Professor Eldritch’s Residence El’s perspective snapped back into his own reality. Gone were the steppes of Siberia, the overpowering smell of blood and death, and the crackling of the barely contained electricity around the powered armour Tesla had piloted. He had been watching all of it, invisible and incorporeal. “What you all experienced was a form of astral projection. To answer your question, yes it did happen that way. The first rift was an unforeseen consequence of Tesla’s experiment.” Not far from El Drew raised his hand and spoke, “Sir, excuse me, but I have studied electrical engineering quite a bit and I have never heard of Tesla’s teleforce technology.” “With good reason. Upon returning to America Tesla destroyed it. He even tore down his research station, and went into seclusion.” He raised his cup to talk another sip of tea. “Two more of the Cossacks died from their injuries. The four that survived? They joined a monastery together and never spoke of what they had experienced.” A chime sounded from the Professor's pocket, prompting him to remove a golden pocket watch and check the time. “It seems our time is over for today. You have the first of your morning workouts scheduled today and I would hate to be the reason you missed it.” The large man grinned through his red beard and snapped his fingers. Again reality seemed to bend to El, folding over upon itself for the briefest unsettling moment before returning them to the portal chamber that was Lecture Hall Two. Laura stood next to El, shaking her head. “Oh, I am never going to get used to that.” A number of students muttered in agreement. El turned around slowly and saw several other students, including his first combat opponent Phyliss, inspecting the arcane designs carved into the surfaces of the chamber. The large blue doors swung open to reveal Instructor King standing at the entrance. Her hands rested on her hips and her feet were shoulder-width apart. Her deep voice was commanding and loud yet not a shout. “Oh yes, look at the pretty magic drawings. Never mind all you inbreds are keeping your other instructors waiting! Why are you people not already in the locker rooms changing?” The students began to clammer past her on their way out. “Why are you morons moving so slowly?” One of the students bumped her elbow on the way past and was launched back by a jolt of kinetic energy that knocked him and four others down. “Just going to knock me out of the way? You don’t even have the agility to move past one person Rudenko? You knuckle-dragging, sheep-worrying oaf! Did you grow up in the house or the barn at that ranch? I do not have to stand here waiting for you all day.” Her taunts continued to follow the class down the hall. Though she walked the instructor kept up with the madly scrambling class. “That's it, Murphy, keep moving slow. Take your time sweetheart I have all day.” “I aim to keep the ladies happy Instuct…,” The rest of the boy’s comment was abruptly ended as he went flying over the heads of the class, landing in a tumbled mess of uncoordinated limbs thirty feet down the hallway. El joined the rest of the class in darting into the large locker rooms, running past their dazed classmate as he lay on the concrete. Someone must have lingered to offer help to Connor Murphy as the last thing El heard was King’s booming voice, “Get inside Sudrah, I will get your teammate up and moving with the proper motivation.” Three years to become a hero. Three years of this program. El opened his locker, none of them were outfitted to be locked merely shut and pulled out the special black unitard shifters wore. Do I have it in me to do this? Am I strong enough? The locker room door banged open and Connor shot past El, a panicked look in his eyes. He slipped on the tile floor rounding a corner and went sprawling, crashing into the bottom of a row of lockers. From his prone position, he motioned with his hands and his locker opened, the black t-shirt and khaki shorts flying through the air to smack into his face. As his classmate changed on the floor, El shut his locker door and ran out into the massive confines of Training Hall Two. Seek emptiness. This is my karma, my path. I will endure it and it will make me strong enough. Seek emptiness, and allow fear and doubt to pass through me finding no home in me. I will be strong enough to become a hero. Training Hall Two The Academy “That is time, rest people.” At Instructor Chrétien's command, the students around him dropped to the ground, laying in pools of their own sweat. Laura lowered herself from the push-up position and rolled over to sit. She looked over the group of eight students in her workout group; universally they were showing the signs of Chrétien's exercise routine. Two hours of sprints, push-ups, squats, sit-ups, and a myriad of others. Many of the moves were familiar to Laura from years of intense gymnastics. A pained groan from the girl next to Laura caught her attention. “Kill me now, just end the pain,” Jessica Lewis was a slim girl with bright purple hair. At the beginning of the workout her hair had been neatly in a braid, now it was soaked and plastered to her face. “How come you aren’t dying like the rest of us?” Oscar Miller was a fairly muscular boy with a clean-shaven head. He was lying on the other side of Laura from Jessica. Before Laura could respond Chrétien