Out in the corridors, Clarence and I walk through the busy corridors of building two. His hands were filled with textbooks, a small tower of stacked books just waiting to tumbled down. I, on the other hand was empty-handed beside him, hands stuffed in my pockets. I thought for a moment that I might help him, but we were going to go our separate ways soon. "You have math next, right?" I asked.
He nodded, a small smile touching his lips. I had the distinct impression that he was actually looking forwards to math class. "What will you do after class?" he asked.
"I think I'll just head in and get a bit more sleep." Or, I'd go wander around the shopping section of the academy and pick up a few essentials. I didn't need the whiz kid with me to do that.
At the next fork in the corridor we split, I waving my goodbyes while Clarence reshuffled his pile and avoided a near-fatal crash with some other student. I rolled my eyes while pulling out a folded map from inside my jacket. I studied it as I walked, letting it lead me to a nearby exit.
It was a rather nice day; sunny, with only some sparse clouds above and a small chill wind coming from the west. Not cold enough to freeze anyone, but I was still thankful for my jacket. Dozens of students were in the park, some sat on the benches, while a larger group tossed what looked like a metal frisbee and made a lot of noise while doing so. It was rather... peaceful. I was looking forward to when summer came around in full. Not only would it be warm for good, it also meant that short skirts would come around again.
My next class was in one of the auditorium-like classrooms in building three, one of the taller school buildings. I was just about to reach the tower when something caught my eye. I slowed to a stop.
In an alleyway between two buildings I saw five people milling about. At first glance it looked like a few students having fun, but something about their stances was wrong. Four of them were facing the fifth and she had her back pinned against the wall. No one was touching her, but I still had the impression that she did not want to be there.
I moved a little closer, trying to appear nonchalant about it.
"We know who you are," one of them said. He was taller than the rest by half a head, which meant that he towered above me. He had wide shoulders and stood with a straight-backed posture, as though lording it over the girl against the wall. His face was twisted in a sneer. The expression was a sharp contrast to those of his smiling friends behind him.
I recognized them all, if only in passing. They had been with me in gym class, and in the auditorium yesterday. I didn't know any of them by name. I would have to correct that, and soon.
"You know who I am?" The girl said. Her face twisted into a grin. "Good, then you should know that you shouldn't mess with me."
I couldn't see too much of her in the shadows of the alley. Her hair was cut short, not even reaching her shoulders, and I noticed that there was a streak of pink framing one side of her face. She was short, only coming up to the leader's chest.
"You can't do anything here, girl," the leader said. "Not in this school."
"If I can't do anything, then why are you so afraid of me?" She smiled up at him. Her voice was sweet and soft, very calm despite what was going on. Still, I thought that I could do something. I was an idiot.
"Hey!" I called out from the middle of the alley. Five pairs of eyes turned to me. "What's going on over here?" I tried to stand taller. I shoved both hands in my pockets as though there was nothing to worry about. If it came down to a fight I was screwed, but it might not come to that if I managed to cow them. Drama was one hell of a weapon, so was sheer, idiotic overconfidence.
"Nothing's going on here," the leader said. "So how about you move along?"
I arched an eyebrow at him. "How civil. Do you always act like such a douchebag, or is it only when you have your friends to back you up?"
He flinched, and I saw his friends shift their weight behind him. One of them was the fire-boy I had seen on the first day. I guess he didn't get into the team he wanted.
"I'm the son of a hero. I understand that this might not look proper at first glance, but this young woman is a villain to her core." The leader's change of tone took me back. I was expecting more posturing and maybe some thinly veiled threats. I was not expecting him to take the moral high ground. Weren't bullies supposed to be dumb?
"So, she's a villain?" I made a show of looking her up and down. "You're right, she looks downright scary. What're her abilities? Can she liquefy your brain with a touch? Or maybe she's one of those that can shatter bones with a thought?"
That seemed to give them all pause. Bullying was unavoidable in any school, but here it could be downright fatal. Knowing that any nerdy kid who looked defenceless might very well be able to teleport you into the sun should have dulled a couple of hormonal responses.
"I understand how this looks, nonetheless, we have to set a standard here," he said. "We need to make damned sure that she understands that her sort isn't wanted here."
Fire filled the pit of my stomach. "Set a standard?" I said. It came out as a hiss. With three long strides I was standing between them and the girl. "Here's a standard for you: I won't let you bully anyone while I'm around. So piss off. You can work out your daddy-issues elsewhere."
I might, maybe, have gone too far.
Leader's face turned a distinct shade of punch-William-in-the-nose red.
I felt a pressure building on my chest, then spreading to my whole body. It was light, as though I was standing out in a stiff breeze. Then I was slammed against the wall, the weight of a small elephant pressing against every inch of my body. Every inch, even the delicate ones.
I moaned in pain even as the pressure let up, turning down to the weight of a moderately small pile of bricks.
He took a step towards me, pointing at my face from an inch away. "You're one of them, aren't you. Only a villain would side with the likes of her. This is your last warning, get your priorities straight now, or I'll see that you never step foot in this school again." He spat at the ground beside him. The spit turned in midair and landed with a splat on the wall right next to my shin.
Gravity manipulation. He was using gravity manipulation. Damn, that was one of the better ones.
"And you," he turned towards the girl. "I think we got our message across." With that he turned and walked away, his goonies trailing after him. Fire-boy paused to look at me. His face was unreadable before he ran after his teammates.
It took a few seconds before the pull that kept me on the wall finally lessened and stopped. I fell to my feet and patted my pants clean. "You okay?" I asked, not looking at the girl.
"I am," she said. She sounded... happy? "You didn't need to do that, you know."
I turned to her and got my first good look at her.
