“Oh. Well… good.” Spectra rose to her feet and, after a moment’s hesitation, extended her hand. “I can’t say I’m going to miss you, but… good luck wherever you end up.”
Her skin was just about the softest thing I’d ever touched. “Good luck being a Cape.”
“And if you’re not the perfect gentleman with Kayleigh at the dance,” she continued, still holding my hand, “neither you nor this mysterious watcher will need to worry about you going insane.” Silver eyes sparked for just a moment, and then she was past me, heading for the women’s dorm.
Sometimes you just can’t win.
CHAPTER 63
If the Remembrance Day dance was the first topic on my classmates’ lips, the Graduation Games were a close second. Everyone was busy dredging up tales of past games and vids of some of the more notable contests. One of the second-years had even set up betting pools on how this year’s crop of third-years would perform. By the time the games had arrived, I was almost as sick of hearing about them as I was the dance.
That didn’t keep me from piling into the stands with everyone else for opening day. With finals and Power examinations behind us—all of which I’d happily flunked, since that shit didn’t matter at all anymore—the chance to watch someone else sweat had a certain appeal.
Most of you have probably seen the Graduation Games on vid; third-years competing against each other in power-related competitions. After three years at the Academy, the graduating Capes had been ranked first to last, and that week of competition was their last chance to show that they deserved the rank they’d been given… or one even higher.
What the vids didn’t capture is what a madhouse the whole thing was.
At any given time, there were multiple events happening concurrently. The field had been divided into a dozen smaller arenas; obstacle courses on one end and open sparring circles on the other. Some of the action didn’t even take place on the field, but above it; Flyboys and Wind Dancers making sure their contests occurred within visual range of the bleachers holding the Cape team recruiters.
In those same stands were the families of both third-years and graduating normals. From what little I could see, only the latter group was having much fun; the parents of future Capes were white-knuckled and tense as they watched their children perform.
As first-years, we’d been relegated to bleachers at the very far end of the field, wedged in with the freshman normals. For that one week, the shortage of space and the excitement of the games combined to erase the invisible barrier between our two groups. Silt and her Remembrance Day date, Debbie—a blonde almost as slim and small as Vibe—sat on one side of me, with Kayleigh on the other. I was busy watching Paladin’s hulking laundromat buddy, WarChild, battle a Stalwart who was as thin as she was tall, but no less deadly for that fact.
Seeing those two third-years fight drove home the massive gulf in skill between their class and even the best of the first-years. It also reinforced Nikolai’s words the day he’d kicked me out of his class. If the other first-years in Combat kept improving like these two third-years clearly had, I really would have ended up dead sooner or later. Skill is all well and good, but skill and power wins every time.
Vibe’s excited shout pulled my attention from the bout, just moments after the unnamed Stalwart vaulted over WarChild’s head, avoiding a charge that might very well have flattened her. The Empath was pointing to the recruiter stands.
“There’s Aspen! Supersonic said she’d be here!”
Sure enough, a slender woman in a glittering silver costume had swooped down from the sky to take her seat with the other recruiters. From this far away, I couldn’t make out her features, but there wasn’t a person in the Free States who didn’t know what Aspen looked like.
Dominion was the Free States’ most powerful Cape and Paladin was its most popular, but nobody was as famous—or at least as recognizable—as Aspen. A lot of people make headlines when their powers first emerge, but few do it on national vid like she had. Major Disaster had been laying waste to San Diego, having already disposed of that small city’s unofficial Cape squad, when he made the mistake of picking up a bus and throwing it through two downtown skyscrapers. One of the passengers on that bus? Sixteen-year-old Aspen, who’d been in town with her high school team for a volleyball tournament. She hadn’t just walked away from the wreckage, she’d flown… right back through the smoke and the destruction. As the nation watched, she traded blows with the infamous Black Hat, delaying him just long enough for the Los Angeles Defenders to arrive.
She’d saved a city at sixteen. I’d lost my cherry to Alicia. As far as I was concerned, I’d gotten the better end of the deal.
“I guess the Defenders sent her as their representative instead of Paladin,” I said, slightly disappointed.
“I think you’re the only straight man I’ve ever met who didn’t get heart palpitations just from being in the same city as Aspen.” Silt frowned.
“I’m not saying she isn’t awesome. Low-Four in three different power classes? That’s hard to beat.” I shrugged. “But I like Tempest best.”
“Whatever floats your boat, Skeletor. Whatever floats your boat.”
“I wonder if the Defenders need an Empath,” mused Vibe. Moments later, she sent me an apologetic look. “Sorry, Damian.”
“It’s okay. I may not end up becoming a Cape, but I’ve had plenty of suggestions for other careers I could try instead.”
I think the worst part of those two months had been pretending that I had a future
