The game was for all intents and purposes, over. Hundreds of students were led back into the city to be welcomed by a procession of fans. There was gaudy ceremony and the selling of merchandise. Designers who worked overnight while the games proceeded sent relevant and contextually appropriate drawings to workshops in Indonesia, Pakistan, India, who had them rapidly printed onto clothing for two dollars an hour. A transport company full of teleporters formed a chain, much like racers passing batons to each other, teleporting crates of goods across thousands of miles in the matter of minutes.

The shirts and mugs and flags were bought and waved. Thousands of citizens flooded the section of town where the students were brought through. The section which also happened to have a lot of shops that sold consumables. Coffee, fast food, high-fructose corn syrup. They cheered on the sidewalks as youthful men and women in formfitting FASE suits were led through on the asphalt. Cars were redirected to go another way.

Lyssa could walk again. Her powers however were still down. She had never felt more vulnerable surrounded by normal—and harmlessly gifted—people. They filled the sidewalks. Many wore shirts with the students printed on them, performing feats that happened in the game. The way they looked at her, almost as if they were leering. She glanced down, just then noticing how closely her suit hugged her skin. She was practically naked. They all were. She had never cared about her own proportions, but today she felt glad that she was unimpressive compared to her peers who have had thousands of hours in the gym to look the way they did.

A strong hand pulled her away from the edge of the march, so she could be hidden by other students. It was Vortex.

“We can get involved in our costume designs later,” she said. She gave a brief, reassuring smile. An attempt at one at least.

“It’s a part of the job,” Lyssa said. She glanced at Colossi, the way his pectorals and his biceps seemed constrained by his FASE suit. He was the lighthouse among them, the publically known protégé of Giantsbane, already resembling an animated Thinker statue.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Vortex said. “I’ve talked to a lot of seniors. Only some of us embrace this sort of thing. They can have all the attention.”

“Thanks,” Lyssa said with genuine appreciation.

They were led to a memorial park, a place full of bronze and slabs of stone with names etched on them. Beside those morbid stones, colorful tents had been set up so the students could rest and sign fan paraphernalia. If they were popular enough to have any.

“That’s quite alright,” Lyssa responded, when John Wicham told her about the option. She ought to have expected it, but she was still shocked when she had attracted enough attention to have a following.

“You’ll get paid,” he said.

“No. I’m not good with people,” she said with some insistence.

He shrugged.

“It’s all optional. It’s mostly PR anyways.”

“And money.”

“That too,” he said, watching the countless civilians pour onto the green grass towards the tents. “It’s a part of protecting them as well.”

When Lyssa looked confused, he explained further.

“People don’t want to be protected,” he said. “They want to feel safe. Those are very distinct things. When heroes make appearances like this, sit in plastic chairs and scrawl names on disposable merch, it gives off the sense that they’re human. Like me.”

“You’re ungifted,” Lyssa said.

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t mean we’re not human.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“It’s not really as philosophical as it sounds. To many people, human means relatable. Safe. Look at him.”

Lyssa looked at Colossi. His strong jaw, charismatic smile, imposing bulk. The man beamed as he took pictures with fans and wrote his name on their stuff in sharpie.

“He’s no Giantsbane,” John said. “But he could break buildings. Why aren’t we scared?”

“I… don’t know,” Lyssa said honestly.

“I’ve been in the business a long time,” John said. “Superheroes can’t just be competent, powerful, intelligent; they also have to be docile, neutered, harmless in front of the people they’re charged to protect, despite the fact that their jobs need them to be deadlier than the literal military. And us ungifted have to pretend they don’t hold enough power at their fingertips to end all of us in a day.”

“I know how you feel,” Lyssa said.

John made a face.

“How could you know, kiddo? I’ve seen you clean house.”

“Trust me. I understand completely.”

