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Wyatt gripped his backpack tight as he stepped into the small airport. He had always thought that the BWI airport just outside of Baltimore had been small, but compared to the small building he'd just flown into, his home airport was practically LAX. The entirety of the building seemed to be one large room with four gates coming off of it. An ancient luggage conveyer sat in the corner, humming lazily to itself as swung a few bags back and forth in an eternal circle.
Wyatt spotted a man, tall and black, holding a sheet of paper with Wyatt's name scrawled on it in sharpie. As he got closer, the man pulled off his sunglasses. Wyatt recognized him as one of the agents that had visited his house that night a few weeks ago. He was dressed more casually this time, his black suit replaced with light washed jeans and a red floral shirt covered by a tan canvas jacket. Wyatt looked at it jealousy. The itinerary had mentioned bringing a jacket, but he hadn't thought too much about it. There was a nip to the air he'd noticed the second he'd gotten off the plane.
"Wyatt, good to see you again," the agent said, his deep voice rumbling pleasantly. "How was your flight?
Wyatt shrugged. "Fine."
"Sounds good. Let's grab your luggage."
The man grabbed Wyatt's bags off the rickety conveyor belt and they headed off to the parking area. The man motioned to a black SUV.
"How far is it to the school?" Wyatt asked as he climbed into the passenger seat.
"Not too far. It's in an old business park on the edge of town."
Agent Lucas glanced at his watch. "You're plane was a bit late so we'll have to move pretty quick. We'll be cutting it a bit close."
Wyatt stared out from the window watching unfamiliar buildings zoom by. The town didn't seem too big. Much smaller than Baltimore. Their journeys took them through the city's downtown. It had very few buildings taller than five stories. He wondered how much he would be able to explore the city while he was at the school. He became painfully aware of everything he didn't know about his immediate future.
After about twenty minutes of silent driving, they pulled into an unremarkable-looking business park.
"Here we are. Welcome to the compound," the agent said, as they pulled into a parking lot. The whole thing was surrounded by a large chain link fence.
Wyatt looked around at their surroundings through the windows. The parking lot that surrounded them was hemmed in by a chain-link fence on two sides and what appeared to be two tan brick buildings on the others. Based on what he had heard about the program, he assumed there would be a lot of people around but from what he could tell the parking lot held nothing but the rusted husk of an old beater car in a far corner and a single parking attendant stall. The lot didn't appear to have been maintained very well: the painted lines were mostly faded. Light posts were scattered throughout the expanse, but based on the appearance of the rest of the place, he would have been surprised if they actually worked.
They pulled up to a lone parking attendant booth, complete with a red and white striped gate. It looked out of place in the otherwise empty parking lot, almost comically unnecessary.
"How can I help you?" the woman inside sighed, her tone implying actually the last thing she wanted. She had her elbows on the counter, propping up her head.
"Agent Lucas accompanying Wyatt Hatch. He's here for orientation."
The woman just shrugged her shoulders in response and motioned them through the gate.
They pulled around the side of the building and into another smaller parking lot, this time with a number of cars packing the lot. Wyatt smiled that most of them were also black SUV's. The government was nothing if not consistent.
They pulled into an empty spot and hopped out.
"I'm going to leave you here," Agent Lucas said as he grabbed Wyatt's bag from the trunk, "but if you walk in through the front door there, they'll take care of you. Most everyone should be here by now. Hope you enjoy your time here, Wyatt."
Wyatt took his bags from Agent Lucas and walked in the front door. He entered what looked a lobby. It looked for all the world like an old business front from the 1970s: Pea green shag carpet on the ground was complemented by wood paneling covering the walls. Wyatt thought he saw a few dark spots on the carpet in different places. A glance up at the ceiling revealed new paneling over the dark spots.
Hmmm, Wyatt thought. Must be water damage from before they replaced the tiles.
Wyatt figured the building hadn't been cared for some time.
At odds with the vintage look was the modern technology and decor that had apparently been brought in recently. An antique front desk was manned by a man who was typing hurriedly on a desktop with a wide-screen monitor. Behind him a flat-screen tv was hanging on the wall, displaying the message 'Orientation' with an arrow pointing towards a hallway. Wyatt tried to lean over as much as he could to see down the hallway but he was called to attention by the man behind the desk.
"Welcome. May I see your ID?", the man said with a friendly smile.
Wyatt hadn't been sure what to expect when he walked in, but he still felt blindsided. the agent hadn't mentioned this.
"Oh," he managed. "Will a driver's license work?"
