SEVENTY-FIVE: A Busy Morning, pt. 3

  * The few minutes of attempted fighting with Maricel was painful, embarrassing, and just plain confusing. After it was over and they awkwardly thanked one another for the educational experience, they both parted ways to go to their next assessments. Maricel went to some kind of Ground Shaper’s-only dirt flinging thing. Alden headed toward the outdoor track. Hitting people feels so wrong. Getting hit felt way less wrong. So maybe it was just social conditioning, and he would get over it. But as he followed a few other B-ranks out to the massive track, he couldn’t help fixating on all the novel, and mostly negative, physical sensations he’d just experienced. He’d now been punched in the ribs, kicked in the knee, and pinned to the floor by someone with slightly superior strength. He also knew what it felt like to punch another person in the gut as hard as he could and bite the shit out of her fingers. Maricel started it with the biting. That was her own fault. “Hey, what was that about?” Alden turned to see a lanky, dark-skinned guy with very short hair striding up behind him, stretching out his arms. “Are you talking to me?” “I am. Were you and your S friend just trying to look cool in front of the faculty by giving each other those little love taps?” “We were trying to get used to the way the suits feel before the combat assessment. So that we wouldn’t be as surprised during our fights later today.” The guy sighed. “So, you’re not stupid. That’s a shame. I prefer stupid competition.” “Thanks…?” “Is this your first time?” “Yeah.” “It’s my second. I was here four months ago,” he said. “I skipped the last one to prep for this one. I’m Max.” “Alden.” “What’s your class?” Max asked. “I’m an Adjuster.” “Rabbit.” “Well…that’s scary.” They’d just reached the back of the group that was waiting at the track’s edge. Alden turned to the taller boy. The words felt like they should have been said in a sarcastic tone, but they hadn’t been. “Are you joking around, or—?” Max’s brows rose. “No. It’s actually bad for the rest of us B-rank hopefuls.” “How do you figure?” Max looked over the group. “Hey!” he shouted. “Anybody here a Rabbit?” Everyone turned to look back at him. <<Why would a Rabbit be here?>> one boy asked. “I don’t think they let Rabbits in the program,” a girl added. “Or Healers.” “Yeah, why would they?” another said. “There are some Wrights here today, though.” “See?” said Max, when everyone resumed their original convos. “You’re probably the only one.” “I’m the only one from intake anyway,” Alden admitted. “Right. You’re obviously here for a reason. They’d have bounced you before the second interview if you were average. And before this one if you were above average, I bet. So you must be way above average in some way, right?” Alden shrugged and tried for a casual tone. “It’s the same for everyone, probably.” Max was doing leg stretches now. “No it’s not,” he said. He smiled at Alden. “Rabbit’s an awful class for traditional superhero work. Despite the name, this is a program that prioritizes traditional superhero work. You’re not Anesidoran, and you’re living in intake; so you don’t have important family on the island greasing the admissions machine for you. But they made an exception for you. Therefore, you’re exceptional. An exceptional Rabbit.” Alden couldn’t decide if the other boy wanted an answer or if he was just making conversation. “You mean there really is a Rabbit here?” A nearby girl who’d been talking about tae-kwon-do with a friend turned to looked at Alden. “You’re a Rabbit?” <<Are you?>> someone else asked. “That’s right.” <<What do you even want to go to this school for?>> A lot of people were staring now. I don’t want to explain myself. I don’t want attention. I just want to focus on the task at hand. “Multiple, long-considered personal reasons,” he said finally. He couldn’t believe he’d just quoted Stu-art’h. It worked pretty well though. A few people laughed like it was funny, but most of them accepted it and went back to stressing over their own problems. “Yeah,” Max said, giving him a look. “Pretty sure you’re my main competition this time.” “Thanks I guess?” The other boy shrugged. A few minutes later, a pair of staff members arrived. They were each carrying large tablets. “All right,” a gray-haired man said. “This is Runner Group B2. If you’re not a part of this group, you’re lost. Better get yourself un-lost before you miss whatever you’re supposed to be doing.” He paused. When nobody left, he continued. “So, I say this every time and nobody listens, but I’ll try anyway. You’re not racing today. We’re testing you as individuals. If you’re running using mostly what your parents gave you, you’ll be done quickly and you can head off to rest before your next event. If you’re using powers, we might ask you to keep going. If you’re using a power we haven’t got a lot of data on, prepare to sweat. Don’t come asking us for second chances or questioning why we made you do something different from everyone else.” He looked around at them all. “Everyone’s got their shoes tied, right? The track isn’t the gym. The suits you’re all wearing will give us some readings, but they’re not going to protect you out here. Don’t do something stupid with a spell if you don’t know how to use it. Boy lost a tooth last time… All right. First group’s up.” The words [Lane 3] appeared in front of Alden’s eyes. And, a moment after that, Lane 3 itself appeared. The track was made of what looked like asphalt, but there was obviously more to it than met the eye. It had been plain, but now glowing yellow lines appeared on the surface. Alden preserved his compact umbrella, and he let his trait activate at the same time. He was relieved when it worked. Asphalt roads were usually ground enough to satisfy the magical requirement, but a glowing one was new. He took his spot. “Run your first lap however you like. After that, we’ll be directing you individually through your interfaces,” the guy with the tablet called. “Don’t sprint flat-out when we say jog. Don’t jog when we say sprint. Kid with the umbrella, what the…oh, never mind. There’s a note. You can have the umbrella.”   [Trait Assisted Run in 3…] [2…] [1…]   I’m starting to worry, Alden thought half an hour later, as he jogged around Lane 3 yet again. Are they ever going to let me stop? The morning was cool, but he was sweating like crazy. The original set of B-rank runners he’d been mentally racing against, even though he’d been told not to, were all gone. I think I beat them all. Now, every two minutes or so, he got a new set of instructions to follow through his interface. Faster, faster, slower, low obstacle leap, double footed jumps, all of those things again but backwards. Nobody else had to run backwards. The Adjuster called Max was two lanes over now. Alden couldn’t spare a lot of attention, but it seemed like he had some kind of zonal movement spells. He’d run the whole track at a slow jog while casting, and now that he was on his second lap, weird stuff was happening over in his lane. Alden was pretty sure the guy had just leaped and floated over one of the wall-like hurdles that the track itself produced at the command of the instructors. That’s actually really cool. He finally got an instruction to break at the end of his next lap, and he headed over to grab a water bottle. “Take a breather for ten minutes, but don’t get stiff,” the female instructor said, coming over to check on him. “We’re going to have you go back out soon.” Alden wanted to ask why, but since they’d been specifically told not to complain about getting different instructions from others, he didn’t want them to think he was whining. “Okay.” “Sorry you’re getting so much more exercise than everyone else,” she said, grabbing a water bottle from one of the coolers for herself. “Our data on that trait is scanty, and the way you move is a pretty important factor in determining how you’ll eventually do hero work.” “I don’t mind.” He took advantage of the break to watch the other runners. The Brutes were easy to understand, and of course, most of them were Brutes. The Shapers, Adjusters, and Meisters were mostly not using powers at all, apart from whatever foundational enhancements they had. They just completed a few laps and headed off. Alden assumed that was only because the track wasn’t designed to take a lot of magical damage; one or two of them must have had spells and skills that would have allowed them to blow through hurdles. Apart from super speed, the visible magic was mostly coming from a few people who had something odd going on with their movement. Beside Max, there was a Sky Shaper who was running faster by altering the air around her. And there was a Meister of Staves who was adjusting the flexibility of her weapon to clear some short hurdles. Alden thought she might be trying to show off a short-pole version of pole vaulting? He didn’t think it was going the way she wanted, though. It was looking way less useful than just regular jumping. I wonder what the A and S groups look like? Really, there was plenty to be impressed with in the B group. It was a shame that almost everyone here would end up going home with nothing at the end of the day. Not just at the end of the day either. There are more B’s here than can enter the program in the next few years. Are Apex schools just too damn elitist, or is the rank gap really that insurmountable? As promised, he was soon called back to do more laps. Including a zig-zag one and one involving side-steps. He was starting to wonder if they actually needed all this data on him, specifically, or if he was being used to make a complete record for their future information on Azure Rabbit. When he was finally done, he headed toward the cooler and threw a fistful of ice cubes down the neck of his unitard. “Feeling warm?” asked Max. The Adjuster was sitting on the grass nearby beside an empty water bottle. “It was a lot,” Alden said. Some of the movements they’d asked for had been so bizarre. He had muscles burning from the waist down. “Are you just sitting here observing people?” “More like observing person,” he responded. “Now that person is done. You’re in the ten o’clock combat group, right? Or did you get slotted in for private assessment?” “I’m in the combat group.” “I’ll walk back with you.” Alden didn’t see any reason to object, but he didn’t understand the other B-rank boy’s motives either. He’d said he considered Alden competition, but he didn’t sound pissed off about it. Is this a keep your enemies close thing? he wondered as they entered through the back of the MagicPhys building. Max was just chatting about everyday stuff now, not asking questions about powers or abilities, so it didn’t seem like a big deal. He had an Anesidoran mom and a South African dad who were amicably divorced. He’d grown up in between the two worlds, spending school breaks and holidays here on the island. “That must give you a really different perspective,” Alden said. “Probably.” They entered the gymnasium, and the Floor On notification appeared at once. “I think moving between places just shows you that everywhere has its ups and downs. You’re American, aren’t you? Have you ever traveled to other countries?” Alden opened his mouth, and then he realized he didn’t know the answer. “I’ve never visited another country on Earth. Do alien worlds count?” Max gave him a curious look. “I guess you really are a Rabbit if you’ve already got a summoning under your belt. Yeah, sure it counts.” “Then I’ve done some traveling.” There was a boom of sound as Instructor Waker, in his Big Snake mode, stomped the floor for attention. “All right, next combat group!” he said in a cheerful voice. “Let’s go over some of the rules.” ********   The rules for the next hour and a half of Alden’s life were simple:   1. He would receive combat or rescue assignments. He should complete them to the best of his ability, using whatever resources he had at his disposal. 2. No taking off the gym suit or the metal bands. 3. No “killing” the other participants. 4. He could refuse assignments if he believed “they will not show your abilities in the best light.” 