 
# Trainee Superhero (Part One)

By C.H. Aalberry

Copyright 2015 C.H. Aalberry

Distributed by Smashwords.

Edited by Eve (www.eveproofreads.com)

Cover Art by Malice Bathory (www.maliceartwork.blogspot.com.au)

# The Saucers

I was five when the saucers first attacked Earth, tearing up mountains and cities for reasons that we still don't understand. There was nothing our military could do to break the aliens' shields, and millions of people died. We lived with the terror of the unpredictable and unstoppable attacks for years and it seemed that humankind was doomed to an early extinction.

I was seven when the first generation of superheroes, _Earth Shield_ , started fighting back using technology stolen from our enemy. For months those seven men and women were all that stood between Earth and Armageddon. Five of them were dead within two years. Most people forget that.

More teams of superheroes rose up to defend the Earth, and when I was thirteen over three hundred new superheroes appeared within a month. I think the new generation of teams was the last project my mother worked on, but her work is still classified so I may never know.

Earth still isn't safe. Each team of superheroes is responsible for protecting tens of millions of civilians, but the saucers are relentless. Every kid knows the names if their local team, and every kid dreams of joining that team one day. Most people will be disappointed: less than a thousand people in the world can use the alien technology that runs the power suits.

Now I am one of them. I may not be the greatest superhero who ever lived, or the smartest, but I'm going to end this year in a coffin or a cape. This is my chance to kill saucers, and nothing is going to stop me.

This is what I learnt as a trainee superhero.

# Lesson One: Get Used To Dying

"...in summary, we remain in ignorance regarding their origin, nature, and purpose. It has been suggested that they are looking for something, but there is no evidence of what that might be. All we know for certain is that they bring destruction and that the Superhero Corps has been the only viable means of stopping them."

-Confidential report to the U.N. on the tenth anniversary of the alien attacks.

"The saucers are the biggest threat humanity has ever faced; superheroes are a close second."

-Extract from _Dark Fire_ 's journal read out at his court-martial.

I'm the kind of guy who gets into trouble a lot, but it's not _always_ my fault.

Despite what you may have heard, I only broke the quarterback's nose because he and his friends were trying to throw me into the dumpster and I didn't want to go. I was suspended from school for that, but not for long enough. I've been in far worse trouble, anyway. When I was twelve, I snuck into my mom's workshop and electrocuted myself on some of the alien technology she had been working on. I was clinically dead for a whole minute before Mom found me. You would think I would have learnt my lesson from that, but I was back in that lab within a week. Mom had to make a whole new security system to keep me out.

So sometimes trouble finds me and sometimes I find trouble, but in either case I get more than my fair share of problems.

I'm sitting in class and sketching exploding saucers as I wait for the last few minutes of the school day to trickle past. My teacher glares at me, but she knows I can do the work. I mastered the high school math syllabus years ago when Mom was still homeschooling me. Those were better days. The only thing Dad ever taught me is how to cheat at cards. He's a little bit too good at it, which is why he's banned from every casino in the country.

Today I'm looking for a special type of trouble: today is my seventeenth birthday, and I have an appointment at the Superhero Corps recruitment office to find out if I have what it takes to be a superhero. The odds are against me but, like my dad, I plan on cheating probability. Let's just say that I found some alien tech in my mom's workshop that will give me an unfair edge. I doubt Mom would have approved, but Dad probably would if he ever found out.

The bell rings and I'm out the door before my fellow students have left their chairs. I'm halfway to freedom when someone grabs my neck and slams me hard against the corridor wall, holding my face against the bricks.

Ouch.

A figure leans against the wall beside me with an air of affected relaxation. It's James, the quarterback, and he's brought a few friends.

"I never thanked you for this," James says, tapping his nose.

It looks better than it had before I broke it, but his father is rich enough to hire the very best plastic surgeons. James nods, and the guy behind me punches me in the back. Both he and James are bigger and heavier than me, and I know I'm in trouble. James smiles and slaps the side of my face.

"I heard you have an interview today... but I don't think we need scum like you protecting the Earth, do we?"

He's right, I have an interview today and I can't afford to show up late or covered in bruises. I can't miss my chance, not for this. Not for _anything_.

So I cheat and use one of the little tricks I found in Mom's workshop. I blink my left eye three times to activate it, and alarms burst out along the corridor. That's part one of the plan.

"Saucers! Seek cover! Saucers! Seek cover!" the alarms shout.

The goons behind me releases me and run down the corridor, but James isn't as easily fooled. He grabs my shirt and drags me to the window. Traffic passes slowly by, and a helicopter flies past. The alarms die and I try to break James's grip.

"How did you do that?" he asks, "that's illegal!"

He's right, but then so is beating up classmates. Part one of the plan may not have worked, but part two is bearing down on us. I look down the corridor, but James doesn't take the bait. He should because my best friend, Tenchi, is sprinting towards us and he does not look pleased. James takes a swing to punch me, but Tenchi grabs his arm and floors him. James hits the ground hard and rolls into a fighting stance, but his shoulders sag when he sees who has come to my rescue.

"Oh, his nursemaid," James says.

Tenchi's mother is Japanese so he moves like a ninja and his father is Australian so he hits like a freight train. If that wasn't enough, he also has black belts in a number of martial arts including a couple that are only semi-legal. James is a big guy, but even he won't mess with Tenchi. He backs off and I laugh. I want to enjoy this sudden turnaround in my fortunes, but Tenchi grabs my arm and drags me away.

"We have places to be, dude! Can't be late!"

James scowls but lets us go. Tenchi pushes me through the school car park and into his ancient grey car. The car is so old that it still has a cassette player instead of a real sound system, but we get around that by wiring his phone directly to the speakers. We always have the music up loud, because the rust bucket rattles alarmingly at any speed over a walking pace. It's only one breakdown away from the junk pile, but we can't really complain, because new cars are rare these days. Besides, Tenchi regards the faulty brakes and dirty windows as a challenge rather than a problem, and his faded wheels are still the fastest in town.

"I had that under control," I say, ignoring the fact that I had called him to help.

Tenchi slams on the accelerator and we speed off in a cloud of blue smoke. Tenchi doesn't say anything about having to rescue me, but he gives me the same knowing smile that he uses whenever he gets me out of trouble.

"Today is important, dude, can't have you flunking your interview if we are going to be partners!"

Partners. Tenchi has already been accepted into the Superhero Corps next intake, and I have no doubt he will be the best candidate they have ever seen. The only thing holding him back is an epic fear of heights that is going to make flying a bit tricky. Maybe he can just shut his eyes.

"Thanks man!" I say, just like I always do.

We swerve past a cyclist and fly through a traffic light just as it turns red. Tenchi isn't worried about getting a speeding ticket; the local cops know he's going to super school so they won't trouble him. It takes us less than a minute to get from our drab high school to the Superhero Corps Office, a new record. The office is in the most beautiful and expensive part of town overlooking the lake. Usually we couldn't even afford to park around here, but the Superhero Corps Office has car parks reserved for interviewees, and Tenchi pulls into one at speed.

"Hey, can you see something up there?" he asks, pointing at the sky.

I can't see anything at first, but I stare until I think I can see a dark speck of color amongst the clouds.

"A plane," I guess, although big planes are rare these days.

I lose the speck in the sky and turn my eyes back downwards. I take a nervous breath and let it out slowly; this is a big moment for me.

"Wait," says Tenchi, and he hands me a box wrapped in red paper and delicate silver ribbons. I raise an eyebrow at the fine work.

"Happy birthday, dude! Mom did the ribbons," he says.

Tenchi's mom is an origami master, so I tease the ribbons open carefully and put them aside for later. Inside the box is a purple egg that snaps open to reveal a thin polymer leaflet as wide as my hand.

"Whoa!"

It's a tat-a-gotchi, an animated tattoo that grows and evolves over time. Tat-a-gotchis are expensive, ornamental and totally cool. Lots of supers have them. I slap it on my arm and it embeds into my skin. It stings a little. The tattoo flickers and displays a small purple egg surrounded by a set of controls. The eggs will hatch soon and turn into a unique animated creature that responds to my voice and mood.

"Thanks man, you shouldn't have!"

For Tenchi's last birthday I took him out for pizza and a terrible B-grade movie, 'Mighty Max vs. The Saucers from Hell!' It was even worse than it sounds, but we enjoyed it. I wanted to get him something better, but it took me months of saving just for the pizza.

"No worries! I have one, too."

He shows me a glowing turquoise egg on his upper arm. It hasn't hatched yet, either. We still have a few minutes before my interview, but there's no point us waiting in the car, so we walk out and stop by the big glass doors that lead into the Superhero Corps Office.

"You've got this, right?" asks Tenchi. He looks a little nervous.

"I've got this," I say and smile with more confidence than I feel.

We step forwards. The glass doors slide smoothly aside for us. I'm breathing too fast, and my hands are sticky with sweat, but I try to relax. The surroundings help: the Superhero Corps Office is large, calm and beautiful. The place looks more like a private club than a recruiting office, with comfortable leather chairs set beneath a chandelier. The walls are lined with huge screens in elegant wood frames, each showing collections of pixel-perfect images of superheroes and grainy images of saucers. I'm obsessed with saucers, but I've never even seen a good photo of one because their presence disrupts electronics. Plus the aliens tend to kill anyone who gets too close, naturally.

I recognize all of the active and retired superheroes on show. I have the whole collection of superhero posters on the walls of my room from the first team, _Earth Shield_ , to newest team of third-generation superheroes, the _Hollywood Nine_. I find my favorite poster, the one I have opposite my bed so that it's the first thing I see every morning. It shows the portraits of a team called _The Legends_ : a team of four superheroes that formed when I was eleven and disbanded when I was thirteen. In those short years they took out more saucers than any team before or since. Their leader, _Master Bansuri_ , was a bald Japanese superhero who had been in the original _Earth Shield_ line-up. He looks old, but his eyes were still bright. On his right is _The General_ , the superhero who now commands the Superhero Corps and the only member of _The Legends_ still active. I've always thought he was the coolest of _The Legends_ , and that's saying something.

The other two members of _The Legends_ were _Cold Comet_ , a beautiful and talented superhero who died in battle, and _Dark Fire_ , who was officially declared dead three years ago but who has unofficially been seen more times than Elvis. _Cold Comet_ is smiling in poster, but _Dark Fire_ looks grim and a little angry. _Cold Comet_ and _Dark Fire_ don't look like superheroes, but they were two of the best, and if they could do it so could I.

Every day I wake up and look at that poster; it's got me through some hard times.

"Dude?" asks Tenchi, interrupting my thoughts.

A Superhero Corps Officer is sitting behind a dark desk in the corner. He ignores us, although he interviewed Tenchi and sold me most of my posters. Beside him is a waiting area corner with leather chairs and a coffee machine. Tenchi's parents are waiting there, and both look worried. I'm glad; they've been like family to me. His tiny mother, Jen, gives us both a hug. She was born in Japan and is responsible for Tenchi's love of all things ninja and robot. His father, Kev, is a tall, heavyset man who spent his youth in rural Australia and has the robust sense of humor to prove it. Tenchi grew up speaking Japanese and swearing like a sailor, a strange combination.

"Ready?" Kev asks.

"I guess," I say.

"They'll be lucky to have you," Jen says.

"If they say that you don't have what it takes," Kev says gruffly, "you tell them to get-"

"-your father...?" Jen interrupts with practiced ease.

"He couldn't make it," I say quickly, although I'm not sure he even tried.

She gives me a kind smile, the kind I normally hate getting. For once I don't mind.

"I'm sure he wanted to be here, dear," she says kindly.

"You should come around for dinner tonight," Kev says, "I'm cooking. Barbeque."

It's always a barbeque when Kev cooks. The thought of it makes me hungry.

The officer at the desk looks up and pretends he has only just noticed me.

"It's time. Please follow me."

He leads me to a large interview room with a view over the lake. The room is empty except for a wooden table with chairs on either side. I sit down before my jelly legs betray me, and the officer places a small black box on the table between us. He confirms my name and address in a bored voice, and then we begin.

"Everything discussed during this meeting is considered confidential under the Superhero Corps Laws. Breaking this confidentiality is considered treason under these laws and is punishable by death. Do you agree?"

"Yep."

"Yes," he corrects me sternly.

"Yes," I echo. This man does not have a sense of humor.

"Your mother died in a saucer attack three years ago," he says.

It's not a question. My mother was famous for her work, and her death was heartbreaking for my father and me. A thousand people died in the attack, so I wasn't alone in my grief. I nod to the officer, but he points at the recorder.

"That's correct," I say.

He rolls off a list of my sporting achievements and extramural activities, which doesn't take long, and then moves onto my academic achievements. These, at least, are more impressive.

"... and advanced physics," he finishes.

"Yes."

"Allergies?" he asks, reading from a list on his computer screen.

"Strawberries."

"Medical conditions?"

"Mildly asthmatic."