"Yup," the man replied dully.
Wyatt fumbled for a moment, trying to remember where he'd put his wallet. Was it in one of his bags? Before remembering that he had put it in his back pocket. He reached for his wallet and handed his drivers to the man.
The man accepted the card and held it up to a scanner on his desk. Out of the corner of his eye, Wyatt saw pictures of himself flash up on the monitor.
"Head right down that corner, Wyatt," the man said pointing down the hallway Wyatt had been peeking down a moment earlier."They're just about to start."
"Thanks," Wyatt mumbled, heading down the previously mentioned hallway.
As he made his way around a corner, he came nearly face-to-face with a small squad of armed men. The six of them lined the hallway, gun in hand, facing towards the way he had come. Wyatt felt briefly alarmed. It was not every day he came across uniformed men with assault rifles despite his activities as a superhero. In Wyatt's experience, if men had guns, they were usually trying to shoot him with them.
However, these made no move to attack. Wyatt decided that they must be merely guards. Still, he reassured by the strength he received from his sword, hidden in his backpack.
He emerged into a much larger room. A decently sized crowd of teenagers milled about the room. Finally, he would actually meet the other people at this school he'd come all of this way for. He scanned the crowd but Wyatt saw no one he immediately recognized.
One corner of the room contained a large pile of luggage that he assumed was the belongings of everyone here. No one seemed to be doing anything important, so Wyatt opted to take the opportunity to shed his bags onto the pile. As he walked in that direction, he glanced around the room.
He hadn't noticed at first, but he now noticed that the decor here was different than the previous rooms. Either they had replaced the vintage look or had completely renovated the space. The mousy carpet had been replaced by a white linoleum. In place of the wood paneling, the walls were now adorned with a simple gray paint with white trim. Lighting fixtures lined the walls and instead of the old furniture, the room was filled with various couches and tables. Where the previous rooms had felt slightly out of place, this space felt much more comfortable.
"Hello, everyone and welcome to Chiron Academy!" the man said. He had dark brown hair with tinges of gray. He was dressed in a gray suit had a slight shine to it you only see when he moved. His tie was dark royal blue with a lapel pin of the American flag. Wyatt thought he detected a slight southern accent. Louisiana, maybe?
"I hope everyone had an enjoyable trip. I know mine was bumpy as all get out, so I hope you all escaped the same fate," he said with a smile.
"Now as I'm sure you all know that Chiron Academy is going to be the training ground for America's Heroes of tomorrow. You may even know about our namesake, Chiron, the centaur who trained many of the heroes of Greek myths. I might not be Chiron, though I might have been a called a horse's rear end on occasion," he said with a chuckle.
"I should introduce myself. My name is David Buckingham, I am in charge of this program. I've headed a number of special operations for the government that, unfortunately, I can't tell you about. Nor would I because, well... they're rather long and boring stories." He said with a smile.
"I was just in the middle of a different program for the state department when the president asked me to head up this operation. I don't tell you this to brag; I want to you know how important you are to the president. And, on my part, may I say it is an honor to work with fine young people such as yourselves.
"Before we begin, I want you to know that this is your home, for as long as your time with us may last. We've done our best to make sure that this whole facility is state of the art and that you be as comfortable as you can for your time here. I know many of you may be nervous. This may be your first time away from home; you may miss your families. But I hope that you can look around you cling to the friends you make today. We all, students and faculty, will serve as each others family. You're all heroes-in-the-making, and each person you reach out to is one more person you save from loneliness or homesickness. In many ways, this will be the first act of heroism you can do at this school."
"With that said" he said, gesturing everyone to follow him, "let's begin the tour of the campus."
He broke into a light easy pace down the hallway. The crowd of kids followed.
"Now officially," he said over his shoulder, as he walked," this facility is called the compound, but I find that so stuffy and formal. So as long as this is my tour, we're going to stick with 'the campus'. Someday, I'll get my druthers and they let me change the darn thing officially.
"Up first, we have the classrooms."
Mr. Buckingham gestured to a series of doors on their left.
"We've split the age groups into the under 16's and the over 16's. We've got a small army of teachers and tutors to help you all fulfill your individual potentials. While I may in charge of the operation here, I couldn't teach a grasshopper to jump. Luckily, overseeing all of the teaching here at the Academy will be Dr. Hammond, former Dean of Education at Berkley."
