and that was the end of that.
"For about a month or two, this cycle repeated. It turns out authors and publishers have been having the same problem for decades. Metahuman, mutant, parahuman, cape, costume, mask, extrahuman, esper, they're all taken, and no one wants to share. Even Neohuman is protected under a private copyright. The only difference is, the owners of it didn't protest. TMZ was the first to use the word 'Neohuman.' After no one brandished their lawyers, and the internet got a hold of it, the title stuck.
"Neohuman spread so rapidly, it even was worked into the name of a government agency made public around that time. Its full name is Neohuman Action, Acquisition, Monitoring, and Enforcement, but you all know them as just NAAME. I say made public, because shortly after NAAME stepped forward, they revealed they'd been operating as a shadow organization since 1921. The conspiracy theorists had a field day with that one.
"NAAME put itself out there as a way to curtail public discontent and ensure the people that the growing 'Neohuman situation' was under control. Predictably, a lot of people didn't like the idea that the government knew about powered individuals for so long without telling anyone. Good deeds done by heroes working with NAAME largely quelled these suspicions, but there are still plenty of people wary of NAAME. I'll be going into more detail on this in a future class."
So far, it was as Dominick predicted. No new information and a long diatribe on things he already knew. The teacher did a good job presenting the lesson. That Dominick wasn't interested had nothing to do with her. But, seeing as he had nothing better to do, he figured it wouldn't hurt him to continue paying attention as Ms. Cormack continued on.
"One of the more interesting bits of information NAAME revealed was that there are actually two kinds of Neos, which brings me to may next point." She made a star in a different color than the first next to the second word in her list. "The Altered, generally referred to as Alts, are Neos who were in some way artificially changed in a way that gave them powers. Some are the product of genetic engineering, while others were changed with some sort of mechanical or cybernetic procedures. Our own Pulse is a product of the latter. They were the first Neos, and are still the most common."
It was so weird for Dominick to hear his team leader talked about in such a casual way, mostly because he knew her on a personal level. The teacher moved on by drawing another differently colored star next to the third term in the list.
"The second type are the Inheritors, or Innies. They are the children of Altered Neos, born with their abilities. Even those changed with machinery have had their genetic codes somewhat rewritten in response to the constant stress caused by their powers. Because of this, they are able to produce offspring with natural abilities. The Innies are not quite as common, but their numbers are growing.
"There's a larger discussion about genetics to be had, but I'll cover that at a later date. For now, I'll just go into the percentages that go along with Neohuman reproduction. If two Neos have a baby there is, of course, a one-hundred percent chance the child will have powers. In the same vein, if two Normies—what Neos call regular people—have a child, it won't have powers. What's interesting is when a Normie and a Neo have children. You'd think the numbers there would be fifty-fifty, but they're not. From what NAAME scientists can tell, the chances are actually closer to seventy percent. It's more likely the child will be a Neo. We don't know why this is, but all of the research we have right now points to it as fact."
This particular tidbit had been drilled into Dominick's head more than others. It was important he understand the state of the world, and of his own people. As the child of a Neo mother and Normie father, his origins were a necessary thing to wrap his head around. He needed to understand where he came from in order to know where he was going. That was what Ayda said, anyway.
Dominick largely tuned back out after that. He'd listened in long enough to surmise there wouldn't be anything important for him to take in, and as such decided there was no good reason to listen. He was absolutely confident in his ability to ace the upcoming quiz with or without whatever Ms. Cormack had to say. For the time being there were more important things to occupy his brain with, like what he would do on his patrol that started in the next couple hours.
When the final bell of the day rang, it took him a second to realize it even happened, so lost in thought was he. It was always a bit of a mad scramble to get out the door after the last bell. Thankfully, Ms. Cormack wasn't the kind to keep students after her allotted time slot. Since this class was rather new, there wasn't a book to pack up. Dominick hadn't been taking notes, either, so when the bell rang he just picked up his backpack and headed for the exit. Even so, sitting a median distance from the door meant he was only the fourth to make it out.
Leaving the room put him in the hallway. He hated the hallway, especially after seventh period. There were students wall to wall, so dense he could hardly see through them. That the majority of the boys and girls were taller than him made that particular problem even worse. People near the walls trying to get in their skinny blue lockers barely had room to do so. A few simply stood defensively before their compartments until the crowd thinned, which it wouldn't anytime soon. The throng was thick and dense, ever pushing forward. If Dominick stopped for even a second, he ran the risk of being trampled.