Those are just the easy questions; everyone gets those. The hard part comes next. He places a red box on the table and my heart misses a beat. This is it; this is the real test. He waves to the box and I place a hand on it. I start up all the chips in my head; it's now or never. A little blue L.E.D. lights up, but there is no other sign that anything is happening. The officer looks at his computer screen and types a brief note.

Did I do it? Am I in? I'm frantic to find out, but the officer is in no hurry.

"Thank you. We now move on to the second phase of the interview."

I have no idea what this means, and I sit forward eagerly. The officer, in contrast, is in no hurry to work down his list of questions.

"If offered a position at Superhero Corp, do you agree to waive all rights to freedom of speech, movement and association from the moment you enter the Superhero Corps Training Facility and until further notice?"

"Yes."

He nods and ticks a box. "Do you agree to medical treatments including-"

"Yes!" I interrupt impatiently.

He holds up a finger in warning and carries on.

"-including, but not limited to: surgical, psychological, neurological, nutritional, physiological, radiation, chemical, hormonal, genetic, cybernetic, infranetic and other interventions not approved by any international body or listed here?"

Wow. What does infranetic even mean?

"Um... yes," I say, with less confidence than before.

"Thank you," he says, making a note.

He stands up, looks me in the eyes for the first time and puts out his hand. I shake it, not knowing what it means. He hands me an envelope and smiles.

"Congratulations. These are your joining instructions. You are the town's second trainee this year. There must be something in the water."

I stand there dumbly for a second.

"You're in," he explains, "next time we meet I'll be saluting you."

I'm going to be a superhero!

The next few minutes are a haze. I walk out, and everyone hugs me. I feel amazing. I'm going to be a superhero.

"Why don't you boys hit the lake for a few hours? Dinner's at six," Tenchi's mom says.

"Barbeque," his dad adds proudly.

We have nothing to do but celebrate, so Tenchi and I drive his car to a park on the lake. I'm still shaking a little from the adrenaline as he cranks the stereo and we sit on the hood, enjoying the perfect moment. The lake is an intense spectrum of blue, from the very dark to clear turquoise. There isn't a cloud in the sky, and most of my high school is already splashing in the water. A few kayaks float lazily in the lake. One of them is much further out than the others.

"That's Stace out there, you know," Tenchi says with his Cheshire cat grin.

I can't recognize her from this distance, but he's probably right. I'm feeling far too good to blush at his teasing. We walk down to the water's edge with a fair bit of swagger and look out over the gentle waves.

"Best day ever!" Tenchi says, slapping my shoulder.

We are going to be superheroes.

We are going to be SUPERHEROES!

Then the music skips and splutters.

"Just a glitch," I say, but I pull out my phone to check its status.

Phones are always the first to go during a saucer attack. Mine seems okay, but the reception is way down. Then the song dies, and my phone screen goes dark. We run over to the car and flip the radio to the emergency channel.

"Seek...-elter, seek....shelter!" the radio crackles.

I panic and try to use my dead phone. Tenchi is already moving, climbing onto the shack's roof.

"SAUCER! SAUCER! SAUCER!" he screams.

People start moving fast, racing out of the water and into their cars. High school cliques and divisions are forgotten as people pile into whatever car they can find. I see James and his friends squeezing two nerds into the back of their overloaded car and waving more people on. Tenchi keeps shouting until he can see that everyone has heard him, and then leaps down to his car.

"We have to wait for Stace," I yell, and he nods.

She was the furthest kayak from shore, and it feels like forever before she lands beside us and jumps into the car. Everyone else has already left, and the lake is quieter than I've ever seen it.

"Hi Stace," I say, and she gives me a worried smile.

The nearest shelter is across town, which should only be a few minutes away. Tenchi takes the most direct route down the main street, but we are cut off by the ruins of a fallen clock tower.

"Here we go," he mutters.

A lumbering figure stands on top of the ruins. It's a triclops, an alien with three arms each ending in a laser cannon. Tenchi makes a handbrake turn as the triclops scours the ground around us. We swerve down a side alley, knocking over trash cans as we flee. The car scrapes along a water pipe but we squeeze through and skid into a broad street lined with tall trees. It had been a beautiful area yesterday, but now most of the trees are on fire and the road is already littered with burning cars and glass.

We start driving, but a car cuts Tenchi off and races down the street.

"No good!" yells Stacey, pointing out another triclops at it leaps off a roof and right into our path.

Tenchi hits the brakes and we slide into a tree. The car that cut us off doesn't stop in time and runs right into the triclops. There is a bright flash that leaves the car as flat as if it had hit a cliff wall, but the triclops is unscathed.

"Out!" Stacey orders.

There is smoke everywhere. We escape behind the safety of a SUV and hunker down. The triclops turns and walks away, ignoring us but firing at random into shops. Glass shatters and bricks melt beneath its haphazard barrage, so we keep our heads down. I hear glass crashing further down the street as a kid bursts onto the road. She sees the triclops and freezes in panic. The triclops turns towards her, lasers red and ready.

We are too far away to do anything.

James leaps out from behind a tree, grabs the kid and dives back into cover. He moves fast, just not fast enough. The triclops hits the tree, sending James and the girl flying through a cloud of splinters. They land in the street, completely exposed. The girl runs to safety, but James falls over as he tries to stand.

"He's broken his leg," whispers Tenchi.

We stare in horror; James looks right at me, and I swear his eyes meet mine. We both know what happens next. James shakes his head in disbelief.

The triclops incinerates him, leaving nothing behind but ashes. Tenchi pulls me aside before we are next, and the building behind us explodes showering us in hot brick and glass. The blast knocks us over, and my ears are ringing as I stand up. Tenchi grabs me, points down the street and says something, but I can't hear. He shakes his head and points at the ground to where Stace is lying unconscious, then back down the street to where the triclops is heading for us.

"I'll distract it, you take Stace and run," says Tenchi.

"Wait!" I protest, but he's gone.

I throw Stace over my shoulder and I start walking as fast as I can, looking back over my shoulder to make sure Tenchi is okay. I hear lasers firing behind me, and Tenchi yells something that sounds like "faster, dude!" We reach an alley, and I relax enough to look behind me. I can't see Tenchi. Windows start exploding around us, so I drop Stace and fall to the ground. I'm bleeding pretty badly, but I try to shield her with my body as best as I can. She opens her eyes and smiles a little.

"Stace? Are you okay?"

"Idiot," she says.

"What? This isn't my fault."

"This is the first time you've spoken to me all year, and now we are going to die. Idiot!"

Ah. I really am an idiot.

I see a scout ball near us. It's nothing much more than a laser cannon mounted on two thin legs, but it's more than enough to do us in. I freeze, but it starts walking towards us anyway.

Stace holds my hand and closes her eyes as she passes out.

"Sorry," I say again, but she doesn't hear me.

The scout walker explodes in a brilliant flash of white flame. A familiar figure floats over its ruins. It's _The General_ ; we're saved!

He flies towards me, staying about three feet off the ground. _The General_ taps a button on the side of his helmet and the faceplate folds away revealing an angry face covered in sweat. Wires and metals plates run over his bald skull and back into his green suit. It's really him, _The General_ , one of the greatest superheroes who ever lived, the man I've always admired, the man who-

"Get to a shelter, idiot!" he snarls, swiping the air with a massive blue sword.

"Huge fan-" I mumble.

My head is a bit foggy. I want to ask for his autograph, but instead I just roll next to Stace and groan. _The General_ 's eyes flick over to Stace and then back to me. The look in his eyes makes my whole body freeze.

"What. Are. You. Doing. With. MY DAUGHTER!" he roars, and with each word his sword swipes closer to my face.

"Who-"

He blasts the ground beside me with a blue laser. I can feel the heat and my mind shoots into overdrive. Stace is unconscious, covered in blood and wearing a bikini. I realize that this doesn't look good for me, but _The General_ doesn't stop to ask questions before he blasts me with blue lightning that rips through my body. I roll away and open my hands.

"It's not what you think-"

A bolt of lightning rips through the air and blasts the wall behind me. I scramble towards Stace; maybe being close to her will keep me safe.

"MY DAUGHTER!" _The General_ screams, flying towards me.

He kicks me in the chest and I feel a rib break as my body lifts off the ground. I moan; my childhood hero is trying to kill me. This can't be happening. A car explodes nearby, showering _The General_ in boiling metal that rolls off his shields. Lightning crackles down his arm and leaps into my body. I spasm and scream, dropping to the ground.

I'm going to die.

A superhero drops from the sky and glides between me and _The General_. She hovers in an unusual, cross-legged stance as if she were sitting on an invisible flying carpet. I recognize her as _Blizzard Master_.

"Stop!" she says, but _The General_ blasts me again.

_Blizzard Master_ spreads out her hands and a wall of green ice bursts from the ground in front of me and takes the brunt of _The General_ 's storm. The pain stops, and I breathe again.

Whew.

Something heavy hits the dome; cracks appear. I can't see through the dark ice, but I can hear what sounds like explosions. A single spark sneaks through the cracks and hits me in the chest, dancing painfully across my whole body and throwing me hard against the alley wall. The pain is incredible. My vision starts to fade, my heart stops.

And, for the second time in my life, I die.

# Lesson Two: No One Cares What You Think

"Superheroes are our brightest and our bravest. We teach them how to use their powers to serve humanity, to be the heroes we all need, the saviors of humanity, the very best of us."

-Official Superhero Corps website.

"Superheroes are ordinary people with extraordinary abilities of destruction. Think about that, and if you aren't scared then you haven't been paying sufficient attention to the world."

-Email from _Dark Fire_ to an unidentified recipient, read at _Dark Fire_ 's court-martial.

I wake up on a mattress that smells of old socks and failure.

I open one eye and find myself in a long hall with a high ceiling. Ropes hang from the ceiling, and I can see treadmills and racks of weights in near, grim rows. A climbing wall dominates the wall near me, promising hours of tricky handholds and painful falls.

I've died and hell is a high school gym class. It's just like I always feared.

"Up," says a stern voice, but I ignore it.

I know I'm no saint, but no one deserves this. What did I do that was so bad? I can remember trying to save Stace, and being chased by _The General_ , but I can't quite remember what happened next. Did he really say that Stace was his daughter? Did she survive? Did Tenchi? Cold fear descends on my heart and I desperately try to piece together what happened.

"Up!" insists the voice again.

My body doesn't hurt. It should; I heard bones crack as I passed out. Maybe they gave me a new body when I arrived in hell, but I don't see why they would bother. Maybe I'm not in-

"UP!" yells the voice, and my neck erupts in pain.

I put my hands to my throat and find a thin collar wound tight around the skin. It burns my neck and burns my fingers when I try to tear it off. I scream, and the pain stops suddenly.

"Get up."

I get up clumsily. I'm wearing grey tracksuit pants and a pale orange shirt that has _Red Five_ written on the chest. I haven't seen the pants or shirt before, which means that somebody dressed me while I was still asleep. Creepy. There are six other people in orange standing in a ragged line beside me. Three are men, two are women and one is androgynous. They all look older than me, decades older in some cases, and they look as confused as I feel. We are all wearing tight metal collars around our necks.

Facing us are a bald older man and a young woman with short blond hair. They are both in black shirts trimmed with gold, and the way they stand suggests they are in command and take a no-nonsense approach to punishing their new batch of sinners. The man stands upright and in a military manner with his arms behind his back but the woman seems far more interested in the data feed projecting from a pin on her shirt. Both the man and the woman are wearing similar collars as us the seven of us who have just stood up.

"My name is _Past Prime_ ," says the man, "and this is _Never Lies_. We are now in charge of your training. Do as we say, or we will initiate your collars."

_Past Prime_ looks familiar. Really, really familiar.

"I'm not meant to be here!" protests the man beside me, and a couple of the others nod in agreement.

I don't even know where here is, although my mind is so slow that I'm not too sure who I am just yet either. I'm still trying to work out of this is hell, purgatory or a nightmare. At least I'm wearing pants, so I guess it's not a nightmare.

_Never Lies_ sighs theatrically and shakes her head.

"You are not here by mistake," _Past Prime_ says, "all of you are here because you have potential, but you failed in some way. Some of you have been kicked off superhero teams, some of you are criminals. What you did, who you were or who you know is no longer important. You will serve in the _Cerberus Brawlers_ , or you will spend the rest of your lives in jail for treason."

The _Cerberus Brawlers_? I've never heard of that team, and I thought I knew them all. I'm not the only confused one, and many of my team are unhappy at finding themselves treated so badly.

"I don't belong here," a man shouts, "and when-"

My collar explodes in red-hot pain and all seven of us hit the mattresses.

"Up," says _Past Prime_ patiently.

I get up, and I'm the first to my feet. I'm still not sure where I am or what is happening, but I'm learning to respect that voice. The others are slower, but _Past Prime_ waits without hurting us further.

"Service or prison, you decide. The technicians are going to set you up now."

