Once the 20 soon-to-be Elite students finally entered the room and sat in one of the 20 metal folding chairs, Dean Anderson took the time to look each student in the eye. “I’m sure you all know why I’ve called you here,” he spoke slowly; purposefully. “You’ve all tested positive for HIV.”
“What?” the room erupted in alarm as each of the students glanced at each other in panic- each of the students except Jenna, Nathaniel, and Tobi, that is. Nate folded his arms across his chest, leaned back in his chair, and stared the dean down as he waited for the man’s next announcement.
Dean Anderson met Nate’s gaze before smirking and glancing between Jenna, Nate, and Tobi. “You can always tell who the virgins are,” the man muttered under his breath, his lips barely readable and low voice impossible to hear over the din of the room.
“Oh calm down,” Dean Anderson spoke again, this time loud enough to be heard over the students’ commotion. “That was a joke… Unless it actually isn’t for you, in which case I apologize. Point is, you 20 are your class’ Elite students. Each of you have either 1 Trait at or above Tier IV potential, or multiple Traits totaling Tier IV potential and above. That being said, having the potential to be something great doesn’t always mean that’s how you’ll turn out, as I was happily reminded upon hearing the extortion ring set up by a second-year Elite student and his company,” Dean Anderson’s eyes drilled into Huck. “Some of you don’t belong here. The rest of you will have to prove that you do. I do not promise an easy road, or a life of privilege while you are enrolled in the Elite Heroic Program for Gate Delving- quite the opposite in fact. Your road will be harder than that of the main body of students. We will expect more from you, not just in quality of work, but also in quantity. Where others have free time, you will have more training. While your classmates will have drunken nights and hungover mornings, you will be enhancing your Traits and lifting weights. You will see your fellow students walking home with another young man or woman to enjoy an evening with, and you will resign yourself to the fact that you will be married to your textbooks for the next three years. You will be called Elite, not because of an accident of birth, but by the blood, sweat, and tears it took you to create such a gap between yourself and everyone behind you. We expect this of you, not because we are sadists, but because we are at war. Humanity needs you to become its next pillars of strength. Humanity needs the next generation to be stronger than all the ones before it.
“The truth of it all is: we don’t have much ground left to give to the demons. Each success builds a little buffer of time before we face species-wide extinction. Each failure could be our last. If we lose so much as a single farm, our entire city might starve. If our water supply becomes contaminated, we’ll be even worse off. Our survival as Humans requires you, who have such great potential, to lead others in our defense. It is my duty to oversee the process of forging your potential into tempered steel. It is a duty I do not take lightly. As such, I will not tolerate anyone who would shirk that weight of responsibility. You will maintain a minimum of 3.0 GPA in all of your classes. You will take the top spots in every combat tournament. Because at the end of your three years, you will be placed in a position of leadership, and you will be facing down the endless hordes of demons. This is what it means to be an Elite student here. If you fail that, you will be replaced by those more worthy should any prove themselves especially capable from the main body, your authority will be stripped from you, and will be expected to act the part of the rank and file soldier you seemingly so longed to become. Questions so far?”
A well-built and well-tanned young man raised his hand, waiting for Dean Anderson to acknowledge him.
With a sigh, Dean Anderson resigned himself to spending more time here than he’d like. “Connor Vale, if I’m not mistaken?”
“Yes, sir- Dean, that is,” Connor stumbled. “Not all Traits are suited to combat. What if we aren’t those? Um, that is, what if our Traits aren’t suited for combat? Are we still required to take a top place in the combat tournaments?”
Dean Anderson rose an eyebrow at the young man. “Right. Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough on that issue. You will take the top spots in every combat tournament,” he repeated himself, “or you are out of the program. If you lack the ability to pack a punch, learn to think. If you can’t do that, then you better train to take hits until your opponent collapses. Understood?”
Connor frowned, but nodded his head.
“Good,” Dean Anderson took in a deep breath. “That being said, the students around you won’t be your competition for those tournaments. You don’t have to do better than anyone else in here. All you have to do is be better than everyone else out there.”
The students shifted in their chairs uncomfortably as the weight of Dean Anderson’s words settled on their shoulders. For his part, the Dean nodded approvingly at their understanding. “There are only 20 of you here, which is historically rather low for a starting Elite class size. Normally we’d get 40-50 potentials from the get-go and trim down to about 10 graduating Elites. As I mentioned earlier, new laws have come out that forbid cutting a class down to size, which includes the Elite class. Instead, we’ve set up standards that all previous graduating Elite classes have achieved without ever being asked to do so. We’re still looking to ensure quality here and what it means to graduate as an Elite. So with the 20 of you, I’d suggest spending the next bit of time getting to know one another.”
