Dan found himself outside of the Red Creek Ranch the next morning. Teleporting to the entrance was a simple matter, given the many pictures peppering the helpful pamphlet that Tawny had handed out. The place was clearly attempting to be a tourist trap, and failing rather spectacularly.

Dan ran his hand over the ranch's front gate. Wrought iron, but adorned with polished silver ornamentation, the massive piece of metal felt like a monument to the owner's vanity. It lay open, welcoming, but in a horribly imposing sort of way. There was only one path available, a long dusty road leading to a distant building. A small white sign was threaded through the bars of the gate, listing the hours of operation. Dan gave it a glance to confirm that he wasn't breaking any laws, then willed himself towards the converted farmhouse that served as a front lobby.

He appeared on the front steps in a cloud of dust, the windy day playing havoc with the reddish dirt coating the road. Dan gave silent thanks to Abby's dress advice, as gravel battered against his brown duster. The longcoat made him look like he had just walked off the set of a western, not that Dan was complaining, but he hadn't put much effort into maintaining the theme. Worn blue jeans, high-quality hiking boots, and an ugly but extremely comfortable brown shirt, Dan dressed as sensibly as possible. He hadn't thought to acquire a cowboy hat, much to his chagrin. His hair was now flecked with red and brown.

Dan entered the lobby, shaking off the dust on a large mat at the entrance. Almost immediately, he was accosted by a cheerful man dressed like a maître d'.

"Good morning, my fine fellow," the newcomer said, gripping Dan's hand and shaking it vigorously. "Welcome to the Red Creek! My name is Elijah Burnett, the owner of this fine establishment. What can I do ya' for?"

The man's accent wavered between heavily Southern, and refined French, as if he couldn't decide which sounded more professional and so decided to use both. The result was jarring enough that Dan spent several seconds staring, flabbergasted by the man.

Elijah was near Dan's age, maybe a year or two older. He was Caucasian, though heavily tanned, with a square chin, a heavy brow, and skin mottled by the sun He wore a tuxedo, bow tie and all, and his long black hair was slicked backwards by an overabundance of hair gel. He appeared, to Dan's eye, a man trying very hard to be something that he was not.

Dan smiled back, regardless. This was one of the most normal people he had come across in months.

"G'morning," Dan echoed the greeting, his own accent coming out slightly. "I'm with the S&R class at the Austin Police Academy. We're supposed to be meeting here in," Dan checked his watch, "about five minutes."

"Ah." Elijah grimaced sadly. "Of course you are. Uncle Michael's class. They haven't arrived quite yet, but his other guests are out back, in the parking lot. Feel free to," he waved a hand at the lobby, "take a look around." With that, he scuttled away.

"I guess he thought I was tourist," Dan murmured to himself, as he took in the scenery. The lobby was wide and open, with a small reception desk tucked into the corner and unmanned. Like most tourist spots in this world, the Red Creek Ranch was attempting to follow a theme.

Unfortunately, the building was experiencing a crisis of personality. It couldn't decide what it wanted to be. In one direction, Dan saw the kinds of decorations that filled the Pearson. Old Western paintings, a well-stocked bar, dart boards, authentic hand-carved tables and old decks of cards. In the other direction, all the modern sensibilities that Dan expected to find in an extremely high-class hotel. Expensive, unrecognizable machines that dispensed every beverage known to mankind, a massive television mounted on crystalline projectors, sofas made of some sort of futuristic space-mesh that probably felt like clouds. The place was dressed to the nines, yet the theme was scattershot. Dan felt like he had gotten whiplash just looking at it.

He turned away, ready to vacate this eye-watering hell, only to run face first into a broad chest.

"Greetings Daniel!" Gregoir boomed from on high. "Have you prepared yourself for a day of glorious labor!?"

Dan took a step back, massaging his nose. "Morning Gregoir. And, I guess so?"