answered, “It’s her body’s healing ability, it gives Wakefield greatly enhanced endurance.” The instructor was a solidly built muscular man of average height. His clothing was slicked with sweat as he had been leading his students in all the exercises he had them performing. His voice was soft, with a faint Quebec accent; his tones a stark contrast to the acidic “encouragement” barked by King to those in her group. His features were familiar, but Laura could not place from where and was definitely not going to come out and ask. “Drink, all of you. Drain whatever is left.” The weary students drank from the water bottles near them. They had drained and filled these bottles several times this morning. Chrétien drank from his own bottle as he walked through the group, helping students to their feet. Laura stood and offered a hand to Jessica. When the students first entered Hall Two they had been divided among the five instructors into groups of approximately ten strong. Each instructor then proceeded to begin a long, and brutally intense workout. I am so glad exercise doesn't make me sore, or tomorrow would really suck. Laura was the only member of her team with Chrétien. “Can anyone guess how we divided the class up?” The instructor placed his empty water bottle on the ground and faced the weary students. “Any theories?” “I see two teammates of mine with Instructor Pearson’s group. Brad and Jaclyn are both enhanced strength types, you know bricks. I am guessing that group is made up of similar folks. Well, that and they are using the super dense weight sets.” Oscar wiped the sweat from his face and continued drinking from his nearly empty bottle. Chrétien nodded, “Correct. Any other grouping theories.” “Two of my own teammates are shape shifters and are in the same group with the rest of the shifters.” Laura could see Elvis and Sharon resting with the other students wearing the special unitard made to change with a shifter. “Over there are students with mental abilities with Instructor Diefenbaker. Those with general physical enhancements, including our speedsters, are with Instructor Trudeau. The energy projectors are getting some love from Instructor King.” The bone-tired students shared a low chuckle with their instructor. “Now I know!” Laura clapped a hand over her mouth when she realized she had blurted out. “Sorry sir,” she mumbled through her hand. “No, share.” “I..um... Are you Louis-Joseph Cartier Instructor?” Instructor Chrétien nodded, “Yes I am, but while here you will continue to follow protocol and call me Instructor Chrétien.” Oscar Miller raised a hand, perhaps in some school-taught instinct, but did not wait to ask his question. “Sir, why did you retire? You were the greatest mixed martial arts champion ever.” Chrétien crossed his arms over his muscular chest, “I am here as one of your instructors. Think.” “You discovered you were a metahuman?” Laura’s question was a bit hesitant. Or it was discovered you were a metahuman fighting normals and asked to quietly retire and disappear. “For most of us, the discovery that we are gifted is easy to spot. One of your classmates accidentally set fire to the house because of a nightmare, another began hearing the thoughts of people around her. Wakefield, how did it happen for you?” “Gored by a bull. By the time the ambulance got to the ranch I was pretty much ok.” “What about those metahumans with abilities that are not easy to see? Before and during my fighting career I trained very hard and devoted myself to martial arts. In the arena I was always able to slip a hold, move the right way, duck at the right time, my punches always landing exactly where my opponents moved to. Any thoughts?” He paused, but none of the students spoke up. “No? Turns out I am a probability manipulator. Simply put I control luck. For a long time, I was doing it unconsciously, by instinct. When I discovered I was a metahuman I retired. I never told anyone but my head trainer and my manager. I decided there were better ways to use my gifts.” “Back to grouping. Why are you grouped up?” Chrétien’s voice became firmer, signalling a change in topic away from his personal history. Laura thought back over to what little she knew of the other’s powers, and their exclusion from the other groups. “We are the ones who don’t fit into the other groups,” Oscar said with a displeased look. “Not so harsh. We have among you a self-healer, a teleporter, two mentalists who lack significant telekinesis, someone who turns invisible, and a duplicator. Other thoughts?” This time Laura spoke up, “All people with non-physical or apparent combat-related gifts.” Her thoughts went back to the large man in black they had fought during that first day, and how powerless to stop him she had been. “Correct. Each of you will need to discover ways to use a combination of your gifts and training to contribute to your teams in battle. I will be working with all of the students to construct and refine a fighting style that suits them, but I will be most often working with this group,” as he spoke the instructor had been moving among the students spreading them out in even rows. “Now we are going to begin with some Muay Thai. Today we will learn proper stance, jabs, and an inside front kick. Don’t worry, this part will only take...maybe two or three more hours.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.