At the end of the long, congested corridor, Dominick hung a right. He walked through where a pair of double doors had been and onto a staircase. It descended for a flight, curved around on a narrow landing, and went down again. The traffic followed him onto the stairs, but it moved a little bit slower on them since most people were more concerned with not falling than anything else.
Now on the ground floor, Dom did his best to force his way to the outside of the crowd. This section of the building played host to the seniors' lockers, and his was pretty close to the stairs. He managed to worm through the masses a few steps before reaching his locker, #486 with the pronounced dent in the bottom vent. Typical that he would get the damaged one.
Dominick opened the locker and stuffed two books into his drab green canvas backpack. Physics and U.S. History II, homework he'd have to find time to do at some point. At least there wasn't much. Satisfied, he closed the locker and merged into the crowd on his way to the front exit, which was on the other end of this floor.
His high school gave students two options when it came to waiting for buses. They either could wait in the cafeteria, or outside by the little picnic area. Since the cafeteria was usually so loud he couldn't hear himself think, Dom almost always waited outside.
Upon crossing the threshold into the warm El Puerto afternoon, he focused on the picnic area. It was six round tables of pressboard made up to look homemade. To his right was a short path which lead to the street. To his northwest, a small visitor parking lot. There were remarkably fewer people waiting out here, and he was thankful to escape the crowds. One of the tables was empty. Perfect.
"Dom!" A familiar voice cut through the air. Confused and slightly concerned at the sound of his own name, he turned to the source in the parking lot. Though, he didn't need to see her to know who she was. Pulse. Ayda.
Dominick looked around to see if anyone was staring at them. A few of the girls at a table of eight women glanced around at the disturbance, but payed it little mind. He knew them. They were some of the popular girls, the ones who loved to talk.
As he approached Ayda in a bit of a rush, he could already hear the questions from his peers in his head. "Who was that hot girl waiting for you yesterday?" and "was that your girlfriend?" Things like that. Maybe he'd skip school tomorrow. Who would be looking for him on a Friday?
When he got a little bit closer, Dom took a little gander at Ayda in an attempt to ascertain the meaning of all this. She wore a tight blue t-shirt with the Capsule Corp. logo on the left shoulder. The rest of her outfit was blue jeans and black sneakers. The motorcycle behind her was a grey Harley-Davidson sportster with silver pinstripes along the stylized gas tank; her civilian vehicle. So, not there on hero business then, which sucked because Dom couldn't think of any other reason she'd come see him at school. He resisted the urge to shake his head as he closed to acceptable conversation distance.
"Hey," he greeted her.
"Hey," she returned.
"What, uh, what are you doing here?" He hated to seem rude, but couldn't think of a better way to phrase it.
"I was just in the area running some errands," she patted the saddlebags behind her for emphasis. "I know how much you hate riding the bus, so I thought I'd come give you a lift since we're going to the same place anyway."
"Oh, okay. Thanks." Dominick mulled all of that over in his mind for second. What she said wasn't necessarily true. The school bus would actually drop him off at a stop nearby the police station, from which he'd walk the rest of the way there. But still, she was close enough. It did sound like something Ayda would do. Nothing nefarious so far.
"And," Ayda continued, "I also thought this would be an excellent time for a little training." There it was. The real reason she'd come.
"My patrol starts in two hours." He looked at his watch. One hour and forty minutes, to be precise.
"And that's just enough time for one good spar," insisted Ayda. "Come on, let's go." She did a half turn toward her motorcycle, beckoning him to follow.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Dominick sighed. "Do I have a choice, or are you ordering me?"
Ayda turned back to face him. "You always have a choice. I don't give orders. You know that. I'd like to train with you ASAP since we weren't able to while you were away, but you don't have to if you don't want to. I won't force you."
Dom took a moment to consider her offer. Of course, he knew she was right. The away mission with Alloy had given him a wealth of real world experience. He'd by lying to claim he wasn't at least somewhat curious how that translated to his fighting. What better way than to train with one of the best fighters in the world? The enterprising part of him actually wanted to.
But there was another, perhaps equal—or even greater—part that wanted to lounge around the bunker for two hours, eating junk food and playing stupid video games. Dominick wondered if that was his age speaking. Lazy teenager was often used as a generalized insult by older folks, but at seventeen he knew it to be rather accurate. Maybe Ayda could be convinced to join him in his gaming?
The longer he thought about it, the more Dominick knew he really couldn't do that. He had responsibilities, and they came first. Always. He'd be a legal adult next year. Time to start acting like one.
"Dom?" Ayda said.
At the sound of his voice, Dominick realized he'd just been standing there, silently staring at the ground while he thought. His cheeks heated up, but thankfully the color didn't show through his dark skin.