An awkward pause filled the room as heads turned to look expectantly at one another for who wanted to start off the introductions. Dean Anderson leaned back and waited in silence as the future Elites tried to figure out what to do. Minutes passed as fingers pointed before Jenna stood up and rolled her eyes. “I’m going to save us about an hour of time here. Dean Anderson isn’t going to instruct us further. Let’s just start at that end of the row and make our way down. He also isn’t going to tell us that we’re still on the clock for completing that scavenger hunt, and all the time we waste here is only going to crucially cut into our assignment time.”
“Spoil sport,” Dean Anderson chuckled, even as he pouted. “I had a valuable lesson to circle back around to in there.”
“Yes, your previous ominous warning with our parents about quote, ‘rueing the slow and confused procession of people’ and that our first lesson should be that ‘time wasted from not heeding orders is time lost’. Very clever. But you’ve already got clever things with this assignment in store for us so let’s just stay on task, shall we?”
“I also had some important announcements concerning your upcoming semester,” Dean Anderson frowned.
“Nothing you won’t reiterate via email over the weekend though,” Jenna immediately retorted.
Dean Anderson actually gave a slow clap to Jenna before the person all the way at the end of the row stood up as suggested and started the introductions off properly.
A recognizable face stood up at the end of the row, bald and dark skinned. His thick accent came through as he spoke, “I am Tobi Negembe.” Many eyes widened in recognition of the last name as whispers broke out through the assembled students, but Tobi cut the noise off with a slash of his hand. “To answer your questions, yes, Bastion is my father. I know this does not give me a free pass here in my own studies. Allow me to show you I am as worthy of being called a Hero as he is.”
After he sat down, the wiry framed girl with a mane of red hair and electric blue eyes who had been sitting next to him stood. “Wow, tough act to follow, but here I am,” she chuckled lightly. “Name’s Tara McGill. I’m a Volt.” Just to demonstrate the truth to her words, a spark of electricity jumped across her thumb and pointer finger. “And if I can’t cut it as a Hero, I plan on going into Electrical Engineering, like my da.” After a pause, she gave a nervous chuckle, “Not that I’m planning on failing. Just a backup plan.” She sat without saying another word.
Another familiar face stood up after Tara sat. “I’m Fiona Tigris and very happy to meet you all,” her gaze lingered on a few of the male faces, her lips twitching a smile as she did. “I suppose I’m a Rifter, though my Trait card says I also have some talent in teleportation which I had been previously unaware of up to this point. Like Mr. Negembe, I am also from the great city of Chicago and… I suppose if I don’t make it through this Hero program, I’ll continue working in my family’s sandwich shop business.” She paused, tapping a finger on her chin, “What else…? I guess I should say I don’t see myself as much of a fighter and hope to fill a command and support role on a team. Outside of a diving team, I excel in supply and logistics.” She pressed her skirt primly against her legs as she sat back down, the picture of poise and grace.
Next up was a short girl of far eastern descent, her silky raven hair cut short just below her ears and light twinkling mischievously in her pastel pink eyes. Her grin challenged the room to a fight, twenty on one, and boasted of her being the only one to walk away. “I’m Harmony Iziri, and none of you will see me coming. I’m an elemental illusionist and I can teleport anywhere I can see within 15 yards with perfect silence, which makes me perfect for recon. On a diving team, subterfuge is my game.”
“It’s not very subtle to just blurt out your fighting style knowing full well there will be graded and ranked combat tournaments in the near future,” Dean Anderson arched an eyebrow at the girl.
Harmony shrugged. “I’m going to flick you on the nose in three seconds,” she folded her arms, but otherwise made no movement toward her target. “Three, two, one-”
“-Ow,” Dean Anderson flinched back, his hand grabbing his nose. The image of the girl flickered into nothingness as the real Harmony revealed herself standing next to the dean, her fingers outstretched and less than an inch away from the dean’s nose. “Okay, point taken,” Dean Anderson corrected himself with a scowl. “Though I will not encourage any further assault on the dean of your program. Take your seat, Harmony.” Again, the Harmony flickered and disappeared, revealing the real Harmony in her seat with a questioning eyebrow arched.
“Maybe I never left it,” the shit-eating grin plastered on her face never faltered in its challenge toward the room, even as it shimmered into nothingness as Harmony revealed herself to be back in her seat, arms across her chest.