Men and women in blue shirts flock to us. One straps a set of sensors onto my arms and the side of my head while another checks the movement of my arms and legs. They take blood samples, test my blood pressure and shine lights into my eyes. They treat me like I'm nothing more than a science experiment, poking and prodding with an enthusiasm that worries me. My mind feels sluggish, so I just sit back and let them do their work. _Never Lies_ wanders over to where I am and gives me a look like she does not like what she sees. She shakes her head and turns away.

"I'm not a criminal or a failure," I say loudly to her, "so I think-"

"No one cares what you think, trainee," she interrupts curtly and walks away without even looking at me.

"I-"

"-set," interrupts a technician, "now for the suit."

The men and women in blue are replaced by a team in green with big boxes. The boxes hold parts of a bulky suit of padded armor, and the technicians start dressing me. Everything fits snugly together, but the suit is bulky and surprisingly hard to move in.

"Just like the real thing," says a technician in green, "so get used to it."

It feels like I'm wearing three wetsuits all at once. It's uncomfortable to say the least, but I don't have time to protest before the technicians walk me to a treadmill and start me running. I fall over a few times until I find my rhythm; it's like running underwater, only not as fun.

The running helps clear my head; I'm pretty sure that this isn't hell. I've read Dante's Inferno, and it made no mention of technicians or blood tests. Plus, the suit I'm wearing looks a lot like the power suits that superheroes wear on their missions. I remember being accepted into the Superhero Corps, so am I in some strange training program? I let the treadmill dump me on the ground and walk over to _Never Lies_. She doesn't look surprised to see me.

"The last thing I remember was my town being attacked," I say, "I need to know if my father and friends survived."

I expect her to shock me or order me back to work, but _Never Lies_ checks the data feed hanging in the air in front of her face. She scans the list quickly.

"You father is fine. There were thirty-nine deaths from the attack. Check the list."

She spins her feed around so that I can read the list. My Dad isn't on the list, and neither is Tenchi or his family. That's a relief, but I recognize most of the names of those who died. I don't know how to feel: I'm sad for the people who were killed, yet happy that my friends and family are okay. Mostly I feel angry; none of those people should have died.

"Those numbers are two weeks old, and are final," she says.

Two weeks? What have I been doing all that time? I have a hundred questions running through my head, but _Never Lies_ looks impatient and there is really only more one answer I need.

"Will I get to fight saucers?"

She shrugs.

"The _Cerberus Brawlers_ kill more saucers than any other unit. Pass your training and we'll make you part of the team."

"Okay," I say and turn back to the treadmill.

"Is that all?" she calls after me. "Don't you want to know where you are, or why you are here? You must have more questions."

"My family is safe, and I'll get to kill saucers. What more is there?"

I hear her laugh as I get back on the treadmill and start running. I run until my legs hurt, and then I stop and crash onto the ground, bouncing on the soft mats. A women in white brings me a bottle of water and an apple. It's crisp and juicy, much better than the ones Dad buys from the grocery store. Other men and women in white shirts are handing out water and fruit to the other trainees, almost like the airplane stewards in old movies.

"Next station!" orders _Past Prime_.

The armor is heavy, and it takes two technicians to help me to my feet. The next station tests how fast I can respond to flashing colored lights. I jump for blue, duck for red, turn left or right for green and pink, and freeze for yellow. I'm not great at it, but I do my best. The technicians record my every movement with cameras mounted in floating drones.

After a while the lights stop, and the green-shirts lead me to a rope hanging from a platform about sixteen feet off the ground. If this was a movie, it would be time for a training montage but I really, really hate gym. I don't even make it halfway up the rope before I slip back down and land heavily on a mattress.

"Saucer!" I shout in frustration.

Superheroes don't need to climb ropes, they can fly. Why am I doing this? _Past Prime_ walks over to me and looks down. He shakes his head.

"Up," he says.

I don't get up; I'm exhausted. My collar fires up and pain arcs over my body. I roll around until the pain stops.

"Up," _Prime_ says quietly.

I sit up.

"This is killing me," I mutter to myself.

_Past Prime_ grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet. He points at his arm and it changes color to a metallic red. He's a cyborg from the shoulder down. He lifts a trouser leg and his foot is metal, too. I wonder how much of him is still original.

"This training _might_ kill you," he says seriously, "but the saucers will _definitely_ kill you if you aren't ready for them. Our job is to make you ready. We use a carrot and stick approach, and the collar is the stick."

"What's the carrot?"

"Not getting the stick. Now, up that rope."

He starts climbing the rope beside mine. He's really fast, even with his fake arm and leg. I feel pretty bad being beaten by a man who is fifty years older than me and who only has one real arm, so I start climbing. I get all the way to the top and climb onto the platform where _Past Prime_ is waiting for me.

"Good," he says, "now if you need to rope climb to escape a saucer you can. I had to, once."

I recognize him now.

" _Master Bansuri_ ," I say, "that's who you are. I have your poster in my room."

He looks right at me, his face carefully blank. My dad taught me how to tell when people are bluffing, so I know that he's concealing something from me.

"My name is _Past Prime_ , and that is what you will call me," he says.

I notice that the ground around me is covered in thick and well-used mattresses.

"Ready?" _Past Prime_ asks me.

"For what?"

A large ball flies out of nowhere and hits me in the gut.

"Ouch!"

I stagger right off the platform and hit the mattresses hard.

"Up!"

I climb back up the rope and back onto the platform. A ball shoots from my right and hits me in the leg, but I don't fall. The next ball hits me in the back of the head, and I fall to my knees as dozens more balls bounce off me. None of them hit _Past Prime_. I fall off the platform, and climb again. My arms are burning; I don't think I can make that climb again, and I don't see why I should have to.

"And what's the point of this training?" I mutter, "Since superheroes can both fly and have shields."

"They can and do," he answers in measured tones, "but being physically strong means faster reflexes and greater resilience. On your feet."

The balls start flying again, and one knocks me off the platform. I hit the ground hard enough to make the world go black for a second. _Past Prime_ leaps off the platform and lands in an elegant roll right beside me.

"You will have shields, but they will only absorb ninety-nine percent of whatever hits you. That last percent hurts. A lot. You need to be in peak condition to survive."

I didn't know that the shields let part of an attack through. No wonder all the superheroes I've seen are in great shape.

"I'm no athlete," I say.

"I know, I read your file. We have a few tricks to help people like you, but you still need to work as hard as you can. We won't push you any more here. Next station."

The technicians lead me onwards. _Never Lies_ is waiting for me, tapping her foot as if she has better places to be. Beside her stands a huge tattooed man in a red shirt who looks like he enjoys hurting people. The name on his shirt says _Violent Behavior_. He doesn't look like a superhero; he looks like the hired muscle working for the bad guy in a spy film.

"Helmets," _Never Lies_ says, and _Violent Behavior_ passes me a helmet. He smiles; his front teeth are missing.

I put the helmet on. It's heavy, uncomfortable and dark.

"I can't see anything," I say.

"Program initiating," a robotic voice whispers in my ear.

A picture appears in my visor: it's a floating ball topped with a laser cannon. The picture is computer drawn but accurate as far as I can tell from what I've seen on the internet.

"Floating scout" says the voice in my helmet, "known weaknesses are shown."

Most of the scout glows red. The picture fades and is replaced by another scout, this one red.

"Scout bomb," murmurs the voice in my ear, "may self-destruct explosively. Attack from range."

I nod; that's good advice. The scout bomb fades away and is replaced with a tricops like the ones that attacked my town.

"Simple triclops, capable of range attack," my helmet says, "known weaknesses are shown."

The triclops only has a few weaknesses, but I do my best to remember them. The program progresses to flappers, which are weak fliers armed with rockets, then on to an eight-armed beast called an octo-ape that can fly. Each of the octo-ape's arms ends in some terrible bladed weapon. It only has one weakness, in its head. The back of its head.

"The octo-ape is a close combat expert. Do not engage," advises the program.

"Okay," I say, although I probably would if I saw one.

We move onto all the familiar soldiers found in saucers, from the large cube-tanks to the tiny spider-pods that clump together to form larger shapes. There were neutron-squids, eccentrically shaped oddpods, and floating mushrooms armed with plasma missiles. There were also seven additional variants of triclops, each scarier than the last. My helmet suggests that I avoid almost all of them, even the little ones. It's pretty disheartening that even the training programs think I'm incapable.

I realize that every type of saucer creature could fly, if only for short distances. I don't know why I never thought about that before.

"Phase two of the training program begins. Highlight the known weaknesses with your eyes."

A circle appears on the visor screen. I move my eyes and the circle moves as well. A second scout appears. I point out its weaknesses, highlighting what I can remember. The scout is replaced by an octo-ape. I highlight its chest with my laser before realizing I've made a mistake.

"Mistake," agrees the helmet.

I get another unpleasant shock on my collar, but I remain standing. The octo-ape appears again, and I highlight its weakness correctly. The helmet continues through a list of aliens that I am mostly familiar with. The threat of pain focusses my mind like never before, but soon I'm too exhausted to continue. I start making mistakes, and after my third shock in a row the pictures fade.

"Training complete," the helmet whispers.

I take the helmet off and fall to the ground. A steward passes me a bottle of water and a sandwich. The food is delicious, better than anything I have eaten before. A technician in light blue checks my pulse and takes more blood as I eat. I wonder what they are learning about me. My arm begins to itch, so I pull my sleeve armor off and see my tat-a-gotchi hatching. The egg cracks, and a thin silver worm crawls out of the egg. It sprouts thin, pale wings which it flaps a few times as though it has no idea what they are for, then rolls up and falls asleep. Lame. I pull my armored sleeve back down.

"Next station," says one of the technicians, ushering me to what looks like a bullet the size of a car mounted on a thick robotic arm.

The bullet is lowered to the ground and the top flips open to reveal a small, cramped space inside. There is a seat in there, and a harness, but it looks incredibly uncomfortable and claustrophobic. A bald technician stands beside a computer screen, tapping it impatiently.

"Climb in," he orders, "and get used to it. This is how you are going to get to battle from now on."

I squeeze in and do my best to strap myself down.

"I thought supers just flew into battle," I say doubtfully.

"Nah. Flying long distances drains too much power. Most teams parachute out of planes, but we use these babies. They'll get you anywhere in the world in under twenty minutes."

Most teams parachute out of planes? How could I not know that? I thought I knew everything about the superheroes, but I'm learning that the Superhero Corps has been keeping all kinds of secrets from the public, including the existence of this team.

"Twenty minutes?" I say, impressed.

"Twenty awful minutes," the bald technician adds thoughtfully, "so best hold on."

The capsule closes and leaves me in the dark. There is a row of LEDs in the roof. Most are green, but one is flickering orange.

"Simulating re-entry," says the technician's voice over a speaker, "ejection in five minutes."

The capsule starts rolling and spinning uncontrollably. More LEDs flash orange and the capsule lurches like a roller coaster falling off its rails. I'm pressed hard against the straps and spun upside down and side to side. It's a terrible ride, and it feels like an eternity before the capsule spits me out into the air and I land face first in a pile of soft foam. I try stand up, but the world is still spinning and I fall backwards. A couple of techs pull me to my feet and check my balance and reflexes. One of them is holding a bucket, but I don't need to use it.

"Ugh," I say.

It looks like they were betting on my performance, because money changes hands and the bald technician looks cranky.

"Best get used to it," says the winning technician, "the real thing is going to be worse. Now, let's do that again."

I'd really rather not, but they help me to my feet, drag me back to the capsule and strap me back in.

"Ah, saucer!" I swear as the capsule clicks shut.

The second ride is even worse than the first, and by the time I emerge from the foam I'm convinced that my first impressions were right, and that I am in hell. There are no technicians to help me out of the foam pit, so I drag myself out and lie on the ground.

"I... argh," I say.

A steward in white walks up and crouches beside me. She has long blond hair with a streak of red in it. She looks amused at my condition. _Gen77_ is written on her shirt in the same place I have _Red Five_.

" _Firestorm Commando_ wants to see you in the armory," she says, then takes a closer look at me, "what are you, like twelve? Where are your minders, anyway?"

I try to explain that everyone has left me, but she grabs my arm and leads me away from the training area. We head up a flight of narrow stairs and down a long corridor. This base is huge. The steward knows her way around, and walks so quickly that I have to jog to keep up.

"I've never met you before," she says, "when did you get in?"

"Today," I manage, but she only laughs.

"Good one! As if _Firestorm Commando_ would want anything with a newbie, he thinks they are dirt."

"What does he want?" I manage.

"I don't know. Have you met him before?"

I shake my head. I have read a few stories of _Firestorm Commando_ that don't make me think too highly of him. The Superhero Corps keeps a tight lid on their members, but word leaks out onto the Internet if you know where to look. I heard he set fire to a primary school he was meant to be saving, and destroyed a hospital. That was about three months ago, and I haven't heard anything about him since then.

My world is still spinning, and I have to concentrate on not throwing up. I succeed, which is a win.

We arrive at the armory, which is a long hall of power suits, weapons, and strange glowing computers. A man in red power armor is waiting for me. I don't recognize him, but that's not surprising.

" _Red Five_?" he says.

"I guess," I say.