"Sorry," he said quickly before meeting her eyes. "Yeah, sure. Let's go train."
"Cool." Ayda smiled at him. "Hop on. There's no time to waste." She followed her own instructions and mounted the motorcycle.
For himself, Dominick hesitated a moment, not because of the vehicle, but of the girl. He'd been a passenger with Ayda a few times in the past, but that didn't make this time any easier. Riding the bike with her put him quite close to an attractive young woman. His hormones couldn't take it. Where was he supposed to put his hands, or—for that matter—the rest of him? That she'd given him permission to ride was scant comfort.
None of that was to mention the rumor mill. A random college girl visiting him at school was one thing. Riding off into the sunset with her was another entirely. What would people say? What would he say? This was all just a big problem he didn't need.
Interrupting his train of thought, Ayda reached back to hand him an old fashioned black helmet he hadn't even noticed before. It must've been hanging from the handlebars. He took a look at it and realized it was the only one. Ayda hadn't brought one for herself. Not that he expected any different.
Dominick sighed and took the helmet, swiftly putting it on his head. He climbed aboard the motorcycle, careful to stay as far back on the seat attached to the rear fender as possible. He leaned back to grip the edge of the leather rectangle, putting him even further away from the woman in front of him. It was the best he could do for a respectable distance. If only it didn't put such a strain on his lower back.
"I know how uncomfortable that is," Ayda said, peering back at him with one eye. "You can lean forward, you know. I don't mind."
"I'm fine, thanks." Dom said, looking away.
Ayda rolled her eyes. "If you say so."
She kicked the beast to life. In contrast to the Ducati she rode on patrol, this bike's engine was loud, low, and rumbling. Ayda walked it backward out of the parking space and turned it left to face the road. Dominick winced at the sudden spike in volume as she whisked them away. It made much more of a statement than he wanted to.
…
Dominick stood in the middle of a big, barren room. The walls were plain metal, while the floor beneath his feet was a thin layer of padding and canvas over even more metal. There were cameras positioned all over the place, but they were expertly hidden within the walls. The only reason Dom could locate any of them was because he knew where they were. Even the door was hidden as just another part of the wall.
His clothing was a wonderful piecemeal affair. Most of what he wore was his superhero costume, the black morph suit modified with armor panels along the chest, back, and upper arms in a way that mimicked human musculature. His hands were wrapped in several layers of cloth and athletic tape. Red guards protected his shins and forearms, while a matching sparring helmet squished his face. He held his clear mouthguard in one hand, where it would stay until absolutely necessary.
The walls flashed bright blue for a split second, and then he all of a sudden stood in a classical Japanese dojo. It still lacked furniture, but the structure was made of bamboo wood, there were sliding paper doors on all sides, the mat beneath his feet looked and felt like real straw. Directly ahead of him crossed katanas hung centered between a pair of Eastern dragon paintings. There were a few hung scrolls with kanji he couldn't read scattered throughout the walls. He could even hear a distant fountain somewhere outside the room.
This sort of ultra-realistic holographic environment was the cutting edge of battlefield simulation. Proprietary tech developed by Belmont International specifically for NAAME, not even the U.S. Military had their hands on it yet.
Ahead of Dominick, a figure materialized. It was a masculine shape made entirely of blue hardlight criss-crossed with a pulsing white line grid. Roughly two inches taller than himself—so Ayda's height—it had markedly more muscle tone, even in this form.
The thing wasn't a light projection for long. It glowed more intensely for a few seconds, and was replaced with a stereotypical ninja, complete with a wakizashi on his back. Dominick cocked his stance to one side at the sight of it.
"Really?" He said, eyebrow raised.
Ayda's disembodied voice came over a speaker. "Last time you complained about fighting just a basic hologram, so this time you're fighting a ninja. I almost made him a normal kickboxer, but ninjas are cool."
Dominick shrugged "It's more interesting, I'll give you that."
"Mouthguard in, Dom," Ayda said. Dominick quickly complied. "Remember, I have no control over this thing. I just turn it on and off. The pace of the fight depends on you two."
Dominick didn't want to mumble around the rubber thing in his mouth like an idiot, so he gave an exaggerated nod instead.
"There will be no point system in place," Ayda continued, "and the only rule is, no powers. This is strictly a test of your fighting abilities. I will call the fight when I feel one side has won, or it's gone on long enough. When you're ready, assume a stance."
Dominick had been ready for the past few minutes, and as such wasted no time going into a standard boxing stance. He put his left foot in front, bent his knees slightly, tucked his chin down and in, put up his fists with palms facing inward, the left further forward. When he did this, the ninja took a similar posture, if a bit looser overall. That it wasn't a kung fu stance kind of ruined the immersion. The technology still had a few beta versions to go through.
