Day of Mourning - Olarune 20, 998 YK - Mid-morning in Flamekeep
"We gather here this morning to remember those lives that were lost four years ago," preached the priest from atop his makeshift pulpit. There weren't many people gathering around him, but it was his duty to speak. "Four years have gone by since Cyre was claimed by the Mists, and we still do not know why. But we do what we can, pray to the Flame that the souls of the departed find refuge and comfort."
The priest paused to take a breath, and heard a dull roar coming from the Cathedral. He turned, and saw a mass of people running down the steep roads that lead to the highest ground in the city. He could not tell what they were running from, but they were panicked.
"Brothers and Sisters. Do not fear, for the Flame protects us here in the city. What harm can come to us here?" he shouted to the first of the evacuating mob. They didn't slow down at all.
The priest stepped down and was quickly swept up in the flow, his body buffeted by the current of bodies. He finally relaxed and moved with the flow, allowing himself to become a part of the rushing mob.
The priest and the mob continued down the streets of Flamekeep, until they reached the edge of the water, and stopped. Some, brave or foolish, began to wade into the water.
"What happened?" asked the priest to one of the panicked members of the milling mob.
"The Flame, the Flame, the Flame," was all that he got in response, as well as an arm pointed at the Cathedral.
The priest looked, and even from the edge of the water, he could see the smoke rising from the Cathedral. It was not much, at least now, but as he watched, it increased, and grew darker. Within a minute the smoke flowed from all the windows and doors of the Cathedral, filling the sky with it's billowing darkness.
"Flame protect us," the priest said to himself.
He could not make the motions of blessing himself before he died.
Two miles away a caravan rider stopped when the bright flash erupted from the direction of Flamekeep. He stopped his wagon and stepped to the ground. As he began to walk past the horses, he fell to the ground, a massive shockwave causing him to fall.
An hour later the teamster crested the final ridge before Flameseep and stopped. Before him he saw only devastation. He fell to the ground, head in his hands, weeping uncontrollably. A minute later he stopped sobbing and stared up into the sky, raising his hands in protest, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Why!?"
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Future Imperfect - Prologue 2
Day of Mourning - Olarune 20, 1048 YK - Evening over Flamekeep
The Golden Dragon slowed and began to fly in a wide circle. Fifty years previous, it would have been circling far above the busy bay around Flamekeep, just one of many ships, both in the air and on the water. It also would be among the rubble it was now circling.
Her captain stood at her bow, hands clasped behind his back. He we looking out at the hills to the west, and as the Golden Dragon circled, his gaze fell upon Scion's Sound, the bustling Throneport in the distance, then once more upon the hills. He gaze never ventured down, to look at the ruins of what was once the greatest capital in the Five Nations.
"Captain," said a tall female shifter, breaking his reverent silence.
"Yes Ms. Fraser?" he asked, a slight tone of annoyance in his question.
"Captain, you asked me to tell you when one of the other ships had arrived," she explained.
"Ah," he replied, then time with interest.
"Yes, the Ash Valley and the Angorn's Fancy have both arrived and have fallen in behind us," she informed him. "April says that the Argentvorax might be late, both otherwise the sending stone has been silent."
"Good, I guess it's time to inform our passengers that they can come out on deck. with both the Valley and the Fancy here, the Riedrans or the Karrnathi shouldn't interrupt us before the ceremony," he said, then sighed and walked aft, towards the bridge. "Dismissed Ms. Fraser."
She nodded, gave a quick salute, then turned on the ball of her foot and jogged off towards the stairs down into the ship.
The Golden Dragon slowed and began to fly in a wide circle. Fifty years previous, it would have been circling far above the busy bay around Flamekeep, just one of many ships, both in the air and on the water. It also would be among the rubble it was now circling.
Her captain stood at her bow, hands clasped behind his back. He we looking out at the hills to the west, and as the Golden Dragon circled, his gaze fell upon Scion's Sound, the bustling Throneport in the distance, then once more upon the hills. He gaze never ventured down, to look at the ruins of what was once the greatest capital in the Five Nations.
"Captain," said a tall female shifter, breaking his reverent silence.
"Yes Ms. Fraser?" he asked, a slight tone of annoyance in his question.