"Wonderful!" The giant blonde clapped Dan on the shoulder, nearly knocking him to the floor. "Professor Tawny sent me to collect you! We have arrived!"

"I can see that, Gregoir," Dan said dryly.

The big man beamed. "We convene in the parking lot! Come!"

Dan found himself bodily dragged out of the lobby, and dropped unceremoniously in the parking lot behind the farmhouse. Gregoir presented him to Professor Tawny like a prize won at a carnival.

"I have procured Mr. Newman, as you requested, Professor!"

The aforementioned professor was dressed similarly to Dan, with thick blue jeans tucked into his boots, and a light button-up shirt. He lacked a duster of his own, as, unlike Dan, he actually had to physically exert himself to move around. Not overheating took priority over getting his clothes dirty. He wore a ball-cap on his head, with what looked like a headlamp clipped to the bill.

Tawny sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Thank you Gregoir. Daniel, good morning."

"Morning sir," Dan replied automatically. He quickly examined his surroundings, finding both Fred and Freya nearby, along with half a dozen unfamiliar faces. "Fred. Freya. People that I don't know. G'morning everyone."

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

He received polite but scattered responses, which were interrupted by Professor Tawny clapping his hands together.

"Alright everyone," the dog-eared officer began. "We're all here. Let's do introductions, then get started."

----------------------------------------

Time passed in a blur of explanations.

The students were paired off, Fred with Daniel, and Freya with Gregoir. Dan attempted to convey his condolences to the poor girl, though his relieved grin probably worked against him there. The three certified volunteers that Tawny had recruited for this training session were then divvied up, two of them going to Gregoir's group, and the remainder joining Daniel's.

"M'names Karl McCallister," the volunteer offered cheerfully. He was a skinny man, with lanky limbs and a long gait. His brown hair was poorly groomed and hung raggedly around his head, and his face was in desperate need of a shave. His clothes, however, were perfectly suited for the outdoors; well-worn but tough, with sturdy boots and an orange visibility jacket.

Introductions were made, then Tawny once again spoke up.

"Officers Dunn and Dunn have graciously agreed to act as our lost hikers," the professor explained, pointing to a pair of dark-skinned men who were clearly twins. They both waved agreeably. The pair wore clothing comfortable for hiking, long pants and light shirts. Their badges hung on lanyards around their necks.

Tawny continued, gesturing to Gregoir, "Officer Pierre-Louis will lead group one," more than one person winced at that announcement, "while I will lead group two." He met Gregoir's eyes, as serious as Dan had ever seen him. "Gregoir, your team members are evaluating you. Those two are fully certified, and if you break protocol I've given them permission to relieve you from command."

The mountainous man straightened his back and clapped a fist over his heart. "I will not let you down, Professor!" he cried emotionally. "You have inspired me! My team will witness perfection this day! They will know the strength of my conviction!"

His words managed to somehow reverberate in an open parking lot. Tawny sighed (For what else could he do?). "That's nice, Gregoir. I have to discuss some final details with my team. Officer Dunn will lead you to the staging area."

Gregoir snapped off a salute and spun to face the twin officers with an expectant, and unnaturally wide, smile. The pair shared an apprehensive look between themselves, then launched into a lightning fast game of rock-paper-scissors.

"Right then," Tawny said, approaching Dan's group. "While they sort that out between themselves, let's talk about your upgrades." His eyes swiveled from Dan to Fred, who stiffened at the sudden attention.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dan noticed the final civilian approaching. A woman, older, stern, with hair streaked silver, she was the sole member of Tawny's group to wear business clothing; a dark jacket and blouse, with a long skirt and short heels. Her eyes flicked between each face, and the crows feet around her eyes deepened slightly.

"This is Miss Matilda, an upgrade analyst and an old friend." Tawny introduced her as she arrived at his shoulder.

Literally, as she was quite short.

"Only two, then, Michael?" the woman croaked with a voice broken by age. "You told me four."