“I am the great Sheila Dame,” the girl next to Harmony stood up and announced in a thick Australian accent. “I’m also an illusionist, though one of the mind.” She spoke with wide eyes, the solid black irises and pupils along with her dyed black hair contrasting heavily with her pale and pasty skin. “As you can no doubt hear from my amazing accent, my family immigrated out of Australia.”
“You guys moved out of Australia? Why on earth would you do that?” Tara questioned.
Eyes still wide, Sheila locked eyes with the redhead. “Not enough death. True Aussies are drawn to danger like a siren call. We feed off it and consume it until it finally consumes us.” Impossible as it may seem, her eyes widened further as she stared Tara down before her face took on a normal appearance. “But for real, the people down under got a bit… weird when the rift opened? Plus my dad’s job paid him, like, three times his current salary to move to the States, so here I am. Don’t shoot. Or is that only a thing in your primary schools?”
“Moving along,” Dean Anderson pushed the current conversation to end.
The next girl who stood up also had black eyes, but blonde hair and an athletic build. She looked around the room, taking a moment on each face that met hers before sitting down again. Silence fell over the room before confusion spread like a plague.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Dean Anderson cleared his throat, “I suppose that was as much of an introduction as Bianca Romanov was willing to give. I actually have this letter here,” he reached into his pocket to pull out an envelope, “from what I’m assuming are her loving parents. It says, and I’m quoting here, ‘Please take care in training our little Bianca Romanov. She’s an expert close-combat marksman but could use some improvement on distances over 500 meters. Should any major injury befall her, you will not hear from us again,’ end quote, unsigned. I’ll choose to interpret that last line as a ‘lost-in-translation’ issue as opposed to an ‘openly-threatening-the-dean’ issue.” He peered under his eyebrows at Bianca as the room seemed to shift from one of ease and relaxation to one of frigid death. “Your family… wasn’t threatening me… correct?”
Wide-eyed, Bianca slowly shook her head. Immediately, the room shifted back to its inviting atmosphere as the dean took on his usual casual smile. “Good. Let’s move on.”
“I’m Wren Li,” the next guy spoke as he stood up. He was well built, but not to the point that his overly muscular frame would hamper any movement. His raven black hair sat neatly trimmed above dark brown eyes. “Combination Lux and Shade. I believe balance in all things is how we grow stronger. As such, I’ve practiced as an all-rounder in my fighting style. I can even tank or heal in a pinch.”
“While I understand your philosophy involves a certain well-roundedness in all aspects, you’ll find that our curriculum here shows how important it is to specialize or focus on a few areas and do them well, as opposed to everyone on a team trying to do everything themselves,” Dean Anderson interjected.
“My apologies, Dean Anderson, but my focus is on filling in the gaps that specializations naturally leave open,” Wren explained calmly.
“Well, once you’ve graduated, I suppose you can die in whatever manner you deem worthy,” Dean Anderson shot back without a hint of emotion on his face.
Huck stood up. “I’m Huxley Finnalee. I’m from Philadelphia. That should pretty much explain everything you need to know about me.”
“Ah, Philadelphia,” Dean Anderson smiled warmly. “Hark, how fares the front lines?”
“Same shit, different fly,” Huck shrugged. “But the city holds for now.” Huck moved to sit down as if that were enough.
“Wait,” Harmony shook her head, “what in the ever-shattered skies is being from Philadelphia supposed to tell us about you? What’s your Trait? What’s your role?”
“My Trait is being a persistent son-of-a bitch and my role is being in your face,” Huck answered without standing. “Philadelphia stands as a giant middle finger to the demonic hordes, and I’ll be the same.”
Harmony gave an exasperated sigh and rubbed the bridge of her nose while the young man next to Huck stood up to introduce himself next.
“I’m Connor. Vale. Twins with Nico,” his arm barely twitched to motion to the guy sitting next to him. “My focus is healing, which is why I don’t think I’m cut out for combat. I suppose I’ll have to do as the dean suggested and train harder for that deficiency.”
Before Connor even finished sitting, his brother spoke out, not bothering to stand. With a brief wave of his hand he began, “Nico. That guy’s my twin like he said. And, uh, I don’t think it’s wise to divulge my Traits, but I can’t see keeping it hidden as being any sort of practical. I’m a Puppeteer, but my card says I’m also a Crafter. I guess I can make my own toys. Pay me enough, and maybe I can make a toy for you too,” he ended his introduction with a generalized wink that may as well have just been the word ‘ladies’.
