Super Powereds: Year 2 (57 page)

“A child thinks only about the battle; a General considers the war as a whole. Losing this match covertly gives us a much better chance of winning our third one,” Hershel explained. “And I know you reached the same conclusion.”

“I won’t deny that. If the situation was as you described it then losing without giving our all truly would be the best idea. However, you’ve got a few facts incorrect,” Nick said. He inched forward toward the edge of his seat, reclaiming the space he had previously abandoned.

“I do?”

“Indeed. First off, we have three surprise cards, not two. Despite their indignation at the loss, it seems Allen and Hector have stayed quiet about Camille’s capacity for laying the hand-to-hand smack down. I’ve had Mary keeping mental tabs on them and neither has spilled the beans.” Part of Nick would have liked to have discussed Camille’s real power with Hershel, instead of the fighting skill they were pretending she had, however he didn’t quite trust Roy to keep her secret.

“Why would they do that?”

“They wouldn’t. They are worthless idiots. Britney, on the other hand, is a masterful competitor. She understands that now that they’ve lost to us there is nothing to gain by outing one of our member’s talents. If that knowledge were to allow other teams to beat us, then it makes us appear weak, and them even weaker since we beat them. That girl grasps the simple truth that from here on out, the better we do, the better they seem for having come so close to victory.”

“Enemy of my enemy...” Hershel said.

“Pretty much.”

“Camille doesn’t change much.”

“Camille’s fighting prowess does give us an unexpected advantage, in that no one realizes she’s a capable warrior. That said, I agree that she alone wouldn’t be enough to deviate from the plan of losing.”

“So what else is there?”

“A few things: how hungry Alice is to prove her worth, for one, or the rate at which Vince’s abilities accelerate in real combat for another. But all of them go toward a single issue that prevents us from giving up the match: feasibility of execution.”

“You don’t think they could do it?”

“I don’t. You and I both know that even with your memories of how logical a choice it is, Roy would be a longshot for such a plan.”

“He’s not the one we have to worry about.”

“Roy should always be worried about when constructing a plan. Especially when Chad is a factor. He has a soft spot for getting knocked senseless by that blonde adversary.”

Hershel didn’t have a comeback for that one; he merely nodded his agreement.

“Besides, I could sooner charm the entire female population of the HCP into a massive orgy than I could talk Vince into giving up. There is not one single ounce of Quit in that boy, no matter how smart a choice it might be. Where he goes, Camille will follow, of course, and by the time three of us are fighting wholeheartedly, Alice won’t be able to hold back any longer. She’s been sidelined so much, now that she feels she can contribute she’d obviously jump in. That of course means Mary will break formation to go keep her friend safe, and by this point the only people still playing it smart are myself and Alex.”

“I think you underestimate how much they trust you. If you told them that was the plan, they’d go for it.”

“I assure you - they would agree to anything, and in the moment they would mean it. A person’s nature in combat is not easily changed, however. No, they would never give away a victory, regardless of the odds against them. Too bad, because you were right about it being the smart play,” Nick conceded.

“So if you can’t do the smart play, what’s left?”

“I should think that’s obvious,” Nick replied, a smarmy grin spreading across his face. “If you can’t make a smart play, you make a batshit crazy one.”

111.

“I’m pleased to see everyone looking so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,” Professor Fletcher greeted. In truth, neither team was particularly befitting of either of those adjectives. This wasn’t due to any particular worry or case of the nerves: it was simply because all the super abilities in the world didn’t change the fact that college students hate being up early. Still, they’d accomplished their task of rousing and now stood in the gym with bleary but eager eyes.

“As you know, today is a match between your teams. I think we all understand what’s at stake, so I won’t waste any time telling you to try your best or any other such nonsense. Instead I’ll jump right into the rules. Today’s match will be a test of how you use the resources of your teammates over a prolonged time. We’re going to be going to the cells and doing some combat matches.”

Mary winced inwardly; everyone on Chad’s team except Will was either an experienced fighter or had an ability that would neutralize any skill brought against it. This was the system she’d been most afraid of.