"I told you I have four students, Matty," Tawny replied blandly. "Unfortunately, Miss Valentine has yet to choose an upgrade, and Gregoir insists that your time would be better spent 'assisting his valiant peers.'" His fingers made unenthusiastic air quotes.

"Hmm," the old dame replied noncommittally. "Very well. You two!" Her hand snapped up, index and middle finger extended to point towards Dan and Fred. Fred flinched, and Dan clamped down on his instinct to teleport away.

Matilda seemed amused at their reaction. "Name your upgrades. Mods too, hurry up now."

Fred was the first to answer, having a long ingrained instinct to obey authority. "Eagle eye, ma'am, with the deep divers mod from Amgen Pharmaceutical!"

"An odd combination," Professor Tawny remarked, cocking his head in thought. "What made you choose that?"

Fred opened his mouth, but Matilda beat him to the punch. "For his health, obviously. You're losing your touch, Michael."

Tawny frowned in thought. Dan could almost see a lightbulb appearing over the man's head, as his eyes suddenly widened. "Ah, yes, of course." He turned to Fred, smiling mildly. "Asthma as a child? And poor eyesight, I assume?"

Fred shriveled like a prune under the combined stares. Like Dan, he was wearing a set of hiking-appropriate clothing. Unlike Dan, his was worn and, in many places, torn. He seemed alarmingly self-conscious of this fact, quickly arranging his posture to hide the damage. Dan reminded himself that the boy was only seventeen.

"I-it was um, Stargardt disease," Fred stammered. "Macular degeneration. A-and yeah, asthma."

"Not much reason to choose Eagle eye, otherwise," Matilda agreed brusquely, though not unkindly. "A shame that. There are more well-rounded upgrades out there."

Fred rallied at her comment, taking a steadying breath and stating, "My parents went with what they could afford, and I'm perfectly happy with that choice."

"No need to get defensive, boy," Matilda waved him off. "I can work with Eagle Eye. It's a boon for trackers, though you'll always be more effective outdoors than in an urban environment."

Fred deflated in relief. The old woman turned to Dan. "And you?"

Well, this could possibly present a bit of a problem. Someone who specialized in munchkining upgrades would almost certainly know every detail about the Short-Hop that Dan was pretending he had. Hopefully she wouldn't call for a demonstration. His only real shield from suspicion would be the extremely esoteric nature of mutations. Fortunately, that was an extremely thick shield.

"Mutated Short-Hop," Dan offered with his best poker face. "No mods."

"Rare," Matilda grunted. "Very rare. Few purchase the Short-Hop these days. Minor teleportation was appealing for about five minutes, then people started to realize that it offered no tangible benefits to their careers, nor could it make them more attractive. Why'd you pick it?"

"I don't like to drive," Dan stated blandly.

Matilda blinked, then barked out a laugh. "That's as good a reason as any I suppose. We'll see how you perform during the exercise, but I've got some ideas for a standard Short-Hop. If you give me an exact list on how your upgrade differs from standard, I'll come up with something better. Either way, I'll work something out."

"Uh," Dan looked towards Tawny for assistance, "thanks?"

Tawny stepped forward, laying a gentle hand on Matilda's shoulder. "Matty, here, will be observing our exercise from afar." He flicked the bill of his ball-cap, where the headlamp sat. "This is a camera. I'll be broadcasting our little adventure to Matty, who will take notes on how you use your respective upgrades. Afterwards, she'll give you a list on what you can do better, and how others have succeeded in your place."

Neat. Also, terrifying. Big sister was watching Dan. He'd have to be careful. The woman was clever, that much was obvious. A veteran of her trade. He wouldn't be surprised if she learned the limits of his power just by observing him. Blowing his cover to a random stranger would be disastrous, not to mention the fact that the four officers accompanying him would be obligated to bring him in for questioning. Natural powers needed to be registered, after all, and Dan had no plausible cover for how he obtained his.

This exercise had suddenly become a lot more complicated.