"Excellent. I have orders to take you on the next mission."

"Ah... I don't think-"

"Shut up, get out of that silly practice suit and get dressed for combat."

_Gen77_ shakes her head and ducks out of the armory. Technicians in green shirts pull my practice armor off and push me towards a battered power suit. It's dull silver, with burn marks down one side and huge metal patches on the chest. One of the arms looks brand new, but that that just makes me wonder what happened to the person inside when the old arm was lost. The techs start to take the suit apart and pull it over my shoulders.

"I haven't seen you before," says a technician with concern.

"I just arrived today," I mutter.

I must have been more convincing the second time, because the technicians stop their work and look at me. One of them starts to put the suit back on its rack but _Firestorm Commando_ storms up, slaps one of the technicians hard and yells abuse at the others. The technician he slaps hits the ground and doesn't get up.

"Do as I say!" he screams at them.

The technicians swallow their doubts and start getting me ready again. A senior technician called _Bad Memories_ checks their work and then shows me a reflection of myself in a mirror. I am not impressed.

"Now, I know what you are thinking-," he says.

That the suit I'm wearing looks like it was made by a bunch of drunks trying to build a spacesuit out of things they found in a junkyard? That they set their creation alight and then threw it down some stairs? That I'm wearing an uncomfortable metal coffin?

"-and you are right. This, son, is a cutting edge hybrid of human and alien technology. Few will ever get to wear one; it's a real privilege. Try and bring it back."

"Let's pick up the speed!" yells _Firestorm Commando_ from across the room.

_Bad Memories_ shakes his head and pulls the last few straps tight against my chest. He places a helmet over my head and I hear it click into place over my neck. For a moment everything goes black, and then the visor opens. The technician leans in close.

"We have called someone to help you. I'm trying to slow this down to buy some time," he whispers.

"What's going on there?" demands _Firestorm Commando_.

"Technical problems with his power," says _Bad Memories_ , "maybe you should leave him-"

"He's coming," says _Firestorm Commando_ flatly.

"Fine," says _Bad Memories_ , "but not unarmed."

He walks me through an armory containing weapons of every sort stacked against the walls. Some are familiar, like the power axes and swords, but many resemble steam-powered cannons and others look disturbingly organic. I see laser pistols and kinetic rifles, spears, maces and hammers of every shape and size. Most of them look worn, now that I see them up close. These aren't the shiny props I've seen in the movies, but are chipped and dented workman's tools.

"Can I have one of those?" I ask the technician, pointing at the axes.

"No, but put this one on."

He hands me a bulky glove with a short barrel under the palm.

"Powerglove. Reliable and idiot proof."

I put it on. It's not the kind of weapon I have been dreaming about; it looks like an oven mitt. There's no time for me to be disappointed, because the technicians lead me to a pod sitting on a conveyor belt that leads out of the room. I jump in and they strap me in while _Firestorm Commando_ stands behind us. There is a computer screen hanging over the pod. It shows a pair of maps, one of Australia on the globe and one just of the western coast of Australia. There is a red circle around the city of Perth, but that can't be right. Perth was one of the first cities attacked, in the days before supers. The city was evacuated while the saucer was still hovering over it, and then the world powers tried to bring the saucer down with cruise missiles. When that didn't work, they tried a nuke.

"Perth!" I splutter, "Won't the radiation kill me?"

The technician gives me a look of pity and shakes his head sadly.

"I'm sorry, son, but radiation is going to be the least of your worries."

The pod's cover slams down and leaves me in darkness. The pod rumbles and bounces along the conveyor belt and then falls still. The only sound is my fast, shallow breathing in the darkness.

"What happens now?" I ask.

The pod rumbles, and an invisible giant punches me in the chest and I fall unconscious.

# Lesson Three: Don't Get Distracted

"This guide dedicates the next seventeen chapters to battlefield tactics. An understanding of these tactics, many of which are complex, is a requirement of success. We shall begin with the best method of arriving on the battlefield."

-The Superhero Trainee Guide (Third Edition), Chapter Six.

"Keep moving, keep thinking, hit hard and stay alive. That's all."

-Extract from _Dark Fire_ 's three-page training manual read at his trial.

I wake up in the cramped delivery pod just as it hits turbulence.

The whole pod is shaking so violently that I wonder if something has broken. There are no screens in the pod, just little rows of lights above my head. Most are green, but a few are orange and one is red.

"Is that bad?" I shout, but there is no answer.

I don't know if the red light is a problem. I don't know very much at all, really, except that I wish I wasn't here and that all this shaking makes me feel terrible. There is nothing for me to do but hold onto the handles as tightly as I can, shut my eyes and hope for the best. I wonder what will happen if I throw up in my helmet.

The pod bounces and rolls wildly, but there are no alarms. My ride is terrifying, uncomfortable and completely unglamorous, which sums up my life as a trainee superhero so far. My bulky suit of power armor is tight around my chest, but I don't have time to wonder if that's a problem before something cracks loudly behind me, and the pod drops suddenly. The lights all start flashing red, and the pod spits me into the sky.

It's superhero time!

I fall awkwardly, spinning in the air until I find some kind of balance. My suit is a dead weight without power or movement. There are no lights in my helmet or on my gloves but surely, surely they wouldn't just drop me out of the sky without something to stop me.

Right?

I tumble clumsily through the air, falling head over heels.

"Help!"

I scream until my throat hurts, but I get no answer. I fall through a thin layer of clouds and see the ground racing towards me. The city of Perth was beautiful once, but now it's a wasteland of ruined buildings and deserted streets filled with rusting cars. I can see black streaks and craters where the first missiles hit, and a huge flat area that looks like glass off to one side of the city. There are trees – mostly dead – and open areas that may have once been parks. There can be no doubt that this is a corpse of a city.

I wonder what the radiation count is around here, and then I wonder if I'll live long enough for that to be a problem. It looks like the ground will get me first.

My helmet beeps and my suit whirs into life as the lights on my gloves start glowing. My body jerks so that I am falling with my feet to the ground and my fall slows. I look up to see a parachute above me. Thank you, unknown technician in charge of parachutes, at least now I won't arrive as a pancake.

I scan the ground for a good landing place, but there aren't many in the clutter and rubble of this ruined city. It doesn't matter, really, because I don't know how to control my descent. I can see movement below that must be the aliens, but I can't see the saucers. I'm still a few hundred meters high, and I don't know where to land, or even how to land.

My parachute cords cut and I drop with a lurch.

"Saucer!" I swear.

The ground is getting bigger every second and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do about it. I don't know how to fly these suits, and I don't have time to learn.

"Help!"

A bright light flashes by my shoulder and a superhero appears. I don't recognize him, but I've never been happier to see anyone in my life. The superhero reaches out and grabs my arm, moving us until we are face to face, falling together. I can see into his visor; he seems to be shouting at me, but I can't hear him.

"...Hold on, kid," I hear faintly over my radio.

The world twists and jumps so that I am no longer high in the sky but now only seconds from hitting a skyscraper. I panic and lose hold of the superhero beside me just as he teleports away, and I am alone again. I slam into the side of the skyscraper and into a concrete pillar. The building starts to collapse around me, and I scramble through a rain of glass shards and metal hail. My shield crackles and bursts as I fight my way through to an elevator shaft, force it open and drop through. I catch the cable on my way down and use it to slow my fall.

I reach the lobby and exit the building as it crumbles around me. I should have been dead, but I'm not. I shake myself free. I'm... fine, surprisingly.

But I'm also alone again.

"Hello?"

The roads around me are lined with dead trees and abandoned cars. The buildings around me are tall and mostly still intact, but their windows are dirty. There is no immediate danger, and the adrenaline rush I felt during my fall is draining out of my body. My legs start shaking uncontrollably, so I drop to my knees and force my visor open. I take a breath of musty air, remember where I am and slam the visor down.

"This is crazy!" I scream.

Something moves in my peripheral vision. I spin and find myself facing a scout ball. We look at each other for a second in a strange standoff but I shoot first, a green spark of light that hits the scout right in its center mass. The walker's laser hits the building behind me, burning through concrete. The scout topples over onto the ground and falls still. It's my first kill, but I'm shaking too hard to enjoy it.

I walk over to investigate my fallen foe, stepping over its legs to look at its ruptured head. I've never seen a saucer creature so close before, but I've read enough to know what to expect. The whole body is a mess of tubes and metal flakes, with no sign of flesh or computer circuitry as we understand them. The aliens have been termed organo-bots by our leading scientists, but we still have little idea of how they work.

A faint voice mutters over my radio, and I look up to the sky. Nothing. Apparently the saucers block the Super Corps radios in much the same way as they bock civilian signals.

I feel a blaze of heat across my back and turn to see a second walker bearing down at me. I shoot out again, and hit it right between where it should have had eyes. It goes down, and I feel pretty good about myself. I think I'm getting the hang of this.

Then a blast of energy picks me up and throws me down the street, through a glass wall and into a hotel lobby. I slide across smooth tiles right into a huge modern art sculpture. I don't know what message the artist trying to convey, but he used solid rock to do it. I hit it head first and it feels like I was punched in both sides of the head at once.

My shields flicker weakly as if they might die. What the heck hit me like that?

A purple cubetank bursts into the lobby, scattering glass everywhere. The cubetank aims its huge cannon at me as the teleporting super appears in the air behind it. He empties a pair of plasma at point blank range, melting through the creature's thick armor and right into its core. The cube tank lashes out with lasers, but my rescuer teleports right above it and kills it with another pair of pistols. It drops to the ground, and he flies over to me.

"Okay, _Red Five_?" he asks, appearing genuinely concerned.

His suit is gunmetal grey with signs of wear, and he's wearing a ragged red coat made of a light material that seems to float in the air. I don't recognize his costume.

" _Red Five_?" he repeats.

"I'm okay," I say, and I get to my feet.

He grabs my arm and peers at something on it.

"Your shields are low. We better get out of here."

The world flashes and warps as we teleport. We land on the top of a tower, my savior with a gun in his hand and me with my stomach in my mouth. I open my visor and throw up, but the superhero doesn't seem to notice. He pulls a second pistol out, a bulky thing with a single barrel. He's wearing eight or nine of the big pistols in holsters slung around his waist and chest. They all look well used.

He flips his visor to talk to me.

"That thing gave you all six barrels. Frankly, I'm amazed you survived, because most of us wouldn't have. My name is-"

A pair of small pyramids with wings strafes our position. My savior teleports behind them and brings them down with two accurate shots. He sheaths the pistols and draws a second pair in like he's done it a thousand times.

"-is _Bad Day_ ," he continues, " _Never Lies_ told me to look after you after she heard about this stupidity. Is this really your first time in a suit?"

I nod, and _Bad Day_ shakes his head in amazement. I flip open my visor.

"Shouldn't we keep our visors down for the radiation?" I ask.

He shrugs, and scans the sky for trouble.

"Radios don't work near saucers, so keep your eyes open for signaling flares. We need to keep moving. The others will be at the marshal point. Feeling ready for another 'port?"

I'm not, but he grabs my arm anyway and I close my eyes as the world starts to blur. We have moved to a roof overlooking a park. The roof is only a few stories off the ground, and I can see a handful of triclops and scouts pacing through the dead trees below. My stomach twists again, and I open my helmet but I don't throw up. _Bad Day_ laughs.

"Teleporting does that to people, so don't feel too bad. Now, are you ready to kick some ass? I'll head down, you can shoot from here. Set?"

"Set," I say, although I doubt I can hit anything from up here. It's not like the gloves have an aiming scope or anything like that, so I've just been pointing and hoping.

_Bad Day_ flickers out of view and appears behind a triclops for just long enough to melts its head, then he's gone again before the other aliens have time to turn. I shoot down at a second triclops and hit it in the leg as _Bad Day_ takes down a pair of scouts. He moves faster than I can follow, and the triclops are too slow to keep up with him. I hit a scout as _Bad Day_ takes out the rest with a few well-placed plasma bolts. I've never seen a super fight before, and I'm impressed. The fight is over in seconds, leaving a pile of dead aliens on the brown grass.

_Bad Day_ appears at my side with a plasma gun in his hand. Its barrel is red hot, so he holsters it carefully and draws a replacement.

"Get one?"

I nod.

"Good man. Shall we go?"

"I can't fly yet," I admit.

"Oh," he says, looking surprised.

I feel stupid, but he just grabs my arm and we teleport to the top of an old church spire, then onto a penthouse balcony and onwards. Each teleport is only a short distance, but they follow each other quickly. It's not a comfortable ride, because he can't fly well enough to carry me long distances. We drop and lurch and fall as we move, but I close my eyes, grit my teeth and hold on as my suit bangs against walls and rooftops. After a while it stops, and I open my eyes. We are on a rooftop balcony overlooking a river, and three other superheroes are beside us.

_Firestorm Commando_ is here in his shiny suit, and I try to avoid him. His polished, colorful armor is classic superhero, but it stands out in this grey and dusty war zone. The other two superheroes are _One Trick_ in a battered blue suit with a silver helmet, and another trainee in a grey suit that looks only a little better than mine. _One Trick_ flicks open her helmet and says a few words to _Bad Day_ , but I don't hear them because I'm too busy staring at the saucer.

