Ten adults trailed in after him, five men and five women, all of them way too old to be students. They settled into the chairs on stage, as Bard walked to the podium. He adjusted its microphone, cleared his throat once, and turned his smile on the rest of us like it was some kind of energy weapon.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Class of 76, I would like to welcome you to Orientation. For the few of you who I’ve yet to meet, my name is Jonathan Bard, and I am the dean and founder of this Academy.”
The smile faded, the spotlight winked out, and Bard’s next words were solemn.
“More than eighty years ago, Dr. Nowhere broke the world. We don’t know exactly how it happened or why. What matters is that the world changed, and you are the direct result of that change. You are all here because you have gifts, and because you have shown a desire to use those gifts to defend the powerless. Lives are quite literally depending upon you. Every moment that passes, someone dies that you might have been able to save.”
The speech had the air of words that were often repeated yet no less true for their repetition. I risked a glance at the other first-years and saw a variety of emotions parading across their faces.
“I know,” Bard continued. “That’s a hell of a burden to put on anyone, let alone a group of teenagers. It’s a hard truth, but it is the truth. Because you’re not the only ones with powers, and a great many of those other individuals, both in this country and outside of it, are using their abilities to steal, to maim, and to kill.”
“Normals can’t stop them. Neither can you.” He offered a small smile in acknowledgement of the murmured protests. “Not yet, at least. It’s our job to train you to do so. Equally importantly, it’s our job to teach you why and how you should do so. How to save lives. How to inspire others.”
“Some of you are legacies, and have heard this all before. Some of you have grown up on the stories of older Capes, and some of you—” I could swear his eyes landed on me. “—are entirely new to the idea of being a hero. But as of today, you are all first-years together, and if you make it through all three years at the Academy, you will graduate with the hopes of a nation resting on your actions. From that day onward, you will be more than just a person. You will be a symbol, a shield, and yes, a celebrity with endorsements, speaking engagements, and—God help you all—fan clubs.”
He waited for the laughter to die down, and then his next words sliced through the air like razors.
“And then, one day, you will become a martyr for the cause. That’s the secret that every Cape carries into battle, from Dominion to the freshest of Academy graduates. Some of you will die in your beds, bearing the scars of decades of battle. Some of you will die in the skies above the cities you’ve pledged to protect. The only certainty is that none of you will be getting out of this alive.”
If I’d had a pin on me, and had chosen to drop it at that moment… well, let’s just say every person in that auditorium would’ve heard it.
“That’s a shocking thing to hear, I know, but as you age, you’ll realize it holds true for everyone; Cape or Black Hat, Power or normal. Life is finite. Eventually, it will end. Of the Ten who first heard Dominion’s call to arms, the Ten we honor and respect every Remembrance Day, three died within the first month. Three! None of the others lived long enough to see the Free States’ first birthday. This country survived not just because of their sacrifice, but because, as they fell, others took up the mantle, fought, and fell in turn, in a passing of the torch that has occurred ever since, and will continue to occur as long as those with power seek to rain down death upon the innocent.”
“The Academy is where that passing of the torch begins, for you and for your professors. Some of the individuals behind me are Powers themselves. Some fought and bled as Capes. Those without powers have been no less vital, dedicating years of their lives to helping me refine the Academy’s training process. They are all here now to give you the benefit of their expertise; the skills, the training, and the foundational knowledge that you will need to make both your life and your death count.” Bard’s eyes scanned the auditorium, his words carrying easily in the dead silence. “Listen to them. Study as hard as you can, and train even harder. Remember why you wanted to be a hero, give everything you have to that pursuit, and when your time is over—whether that day is a week after graduation or fifty years down the road—you will be able to look back on your life, on the people you saved and the evil you stopped, and know that you made a difference.”
With those words, Bard stepped out from behind the podium, breaking the spell he had cast over all of us. “That is the first and last speech you will hear from me until graduation, which I’m guessing comes as a relief to all of you.” He waited for the chuckles to subside, and then continued. “Now then… before I introduce your professors, are there any questions?”
“Yeah.” The speaker was in the cluster of students