5. He could leave whenever he liked after completing at least one assignment. It’s probably a trap, he thought, sitting on the lowest bleacher and watching the gym being divided into distinct sections by walls of light that flared and then disappeared. The entire left third was set up with walls and metal drums to serve as cover and scattered debris to make obstacles. The other two thirds were being divided into even smaller sections that were going to be for one-on-one duels. If you refuse to participate after your first assignment, or just choose easy fights that make you look awesome, there’s no way they score you as well as people who stay for the entire thing and do everything they ask. It’s basically self-rejecting, right? All around him, people were whispering similar thoughts. Why bother to make it an option if everyone knows it’s the wrong choice? “Maybe they’re testing us on our ability to know the scope of our power and our limits.” Max, sitting beside Alden, spoke loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear him. “It would be stupid to throw your life away in a hopeless fight, right?” The combat assessment group was made up of every rank and class here, but people had already fallen into the habit of clustering with their fellows. It was mostly B’s from the track test around them. “That doesn’t sound right,” a girl behind them said. “Of course it would be stupid to do that in real life, but for a test? You can’t show off your creativity or your full talents or…or your perseverance if you just drop out.” Max shrugged. “Just making a guess.” Alden examined him. He didn’t have long to do it, though. About a minute later his first assignment popped up: [Defeat Your Opponent] [Dueling Block 6] [Opponent: Tatiana Evans, Shaper of Sky]   Around a third of the people in the gym were standing and hurrying to their assigned spots. All of their forehead ranks had faded into invisibility on Alden’s interface, except for one girl’s. It was the B-rank Sky Shaper from his running group. The one who could move pretty fast by altering the air around her. Her “B” was glowing bright green under her dark bangs. He gave her a wave as they both headed toward their block. She nodded at him, but her expression was stiff. Mine probably is a little, too. One of his palms was sweating against his umbrella handle. The other was sweating against a fresh temper sphere. Can’t think of how to use fishing line against a girl who plays with the atmosphere. She’s obviously doing something with just wind at this point, right? Beginner Shaper…some kind of air strike? I don’t think she could have anything else in combo with that technique that makes her run better. And there’s not a lot of space in this set of dueling blocks for either of us to run around. It’s close quarters. All right, strange shield. Time to do your duty. He extended the umbrella, finally letting it unfurl before he re-preserved it. Isn’t opening an umbrella indoors bad luck or something? The dueling block was a rectangular space outlined on the floor in dull black lines that had appeared there like they’d always existed. As soon as he and the girl entered, a timer popped up. “We’re supposed to fight for two minutes,” said Alden. “That’s not long is—?” From around eight feet away, Tatiana Evans curled her fingers like she was holding an imaginary softball and thrust her hand out toward him. An invisible force struck the umbrella, which he’d been holding between him and the girl more because it was convenient than out of an abundance of caution. His authority sense registered it as a smack. But not a very good one. He glanced down and then back up at his opponent’s shocked face. “We’re getting started without even saying hi? You should have aimed for something else.” Her face reddened, and she threw out her hand again. Alden held the umbrella out to protect his torso and felt another strike against it. I just told her to aim for something else. She should have gone for my legs. He was assuming she wasn’t willing to aim for his head because of the no-kill rule. I guess I should try some offense? He flung the temper sphere at her. To his surprise, the glass ball full of glittering sand smashed her right in the nose. She yelled and leaped back, clutching her face while the sphere rolled across the floor. Oh. I guess she didn’t know I had it? Feeling like a little bit of a jerk, Alden ran forward with his umbrella held out in front of him. Instead of attacking again, Tatiana tried to dodge sideways. Alden threw his leg out and kicked her in the knee as hard as he could. Kicks to the knee were the most effective attack he’d managed against Maricel earlier, other than the finger biting…which could only happen if someone’s fingers were already way too close to your mouth. The Sky Shaper cried out and fell sideways. She would have fallen over the line into the next dueling rectangle, but an invisible wall stopped her. She slid down the unseen barrier, her eyes clenched shut. She threw out a hand, and Alden felt something whip the hair over his right ear. Missed. The timer told him their fight had only been going on for twenty seconds. So two minutes was longer than it felt like. Do I kick her again? While she’s still on the ground with her eyes shut? He hesitated. She opened watering eyes and swung one of her own legs around hard enough to sweep his feet out from under him. He went down on his butt, and then she was grabbing onto his umbrella, trying to yank it out of his hand. Fortunately, her first yank happened during the second when it was still preserved, before the stupid carriage requirement screwed him over. I don’t want to have to fight with a broken umbrella for the rest of the day. He scrambled onto his feet and swung the umbrella at her like a weapon. It was an iffy thing to do. Alden lost preservation on objects when he allowed them to be partially borne by something else. However…if coming into contact with that something else was going to increase Alden’s burden instead of lifting it, the rule could be worked around somewhat. It helps to understand when...