“Of course, it wouldn’t be much of a test if we just randomly threw you all in fights, so instead you will be deciding the lineup,” Professor Fletcher continued. “Each team will take turns deciding who they want to send into the cell. The other team then gets to pick which member or members to send against them.”

The eyes of the students cleared as realization of his words dawned on them.

“You heard me right: you can send in multiple people to fight one person, or send in one person to fight multiple people. There are no rules on the match ups,” Professor Fletcher explained. He paused for a moment, savoring the attentive atmosphere before continuing. “However, each team member can only fight one time. So if you blow all seven members on the first match then you automatically lose the next six.” This time his pause was less about dramatics and more about giving them time to let it all sink in. Once a few brows had unfurled Professor Fletcher felt it was safe to move on.

“Standard HCP fight rules apply. The loser is the first one to pass out, give up, or be similarly incapacitated. Intentional lethal force will get you disqualified. Any questions?”

“How do we decide who nominates a fighter first?” Chad asked immediately. It was a sound question; the team sending a person into the cell was at a disadvantage since their opponent got to pick their combat reactively. With seven people per team, that meant if no one used double members in a match then the first team to send someone into the cell would have four nomination matches and only three reaction matches.

“Well, normally we just flip a coin or something like that,” Professor Fletcher admitted. “That method is a little problematic, given the presence of Mr. Campbell.”

“Oh really? The one way I can actually help my team and we’re going to make it sound shameful?” Nick protested, his tone pleading and hurt.

“Strictly speaking, the only test of abilities here happens in the cells and in the decisions you make regarding them. Influencing the coin toss is technically cheating.”

“Then how about this?” Mary interjected. “Let’s just assume we’ll win whatever game of chance you play and say that Chad’s team is going to nominate first.”

“That is hardly-”

“But,” she interrupted, “my team promises to do a two-person nomination one time. If they do the same then it reduces the total matches to six, which means no one really gets an advantage.” This wasn’t entirely true, since Mary and Nick understood the value of striking a victory early on and how it could impact morale.

“I’ll agree to those terms,” Chad said. He knew the importance of a fearful first strike as well, but this was as good a situation as he could hope for against someone like Nick.

“I suppose that settles it then. Okay, Team Two, who would you like to send into the cell for the first match?” Professor Fletcher asked.

There was no discussion amidst the team, nor any need for it. Most of them were just as Mary had assessed: seasoned fighters. They knew that dominating an opponent early on often broke their spirit and left them unable to rally. It was a principle rule of war, and one that made their choice effortless.

“I’ll be first,” Chad declared.

“Very well. You and your team come with me to the observation room. I’ll leave Team One here to deliberate until I return,” Professor Fletcher said. He led Chad down the concrete halls, with Rich, Julia, Sasha, Will, Jill, and Selena trailing just a few steps behind. The team didn’t bother with chit-chat. They were friends, and when this was over they would talk and laugh and celebrate a victory or mourn a loss. That was later. In this moment, all each of them saw was the battle at hand. This shared trait, more than any particular ability, is what made Team Two such a monstrous combatant.

Chad was directed into a combat cell, one much like he’d been in back during his freshman trial. Of course he still used these for sparring and training - it was one of the only places people like him could really use all their strength - but the ones with observation rooms above them tended to be reserved for official events like this one. Chad’s eyes swept the room and took in the scant surroundings with a single glance. There were the usual microphone holes at the corner of one wall that allowed the PA system to be heard. Two walls opposite one another had long open slits at the top with a specially-reinforced clear material covering them. It was as easy to see through as glass, but given what that material could endure it was compositionally as far from actual glass as was possible. Chad did recognize that the presence of two viewing holes meant the teams would watch from separate rooms. It seemed this was a trial the HCP had used before.