She was pretty, with bright green eyes and soft, light-brown skin. Her full lips curved into a smile. "But I'm glad you did." She patted me on the shoulder as she walked by. "You know, those guys thought they were being heroic. I don't think they really understand what it means to be a hero."
With that, she was gone, walking out of the alleyway and turning off to the right. I shook my head and followed after. By the time I had reached the street she was out of sight. I would have lingered, but class was starting soon. I rushed into building three and found my way to the auditorium.
The room, a pie-shaped space filled with chairs pointing towards a wall with a blackboard and desk, was already half full with students. I made my way to an empty seat near the front of the room. The girl was there, three or so rows behind me, sitting on the edge of the corridor that bisected the room. The would-be heroes were there too, sitting around their leader on the other end of the room.
Wonderful. Two days in and I had already made enemies. I would have to approach them after, maybe make some sort of peace offering. I did not need to get into trouble so soon.
The room continued filling and soon a young man wearing a sweater and jeans came in, his stylized hair bouncing around as he looked left and right and took in the class. He was young, for a professor, but that was obviously what he was. "Hello everyone. Please, please, be seated."
A minute later everyone had settled down and the last few stranglers were quietly trying to find their way to a seat.
"My name is Professor Zimbard, and we are here to learn about ethics as they relate to both heroes and Supers. Today, we're going to start by having a discussion, just as a sort of primer on what classes will usually be like." He smiled up at us, and seemed genuinely excited to be there. I sat back and relaxed. Any teacher that loved their subject matter this much was usually a teacher worth learning from.
"Most of our lessons will be rather open. I want to discuss these things, because it's through discussion that our real feelings on matters will come up. Tomorrow we will go over the syllabus. For now, let's talk about something more interesting. I think it might be nice to start with something recent, something that shocked the hero world because of its shift in morality. Does anyone have an example in mind?"
The leader of the bullies raised his hand above his head. I saw him glance at the girl with the pink hair. "The Puppeteer?" He called out.
The professor seemed to consider this. "Very well, Mister Matthews. That's a topic of some controversy; a good place to start talking about ethics. Is everyone here familiar with the Puppeteer incident of a few years ago?"
I was, and I nodded, but a few others made vague negative gestures. "Fair enough," he said. "I think we can recap it for those of you not in the know. Those of you taking the History of Heroics class will, in all likelihood, cover the subject. Does anyone know where this incident took place?"
"New New York?" A girl in the front row called out.
"Exactly, thank you Miss Winters. Next time do try to raise your hand." He smiled at her, softening the admonition. "The independant country of New New York, all of..." He paused, thinking. "Four years ago. The Puppeteer was a member of a group called the Fifth Ring, a five member team of local heroes. Does anyone here know what his abilities were?"
Someone at the far back raised his hand and the teacher pointed. I didn't bother turning to see who. "He was an Animist. He made zombies."
"Not quite." The professor began pacing back and forth, motioning with his hands as he spoke. "The Puppeteer was an Animist, yes, but his abilities were usually used to control small robotic golems. One of the other members of the Fifth Ring was a hero by the name of Gadgeteer who created the robots. Gadgeteer was and still is, a renown Technologist. The Puppeteer was a rear-line fighter and support member on his team. Does anyone know what was happening when the incident occurred?"
"They were fighting villains!" Someone called out.
The professor shot a glare at the back of the room. "You are right. A group called the Psycho Six. The Fifth Ring caught them in the act of robbing a bank. The other members of the Fifth fought and did succeed in taking out a few key members of the Psycho Six, but they were ultimately beaten. This was both on account of being outnumbered, and because of an unfortunate ability match-up. One of the Psychos was a powerful Empath. Do you know what happened?"
The leader, Matthews, raised his hand and was picked out by the teacher. "Puppeteer lost it."
A small murmur of laughter cascaded across the room. I saw the pink-haired girl tense.
"I would not put it in those words," Professor Zimbard said, "But you are almost right. With his team down, and him the only member, what should he have done? Take into account that most--if not all-- of his golems were down as well. He was stranded, alone, in deep trouble, and his power was mostly rendered useless. He did not have the time to create new humanoid creatures to fight for him."
The girl at the front, Miss Winters, raised her hand this time. "I guess he should have tried to save his team, and probably called for reinforcements at the same time. New New York has plenty of Capes. That, or he should have just backed off."
The teacher nodded solemnly. "That might have been a wiser course. What did he do instead?"
Matthews answered without raising his hand. "He turned civvies into zombies."
The professor nodded, though not before shooting the would-be-hero a look. "He did. He used local civilians as though they were his golems. He beat back the Psycho Six, and proceeded to incapacitate them. Seventy-six bystanders were taken in as... zombies, as Mister Matthews put it, and out of those twenty-seven died. The rest were injured and very much scarred for life. They were conscious as their bodies moved and attacked the villains." He paused. The room was rather quiet.
I had heard of the event, I had even read reports about it. Zimbard was leaving things out, such as how the Psycho Six had armed a small bomb to go off, or how they had hundreds of hostages in the bank behind them. Most of the 'zombies' were those same hostages, used to fight back against the Six.
"Does anyone know what happened to the Puppeteer?"
"Not nearly enough," Matthews said, his voice dripping with venom.
The girl with the pink-streaked hair, the one I had 'saved' from Matthews, stood up and walked out of the room. If glares could cause physical damage, half the room would have become quivering piles of jelly by the time she reached the door. It shut behind her with a quiet click.
"It seems Miss Clearwater disagrees," the professor said. It was a vain attempt to lighten the mood.
Clearwater. As in, Annabelle Clearwater. The fourth member of my team.
Crap.