Superhero CITY - The Test

Chapter Three (edited)

The Test was considered to be one of the most important events held each year on the Isle of Imperium.

Every student in their twelfth or thirteenth year of school was required by law to attend, whether or not their powers had manifested. The scores were worth half of our year grade, to be calculated out through the results from every match we entered, weather we won or lost. Almost everyone gained an overall passing grade, and the few that didn't were given rematches against other low scoring teams until their grades became high enough.

They also gave us the chance to test the limits of our abilities, to not have to hold back, contain or restrain our power. We could learn our full potential as it currently stood. There were also scouts in the audiences, watching for any individual or team to show enough talent for invitations into government teams, foreign city sidekicks, or personal apprentices and protégé after graduation.

I'm pretty sure that one of my stepfather's associates would take me even if I only manifested as level three simply because he is a level six.

The Test was the first round of a nation wide competition, where all qualified students in a region would travel to the largest arena in the area. For two endless weeks, teams of four would be pitted against each other until only eight groups are left. Those winning students would then continue on to the finals in the capitol city. The winning team of that round was offered an option of many different positions and superhero career pathways, the choice of their own superhero name rather than one given to them by an overeager journalist, and immediate graduation rather than having to finish school.

It did sound great.

It just didn't sound right for me.

The closest that I wanted to this life was seeing my stepfather. Other than that, I had no desire to touch the superhero lifestyle with a ten foot pole. I only stayed because he and Mother were scared for me, because I had scored high enough when I was little that there was as good a chance as any that I manifested at level five or even higher.

It was common knowledge that people who manifested without being in a controlled environment or having command over their abilities hurt others. If you were more powerful at a two, six or seven, you could hurt a lot more.

It was why the academies and this island had been founded.

They were designed so that when children first got their level one powers at four or five, there would be some place safe to train them. The Imperium government had contracts with every country in the world, allowing inspectors to check small kids for any superpowers. The ones that passed were sent to one of the Isle of Imperium's academies, where we lived at studied until we graduated after completing grade thirteen.

It wasn't all as bad as it sounded though, our families got a stipend from the government until graduation for those that needed our help at home. And every Christmas holidays, we were sent home for two and a half weeks without having to pay a dime. If they could afford time away from work, parents were given the option of a free trip to the Isle to watch their children compete in the Test.

So, not all bad.

Of course, after my mother met my step-father and married him, she moved to the capitol city, Castrum, to be with him there. She lived only hours away, on the same island as I did and I had the advantage of weekend visits from them both a lot more often that most of my peers saw their own parents.

It was a-

Someone just slapped me on the back of my head. I looked up, expecting for it to have been Natalia, but she was already walking away with Chucky and Allie at her side. Instead, Jaz stood beside me with her hand still raised high in the air, prepared to give me another hit to get my attention.

"I know that you're a quiet person, Jase, but you really need to spend less time inside your own head. You missed the bell ring, and you need to catch up with those three or you'll be late to class."

I curved the corners of my lips into a grateful smile and sprinted across the room and hallways until I was at Chucky's side. Just in time too, as he was walking through the door to Superhero History 201. We left the girls there as they continued along to the next building, where their class was being held.

It was a truly terrible name, but I couldn't change it, and it gave me a good laugh when I needed it. And as crazy as the name was, the class was the complete opposite. Mr Reed was a tall, serious man with a disposition to asking us questions about the topics before he even began to teach them to us.

Especially to the last students to enter through the doorway.

"Just in the nick of time boys," Mr Reed remarked dryly as the second bell rang, making us flinch. "Now one of you can tell me what the first year the Test began, and the other can tell me who won the Final."

Chucky's answer was immediate, shot into the charged atmosphere like a loose bullet. "Nineteen thirty-four."

Usually, the year is the easier number, but in this case, Chucky knew my obsession with the super sports. Even if I never wanted to use my powers, I still followed all of the sportsmen and had since my stepfather had first given me a book on them. On the original legends such as "the Trymite team; Felicity and Felix Joans as the Electric Duo, Christian Cameron as Turnabout, and Tyler West as It-C."

It was difficult to impress Mr Reed, but by the raised eyebrows, I think I managed it. "The team name would have done it, Knightly." He tossed us both a wrapped hard candy from out of his desk, the reward he gave everyone who could present the correct answer to him. Mine was raspberry, my favourite.

I scuffed the heel of my boot against the hardwood floor, before we both moved to sit down in our seats. Simple twisted metal and oak under a much sturdier wooden desk, hard as could be but surprisingly comfortable to sit on all day. They had to be for the students to pay attention to eight hours of classes every day, all year.

It was easy to pay attention to history, Mr Reed kept us focused as he explained the high death rates of our younger heroes as they defended the world a century ago. How they weren't tested until they were already out on the field, how crime bosses like Al Capone, crooked politicians like Benito Mussolini, and villains so famous that children today were still scared to say their names. He explained how the superheros' leader, the Nightling, conceived the revolutionary idea of students battling in a controlled environment, giving the younger generation a chance to unleash their full strength and learn how to use it without the chance of death.

The entire class groaned when the alarm signalled the end of the period, not eager to leave our desks after the way Mr Reed had brought the past to life for us. He used videos, music, figurines and quotes better than I could use a sword, drawing in our fascination and facilitating our desire to learn, leaving us anxiously anticipating our next lesson with him.

His strong voice could carry any tone and cemented itself into our memories, reinforcing his teachings so that we would dwell on them for the rest of the day.

I know that I for one was not paying any more attention than was required as we made our way to our next class, Duelling Strategy 211. This class we did share with the girls, and spent no time hesitating before we took different seats than our usual so that we could sit together on the bleachers in the fifth full-length gym room court.

The class was taught by our vice principle Mr St John, and due to how far the gyms were form the administration building, he was often a few minutes late. But it wasn't like he would give this class up to anyone else, not when he had been a champion dueller in his youth and certainly not when the school's duelling teams were all required to take this course. All eighty-three students.

Duelling had gone out of favour a century ago in the rest of the world – the mortal or normal world. But as superheroes and superheroes in training, our lives were quite literally all about fighting. And that had become so ingrained in our society that the duelling teams replaced football for Americans, rugby for New Zealanders, soccer for the British and cricket for Australians. In other words, this sport was to the Isle of Imperium one of our social and school fundamentals, our national sport.

It was a lot of fun, and I looked forward to it every day.

Just as Chucky and I had sat down beside the girls and placed our books on the empty bleachers next to us, Mr St John swept through the room. The first thing he said was not a greeting, bur a question; "Who has chosen their team yet?"