He was bored with the room and went to go stand in its center. A lesser fighter would have weighed the merits of ambushing his opponent when they walked through the door. That seemed like it would be grounds for disqualification, when one considered the challenge. Besides, Chad enjoyed most of the people on Team One. He saw no reason not to treat this fight with honor. As he watched his own teammates fill into their observation room, Chad idly wondered who they would send against him. Mary was the obvious choice: last time he’d defeated her she’d been unable to see him. A visually fair fight might be more interesting. Roy would likely lobby for the right of challenge, too. That was fine; it had been months since their last match. Chad knew his sparring buddy couldn’t win, but he still took a bit of pride in watching him get stronger. It was possible Vince would want to try his luck. He and the absorber had never been in any kind of official battle. It would be an interesting, if predictable, fight. By the time the door finally opened, Chad had run through just about every opponent scenario possible. Except, of course, for the one that turned out to be correct.

“Hey there, big fella,” Nick said as he slid through the entrance and sealed the door behind him. “Looks like you and me are gonna tango.”

112.

“Did you get lost on the way to the observation room?”

Had the question come from almost anyone else Nick would have assumed a malicious intent. Given the genuine surprise and touch of concern on Chad’s face, it was evident he meant it sincerely.

“’Fraid not. I’m the guy who gets to fight you.” Nick raised both of his hands in an exaggerated pugilistic stance, moving them up and down slowly while shifting his feet.

“That seems like a poor decision,” Chad observed. “You cannot hope to defeat me.”

“Oh yeah, no way that’s happening,” Nick agreed, dropping his fighting stance with a shrug. “You’ll definitely beat me. No contest.”

“So then why are you here?”

“Because you’d beat any of us,” Nick replied. “You are the unquestioned King of our class. No single person on my or anyone else’s team can stand against you in a one-on-one match. I’ll admit, a few of the others would put on a hell of a show, but luckily for me this isn’t a contest of awesome battle footage.”

“It’s a contest of resource management,” Chad said, comprehension dawning at last.

“And while a Two will lose to King no matter what game you play, the fact is that this loss still takes you out of the deck.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Sorry, my team uses an analogy of cards when measuring ourselves and our opponents. You’re the King because you’re the strongest in our class; I’m a Two because I’m the weakest. I trust you can see the humor in us opposing one another now.”

“Very clever,” Chad complimented. “Of course, this strategy would have been better used later in the contest. Now my team and I will incorporate your logic into our own plans.”

“It isn’t a perfect scheme,” Nick admitted. “But hey, you work with what you’ve got.”

“Students, are you ready to begin?” Professor Fletcher’s voice boomed out from the wall, momentarily startling both students.

“I am,” Nick said as soon as he recovered.

“Listen, I don’t want to hurt you. Please surrender as soon as he starts us. Someone like you, without any physical abilities at all, well, even with my power of control it would be difficult to make sure I held back enough,” Chad warned. "My ability doesn't alert me to the breaking points of your body."

Nick sighed inwardly. This guy would be running a great game of smack talk if he weren’t so damned sincerely considerate. “You’re right, that’s probably the smart move.”

Chad smiled with relief. “I’m ready,” he called to the wall.

“Then this match has begun.”

Chad stared at Nick, who looked right back at him through his sunglasses. For a few moments neither boy said or did anything. Eventually Chad’s patience gave out. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to quit?”

“Certainly not,” Nick shot back with a grin.

“But it’s the right call. You agreed with me that it was the right call.”

“I agreed that it was the smart call,” Nick corrected. “And unfortunately my team has already rejected the smart method of dealing with this situation. Thus I am forced to decline your kind suggestion. Come at me whenever you’re ready.”

Chad laughed in spite of himself. “I wish you did have a power to fight me with. Someone with your guts could have made a great opponent.”

“No argument here.”

Chad’s small burst of laughter subsided and his calm of battle cascaded over him. It was a shame: beating up someone like Nick made him feel like a bully. Too bad, this was a match; there was no room for soft-hearted empathy. The kindest thing he could do was end it fast and efficiently, injuring his opponent as minimally as possible. In the blink of eye Chad was rocketing forward, closing the half-room gap between he and Nick in less than a few seconds. It wasn’t super speed, but it was coordination and acceleration that no human could hope to match. Chad threw his hand out to grab Nick’s arm and start a submission hold... but his hand closed around air. An abrupt stop and turn revealed the sunglasses-clad boy standing a few feet from where Chad had attacked. Not a vast difference, but a noticeable one. Chad didn’t make those kind of mistakes.