It's an oval the length of three football fields and stands about six stories high. Technically this size is classed as a small-medium, but that's hard to remember when it's floating in front of me. It's huge, with thick shields and dozens of gun turrets. I can see triclops and other aliens dropping out of hangars in its side. I have always wondered how superheroes bring saucers down, and now I'm about to find out.

"What's the play?" asks _Bad Day_ , and I snap back to attention.

"Distract from here while you and I flank and bomb?" suggests _One Trick_.

_Bad Day_ and the other trainee nod and begin to move, but _Firestorm Commando_ orders them down. He opens his visor and scowls at us.

"We'll do things my way," he says. " _Red Five_ and _Blue Twelve_ will start firing and draw the attention here. _Bad Day_ and _One Trick_ will flank and bomb from the side while I cover. Set?"

It sounds to me like he just asked me and another trainee to distract a whole saucer while he hides and the other two bomb it. That's not a plan I'm happy with.

"Cover us while the rookies distract the saucer? You must be joking!" says _One Trick_ with a tone _Firestorm Commando_ doesn't like.

_Firestorm Commando_ touches his glove and _One Trick_ tears at the collar around her throat, falling to her knees. _Firestorm Commando_ doesn't stop the torture until _Bad_ _Day_ lifts a gun and places it against _Firestorm's_ helmet.

"Stop that," he says quietly

_Firestorm Commando_ laughs as _One Trick_ writhes in pain.

"If I die, all your collars burst," he says, "so better do as I say."

_Bad Day_ puts a second pistol against _Firestorm Commando_ 's head.

"That's a chance I'll take," he says.

I don't think _Day_ is joking. _Firestorm Commando_ releases the button, and _One Trick_ stops screaming. _Firestorm Commando_ takes off into the air, and _Day_ helps _One Trick_ up and into the air after him. The three experienced supers take off, leaving us two rookies standing on the rooftop. I can hear them arguing as they leave until _Bad Day_ and _One Trick_ fall out the sky together, recover, and continue flying. It's clear that _Firestorm_ is more than happy to use his power of the shock collars to get his way.

"What a complete and utter twat," says _Blue Twelve_ as soon as they are out of earshot, "I can't believe he's in charge of anything more important than keeping our armor clean. And that's a stupid name he has, too."

I'm glad I'm not the only one who was thinking that.

"What do we do now?" I ask.

_Blue Twelve_ has a long rifle over his shoulder and a pair of knives in his belt. His suit is battered and dirty, with a long weld down one arm. He sets the rifle on the roof and sights down it. He's a serious guy, and he doesn't seem too worried by being left alone.

"We'll wait five minutes, and then I'll start shooting at whatever I can see while you keep the skies clear. When this area gets too hot we fly out and start again, just like in training."

_Blue Twelve_ shimmers and fades until his body is invisible against the roof.

"I didn't get much training," I say, "and I can't-"

"Above!" _Blue Twelve_ shouts and I see a pair of hooded snakes racing in the air towards us on jets of fire. I take them down, but more are gathering in the air around us until we are surrounded. They take turns dropping down at us, and one pushes me right off my feet with a blast of plasma.

"They found us too soon!" shouts _Blue Twelve_ , "we need to move."

He takes out a snake with a blast that disintegrates the alien into dust, but I can see that his heavy rifle isn't made for this kind of close work. He drops it and pulls out a pair of long knives. My powerglove does better than he does and I claim another two kills, but then my collar explodes in pain and I double over. The pain is incredible, and the snakes use my moment of weakness to bombard me with blasts. I try to move but can't, and a snake starts biting my helmet. _Blue Twelve_ hits the ground beside me, a snake wrapped around his neck. He's stabbing at it with a knife, but it's too strong for him. I try to blast it, but my power is too low. A snake comes in for the kill and I close my eyes. Nothing happens.

I open one eye and see a severed snake head lying in front of me. The others are all in pieces on the ground. A superhero is floating in the air before me with his visor open. It's _Past Prime_ , and he does not look pleased.

He's holding a long, thin power sword in one glove and has a huge cannon of some sort mounted on his left arm. The air around him is filled with flying bladed discs slicing the flying snakes into ribbons of metal. These discs are what _Bansuri_ was famous for, and any doubts I had as to who _Past Prime_ once was disappear.

"I know you are there," he says, swishing his sword.

_Twelve_ appears as if stepping out of thin air and slumps beside me. He looks wounded.

"Our collars activated during an attack," he says, "and we were disabled."

"Accident?" asks _Past Prime_.

"No."

I can see the saucer in the sky behind _Past Prime_. It is huge and threatening, a reminder of what we are fighting, a reminder that we aren't winning. A light flashes as the saucer lifts a multistory building out of the ground and starts dissecting it with lasers, casting bits off. I've heard about this before, but very few civilians have seen it and lived. It looks like the saucer is looking for something, but no one knows what. Saucers have been known to tear apart hills in the same way, or dig out chunks of ground.

" _Bad Day_ was meant to be looking after him," says _Past Prime_ , "so where is he?"

" _Day_ is on bomb delivery. _Firestorm Commando_ insisted. They-"

The saucer lights up in bright orange light and then explodes into huge pieces that come crashing down to Earth. It's the largest fireball I have ever seen, with flames reaching up to the heavens as lumps of metal drop down around us. The sound of the explosion is incredible. _Blue Twelve_ and I shelter from the falling saucer, but _Past Prime_ just nods thoughtfully.

"At least someone has their mind on the job," he says, "now all we have to do is the clean-up."

He grabs my suit and tows me into the air. He flies well, and my weight doesn't even slow him. _Blue Twelve_ follows us with long jumps between buildings. Our path takes us over a couple of triclops, and _Past Prime_ doesn't even slow as he cuts them down with his spinning discs.

"The aliens slow down after a saucer is destroyed, but they can still fight. Hunting the last ones down can be tricky," he explains to me as _Blue Twelve_ blasts a scout into pieces.

I'm feeling pretty good: one of the most powerful superheroes of all time is helping me. I take a few shots of my own at a passing scout and hit it square on.

"Excellent shot," _Past Prime_ says calmly.

Oh yes, I'm definitely getting the hang of this superhero malarkey. All I need now is my own codename, and the ability to fly without being a passenger.

We find the others standing in the ruins of a sporting stadium. The green grass and good memories are long gone, replaced with poisoned soil and rusting chairs. It was quiet, empty. I feel the ghosts of spectators watching us as we land.

We are just in time to catch the action: _Bad Day_ is crouched down with a pistol in his hand and _One Trick_ is lying beside him.

_Firestorm Commando_ is floating nearby, balls of blue energy in his hands. He throws a ball at _Bad Day_ who dodges in a blur but doesn't fire back. _Firestorm Commando_ lashes out with rings of fire, but _Day_ moves too fast to be hit.

"ENOUGH!" roars _Past Prime_ , dropping me to the ground and dashing between the two arguing superheroes.

"You? You weren't meant to be here," says _Firestorm Commando_ in surprise.

"No, and you weren't meant to be trying to get your team killed, but here we are."

_Firestorm Commando_ points at me and shakes his head, clearly disappointed that I'm still alive.

"Him? Do you know who he is? What he has done? _The General_ wants him dead-"

"-and you want to get back in _The General_ 's good books by throwing a trainee to the aliens without even giving him a fighting chance. You coward," says _Past Prime_ calmly.

"Careful, old-timer. _One Trick_ said that, and it didn't end well for her," says _Firestorm Commando_.

"Coward," repeats _Past Prime_.

_Firestorm Commando_ touches his glove, but nothing happens. _Past Prime_ slashes at the air with his sword, and then sinks the blade deep into the ground. His razor discs gather around him, humming with power. _Firestorm Commando_ looks worried; I would be too, if I was in his position.

"I wear a collar, but it doesn't respond to you, son," explains _Past Prime_ , "so if you want me dead you'll have to do it the old fashioned way. Go ahead and try, I'll even give you the first shot for free."

For a second _Firestorm Commando_ looks like he is considering it, and I am silently egging him on. I would love to see that fight, because there is no way he can take _Past Prime_. I think the whole team is hoping _Firestorm Commando_ is stupid enough to start something. _Past Prime_ looks serene, but he holds his blade ready for action.

"He's too much of a coward!" _One Trick_ calls out from the ground, and I laugh. _One Trick_ is cool.

_Firestorm Commando_ shakes his head and spits on the ground. He may be a coward, but he isn't a stupid one. He floats into the air and away from _Past Prime_ and throws a bolt of energy at _Blue Twelve_ , knocking my fellow trainee over and then flying away. I can't believe I had his poster on my wall for months. It makes me wonder what the other supers are like.

"What a dolt," says _Prime_ , "I was truly hoping he would try his luck. Anyway, we still have the clean-up to do, so-"

A pair of octo-apes falls out of the sky in a wash of flames. The other superheroes scatter, but I'm slow to react and an ape hits me right in the chest. It hammers my head with a mace while simultaneously stabbing me with a long bladed arm. I fight back, but the octo-ape has too many arms and too many weapons.

"Help!"

_Prime_ splits it in two with his sword and the parts fall to either side of me. He looks down at me and sighs.

"Looks like you need a medical team. This is why we can't afford to get distracted," he says.

I try to agree, but breathing is becoming harder and my vision fades. My words get jumbled up as I speak and make no sense. No one cares what I think, anyway.

# Lesson Four: The More You Sweat In Training, The Less You Bleed In Battle

"Most of our trainees do not survive their first ten missions. The reason for this is as difficult to accept as it is simple: our training is not preparing them for battle. We are failing them."

- _Master Bansuri_ , Senior Trainer in the Superhero Corps, in his final address to the Corps Inner Council.

"Most of our powers are based on pure instinct. Instinct can't be taught, and it's a waste of time to try. Our training should focus on surviving."

-Extract from _Dark Fire_ 's journal read at his trial.

I wake up on a soft bed. My head hurts, and my body is stiff and painful when I try to move. My tat-a-gotchi buzzes on my arm impatiently, so I smash the feeding button until it quietens down. It takes me a few minutes before I realize that I was in a superhero battle.

"I'm alive," I say, and I can hear the surprise in my own voice.

I _like_ being alive.

I'm in a small, windowless room I've never seen before, and I'm wearing my tracksuit again. I notice two words carved into the wall beside the bed, over and over again.

" _Simon Smith_ ," I read aloud.

The wall is hard plastic, and I have no idea why anyone would bother to carve their name into it. This must have been Simon's room, and I wonder why he doesn't need it anymore. I shrug and look around the room for clues. My room is sparse: just a bed, a chair, and a desk with _Simon Smith_ carved all over them. That guy really liked seeing his own name.

"I wonder if we are underground?" I say aloud, because the room has no windows and everything around me is built of metal rather than brick or concrete.

I sit down at the desk and find a stack of thin books lying in a folder. I pick one and read the cover: 'Tactics and Weapons Use'.

"I'm... really in superhero school?" I ask.

There are two doors to the room. One leads to a tiny bathroom, and the other is locked. Apparently I'm not free to wander, so I sit back down at the desk.

"Computer on," I say. There is no sound.

I sigh. How can it be possible that this room doesn't have a computer? Maybe the voice recognition is disabled. I touch the metal chip behind my ear. It beeps once, then twice. One beep for on, two beeps for a wireless connection. Win. A display flickers across my tat-a-gotchi. Most people don't know that the tats can also work as computer screens, which is a useful trick. I open up the settings and find that voice control had been turned off months ago and that the computer had not been used since then. I turn the voice and hand controls on, because using the chip gives me a headache. That's the problem with untested technology, but I suppose I can't really complain.

The computer is connected to a network with a lot of security and firewalls, but I have a lot of skills from my misspent youth. Most of the security is designed to prevent people from accessing the network from outside, not from within. It takes me about an hour before I get onto the Internet and log onto my email.

"Eight video mails," the computer says.

The first is from Tenchi. His worried face appears in miniature on my arm.

"Dude where are you? The hospital said you were taken away to a special facility, WTF. CALL ME."

"Reply," I say.

"No upload possible."

Okay, I guess replying is out. The next video is from my dad.

"Where are you? I was on the way to the Superhero Corps Office to see you but they said you were already gone. Then I was caught up in the attack. They said you were taken to hospital. Call me!"

Typical Dad: the best intentions but always late to the party. I'm just glad that he is safe. I can't reply to that email, either. The next five videos are from Dad again, Tenchi again, Dad and Tenchi together, a spam company offering me millions to work from home, and Dad a last time. He looks a lot more cheerful than before.

"We were told you are healthy and in training, but that you can't communicate with us. Good luck, son, I know you'll be great!"

The last video mail is from a sender I don't recognize. I open it up and see Stace looking right back at me. She smiles, and my heart misses a beat.

Wait, what?

"Stace?" I say in surprise.