"Captain, you asked me to tell you when one of the other ships had arrived," she explained.
"Ah," he replied, then time with interest.
"Yes, the Ash Valley and the Angorn's Fancy have both arrived and have fallen in behind us," she informed him. "April says that the Argentvorax might be late, both otherwise the sending stone has been silent."
"Good, I guess it's time to inform our passengers that they can come out on deck. with both the Valley and the Fancy here, the Riedrans or the Karrnathi shouldn't interrupt us before the ceremony," he said, then sighed and walked aft, towards the bridge. "Dismissed Ms. Fraser."
She nodded, gave a quick salute, then turned on the ball of her foot and jogged off towards the stairs down into the ship.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Future Imperfect - Prologue 1
Day of Mourning - Olarune 20, 1048 YK - Early Morning over the King's Forest.
The rain was getting worse, already her visibility was barely a hundred feet off the bow. She looked out the glass of the small pilot house, watching as one of her crew, a warforged, came up to the door on the side.
She sighed, and stood up, hoping that the construct had good news, but doubting it in the weather.
It opened the door, quickly stepped inside, and closed it.
"Thirty-Six," she said, looking at the wet 'forged. She then commanded, "Report!"
It bowed it's head, the grey metal of it's armor plating dimly reflecting the small lamp mounted on the back wall of the pilot house, "This one regrets to inform you that the ship has disappeared."
She had expected this, especially in this weather, "Regrettable, but we should still be able to track it's rings, in fact, that's what you were supposed to be doing. So," she paused to adjust her uniform, "tell my how it disappeared."
If the warforged could be nervous, it probably would have been, "One second, the rings were there, just as before. Next second, rings were gone, no where in sight."
She sighed, "Dismissed." She then stared out the glass as the warforged opened the door into the rain, then closed it. She could see it make it's way across the small deck and the secure itself to the bow viewing station.
"Darlona," she said to herself, "what have you gotten yourself into?" She looked around at the small pilot house, barely five feet on a side, it's front dominated by glass windows, and it's back wall by various maps of the area. She sat back down in front of the wheel, and let out a heavy sigh.
"Back to base then," she said, turning the ship in a while arc, "Maybe I won't get demoted for losing the ship. It is quite stormy." She laughed to herself, looked down at the compass, and began the long journey back to base.
Half a mile away, though only a hundred feet or so above the ground, cruised an old and battered luxury airship.
"Captain," shouted a sailor as she let herself into the bridge, "The Kharvin is turning around. It worked."
"Good," said the captain, "we might get to Flamekeep after all." He slid his hand through he short, greying hair. His ship was old, but she had a few tricks up her sleeve. As long as he didn't crash her into anything in the rain.
"Mr. Rancid," said the captain, looking over to the mithral plated warforged that piloted his ship, "take us to two thousand feet, and set a course for Flamekeep."
"Sir," it barked, and obediently began the effort of willing the elementals to go higher.
"Oh, and Mr. Rancid," said the Captain as he headed for the door at the front of the bridge, "do try and be graceful. We have an image to uphold. The Golden Dragon has been flying these skies for over fifty years. I intend for her to keep flying for fifty more."
"Aye Captain," replied the warforged as the Capain left the bridge for a walk in the rain.
The rain was getting worse, already her visibility was barely a hundred feet off the bow. She looked out the glass of the small pilot house, watching as one of her crew, a warforged, came up to the door on the side.
She sighed, and stood up, hoping that the construct had good news, but doubting it in the weather.
It opened the door, quickly stepped inside, and closed it.
"Thirty-Six," she said, looking at the wet 'forged. She then commanded, "Report!"
It bowed it's head, the grey metal of it's armor plating dimly reflecting the small lamp mounted on the back wall of the pilot house, "This one regrets to inform you that the ship has disappeared."
She had expected this, especially in this weather, "Regrettable, but we should still be able to track it's rings, in fact, that's what you were supposed to be doing. So," she paused to adjust her uniform, "tell my how it disappeared."
If the warforged could be nervous, it probably would have been, "One second, the rings were there, just as before. Next second, rings were gone, no where in sight."
She sighed, "Dismissed." She then stared out the glass as the warforged opened the door into the rain, then closed it. She could see it make it's way across the small deck and the secure itself to the bow viewing station.