"Why don't we use a gong instead of a bell to start the fight? It fits the theme better," Ayda said.
"Whathefer," Dom struggled to say around his guard.
"Alright. Good luck, Dom. The fight begins now!" Ayda said, accompanied by the loud crash of a gong.
The fighters moved forward. A few good steps from each of them closed the distance. Dominick sized up his competition. Like they always did, the holograms looked and moved exactly like a real person. Anyone who didn't know any better wouldn't know the difference.
Dominick decided the worst thing would be to give up the initiative. As such, he opened the bout with a quick jab-cross combination. The ninja blocked with its forearms and countered with a broad right hook. Dom ducked safely underneath, and in doing so failed to block the low lead uppercut coming his way. The artificial fist slammed into his nose.
Dom straightened up and took swift steps backward. The hologram chased with a side kick, after which it hopped forward and transitioned into an axe kick with the same leg. They missed. The moment both of its feet hit the ground, Dominick launched a big superman punch. It slid right between the ninja's elbows to smack its face. Dom followed up with a roundhouse kick to the head, an impressive show of flexibility given their height difference.
The ninja blocked, slipped forward, and threw a jab. Dom stepped outside it to avoid the fist, and then attempted a huge left hook. The hologram caught his wrist with one hand, his armpit with the other. It spun a half turn, trying to rip Dom from his feet. The young hero leaned far forward upon several stumbling steps, desperate to remain upright. He kept his balance, but barely.
Dominick stood up and looked at his opponent, only to find the ninja charging full bore at him. The ninja jumped into a pro wrestling-stlye dropkick. Two feet planted firmly into Dominick's chest. He uprooted and slammed his spine against the ground, sliding a few inches along it. Through the fairies dancing in his vision, he lifted his head to find the hologram. Again, it ran at him. Dominick kicked his feet up. He rolled over his shoulder just as the hologram dropped a savage punch into the mat where he'd just been.
Dominick rose up with a knee. The ninja stood with a step backward, barely avoiding the attack. Dom turned his knee into a snap kick to the body, which the hologram also stepped away from. The ninja utilized its longer reach to launch a roundhouse kick into Dominick's side, but the hero blocked. The ninja whipped the foot into a low sidekick, which Dom took on the knee. He caved slightly at the impact. That was the ninja's opening to throw a pair of hook punches, which each collided with a side of Dom's sparring helmet. The ninja ended its offense with a sidekick that dug its heel into Dom's stomach. He used the force to propel himself backward on a couple quick footfalls.
The hologram didn't charge in this time. Instead, the combatants closed the distance in much the same way they had when the fight started. Dominick threw a jab, but it was setup for the roundhouse which landed cleanly in the hologram's ribs. While it reacted, he followed with a cross that was blocked. His left hook, however, caught the ninja on the jaw.
Inspired by the recent string of successful attacks Dom tried to whip his left hand into a backfist. The hologram got wise. It slipped past the attack and planted an left uppercut in Dominick's liver. Next came a straight to his ribs. The left hand again came for an uppercut, but this time hit the hero on his chin. He stepped back to cut off the assault, and in doing so put himself in the perfect range for the spinning hook kick that caught his cheek.
Again, Dominick fought against stumbling steps. The only thing which kept him upright was sheer willpower. He got his balance and planted his feet. The hologram closed in. It was probably looking for a good finisher, but Dom beat it to the line. He threw a wild overhand left that sailed straight past the ninja's forearm to collide with its temple. He then lashed a roundhouse to the body, which turned into a leg kick. Both found their mark. Foot still in the air, he went for a sidekick.
Dom's hit rang true, but the ninja caught his foot against its body. Before he could even begin to struggle, it spun like when it caught his fist previously. Without a stable base to support himself on, Dominick gave. He was airborne for a second before coming down hard on his hands and knees.
He heard the ninja take on step toward him before a gong sounded. It took his brain a moment to realize that meant the fight was over. The Japanese dojo faded, leaving the original metal wall to replace it. Dominick looked over to where the hologram would have stood. It, too, had faded. He was alone in the room. That Ayda had pulled the plug said she realized the same thing he did the moment he went down. He had no hope of wining that fight.
Dominick ripped the helmet from his head, dropping it to the canvas. It rolled away from him. Next was the mouthguard. He held it in his hand for a moment against the ground before throwing it across the room. On his hands and knees, Dom stared at the canvas. Sweat against his forehead free of the helmet felt cool against the air conditioned room. He wiped it away on his sleeve. Feeling it just agitated him further. It was a reminder of all the effort he put in only to lose.