"Hey, I got this email from a friend who says you were taken to a training camp. I just wanted to say thank you for saving me! I hope training is going okay, I heard it's pretty tough! Hang in there and you'll be fine. I know you will be a great superhero!"

Someone bangs on my door and startles me. I initiate the power down and memory wipe programs I had loaded to remove any trace of my messing with the computer and then answer the door.

A steward in a white shirt is standing with a plate of fresh fruit and pastries. He offers them to me and I pick a few. There is a glass of fresh orange juice that I down far too quickly, and a set of multi-colored tablets. I eat quickly while the steward waits for me.

" _Past Prime_ wants you in the training room. Please follow me."

He leads me to the training hall where _Past Prime_ and a handful of technicians in green are waiting. The technicians hand me a set of padded gloves and a helmet. The gloves are comfortable enough, but the helmet is heavy and cuts off my peripheral vision in much the same way as my suit helmet had. _Past Prime_ dons similar gear and pulls two batons from his belt. The batons start glowing brightly; I have a bad feeling about this.

"Pain sticks," he says, and holds a glowing blade against his skin. He removes it a second later, and the skin is already red and blistered.

"Two sticks for you, two sticks for me. We fight until you submit or you hit me. Now, show me what you can do!"

The sticks are heavy but well weighted. Tenchi has shown me a few moves for sword fighting, but I'm not great at it. _Past Prime_ hits out at me and I parry clumsily. He hits again, a blow aimed at my neck that I step back from. Suddenly his blows are coming at me with startling speed. I feel a burn across my neck and a second on my arm. _Past Prime_ retreats a little.

"You are too slow, too cautious, too easy to read."

I attack with a lunge that he parries with ease. I feel his pain stick on my back and strike out desperately, hitting nothing. _Past Prime_ closes in on me and my arms erupt in pain. I drop one of my sticks and do a terrible job of parrying with the other. I try to protect my face with my arm, but _Past Prime_ beats me until I drop backwards onto the ground. I've never hurt this bad in my life, but I still manage to get to my feet.

"We stop when you submit," he reminds me.

We spin, and I get a blow under my chin. I fall backwards but roll to my feet. He hits me in the chest, and I scream. I try to roll to my feet, but he knocks me over and I fall again. I get up slowly and grip my swords. I know this isn't going well, but I won't back out now.

We fight for another thirty minutes before _Past Prime_ sighs and sheaths his sword. I'm covered in blisters and sweat, but I haven't even managed to touch _Past Prime_ , and he looks as relaxed as ever.

"You don't know when to quit, kid. Sit down."

A steward brings over two chairs and sets them up for us. I sit down.

"I've trained every superhero on this planet, did you know that?"

I nod.

"Not everyone is born for this life."

He doesn't think I can cut it.

"I can do this," I say.

"I can tell a lot about a person's style by how they spar with the pain sticks... and the news isn't good for you. You aren't very strategic or fast, but you are too aggressive. You are also as stubborn as a dead mule and have no idea of when to retreat. That's the kind of combination that gets people killed very, very quickly. You've also made some dangerous enemies, son, and that won't help."

"Okay," I say, trying not to show how I feel.

"This is not the life for you. We can offer you a way out, a non-combat position with _Team_ _Mercy_. The work they do is not glamorous, but it holds the world together. We haven't made this offer to anyone else, because they would take it in a second."

He stands up and the steward appears to take our chairs.

"Think about it," he says.

I do, and it doesn't make sense.

"Why would you only make that offer to me?"

"You're young and slow," he says, but one of the things I learnt from my dad is how to spot a liar.

"You're lying," I say, "why only me?"

"We know you're innocent. You don't belong here with the misfits."

"Neither do you. I bet most of the team don't really belong here. What's the real reason, _Bansuri_?"

He doesn't notice that I called him by his old name. He sighs and stands up.

"I knew your mother. We owe her."

"If you knew my mother, you know why I want to fight."

_Past Prime_ shakes his head and stands up.

"It's because I knew your mother that I don't want you to fight. But you have her stubborn streak. Do you want to meet one of her most useful inventions?"

He doesn't wait for an answer but walks to an empty part of the training hall. The floor here is made of worn padded mats. A cube robot raises itself out of the ground in front of us. It has a dozen arms, and each ends in the glowing point of a pain sword. It folds away all but one arm, which it points directly at me in a challenge.

_Past Prime_ hands me two pain sticks.

"This is one of your mother's training 'bots. Get past the body and hit it in center mass."

The cube starts spinning its arm slowly. It takes a swing at me, but I block. I dart past the arm and slam my sword right into the cube's center.

"Easy," I say.

The cube unfolds two more arms.

"Again," says _Past Prime_ , "faster."

This time the arms are fast, and one lands a blow on my shoulder as I lunge at the cube. I hit it dead center.

"Messy, boy, messy. You need to block more, move better. Again, faster."

The cube unfolds more arms and we start again. This time the robot lands a hit right in my ribs and another in my head as I fall. I hit the ground and roll, but the robot pins me. It digs its swords into my body and holds me for a second before letting me go. The robot releases me and I gasp in relief. I'm seeing a whole new side to my mother that I had never thought possible.

"Up," says _Past Prime_.

We start again; this time I get the robot before it gets me.

"Faster."

Every time I win the robot gets another arm or starts moving faster. The arms start hitting me harder and more often. It hurts, but I always manage to hit the machine with my pain stick at least half the time. I'm feeling pretty good about myself, but _Past Prime_ isn't impressed.

"You have grit, but you are too slow."

"Show me how it's done them," I challenge him.

He puts out a hand and I pass him a sword, handle first.

"Maximum speed," he says, "maximum arms."

The sparring robot complies; its arms move so fast that they blur. _Past Prime_ steps right inside their reach, knocking them aside with ease. The spinning arms can't touch him; one glowing tip gets close, but he deflects it with ease and lands a blow right on the cube's body.

"That's how."

"Whatever," I say in annoyance.

I'll never move that fast or that smoothly, but that doesn't mean I can't be a superhero. _Rhino Rampage_ is a huge man famous for his clumsy ways when he's out of his suit, but he is still a reasonably powerful superhero as long as he doesn't need to dodge or fly too fast. I could be like that; I would settle for being a second-rate superhero at this point.

"Let's take this up a level," _Past Prime_ says.

The cube stands on six short legs and takes a few steps back from me. It bangs its arms together as if showing me how dangerous it. It's only a robot, but I could swear it's looking forward to this.

Saucer, this thing is going to kill me.

"Scared?" _Past Prime_ asks.

"Bite me, old man. And give me back my sword."

I'm eating my lunch in the infirmary when _Never Lies_ walks in. The doc has bandaged my arms and legs until I look like a mummy, and he gave me enough painkillers to take the worst of the burn away.

"Ready for the next session?" asks _Never Lies_ without preamble.

I nod. Hopefully it doesn't kill me.

"You took a beating today," she says.

"Did I?" I ask innocently, although there's no point trying to hide the fact that I'm bruised and battered.

"Yes. I'm surprised you can still walk, but _Past Prime_ said your injuries were self-inflicted and that I was to have no sympathy, so get up."

"How..."

I want to ask her how I'm doing in the training program, but I'm scared she'll tell me a depressing truth. She looks at me and raises an eyebrow. I have to ask her something now, or she'll think I'm an irredeemable idiot.

"How... um, how long do I have to keep training?"

Even I think I sound stupid, and _Never Lies_ just grunts in amusement. Mission failed: she thinks I'm an idiot.

"The more you sweat in training, the less you bleed in battle... and you aren't sweating at all. _Past Prime_ was just testing your reactions; I'm here to test your brain."

I spend the rest of the afternoon with her. Half my time is spent in a training helmet, and half in a combat simulator. The simulator is a whole suit of armor that feels just like the real thing, except with electric shocks instead of death. It's unpleasant, but I learn fast. I fight in cities and swamps, alone and in teams of six or twenty, in the sky and on the ground and in every place you can think of. I recognize every alien I see from my time in the training helmet, and I know where to hit them.

It's not a test of physical speed or agility, but rather of how to react and move in combat, incorporating my knowledge of how to kill some enemies and when to avoid others.

"I'm ramping up the difficulty," says _Never Lies_ , and aliens start appearing faster.

I'm exhausted by the time we finish. A steward brings us orange juice and muffins, but I don't even have time to eat mine before _Never Lies_ turns towards a big man waiting at the other end of the gym. He's dressed in a black shirt similar to the ones worn by _Past Prime_ and _Never Lies_. It seems to be a mark of rank around here.

"His name is _Small Talk_. Do what he says, and don't whine about it," she advises me.

_Small Talk_ is standing by a rock climbing wall. Heavy mattresses are set below the wall, and they look well used. _Small Talk_ doesn't say anything, so I start looking around for a safety harness.

"Wait," _Small Talk_ says.

He pushes a button on his data pad and the whole rock wall starts to move slowly downwards as if it were some enormous vertical conveyor belt. I've seen this before- it's an infinity climbing wall. The idea is to climb two meters off the ground, and then the wall starts moving downwards and you do your best not to be brought back to Earth. The little outcrops and marks are constantly changed so that a person can climb the same few meters of wall all day and never see the same pattern of rocks. A line emerges across the wall, with 'Level One' written above it.

This wall is far higher than any I've seen before.

"Climb," _Small Talk_ says.

"Shouldn't I-"

"CLIMB!" he shouts.

I climb.

It's easy enough, with lots of wide and well-spaced outcrops. I climb to three-quarters up the wall and look down over my shoulder; I'm high enough now that a fall will really hurt. The wall starts moving, and I keep climbing.

_Small Talk_ is looking up at me, but he isn't impressed.

"Higher. Faster."

I climb higher; I climb faster. The wall starts moving faster, and I struggle to keep up. The words 'Level Two' form at the top of the wall and start descending towards me. I climb over them and keep going. I'm beginning to sweat, and my hands are slippery, but I can do this, I can climb. I climb over levels three and four before my arms really start to tire. The handles are getting smaller and harder to reach, and my arms are burning. The wall is moving downwards faster than I can climb it, and it carries me down to halfway. I feel a burning in my neck and the handles disappear, leaving me with no holds. I land heavily on my back with a thud that knocks all the air out of my body.

_Small Talk_ is already standing over me. He stares down at me with his grey, soulless eyes as if I were a cockroach he found in his kitchen sink.

"Up," he says again, "you need to hit the bell at the top of the wall."

The bell is high above me, but I can make it. I start climbing again, but I only make it past level two when my hand betrays me and I fall, hitting my head hard enough to knock my thoughts out.

I feel a burning in my neck again, and I tear so hard at the collar that I rip a fingernail off. Every part of my body is in agony, my neck and finger doubly so.

"Up!"

I climb and fall, climb and fall, climb and fall for what feels like hours. I make some progress, but that saucerhat of a bell is always out of my reach. Eventually I get so tired that I don't even make level two before I fall. I hit one of the mattresses hard. _Small Talk_ shakes his head in annoyance.

"Your will is letting you down, not your body. You need to hit that bell."

Saucers take that bell! I'm exhausted.

_Small Talk_ walks off, and I'm left wondering if I have what it takes to be a superhero. I'm not fast enough, and I doubt I'm smart enough.

I might just be stubborn enough, though.

I get up and start climbing that stupid wall all over again, because I want to prove that I have what it takes, that I can do this, that I should be allowed to hunt saucers.

I'll get that bell if it kills me.

# Lesson Five: You Are Terrible At (Almost) Everything

"The use of weapons and powers is an integral part of superhero success. Trainees will gradually be exposed to different weapons and fighting techniques. Not all weapons are suitable for all trainees, and finding the ideal weapon load for each superhero may take months of careful practice."

-Superhero Trainee Guide (Third Edition), Chapter Fifteen.

"We don't have time to go gently. To find out what trainees can do, put them under pressure. The more pressure the better."

-Extract of _Dark Fire_ 's training manual read at his trial.

Every day I climb ropes, run treadmills, spar the training robot and use the learning helmets until I think my brain might explode. It's exhausting, but I keep at it. I even hit the gym, focusing on building muscles and stamina. Personal trainers in pink shirts help me with my workouts, and stewards in white bring me water and food while I rest.

It's been two weeks since my first mission, and the training is already working. I'm getting stronger and faster; I've never looked so fit. I wish Stace could see me now!

"I feel so strong! If I knew how fast muscles build I would have done this ages ago," I tell my personal trainer.

"Yeah, but most of that muscle isn't because of your working out, it's because of the weird things the Superhero Corps do to your body."

I remember what the recruitment officer had said. I still don't know what infranetics is, but it might be the reason I'm getting stronger every day.

"I'm okay with that," I say.

"I would be, too," the trainer agrees, "because I bet it cost a fortune to tune you up like that."

_Past Prime_ seems to be in charge of my physical training. He's harsh, and I end most days covered in bruises from sparring. He broke my arm during one session, but a medic just put it in a cast and told me to get used to it.

"I think he did it on purpose," I told the medic

"I can't see him doing it by mistake," the medic agreed.