"Darlona," she said to herself, "what have you gotten yourself into?" She looked around at the small pilot house, barely five feet on a side, it's front dominated by glass windows, and it's back wall by various maps of the area. She sat back down in front of the wheel, and let out a heavy sigh.
"Back to base then," she said, turning the ship in a while arc, "Maybe I won't get demoted for losing the ship. It is quite stormy." She laughed to herself, looked down at the compass, and began the long journey back to base.
Half a mile away, though only a hundred feet or so above the ground, cruised an old and battered luxury airship.
"Captain," shouted a sailor as she let herself into the bridge, "The Kharvin is turning around. It worked."
"Good," said the captain, "we might get to Flamekeep after all." He slid his hand through he short, greying hair. His ship was old, but she had a few tricks up her sleeve. As long as he didn't crash her into anything in the rain.
"Mr. Rancid," said the captain, looking over to the mithral plated warforged that piloted his ship, "take us to two thousand feet, and set a course for Flamekeep."
"Sir," it barked, and obediently began the effort of willing the elementals to go higher.
"Oh, and Mr. Rancid," said the Captain as he headed for the door at the front of the bridge, "do try and be graceful. We have an image to uphold. The Golden Dragon has been flying these skies for over fifty years. I intend for her to keep flying for fifty more."
"Aye Captain," replied the warforged as the Capain left the bridge for a walk in the rain.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Josefer Martin - Growing up Super - Chapter 4
I shook the old memories from my mind. Now was not the time to dwell on the past. That would come at the debriefing. It was about thirty seconds before the end of class, and I had just enough time to stash my books, notebook opened to a blank page, and textbook worn almost to the point of falling apart, into my backpack.
Since I was at the back of the class, I was the last in line to leave the classroom, though I had much more left in my day then the rest of my classmates. Even though the live feed was cut off when we entered the vault, there was still the recording from Jessica's glasses to dissect during the debrief.
I was almost out the door when I turned and noticed Ms. Delarosa crouched over her keyboard, staring at the screen. "Ms. D, see you tomorrow."
"Yeah," she said, obviously distracted.
I walked a step closer to her, "Ms. D, you alright?"
She shook her head, "Yeah. Just trying to grok the algorithm you discussed in class."
I smiled, and strolled over to her desk, "I just made it up. I doubt it'll even work. That whole thing, from the 3D model to the basic program was just some smoke and mirrors. I made it up on the spot, whole-cloth, BS from start to finish."
"But," she began, a strained look in her eyes, "it wasn't BS. It worked, at least, the two-dimensional treesort did."
"Really?" I asked, pulling a chair from around her desk.
"Really," she said. She then smiled and pointed to a chunk of code on her screen, "See this. I had to finagle it a bit, but I got it to work."
I plopped myself down in the chair, forgetting even the backpack on my back, and began to look over the code. She had taken a basic idea that had come out of nowhere and built it into a coherent program. Sure it didn't do much, but that's because it was just a test.
I pointed to a line of code, and she described what it did. We began to work with the code, solidifying it as it was, then bringing it further, and further, until, just on the cusp of creating an n-dimensional treesort, we were rudely interrupted.
"Josefer Martin to the office, please," the intercom buzzed. I could hear it from the hall as well, which meant that instead of the usual room-only call I had come to expect since my Freshman year, they had gone with a broadcast throughout the school.
"Sorry," I hastily apologized, jumping out of the chair towards the door, "maybe we can finish it tomorrow?"
"Yeah" she said despondently as I ran down the hall towards the main office.
Since it wasn't a briefing I ran past Ms. Studney's office and waved to the secretary as I opened and then jumped inside of a supply closet. It began to descend as soon as the door closed. It did so slowly, incidental music from last summer's super hero blockbuster playing softly in the background. I chuckled to myself as I was slowly lowered the three levels to the training complex beneath the school, thinking back to the first time I had to take the secondary elevator, a week before the start of my Freshman year.
Jessica and I were scheduled for a tour of the facilities, but because of traffic the bus I had relied upon to get me to the school had arrived late. So, after a hastened and confusing conversation with the secretary, I had entered the supply closet elevator and made my way down to join the tour, already in progress.