The hydraulics in the wall whirred. That meant the door was open. The sound of singular applause filled his ears. He glanced up to see Ayda walking toward him, clapping. Seeing her reminded him she'd been watching. That knowledge made his defeat even worse. Still, he refused to stay down like a kicked puppy. The least he could do was meet her on mostly equal terms. He stood, but kept his eyes down.
"Great job, Dom," Ayda said as she approached.
"I don't see what was so great about it," Dominick said to the ground. "I still lost."
Ayda stopped clapping. "It's not about winning or losing, it's about testing your skills. Your kick combos were excellent, and that overhand? Savage." She reached him. "Your defense was as good as it could've been given the situation, and you showed great instincts in both attacking and defending. You did really well. Rio was right to be impressed."
"Maybe," Dom said, "but it still sucks to lose." He finally met her gaze. "I thought I'd be training with you, not one of those things. I hate fighting the holograms."
"Yeah, me too," Ayda agreed. "I don't like making you fight them, either, but I can't watch you and spar at the same time."
"It sucks even more losing to those holograms," Dominick continued. "I mean, computers are supposed to be predictable, right? And yet, I've only beaten them, what? Twice?"
"Fourteen times, actually," Ayda corrected him. "Trust me, I know how much it hurts to lose."
"Bullshit," Dom said, lowly. "I bet you, the great Pulse, have never lost a fight in your life."
"That's not even close to being true," she said.
"Yeah, right," argued Dom. "I've never seen you even struggle with a fight."
"That's mostly because you haven't been around long enough," Ayda said. "Here, let me show you."
Ayda lifted up a corner of her shirt to reveal her right side, stopping just below her bra. Dominick glanced at the exposed brown skin, the toned muscles, and the quartet of scars spread out along her flesh. Conscious of how indecent it would be to stare at her, his eyes darted toward the ground.
"Look at me, Dom," Ayda said. Her tone was not forceful nor angry, yet still firm.
Dominick did as he was told, but purposely met her eyes. She made very deliberate motions with her free hand, which Dom knew he was supposed to watch. Ayda traced the diagonal line of an exposed scar, one of the majority usually hidden by her clothes.
"I have a lot of scars you haven't seen. I used to think of every single one of them as a personal defeat, because that's what a madman told me they were." Ayda said.
She dropped the corner of her shirt. It fell back into place. She then tugged at her t-shirt's collar on the opposite side. It stretched until Dom could see the the upper part of a ghastly old puncture scar. That one he saw whenever Pulse wore a tank top, since she normally took her jacket off when in the bunker.
"Several of them, like this one, are from actual defeats." Ayda let her collar spring more or less back to its original shape. "I wear my loses every day of my life. I know exactly how it feels to lose. The important part is that you pick yourself up and try again, even though it hurts."
Dominick didn't really have a response to that. Instead, he just inspected the ground again. He knew everything Ayda said was right. However, that didn't make it better. Maybe it was the sting of defeat still fresh in his mind, or perhaps the lingering surge of adrenaline. Either way, he couldn't calm down. He didn't want to sympathy. Not from her. Not from Pulse.
"Why do you think you lost," Ayda said.
"Because I suck," Dominick answered immediately. "Because I'm bad at fighting. That's why I keep losing. Maybe I'm not cut out for this, or—"
"You lost," Ayda cut him off, "because that was Frank's training program, not yours."
"What?" Dominick's eyes snapped to meet hers.
"That you didn't even notice is a testament in and of itself," Ayda continued. "If that had been your program, it wouldn't have even been a fight. You would've ended it in seconds."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Dom all but shouted at her. The shame he felt was quickly being replaced by anger.
"Because I've watched you long enough to know how you operate." Ayda said. "You would've psyched yourself out."
Again, he couldn't really respond to that. He absolutely would have got in his own head if he knew it was a different training program before the fight. Again, Ayda was right.
"Dominick." Ayda took a step toward him and placed a gentle touch on his bicep. "You've come so far since you started. It takes some people years to learn what you've picked up in just six months, and you keep getting better. You're becoming a great hero. I know you'll do great things. I'm extremely proud of you."
"Thanks, Ayda," Dom said after a moment.
"Don't mention it." She dropped her hand to her side. "There's still a few minutes before your patrol. You need some water and a snack before you head out. Come on."
Ayda turned and began for the exit. Dominick jogged a couple steps to catch up to her, a smile on his face. Together, they left the training room.
Pulse thought he could be a great hero. She was proud of him. His confidence soared.