Mostly I train alone. I suspect that the other cadets eat together and go to classes that I'm not invited to, and I don't know why I've been singled out. I'm escorted back to my room as soon as I finish training, and I haven't seen the sky since my first mission. I even eat in my room, alone, off trays that technicians leave on my table. The food is good, but the company leaves something to be desired. My tat-a-gotchi spins on my arms and flaps its silver wings to entertain me. It's getting bigger, and looks a little like a dragon. It blinks at me and slaps my arm with its tail.

"Computer on, please."

My emails are the only thing keeping me sane. Tenchi and Dad send me videos most days, and Stace drops me a line every day.

"One new video. Play?"

"Yes."

"How's superschool? My friend says it's tough, and that I should tell you to hang in there. I've joined the super corps as an analyst, although my dad isn't happy. Maybe we'll meet up? I hope so."

Stace will make an excellent analyst. We met in an advanced math class run by a local university; she was a lot better than me. I'll bet her dad wouldn't be happy that's she's talking to me. Most of Stace's videos are about how the town is recovering from the saucer attack, and what was destroyed. My favorite cinema is still standing, which is good news. They had the best popcorn.

I reply to each of her emails even though I know I can't send anything out.

"Dear Stace, hero school is worse than anything I expected. I broke my arm during training but we didn't even slow down. I've only been on one mission so far, and it ended badly. The food is good, though."

There is a knock on the door, and I close the computer. It's a steward, but not one I've ever seen before. This base is full of them, all working to keep the superheroes fit and happy. Like butlers, in a way.

"I'm to take you to the armory," the steward explains.

We walk quickly as I stuff more of the delicious food into my mouth. I'm done by the time we arrive. We walk past a room filled with lounges, bookshelves and TVs. A team of suited up superheroes is waiting there, some watching the screens and others reading. They aren't wearing their helmets and seem more bored than worried. I wonder what they are waiting for.

The technician guides me into the armory and directs me to a battered set of armor where _Bad Memories_ and three other technicians are waiting for me. I get suited up. It doesn't take long. _Bad Memories_ watches me, but says nothing. He is in a dark green shirt and seems to be in charge. The other technicians are only identified by numbers on their pale green shirts. I still struggle to walk in the suit, but I manage to waddle through the armory behind _Bad Memories_. He doesn't lead me to the cannon pods like I expect, but past them to a small waiting room with a series of doors.

"No cannons today?"

"Today you take the chariot," _Bad Memories_ says, "but be on your best behavior because-"

_Small Talk_ walks into the room and _Bad Memories_ shuts up. He pretends to fuss over my suit to avoid looking at _Small Talk_. A couple of technicians help _Small Talk_ into his armor, which takes only a few seconds. He's ready before I am and walks over to watch me.

His suit looks like it was carved from a single bar of platinum and then dragged through hell and back. It's dented and scratched, but still bright. His name is written in small, sharp letters across his chest, but the suit has no designs or colors to make it memorable. I'm used to seeing superheroes in flamboyantly colored costumes, but it seems that's not how the _Cerberus Brawlers_ roll. _Small Talk_ 's suit has a naked brutality that suits him well. He isn't armed, yet he still looks more threatening than any super I have met so far.

And that includes both _The General_ and _Past Prime_.

He glares at me, but I meet his gaze.

"Follow," _Small Talk_ growls at me as he walks out a door.

We walk into a small hangar and towards a Comet-Seven aircraft. Comets are the fastest aircraft in the world, although they still aren't nearly as fast as the cannon pods. The ramp at the back of the Comet drops open and _Small Talk_ leads me up into a small, cramped space behind the pilots' cabin. There are six small chairs with serious straps and buckles. _Small Talk_ picks a seat and straps himself in, and I do the same.

"Set," he calls into his helmet.

The Comet has no windows, but I can feel it rise into the air and then speed up quickly. _Small Talk_ says nothing, so I try to strike up a conversation.

"Um... what are we-"

_Small Talk_ glares at me and I stop in mid-sentence. It seems that introductions will have to wait until I am much, much braver. We fly for about ten minutes before the craft slows to a hover and the ramp opens. _Small Talk_ unstraps himself and walks to the ramp. I join him without waiting to be asked. The craft rocks in the air and I wobble in my walk, grasping a handle beside the open ramp. I look out; we are hovering about a hundred meters above a rocky shore.

"Power up," _Small Talk_ orders, and pulls a lever on my suit.

My helmet closes with a thud and a radio in my helmet clicks on.

"Trainee _Red Five_ primary assessment," a bored voice says, " _Small Talk_ as leading assessor, _Talented Brat_ assisting."

"Um...hello?" I say.

"Hey kid, try not to clog the airways," says the voice. Whoever I'm talking to sounds like they have better places to be.

"I'll be quiet, but at least tell me what's going on?"

"Training day, kid. Every person controls the saucer tech differently, which is why every superhero has a different set of powers. It's time for us to find out what you are capable of. We normally wait a bit longer before bringing trainees out here, but for some reason we are making an exception for you. Now best pay attention, flight training is about to begin."

The radio clicks off as we get lower to the ground. The shore below us is part of a small island made entirely of dark, sharp rocks. There aren't many flat areas amongst the rocks. I lean out over the edge of the ramp for a better look.

"Where are we going to land?" I ask.

_Small Talk_ kicks me off the ramp. I fall for a few seconds before I realize he isn't planning on catching me.

"Argh! Fly! Fly! Fly!" I scream, but my suit doesn't oblige until I'm only a meter above the ground.

Light bursts from my palms and feet, slowing me down to a hover. My suit shudders and I fall, hitting the ground hard and rolling along until I hit a rocky spire. _Small Talk_ lands beside me, grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet.

"You could have killed me!" I scream at him.

_Small Talk_ gives me a cold stare and then shakes his head.

"If you can't survive that, you have no place amongst us," he says.

Touché. It doesn't look like anyone is going to cut me any slack. On the other hand, _Small Talk_ 's approach to training had me flying, if only for a second. He walks off, and I follow him over the rocks until we reach an overlook above the ocean waves. _Small Talk_ looks at the waves as if they have personally offended him. He turns to me and looks me right in the eyes with an intense look I can't quite meet.

"We draw our powers from the alien technology. It's mostly instinct; you either have it or you don't. Today we find out what you are capable of."

"Okay," because I don't know what else I can add.

"The only way to test instinct is to rely on it."

"Okay..."

"You will not need to think, only react. Understand?"

"Ah...yes?"

_Small Talk_ shakes his head as if disappointed with me. I'm feeling scared, so I do the same thing I've always done when I'm scared: I pick a fight.

"Are you going to teach me how to fly, or are we going to chat all day?" I ask.

"Not smart, kid," says the voice in my ear. He sounds amused.

_Small Talk_ doesn't smile, but he doesn't get angry either. He simply picks me up and lifts me into the air.

"Focus on control, stability. Aim your hands and feet down like I do. It's not the only way to fly, but it's the most common."

Then he drops me, and I fall like a stone. I hit the ground hard, but my shields take most of the damage.

"Get on with it, kid," says the bored voice.

"Quiet, _Brat_ ," _Small Talk_ says, "or come down here and show him how to do it."

That shuts _Talented Brat_ up, which is nice, but it doesn't help me fly. I could only fly when my life was depending on it. _Small Talk_ moves towards me, lifts me off the ground, and carries me towards the cliff edge.

"Wait," I say, "I'll do it."

_Small Talk_ shrugs and sets me down. I take a deep breath. Superheroes can fly; I need to be able to do this. I step to the edge of the cliff. It's a long way down, and the rocks beneath me look sharp and hard.

I jump.

The drop is terrifying but flight kicks in just above the water, and I just avoid getting wet. I struggle through the air back up towards _Small Talk_. My flying is bumpy and clumsy. I rise through the air and then drop back down again unsteadily until I come to a stable hover near _Small Talk_.

"Land," he orders.

I land. _Small Talk_ grabs my right arm and points at two large dials set into the glove. They are analogue, and look terribly old fashioned.

"Power," _Small Talk_ s says, pointing at the slightly larger one. It's divided into a blue section at its higher range, a grey section in the middle range and a thin red section right at the lower end of the scale.

"Flying and weapons fighting use power," says _Brat_ over the radio, "shields charge from surplus power. When the dial is in the blue area your shields are charging. Don't let it drop to red or you will drop out of the sky. Set?"

I hear an urgent _whaah-whaah-whaah_ sound in my helmet.

"That's your low power alarm. If you hear that, land or die."

I nod.

"Shield," says _Small Talk_ , pointing at the second dial on my arm.

I hear a second alarm, a shrill beep-beep-beep.

"That's your low shield alarm. If you hear that, run. Can we move on now?" says _Brat_.

"Play the other alarms," orders _Small Talk_.

I hear a _tick-tick-tick_ that sounds like a bomb about to go off. It's replaced by a _bang-bang-bang_ like a giant's footsteps.

"Enemy weapons lock and large enemy proximity alarm. Dodge or run, for the lock. The prox alarm will only ring for the real nasty stuff, so if you hear that... I don't know, probably just panic and then die."

"No. Fight," corrects _Small Talk_.

"Good luck with that," mutters _Brat_.

"Follow," says _Small Talk_.

He takes off slowly into the air. I manage to keep up, and we race across the island in a set of long leaps. I check my power: I'm in the grey section. Looking at my arm distracts me and I get halfway through a loop when I start overthinking my actions and crash down into the stones. I check my shields: 98%. I barely felt that. _Small Talk_ flies over my head and beckons me back into the air.

It's hard work, and every time I start feeling confident we speed up. I have to stop a few times to recharge my power, but _Small Talk_ never tires. He leads me through an obstacle course of floating poles and hoops. I crash into most of them, because I'm even clumsier in the air than I am on the ground. The suit shields me from hits that would otherwise have killed me, but I'm still getting battered around. We keep going until my low power alarm rings out ( _whaah-whaah_ ) and _Talented Brat_ calls a stop.

"Flight test complete," he says, "weak agility, average speed, average stamina. Let's move this on already."

We land beside a set of big metal crates. _Brat_ talks to me through my helmet as _Small Talk_ walks to the crates. They are full of weapons. _Small Talk_ hands me a powerglove and points me towards a metal cube set into the sand. The glove lights up.

"Targets ready," says _Talented Brat_.

"Set," I say.

A couple of red balls shoot out of the cube and I hit them both. Using the powerglove barely takes up any of my energy. Neither _Small Talk_ nor _Talented Brat_ make any comment, but _Small Talk_ motions me to take the glove off and passes me a laser rifle. It doesn't seem to have a trigger, but neither did the gloves. The targets pop up again, but I can't make the laser rifle shoot. I try a second time and then look towards _Small Talk_.

"Is there like a button or something I need to push?" I ask.

"Next," says _Brat_ impatiently.

_Small Talk_ takes the rifle away and hands me a plasma pistol like the ones _Bad Day_ uses. I shake it a few times, but nothing happens. Great.

"You have to arc the power down your arm and into the barrel. Can you do that?" says _Brat_.

I don't even know what that means, so I hand the pistol back to _Small Talk_. There is a plasma rifle there as well, but _Small Talk_ doesn't bother with it. He hands me a pulse spear. It's a clumsy weapon and the only thing I manage to hit is the side of _Small Talk_ 's helmet. He glares at me and snatches it back.

We move to pulse casters, beamgats and coldstorm cannons but I'm terrible at all of them. They either don't work properly or they drain too much energy with every shot.

"Come on, kid," implores _Brat_.

The next weapon is a short, thick cannon that sits on my shoulder. It's heavy. The targets pop up and I lob a blast of green energy towards them, hitting one and destroying it instantly. A set of targets pop up, but I can't get a second shot out of the cannon.

"Next next next," sings out _Brat_.

I don't think I'm doing very well at all. We move through light lances, which don't work for me, and blade catapults that I keep missing with. My frustration grows with every failure, and _Brat_ gets increasingly edgy. _Small Talk_ doesn't seem moved by my inability to use the weapons, but keeps handing them to me.

"This one looks like a crossbow that fires rockets," I say.

"Yep... but can you hit anything with it?" says _Brat_.

I hit a target dead on, but the bow only has one shot in it.

"No," says _Small Talk_ and takes the bow away from me.

We are running out of weapons, and I am losing hope. I can't be a super without a weapon, unless I want to join team _Mercy_. _Small Talk_ hands me a glove as long as my arm. Two delicate spikes run down the side and project out past my fingers.

"Multiblaster," says _Small Talk_.

"Don't bother," says _Brat_ , "that thing doesn't work for any-"

The multiblaster lights up. A pair of targets shoots into the air, and I hit them both dead center with thin rays of light.

"Lucky shot," says _Brat_.

More targets fly into the air and I hit them all. The mutliblaster shoots exactly where I want it to and soon targets are falling out of the sky by the dozens. It uses a lot of my energy, but I don't care.