As luck would have it, I arrived just as Matt, a senior and the new leader of the Garder Fox Senior High team, was belatedly begun the tour without me.
"As with Parker Junior High, Fox Senior High was built with supers, and our training, in mind. Unlike Parker, we've got a fully-featured facility equipped to handle eight supers as well as our various instructors and support staff. We've got a martial arts training room, a battle simulation room, a debriefing room, and even our own gymnasium."
I came up behind Jessica and assaulted her with a hug. She, of course, expected it, but Matt was surprised.
"Ah, Mr. Martin," he began.
"Joe," I interrupted to correct him.
"Joe then, how nice of you to finally join us."
"My pleasure. The traffic was horrendous."
"Your girlfriend got here on time," he commented.
"But," I countered, "she didn't have to take the bus, now did she?"
"No," she chimed in, "she didn't. Instead, she ran here, and arrived five minutes early."
"Enough," he exclaimed. "We don't have time for excuses. You're here, and so I won't have to do this a second time." He then turned and walked down the hall. It looked like the halls three stories up, only without the lockers.
"As I was saying, Gardner Fox Senior High was built with supers in mind."
I shook my head as the elevator stopped. "Why" I said to myself as I ran through the well-lit halls, "do I keep thinking back to past?"
"Maybe," said an oddly familar voice from out of nowhere. I stopped, but it continued, "because those that don't remember their past are doomed to repeat it."
I frantically looked around, but could not find the source of the voice, nor could I place it's familiarity. I shook it off, and continued to the debriefing room. I stopped right before the door and caught my breath, then casually opened it.
"Ah," came that same familiar voice form inside the room. I continued in. They were replaying old mission tapes on the main screen. Underneath the image was the name of the person wearing the camera. It was then that I placed the voice I had heard to a name, the same name that was on the screen, Mike. He continued to speak on the tape, "So nice of you to finally join us."
Since I was at the back of the class, I was the last in line to leave the classroom, though I had much more left in my day then the rest of my classmates. Even though the live feed was cut off when we entered the vault, there was still the recording from Jessica's glasses to dissect during the debrief.
I was almost out the door when I turned and noticed Ms. Delarosa crouched over her keyboard, staring at the screen. "Ms. D, see you tomorrow."
"Yeah," she said, obviously distracted.
I walked a step closer to her, "Ms. D, you alright?"
She shook her head, "Yeah. Just trying to grok the algorithm you discussed in class."
I smiled, and strolled over to her desk, "I just made it up. I doubt it'll even work. That whole thing, from the 3D model to the basic program was just some smoke and mirrors. I made it up on the spot, whole-cloth, BS from start to finish."
"But," she began, a strained look in her eyes, "it wasn't BS. It worked, at least, the two-dimensional treesort did."
"Really?" I asked, pulling a chair from around her desk.
"Really," she said. She then smiled and pointed to a chunk of code on her screen, "See this. I had to finagle it a bit, but I got it to work."
I plopped myself down in the chair, forgetting even the backpack on my back, and began to look over the code. She had taken a basic idea that had come out of nowhere and built it into a coherent program. Sure it didn't do much, but that's because it was just a test.
I pointed to a line of code, and she described what it did. We began to work with the code, solidifying it as it was, then bringing it further, and further, until, just on the cusp of creating an n-dimensional treesort, we were rudely interrupted.
"Josefer Martin to the office, please," the intercom buzzed. I could hear it from the hall as well, which meant that instead of the usual room-only call I had come to expect since my Freshman year, they had gone with a broadcast throughout the school.
"Sorry," I hastily apologized, jumping out of the chair towards the door, "maybe we can finish it tomorrow?"
"Yeah" she said despondently as I ran down the hall towards the main office.
Since it wasn't a briefing I ran past Ms. Studney's office and waved to the secretary as I opened and then jumped inside of a supply closet. It began to descend as soon as the door closed. It did so slowly, incidental music from last summer's super hero blockbuster playing softly in the background. I chuckled to myself as I was slowly lowered the three levels to the training complex beneath the school, thinking back to the first time I had to take the secondary elevator, a week before the start of my Freshman year.