“My name is Indrus Flammentos,” the young woman next to Nico stood and introduced herself with a flourish of a curtsey. “And I am not interested in toys,” she gave a disparaging look to the boy next to her. “What captures my heart is passion, and there is no greater incarnation of passion than fire.” With that, the seams of her clothing sputtered and popped with sparks of flame and ember that quickly dissipated in the air. I will put my passion into this training and become one of the greatest Heroes the world knows. I will be the one to light the Lighthouse and become a beacon for the hope of humanity.”
As Indrus sat, the young woman next to her took a moment to realize she was up next. She wore a gentle smile with short blonde hair and blue eyes. With a quick press to smooth out her skirt, she stood and spoke softly. “Hello. I am Blanc Lenore. It is good to meet you all. I will happily fill the support role in my team.” Blanc sat back down.
“That’s it?” Harmony challenged again. “You’re worse than Mr. Philadelphia. What’s your Trait?”
Blanc stood back up and smiled kindly at Harmony, “No thank you.” She sat back down.
Harmony threw her hands in the air in a gesture of exasperation. “What is with you people?”
“No, that’s a pretty apt description of her Trait,” Dean Anderson interjected.
“Being with someone?” Harmony asked in confusion.
Dean Anderson smirked. “If I were a petty man, I’d ask you to try the same trick with her that you pulled with me. But as the adult in the room, I’ll just save time and tell you: that young woman is an unprecedented Negator V. We have no idea what that could mean for our future. Suffice it to say: she effectively has the final word on whether or not the people around her can use a Trait or not.”
“Right,” the slim young man next to Blanc spoke out next. He didn’t so much stand as remain seated and float to a higher elevation. “Name’s Tony Lamelli. And I can fly, so I make pretty good recon for any terrain that allows for elevation advantage. Probably the best damned Pilot in the country. The competitions I've won let me know I’m at least the best for my age category.” He floated back down to his seat. “Oh, and uh, my card says I’m also a bit of a Shifter, but I have no idea how that’s supposed to work.”
“My name is Garett Brown,” a soft-spoken voice muttered. Nate hardly even realized the guy was in the room at all. “I’m a Rubble. Tank type.” He quickly sat down again, evoking a ten second long awkward silence as everyone wondered if there would be anything else from him.
“Alright, I guess it’s my turn,” a woman over six and a half feet tall with black hair and black eyes stood up. “Name’s Dominique Hacel. I’m a Hound and apparently a Reader. Not sure how that translates to a combat role, but I look forward to learning with you all.”
“Which brings it to me,” a young woman with auburn hair and blue eyes stood, giving the room a nod of greeting. “My biggest asset in a gate-delving team is area control. I’m not strong in any particular Trait, but combining them, I can make a field of increased gravity for my enemies and negate their strengths. Should function as something of a slow spell in an RPG.”
As the girl sat back down, Huck, of all people, scoffed a laugh. “What, no name?” he implored.
The girl gave the room an embarrassed smile before she stood up again. “Oh,” her face reddened noticeably. “Andrea Reed.” Huck folded his arms, nodded, and pointedly looked away.
Then Dean Anderson stood up. Not the Dean Anderson sitting facing the group of students, mind you- a second identical Dean Anderson stood up from the row of chairs. Nate was quite certain there had not been a Dean Anderson lookalike amongst the students as they walked through. “I’m Dean Anderson,” the faux Dean Anderson announced. “And my favorite spice to add to any dish is belly lint,” the faux Dean Anderson matched the real Dean Anderson’s cadence of voice perfectly. “On Sunday nights, I take my weekly bath reading teen romance novels about vampires; wishing there was someone out there in the world who could hold me gently and caress my ear with their poetry.”
“Indeed,” the real Dean Anderson agreed with a modicum of humor in his voice. “Though I should add I have personally led successful raids on no fewer than three tier V Gates and held my brother in my arms as he breathed his last. Chances are, I’ll have a full third of your names on a list of dead Hero alumni within 5 years of your graduation day. Half, for the non-elite class. That being said, however I may or may not choose to relax is irrelevant to my persona as a whole.”
That statement shut faux Dean Anderson up quickly. Real Dean Anderson smiled. “Everyone, this is Mi. Mi, meet everyone.”
“That’s not really you, though,” Harmony spoke, her already almond eyes narrowing further.
“Of course that’s not you. That’s Mi,” real Dean Anderson poked the game along.
“But who’s that?” Tara added.
“I can be you,” faux Tara quipped back at real Tara.
Real Tara’s eyes widened at the abrupt shift in persona. “You can’t be me! See? I can still do lightning.”
“I’m always Mi,” faux Tara held out her hand and quirked an eyebrow as lightning danced across her fingers.