Mr. Buckingham gestured towards a balding man in what Wyatt would guess was his early sixties with a pair of glasses perched precariously on a large nose. He wore simple black shoes and slacks with a plain white shirt. His short black hair was formed into a nondescript combed maneuver. The only point of personality in his otherwise boorish appearance was a green paisley tie with pink accents. The green seemed to match the building's carpet. Wyatt was not n expert on ties, but it seemed like the exact opposite of what anyone would consider professional attire. It was very out of place on a man who, in every other way, looked as boring as possible.
"Dr. Hammond and his staff," Mr. Buckingham continued," will make sure that no one loses any ground academically at the school. I hate to think that Uncle Sam made anyone fall behind on the books. So if you're worried about losing your scholarship, don't worry. Any time training will be matched by all of the necessary time to cover the weightier subject of school work.
"Anything you'd like to say to the students, Dr. Hammond?" he asked.
Dr. Hammond seemed to swell up a little in preparation for speaking.
"Hello, everyone," he said in a voice somehow even drier than his appearance. "The teaching staff and I are excited to work with you all."
Based on his tone and appearance, Wyatt doubted it.
"May we not forget," Dr. Hammond continued," that Chiron, the centaur, not only taught his pupils about fighting and warfare but also astronomy and philosophy. Likewise, we hope to train you in the academic arts. To make sure we give you the best experience we can, you'll all be joining us for mandatory testing to determine your current understanding of required subjects. However, we understand that some of you exceed mere proficiency in some subjects. We stand ready to assist, regardless of your academic level."
"Stirring words, Dr. Hammonds. Thank you," Mr. Buckingham said, placing his hand on the other man's shoulder. He faced the crowd of teens.
"Dr. Hammond was very generous to leave the world of academia to help us all in our common venture. We as a faculty are very grateful for his help."
He grinned at the man. Dr. Hammond managed a half-smile in return.
"Well," their guide said. "We've got to move on. Don't worry, everyone. You'll be seeing plenty of Dr. Hammond and the classroom soon. "
Next is the Cafeteria. You'll be meeting here for meals. Breakfast is at 7:00. Lunch is at 12 and Dinner is at 5:30. Try not to be too late. Some food will be available between meals if you're the munchy type.
"This is the training room. Teaching you in all of your heroics will be Achilles. You may recognize him from his time as a founding member of the New Warriors. He's been a hero for more than 20 years and he's learned a thing or two he's excited to teach you everything he knows.
Achilles was a muscular looking man in his early 40's, with light brown hair. He was a rather average looking man with the exception of a robotic hand coming out of one of the right sleeve of his blue dress shirt. As it happened, Wyatt had indeed heard of him from his time on the New Warriors. From he had heard about the man, that hand was actually part of an entire robotic arm, which explained the unnatural blocky look inside his sleeve. He was shorter than Wyatt had imagined, about a hand shorter than himself.
"I'm excited to work with you guys here at Chiron Academy. I've been around a few times as Mr. Buckingham mentioned. Starting with the New Warriors was really great, and I'm happy to help you guys discover your potential. It's gonna be ... really good." Achilles said with a genial smile. "I'm, uh, not the best at giving speeches so I guess I"ll leave it to Mr. Buckingham here to lead you around."
He looked back at Mister Buckingham and gave a little smile as if to indicate he was finished.
"All right, you've heard the man. That's something I really respect about Achilles, it's the way he only says what needs to be said and then leaves the spotlight to us poor fools who like to hear the sound of our own voices. Unfortunately, you're not going to have your first real meeting with Achilles until tomorrow, but don't worry, you'll be meeting with him often very soon.
"Now if we continue down the hallway here we've got only a few more stops. To our right is Dr. Hearse's office. She's the resident psychologist. She's out for the moment, but she's going to meeting with each of you today to have a brief chat and get to know each other.
"We're almost to our last stop, and I know I promised that we're almost done, but really quickly I point out the panic room. Given the high profile of our program, we want to make sure that we remain safe no matter what situations may arise. The panic room will serve as a meeting place for everyone in case of an emergency. The walls are reinforced with some materials I can't even pronounce, and we've got supplies inside enough for everyone for any amount of time we may require them. But don't worry, I doubt we'll be needing it.
"Okay, everyone, very last stop this time. I promise. Here are the dormitories. Girls on the left, boys on the right. Your stuff should already be inside. I'm sure you want to get inside and check it out, but we're going to have a quick lunch and start having kids meet with Doctor Hearse. So feel free to mingle and meet your Academy family and then meet outside her office. We'll try to keep the interviews quick and get every through as soon as possible."