Jessica and I were scheduled for a tour of the facilities, but because of traffic the bus I had relied upon to get me to the school had arrived late. So, after a hastened and confusing conversation with the secretary, I had entered the supply closet elevator and made my way down to join the tour, already in progress.
As luck would have it, I arrived just as Matt, a senior and the new leader of the Garder Fox Senior High team, was belatedly begun the tour without me.
"As with Parker Junior High, Fox Senior High was built with supers, and our training, in mind. Unlike Parker, we've got a fully-featured facility equipped to handle eight supers as well as our various instructors and support staff. We've got a martial arts training room, a battle simulation room, a debriefing room, and even our own gymnasium."
I came up behind Jessica and assaulted her with a hug. She, of course, expected it, but Matt was surprised.
"Ah, Mr. Martin," he began.
"Joe," I interrupted to correct him.
"Joe then, how nice of you to finally join us."
"My pleasure. The traffic was horrendous."
"Your girlfriend got here on time," he commented.
"But," I countered, "she didn't have to take the bus, now did she?"
"No," she chimed in, "she didn't. Instead, she ran here, and arrived five minutes early."
"Enough," he exclaimed. "We don't have time for excuses. You're here, and so I won't have to do this a second time." He then turned and walked down the hall. It looked like the halls three stories up, only without the lockers.
"As I was saying, Gardner Fox Senior High was built with supers in mind."
I shook my head as the elevator stopped. "Why" I said to myself as I ran through the well-lit halls, "do I keep thinking back to past?"
"Maybe," said an oddly familar voice from out of nowhere. I stopped, but it continued, "because those that don't remember their past are doomed to repeat it."
I frantically looked around, but could not find the source of the voice, nor could I place it's familiarity. I shook it off, and continued to the debriefing room. I stopped right before the door and caught my breath, then casually opened it.
"Ah," came that same familiar voice form inside the room. I continued in. They were replaying old mission tapes on the main screen. Underneath the image was the name of the person wearing the camera. It was then that I placed the voice I had heard to a name, the same name that was on the screen, Mike. He continued to speak on the tape, "So nice of you to finally join us."
Josefer Martin - Growing up Super - Chapter 3
It would be another week before my change in status came into effect. During the school year Mike and Zelda had been called down to the office probably ten times, and since the new year, Jessica had joined them about three times. Now it was my turn to find out what was going on, since they had never told me.
"Would Michael Schultz, Zelda Moonfire, Jessica Martinez, and Josefer Martin please report to the office please," came the voice of the school secretary over the intercom.
Jessica and I were in our math class, and the teacher, Mr. Zelman, nodded to the two of us, "It's almost the end of class, so you two better take your bags with you."
I got up, knowing what to do only because Jessica had done it before and following her lead. I shoved my textbook and my notebook into my backpack and followed Jessica out of the classroom.
"So," I asked as we walked down the hall, "what's next?"
"You'll see," was all she said. We got to the office about the same time as Mike and Zelda, who were just coming down the stairs from the second floor.
"Joe," commented Mike, "I see you're finally ready to join the big leagues. At least, as big as we get here at William H. Parker Junior High."
Before I could even reply, the principal, Mr. Hernandez, stuck his head out of the office, "Come on in you four, we've got about a minute to go."
"A minute to go for what?" I asked, but nobody said anything. Instead, we all followed Mr. Hernandez to his office at the back of the school's office, Zelda and Jessica getting personal greetings from the secretary.
Once we were all in his office, Mr. Hernandez closed the door and locked it, "Now, Josefer."
"Call me Joe," I interrupted.
"Joe then. Joe, since you're new to this, I'll explain as I get my office ready." He walked around his desk and pulled the blinds closed as Mike, Zelda, and Jessica all got seated comfortably in the seats, leaving one left for me. "As young supers you have great power, but you don't know how to properly use it to defend use normals in the world. That's what this program is for."
He sat down at his desk and motioned for me to do the same. He then pressed a button and four of the pieces of art arranged on his wall faded away and were replaced by screens that showed a live camera feed from inside a helicopter.
"There are the Juniors and Seniors over at Gardner Fox Senior High. Today they've been called out to help defuse a hostage situation downtown." He then pressed a button and the audio kicked in.
"Control this is Bob."
"Reading you load and clear."
"Control, we're going live."
"Roger."