“No, come on. You can copy Traits?” Harmony asked in dismay.
“No, Mi can copy Traits,” Dean Anderson interjected, giving his students a toothy grin. “What I wouldn’t give right now for a transfer student named Yu.”
“Does Mi have a last name?” Huck asked, making some of the slower students finally understand.
“Actually, no. His full legal name is Mi,” Dean Anderson shrugged. “Not sure how or why, but I also don’t much care.”
“I’m a Mimic and Enhancer,” Mi shifted his body effortlessly into that of a young Asian man.
“I thought Mimics only copied Traits,” Huck raised an eyebrow in question. “Wouldn’t your formchanges classify you as a Shifter?”
Mi shrugged as a response.
“Where do you see yourself on a team?” Tobi interjected.
Harmony shot Tobi a look that said ‘idiot’ before mouthing off, “Obviously he can be anything- just not anything missing. And I’ll bet his Enhancer Trait lets him pull off most roles better than the guy he’s copying.”
“Sounds like a guy who appreciates a balanced approach to life,” Wren nodded appreciatively.
“Come on, guys, we’re still on the clock here,” Jenna reminded the room with a hint of anxiety in her voice. “Let’s keep moving down the line.”
“I am Gustav Klein,” a slim young man bowed to his audience. His sharp eyes briefly met everyone else’s in the room. “Shifter, jokester, and generally loved by all. Especially mothers. My shifting allows me to tank almost any blow unlike my ex who was apparently quite the opposite.”
Fiona snorted a laugh before covering her mouth and hiding her mirth as best she could.
“Not a completely dead crowd at least,” Gustav winked at her and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“Right,” Jenna gathered herself to stand as Gustav sat. “My name’s Jenna Harris and I’m the first in my family with a Trait. Oracle.”
“Oh, not just any old Oracle,” Dean Anderson grinned maliciously. “A Tier V Oracle. No detail of the future evades your sight.”
Jenna visibly tried to hold back, but couldn’t. Her suppressed frown turned to a forced smile as she responded, “A more accurate statement would be ‘there is no future that evades my sight’ because there isn’t such a thing as ‘the future’, let alone details of ‘the future’ that most Oracles simply miss. If an Oracle is wrong, it’s not because they missed details in their prediction, it’s because the future itself changed into-”
“Right,” Dean Anderson cut her off. “I’m going to do you all a favor and keep you on track here,” he spoke, offhandedly checking his wristwatch.
Jenna took in a short, determined breath and pressed on. “As an Oracle, I’ll be fulfilling a support role on any team. Preferably one outside the Gate itself. While I’m honored to be here amongst you, I don’t see myself being able to compete in any combat tournaments.” She gave a half smile before sitting down again.
That leaves me. Nate could feel everyone’s gaze turn toward him as he stood, thinking of something to say. Gustav should have gone last. “I’m Nate Lione. Apparently I’m an Imbuer-”
A wave of questions from his classmates bombarded him unexpectedly and so rapid-fire, that he had trouble keeping track of who was saying what.
“I have this amazing sword-”
“-it’d look so cool if it had a fire Imbuement-”
“Do you think you could take a look at my armor?”
“-don’t even know his Imbuing type yet-”
“-should probably go with an increased weight Imbuement, right?”
“What do you think about-?”
“I mean, you can’t wear metal with a lightning Imbuement-”
“-it’s not too much to ask, but-”
“-elemental, ethereal, physical, harmonic-”
“-so that way I could just stick my finger in my glass and cool my drink-”
On and on, the questions kept coming until Nate sliced his hand through the air. “I didn’t know I was an Imbuer until I got my potential Trait card. I’ve been nothing but a Reader my whole life up until now. I don’t even know what Imbuing really is or even how it’s supposed to work.”
Disappointed, everyone moved back to their chairs except Nico, who shrugged. “I’ve got some old spare gear you can work on for practice. I don’t care if it gets ruined or not; it’s well beyond resale value.”
“Thanks. I’d actually appreciate that,” Nate gave a polite smile and nod to the guy.
“Wonderful,” Dean Anderson clapped his hands together. “Anything else? No? Good. Your task is to complete a scavenger hunt. Teams of five with a pink and orange list per team. Your scavenger results are due by 5, so that gives you… just about an hour to complete your task. Keep in mind I did have other announcements to make here pertaining to your first semesters, but as Ms. Harris correctly pointed out, that was mostly just to waste the time you have all thoroughly wasted yourselves. I’ll email you all the pertinent information. Good luck.”
Chapter length?