"Fine," says _Small Talk_

I have never felt so great from such little encouragement

"Whoop-dee-doo, it's about time," drawls _Brat_ , "now let's see if you are any good with an egg launcher."

"A what?"

"The egg cannon," lectures _Brat_ , "is a weapon I developed for hopeless trainees like you. The trigger is in the mouthpiece; just point and bite down twice to shoot."

_Small Talk_ flicks my helmet open and shoves a piece of rubber into my mouth. I bite down on it twice and the cannon thunks loudly right next to my ear, lobbing an egg shaped grenade forward. It bursts into a bright storm of lights.

"That will disable most things for a few seconds, but the ammo is pretty volatile and since it's stored on your back-"

"-I can't turn my back on the enemy?"

"Exactly," says _Brat_ , sounding mildly impressed that I'd worked that out so quickly.

The egg launcher holds eight charges and has a decent range. It's easy to use, but not exactly exciting. _Small Talk_ shows me how to fly and fire, then we set down next to a second row of black boxes that contain close combat weapons of all sorts and sizes.

_Small Talk_ hands me a short sword. The blade is bright in his hand, but falls dark as soon as I touch it. _Small Talk_ takes the blade away and passes me an axe, but to no success.

"Lame," says _Brat_.

The larger maces are too heavy for me, and I nearly take my own arm off with a morningstar. We work our way through dozens of weapons with no luck. There are over a hundred weapons sitting in the metal crates and but only one or two work for me.

I suck as a superhero.

"Saucer, kid, you are terrible at pretty much everything," says _Brat_.

"Quiet," says _Small Talk_ , and hands me a small knife on a long chain.

I swing it a few times and hit myself in my foot. _Small Talk_ takes it off me pretty quickly after that.

"Let's do the artificer testing before I die of boredom," says _Brat_.

I think I hate _Brat_ , but I'm so tired of failing at weapons testing that I hand the nunchucks I'm trying to _Small Talk_ and start to walk away. He grabs my arm and stops me.

"We are done when I say so."

He starts handing me more exotic weapons, strange glowing things that rest on my hands but don't seem to do much more than pulse and use energy. There are green whips with minds of their own and white-hot daggers on long flexible rods. The weapons mostly do what I want them to. I'm particularly fond of a set of giant metal crab claws that bind to my arms and snap open and shut with quicksilver speed.

"So you are good enough with the weird ones. At least that makes you interesting," says _Brat_. He sounds even _less_ interested in me before, if that was possible.

"Fine," says _Small Talk_ and points me to another crate.

There are a couple of big discs in the crate. _Small Talk_ waves at them and they start to float. They look a little like the ones _Past Prime_ is famous for.

"Artificer test," drones _Brat_ , "this one won't take long."

"Can you control the discs?" asks _Small Talk_.

I think about the discs, trying to control them with my mind. One of them falls out the air and the other bounces into the air and flies off into the distance. _Brat_ laughs unkindly.

"Very few people can artifice," _Small Talk_ says.

I already knew that, but it doesn't make me feel less disappointed. Being able to control my own army of golem-warriors would be fun.

"Shield test!" shouts _Brat_ eagerly.

"Go stand there," orders _Small Talk_ , pointing to a wide metal plate sitting in the sand.

I walk over and stand on the plate, stamping on it a few times. It sounds solid. The plate starts glowing and suddenly I can't move my feet.

"Uh..."

"Set," shouts _Brat_ eagerly.

_Small Talk_ walks up to me and gives me the once over, checking my shields and power source. He pats me on the shoulder in a comforting way and closes my visor.

"Are you paying attention to me?" he asks.

"Um... sure... but why can't I move?"

He walks over to a box, picks up a large handgun and shoots me right between the eyes. My shields stop the bullet, but I still flinch.

"Ouch," I say reproachfully, although it didn't really hurt.

"And?" _Small Talk_ asks.

"Fine. Continue," says _Talented Brat_.

_Small Talk_ empties the rest of the clip right between my eyes. The bullets ping off my shield without even lowering my shields. I still can't move, so all I can do is watch as he walks over to a grenade launcher, shoulders it and brings it over.

"Bomb test," says _Brat_ gleefully.

"Wait... what?" I ask.

The grenade hits me right on the chin. It doesn't hurt, but the lights are bright enough to blind me. My shields don't even drop below 99%, so it seems I've got nothing to worry about from old fashioned projectile weapons. Unfortunately for me, _Small Talk_ has access to a whole arsenal of more dangerous guns. He picks up a laser cannon and aims it at me from only a few feet away. He shoots, and the burst of light curves into my chest and disappears when it hits my shield. _Small Talk_ re-aims the cannon and fires again. This one curves into my leg. I can feel the warmth on my skin, but my shields are still 97%. _Small Talk_ walks right up to me, places the cannon against my chest and pulls the trigger. The blast ripples across my shields but doesn't even knock me over.

"Try the plasma cannon," suggests _Brat_.

Don't try the plasma cannon! Don't try the-

_Small Talk_ picks up a plasma cannon and levels it at me. The first blast arches and hits my head; the second engulfs my leg and burns the sand at my feet into a single glowing crystal. _Small Talk_ hits me with the third blast. It stings a little. Shields at 95%.

"Stop trying to kill me!" I shout.

_Small Talk_ picks up a large axe with a glowing blade and bangs it against my head. It bounces with a thud-thud-thud that doesn't hurt. He tries again with a two-handed sword that takes 1% off my shields every time it hits me. He smashes a heavy mace against my knee, but I barely feel it. He pulls out a pair of plasma gloves and slams them against my head. That hurts, but not badly. My shields start rising as soon as he leaves me alone.

"Decent shields," says _Talented Brat_ thoughtfully, "time for some bigger guns."

A mechanical nightmare walks out from behind the rocks. It looks a little like a triclops, but it has seven arms and a small cockpit in the head. Each of the seven arms ends in a very large and unique weapon. They don't look battle-ready, but have open panels and are connected by loose power cords.

"There's some kind of monster out here," I shout.

"Yep... and who do you think is driving it?" says _Brat_ , "Now shush. This is going to hurt you a lot more than it's going to hurt me."

He shoots me with each of the weapons individually, and then in pairs. The attacks lower my shields to about 80%, but no more. _Brat_ tries the arms in sets of three, but my shields hold up.

"Give it everything," orders _Small Talk_.

_Brat_ giggles, levels all the cannons at me and lets loose. It's a dazzling display of light and my shields are sizzling and popping. They hold, but is it getting warmer in my suit? The guns blast me down to 60% shields, and then stop.

"Time to get the _really_ big guns," says _Talented Brat_.

A second walker emerges from behind the rocks. It's a simple thing, just a cannon on legs. It ambles clumsily over to me and aims its barrel at my chest. Then it and _Brat_ open fire together. My shields light up; the dial on my arm drops to 56%...48%...30%...uh oh.

"30%!" I scream, but all I can hear is a crackle of white noise.

Something hard hits me, and I fall to one knee.

Thousands of little blue discs burst from my helmet and form a round shield in front of me. The shield absorbs the worst of the attack, the discs popping and reforming as the round shield slowly shrinks away beneath the array of weapons focused on me. More blue discs appear and form a dome around me. Nothing is getting through, and my regular shields start to recharge.

"Ha!" I say, "I have superpowers. Finally!"

My little blue guardians all burst together and a laser blast lifts me off my feet and throws me through the air. I hit the ground and slide through rocks. A shrill beep-beep rings in my ears.

"You should be at 10%," explains _Brat_.

He sounds mildly impressed. I check my arm; he's right, I still have 10% of my shields left. The ground around me is burnt and battered. Some of the rocks are glowing red, and others have melted into pools of lava. A shadow of undamaged ground stretches out behind me. I fall forwards but roll over so that I'm face up. I may be dying again, but at least I'm looking at the blue, blue sky. _Small Talk_ leans over me, eclipsing my view.

"Good," he says, "this one is tough."

Maybe I'll be a superhero after all.

# Back Story One

I was the first superhero.

The saucers had been attacking the Earth for well over a year by then, and it seemed like there was nothing we could do to stop them ripping the world apart.

People started making desperate decisions. The captain of a US destroyer caught in the path of a small saucer emptied his arsenal of missiles and brought it down. We don't know why he succeeded where so many others had failed, but that was the beginning. The technology found in the downed saucer was used to build two very different experimental weapons.

The first was a suit built of stolen technology and a mishmash of fighter jet equipment. The U.N. could only find eight people who had the ability to interface with the saucer's technology. The suit gave each of us incredible and unique powers, so we called it the superhero suit and hoped it would keep us alive.

The second weapon was a bomb. We weren't even sure that it could pierce the saucer's shields.

One temperamental suit, and one bomb that might not work. They were crude and ungainly things to carry the Earth's future, but they were all we had.

We only had a week to practice in the suit. There were two of us who were best. I was one, and the other was an older Japanese man, a good friend and a fine leader. He was better than me, in my estimation, but I was younger and I think my superiors valued that. I was also alone in the world, having lost my parents and siblings two years before. That probably played a part, too. They knew I wanted to kill saucers.

Whatever the reasons, I was chosen to carry the bomb.

The most powerful people in the world gathered to see me off. It was strange to see such unity; I could still remember the wars and arguments that had dominated the world before the saucers had arrived.

I was introduced to a lot of people, a sea of faces awash with hope and fear. The only one I remember was Marshal Smith's young son. I had heard that the boy had taken a lot of interest in the superhero suits, but so had everyone. I remember him because he was the only calm face I met, and he had intense eyes that seemed to pierce right into my soul.

He was shorter than I expected; a lot of people were dismissive of him because of his stature, but I thought he had more fire in his heart than most.

"I believe in you," he said, "you've got this. Set?"

I didn't want to let him down.

They filmed me in my suit. It was a live transmission to all parts of the world still capable of receiving it. Think about that: the whole world, every person, was depending on me. I could only think of my dead family, and how surprised they would have been to see their rebellious daughter saluted by the president. I was given flowers and medals and then I was loaded into a modified stealth bomber.

It was a relief to be away, really.

I was in the bomber for an hour. I sat in silence with the bomb across my knees and the whole world resting on my shoulders. I was set.

It wasn't a graceful exit; the bomber was hit hard before it reached the saucer. The pilots only managed to keep it together long enough for me to escape before they spiraled out of control. The crew died, but their courage meant I survived. I dropped through the clouds and right onto the biggest saucer I have ever seen.

It was big, too big for the bomb.

I could see helicopters in the distance. They would be watching me, radioing my progress to the world. We knew that many of the helicopters would be destroyed, but their loss was considered acceptable. The world was burning, and the U.N. was of the opinion that my success would give people the hope they so badly needed.

And if I failed? If I failed, the world was lost. It no longer mattered if people knew that.

That's how desperate we had become.

I don't know how I made it through the saucer's defenses. I shouldn't have, but perhaps Earth was overdue some luck. I was in a bad way when I landed, but I could still move. I crawled along the saucer's hull, a trail of blood marking my path, until I found what I could only pray was a weak spot. The saucer's creatures found me there, so I planted the bomb and then used the last of my strength to draw them away.

My vision was blurry by then, but I saw the saucer explode into plumes of glorious flame behind me. I whooped with pleasure, and the whole world celebrated with me. My victory was the world's victory.

But my luck ran out as a piece of the exploding saucer caught me in the chest and threw me through the air. It didn't matter; I had seen the job through.

Now I'm falling through the sky towards the ocean below, and there is no one to save me.

I hope those who follow me work in teams. I hope they have better shields, better weapons, better training. I hope that some of them survive their first mission.

I know they will.

I was _The First_ superhero, but I won't be the last.

_Next time in 'Trainee Superhero'..._

Superheroes die, strange new aliens appear, Tenchi makes a re-appearance and the _Cerberus_ _Brawlers_ go fishing with a rocket-powered harpoon gun!

If you are enjoying this series, please tell your friends about it or tell the whole world by leaving a review... it would really make my day! You can also email me at c.h.aalberry (at) gmail.com and let me know what you think of my work. If you send me the name and a short back story for an original superhero serving with the _Cerberus_ _Brawlers_ , I'll try to include it in the next part I write.

_About the Author_

C.H. Aalberry wasn't allowed to buy or even read comic books until he turned sixteen. He still did, of course, because comics are great. He has also written a few books you might like:

' _The Origami Dragon And Other Tales_ ', a collection of thirteen sci-fi and fantasy short stories.

' _200 Shorter Stories_ ' a collection of punchy (very) short stories in every genre.

' _Zo And The Impossible Gardens_ ' for younger readers and lovers of sci-fi mysteries.

' _Wish: An Epic Adventure of Magic and Mayhem!_ ' for younger readers and lovers of Fantasy

# Table of Contents

Lesson One: Get Used To Dying

Lesson Two: No One Cares What You Think

Lesson Three: Don't Get Distracted

Lesson Four: The More You Sweat In Training, The Less You Bleed In Battle

Lesson Five Lesson Five: You Are Terrible At (Almost) Everything

Backstory One

Next Time In 'Trainee Superhero _'_

About The Author