"Okay guys," said Bob, the leader of the mission. "We're doing this by the book. Erin, you're on assault. Jake, damage control. Sue, keep those hostages safe."
"Roger," came the chorus from the others in the helicopter.
"Okay, we'll port in a floor below them, on the 17th. Erin, Jake, you take the stairs. Sue, I'll get you as close as I can once they make their presence know, okay?"
"Yeah Bob, we got it," said an annoyed male, whom I assumed was Jake.
"Jake, we can do this without you, if you'd rather not."
"No, just, well, we've done this a million times in simulation."
"Yeah, and this is the real world. You'll be lead next year Jake, you can make the calls then. We're doing it this way."
"Roger," replied Jake with distain.
"On three. One. Two. Three."
The screens all whited out and then shifted to show the interior of an office building. The views all panned around.
"Clear," came the voice of one of the girls.
"Clear," said the other.
"Clear," said Bob.
"Clear," added Jake with annoyance.
"Okay, let's do this."
Two of the views nodded and started to go away from the other two, Jake and Erin going for the stairs. They got there and cautiously climbed to the eighteenth floor.
"Now," said Mr. Hernandez, "As you can see, both Jake and Bob are alphas, but with different outlooks on mission execution. This isn't uncommon, but we'd rather not see it, that's why we try to get you working together even now."
"Bob," came the second female voice, now confirmed as Erin, "we're in position."
"Roger, on three. One. Two. Three."
The two in the stairs charged through the door and chaos fell upon the cubicles. Bolts of energy, the color I couldn't tell from the back and white views, shot out from Erin's hands and connected with assailants. There were five of them, and within seconds, four of them were down, but one of them had ducked in time and was now retreating.
"We've got a runner. Coming your way," shouted Erin as she followed the last hostile.
"Damage contained," droned an annoyed Jake. His view had shown little except a few blocked bullets and bolts of energy, but luckily, no damage either.
"We've secured the hostages," said Sue.
"Erin, Jake, stop him!" shouted Bob as the hostile showed up on his screen. A shot was fired, and was stopped by either Jake or Sue's efforts, or both, before it could reach him. He charged, as did Erin from behind, and the resulting grapple was hard to understand from without or within.
Ten seconds later, a tired Bob called back over the radio, "Control. We're going to need a pickup. Hostiles contained, and subdued."
"Roger Bob, we'll meet you on the roof. Good job."
"Okay guys, let's blow this joint."
The screens went white again and then showed views from the top of the building as a black unmarked helicopter without doors came down for a landing.
The views then faded to black, and then back to the artwork that previously occupied their frames.
"Now," said Mr. Hernandez, "this was a successful mission, as most of them are. I'll need all of you to write a report on the team's effectiveness in containing the situation, as well as recommendations as to what you would have done."
"Okay," I replied, as I grabbed my backpack.
"No," said Mr. Hernandez, "now Mr. Martin, at least, you need to start it now. There's a minimum of fifteen minutes we can remove you from classes, and you've only been here for four."
I looked to see Jessica, Mike, and Zelda all frantically scribbling on paper, trying to get down notes and comments from what they had just watched.
I sat back down and got out my paper, "Is it always going to be like this?"
"No," said Mike, smiling. "Sometimes, we get to help."
"Would Michael Schultz, Zelda Moonfire, Jessica Martinez, and Josefer Martin please report to the office please," came the voice of the school secretary over the intercom.
Jessica and I were in our math class, and the teacher, Mr. Zelman, nodded to the two of us, "It's almost the end of class, so you two better take your bags with you."
I got up, knowing what to do only because Jessica had done it before and following her lead. I shoved my textbook and my notebook into my backpack and followed Jessica out of the classroom.
"So," I asked as we walked down the hall, "what's next?"
"You'll see," was all she said. We got to the office about the same time as Mike and Zelda, who were just coming down the stairs from the second floor.
"Joe," commented Mike, "I see you're finally ready to join the big leagues. At least, as big as we get here at William H. Parker Junior High."
Before I could even reply, the principal, Mr. Hernandez, stuck his head out of the office, "Come on in you four, we've got about a minute to go."
"A minute to go for what?" I asked, but nobody said anything. Instead, we all followed Mr. Hernandez to his office at the back of the school's office, Zelda and Jessica getting personal greetings from the secretary.