She waited by the refreshments tent, content to stand far away from the flash photography and innumerable people. The smiling faces and incessant looking. The event would be over soon. They were to return to the school after this. She couldn’t wait to put on some real clothes.

She walked behind the tents, behind the fanfare and the photo-taking, where the standing stones were placed by paved walkways. Countless names were carved into them. When the eye travelled high towards the top of the stone, it saw no title. Just a number, a date. Because the events of that day were unforgettable.

“What are you doing, moping around?”

Carrie came by and stood next to her.

“You made it,” Lyssa said.

“You sound surprised.”

“No, no! I—”

“I’m kidding. This is great. You seem stronger. Better. I’m really happy for you.”

“I know. This was what you wanted when you insisted I join, right?”

“I… suppose?” Carrie said. She skimmed the contents of the stone slabs absentmindedly.

“I think you still feel bad,” Lyssa said.

“…About what?”

“About ignoring me while we were still kids. You feel bad for being selfish, for caring more about your image among the class than what I went through.”

“That’s not true.”

“Truth is it’s not a big deal. Bullying is a first world problem. And the least of mine.” Lyssa took a step forward and placed a fingertip on a name in the stone. Her last name. “And we’re all selfish. Me more than most, I’d wager. It’s harder to notice when we are powerless. But from what I’ve seen over the course of the past few days, gifts accentuate people. Gifts that make us giants, makes us feel giant too.”

“He is quite the attention magnet,” Carrie said.

Lyssa did not correct her. She had been talking about herself. She had emptied her stomach after that ordeal of wrangling her Selves to act with her. But in that minute of control, the sheer ecstasy she felt was indescribable. The power, the things she could make happen with a thought. It had been her first time, and her only limit had been imagination.

“My point is I don’t want you to feel guilty anymore,” Lyssa said. “Let’s just be friends.”

Gradually, Carrie relaxed. Her shoulders fell ever so slightly from where they always seemed to be. She smiled, uncertainly at first, then more normally.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

“Okay,” Lyssa said. “Good.”

They embraced for just a moment. But it felt natural, unscripted.

They were joined by a patter of footsteps.

“Hey, there you are!” Penny said.

“Good to see you here at the end,” Amelia said. “I was—”

“That was you, wasn’t it?” Penny said excitedly. “The beams. We’d have gotten swatted by the big man himself if you hadn’t done that.”

“Uh…” Lyssa didn’t know what to say.

“How many do you have? Gifts, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “And I’ll tell you all why later.”

Penny pouted impatiently.

“Well that makes perfect sense.”

“So what happens now?” The first game was over. They had been cut down to a small fraction of their original numbers.

“Maybe they’ll call in contestants from the other school,” Penny said. “What was it- Apex! That one.”

“Maybe they’ll fill up the empty spots with those who failed the entrance practicum,” Carrie said.

“The second game is an arena fight,” Amelia said.

“Maybe, maybe.” Penny nodded.

“No. I have a phone. I am reading it right now. The players who failed this game will be fighting each other in 1v1 matches as a sort of second chance. Best of three. We are to resume classes until they finish. Then the third game starts.”

“Jeez this’ll really take all month.”

“Doubtful. It ought to take two at this rate.”

“I could use the rest,” Carrie said.

Lyssa experimentally drew upon her gifts. Her powers were returning. Waned significantly, but there. She would be happy if she never had to use them for the rest of the week.

“Can we go back to the dorms yet?” She asked.

“Yeah, can we?” Penny asked as well.

“You people have phones too,” Amelia said. “Yes. We can go home.”

“Awesome. I want to make a quick stop at Campus Liquor. For snacks.”

“Right,” Carrie quipped.

“And then I want to—”

They all heard it. The most recognizable sound in any city, the telltale crescendo of a vehicle with red-blue lights, blaring its oscillating whine. The next sound was far louder, and came with a bright flash of light. Dark clouds rose into the air above the apartment blocks surrounding the park. Attenuated screams echoed through the streets.