Olympus Hall
University of Calgary
Sharon took a sip of cool water, leaning back in the single chair of her bedroom and looking at the laptop that sat on her desk. The chair had a wooden frame and thin padding, emphasis on thinness. Her father always told her that comfort made a person weak, and someone like her must never be weak as weakness led to failure. What was that, Dadism #37? Sharon actually had a list of them in her journal, which was now in the bottom drawer of the desk.
On the laptop’s screen, a word-processing document sat open waiting. At first, she was leery of using a web-capable computer to create notes on her training and classmates, but the techie who handed them out at the Academy today had insisted the firewalls were nearly impossible to defeat. Dadism #13 was to always reflect on your performance because there is always room to improve. She took another sip of water, put the earbuds of her iPod in, and turned on Vivaldi.
(Excerpt from Sharon’s journal)
1. Teammates, background, capabilities
1. the team did not work well together in the first training, the mystery man dominated us easily
2. reasons for failure?
3. Laura Wakefield
1. strong regeneration, above average strength but not superhuman
2. well-conditioned, gymnastics trained
3. too lighthearted, turns everything into a joke, talks too much
4. is she serious enough to complete this training?
4. Drew Poulin
1. techie, inventor
2. how useful are his inventions? He says his laser caused burns to our opponent's back
1. my blows seemed to do almost nothing to him...I must continue to improve
3. his force field gave out in a single impact
4. he is French. father always says not to trust the French
5. Elvis Lee
1. shapeshifter, turns into a wolf
1. useful for scouting or tracking, but what about fighting something stronger than a normal human?
2. quiet
1. is he shy or unconfident?
2. This is the team I am supposed to fight alongside? This must be a test of my abilities. MacDonald knows I am strong, now he wants to know if I can be a leader and take his weakest students and make them something.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Sharon paused and let out a long sigh before typing her next comment “I have been drafted by the 74-75 Washington Capitals and am SO SCREWED!”
Next door Laura sat in her bed with her iPad on her lap and headphones on, watching an episode of “The Littlest Hobo” on Youtube. She had spent time before going to bed reading some of the files on the laptop the Academy had given them.
The nutrition plan seemed a bit insane and was tailored (according to the file) to each individual person in the program. Her plan included eating almost four thousand calories a day, eating every three hours, and drinking enough water to float a boat in. As a small person with a monstrous appetite, she didn’t mind eating every three hours, but the restrictions on what she could eat were a major buzzkill. No junk food, ice cream or alcohol. At least they did factor in a “cheat day” once every other week. She had already begun a countdown to mom’s Thanksgiving dinner.
She fluffed up her pillow and snuggled in to see what family Hobo helped this episode.
The incessant city noises made sleep impossible for El. How could city people get any rest here? The constant sounds of cars, talking, the drone of electronics. It made his ears itch and his head hurt. He lifted the pillow off of his head and set it aside in disgust, standing to stare out the window. El worked to slow his breathing and with it his thoughts and emotions.
He had been born with gifts, he could be selfish and flee to the wilderness where he was comfortable. The other option was the rejection of self, to accept that he had a destiny and use his gifts for the service of others. His destiny, his karma, led him to this program to become strong enough to fulfill his purpose.
El grinned, karma was going to be frustrated if he couldn’t sleep. He slipped his pajama pants off, let his breath out and then reached down into himself with his thoughts finding the wolf. They ran to the surface, and El’s body flowed and morphed. His perspective changed as his head was level with the furniture, the room brightening until it was almost as crisp as daylight, sounds and smells sharpening around him. He could hear Sharon typing on her computer, the soft sound of Laura giggling, and Drew snoring in the room next door.
The world was so much more alive than the wolf. Alive and yet still, the wolf was calm as it surveyed all it saw. Never had he panicked as the wolf; fear could be there but he was able to ignore it. In the battle earlier today, he had been anxious, worried he would lead his pack into a trap. He had never thought to look up.
Elvis walked to the bed and crawled under it, curling into a ball and resting his tail over his muzzle. As the wolf he was relaxed, and in control and the human noises filtered into the background as he drifted off to sleep.
Drew lay on his bed snoring softly, shirt and jeans still on. He had spent the evening working on his tablet (one of his own designs, much better than the junk on the open market) redesigning a number of his systems. The laser needed to be more powerful and his defences needed a complete rebuild. While his forcefield was a good initial defence he needed a backup in case it failed.
On his tablet was a rough pass on a suit of armour. It was a lovely, but still crude, creation of steel, bronze, and brass. In his thesis master's thesis, he had dismissed powered armour as the work of rough hacks unable to grasp the finer details or more subtle technologies. He did not relish the idea of admitting a he had been wrong. On the bright side if he did use a suit of power armour it could assist with maintaining a secret identity.