Once we were all in his office, Mr. Hernandez closed the door and locked it, "Now, Josefer."
"Call me Joe," I interrupted.
"Joe then. Joe, since you're new to this, I'll explain as I get my office ready." He walked around his desk and pulled the blinds closed as Mike, Zelda, and Jessica all got seated comfortably in the seats, leaving one left for me. "As young supers you have great power, but you don't know how to properly use it to defend use normals in the world. That's what this program is for."
He sat down at his desk and motioned for me to do the same. He then pressed a button and four of the pieces of art arranged on his wall faded away and were replaced by screens that showed a live camera feed from inside a helicopter.
"There are the Juniors and Seniors over at Gardner Fox Senior High. Today they've been called out to help defuse a hostage situation downtown." He then pressed a button and the audio kicked in.
"Control this is Bob."
"Reading you load and clear."
"Control, we're going live."
"Roger."
"Okay guys," said Bob, the leader of the mission. "We're doing this by the book. Erin, you're on assault. Jake, damage control. Sue, keep those hostages safe."
"Roger," came the chorus from the others in the helicopter.
"Okay, we'll port in a floor below them, on the 17th. Erin, Jake, you take the stairs. Sue, I'll get you as close as I can once they make their presence know, okay?"
"Yeah Bob, we got it," said an annoyed male, whom I assumed was Jake.
"Jake, we can do this without you, if you'd rather not."
"No, just, well, we've done this a million times in simulation."
"Yeah, and this is the real world. You'll be lead next year Jake, you can make the calls then. We're doing it this way."
"Roger," replied Jake with distain.
"On three. One. Two. Three."
The screens all whited out and then shifted to show the interior of an office building. The views all panned around.
"Clear," came the voice of one of the girls.
"Clear," said the other.
"Clear," said Bob.
"Clear," added Jake with annoyance.
"Okay, let's do this."
Two of the views nodded and started to go away from the other two, Jake and Erin going for the stairs. They got there and cautiously climbed to the eighteenth floor.
"Now," said Mr. Hernandez, "As you can see, both Jake and Bob are alphas, but with different outlooks on mission execution. This isn't uncommon, but we'd rather not see it, that's why we try to get you working together even now."
"Bob," came the second female voice, now confirmed as Erin, "we're in position."
"Roger, on three. One. Two. Three."
The two in the stairs charged through the door and chaos fell upon the cubicles. Bolts of energy, the color I couldn't tell from the back and white views, shot out from Erin's hands and connected with assailants. There were five of them, and within seconds, four of them were down, but one of them had ducked in time and was now retreating.
"We've got a runner. Coming your way," shouted Erin as she followed the last hostile.
"Damage contained," droned an annoyed Jake. His view had shown little except a few blocked bullets and bolts of energy, but luckily, no damage either.
"We've secured the hostages," said Sue.
"Erin, Jake, stop him!" shouted Bob as the hostile showed up on his screen. A shot was fired, and was stopped by either Jake or Sue's efforts, or both, before it could reach him. He charged, as did Erin from behind, and the resulting grapple was hard to understand from without or within.
Ten seconds later, a tired Bob called back over the radio, "Control. We're going to need a pickup. Hostiles contained, and subdued."
"Roger Bob, we'll meet you on the roof. Good job."
"Okay guys, let's blow this joint."
The screens went white again and then showed views from the top of the building as a black unmarked helicopter without doors came down for a landing.
The views then faded to black, and then back to the artwork that previously occupied their frames.
"Now," said Mr. Hernandez, "this was a successful mission, as most of them are. I'll need all of you to write a report on the team's effectiveness in containing the situation, as well as recommendations as to what you would have done."
"Okay," I replied, as I grabbed my backpack.
"No," said Mr. Hernandez, "now Mr. Martin, at least, you need to start it now. There's a minimum of fifteen minutes we can remove you from classes, and you've only been here for four."
I looked to see Jessica, Mike, and Zelda all frantically scribbling on paper, trying to get down notes and comments from what they had just watched.
I sat back down and got out my paper, "Is it always going to be like this?"
"No," said Mike, smiling. "Sometimes, we get to help."
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