So here I am.
Age thirteen and about to step into the world of- gag -heroes.
Over the last five years, I've been prodded and tested and put through rigorous training to see if I have any more Talents to manifest.
Fiona takes to the tests like a naive duck in water. She has a Rank 5 strength trait, a Rank 9 durability factor, flight, and heat vision. Weaker versions across the board compared to Asshole, who's above ten in all those factors and more, at least according to official records.
The corporate eggheads were all over the moon for her, drilling for samples almost every other week.
To my relief, I take after Mom. Precognition out to about five seconds and a durability factor that hasn't changed since it reached Rank 3.
At least I can survive falls at terminal velocity now.
My lightning powers set me apart from my family - and no I don't place Asshole in that category. But back to Hero School (TM).
Now me, I've got a GED already, (I took the test online and behind Asshole's back) but the rents insist that I need to start by making a name for myself in the so-called "greatest high school for heroes in the world." Star E. Knight High.
Yes, the founder of the city's heronym was Star E. Knight. Yes, it's ridiculous. And no, it's not the only weirdly named city out there. I'm looking at you, Marvel D.C., cryptofascist capital of the universe.
Ugh.
At least I'd get a good look at my competition and maybe a potential nemesis for when I unleashed my sudden but inevitable betrayal.
But before all that, I needed to gear up. There was a test just to get into the place, and students were allowed one piece of gear unless they filed for a waiver.
Naturally, I filed for a waiver, but Asshole overruled me with a phone call.
"No daughter of mine is getting in on a technicality. Use your god-given Talents."
To spite him, I list my desired "piece" of equipment as Utility Backpack.
Which means I need to make a utility backpack, with only one day's notice that it was approved.
By now, I've proven responsible enough to have a few power tools in the shed I had to custom order outside.
This is my Craft Cave. Hand drills, screwdrivers and multitools all properly 6-Essed in the Japanese way. I'm in my element, drilling, wiring and adding a nuclear battery that I did not order the plutonium for with my measly monthly allowance. All while battle shamisen music blares on my favorite net channel.
(Villaintube is completely legal and I'll fight anyone who claims otherwise!)
Specifically the title of this album is LoFi Music to Fight Heroes With.
Getting the plutonium delivered by drone had cost extra but it was so worth it.
Naturally, I would be the primary power supply, but that required me to maintain direct contact with the back of the pack, so I threaded lots of copper wire before adding a grapnel arm, electromagnetic pulse rifle, and backup rail gun (Always have a backup!). The last thing I add is a condensed kinetic foam dispenser since I don't have the facilities to manufacture Neptunium, Einsteinium, or, my favorite element, Curieum for anti-physics fields.
I can't fly but I can certainly fall, and from what I've looked into, the testing robots in Starry High (I'll call it what I want, dammit!) are absolute murder machines. The foam will thus be my last ditch effort in case I need to survive.
Or at least they look like them. Recordings I had to hack for indicated that every robot was designed to stop before inflicting fatal wounds, at which point the losing student would be removed from testing. Set for denial unless enough people performed worse.
I would not go in unprepared.
I was stuck deciding what sort of logo I would make for myself, which sent me down the rabbit hole of thinking up both a hero and a villain name, when someone picked up my shed.
"I found her!" Fiona shouted back towards the house.
"I told you not to do that!" I shout in a panic as my fully sorted system falls apart around me.
A power drill falls on my head as I realize it's morning.
Oh shit.
I'd pulled an all-nighter without realizing it, and my Talents were still finicky enough to potentially go haywire if I didn't sleep.
It's going to be a long day, I think as Fiona picks me up and princess-carries me on the flight to the place I'll be living in for the next four years.
Of course, Heroics Inc. reporters are waiting for us when we arrive. Some of them are catching B-roll footage of the students and conducting interviews - no doubt as a process to highlight potential stars for H.I.'s famous Hero Development Programs.
I have grace enough not to look as embarrassed as I feel having to be carried by Fiona.
Her body is strong without a lick of proper working out, while I have to slave away on the daily, running circles in the garden to stay in shape. (Do you know how hard it is to fit in a skin-tight suit? Every pound of fat is a tear just waiting to happen. Also, there's no way I'm using spandex.)
I ignore the cameras as I've learned to as I walk up the steps of the park that precedes the school.
Based on appearances, this place doesn't look bad. Everything has a futuristic aesthetic to it, with holographic signs and a bronze statue of Mr. Knight looking up at the sky.
I don't look too bad either in my form-fitting tights and open-backed high-necked backless longsleeve. All black, with a few dozen hidden pockets that are sadly all empty. it's a bit spoiled by the abused-looking backpack I have turned into a package of non-lethal and moderately lethal options.
It takes me a moment to realize the students are keeping their distance while a camera crew follows me, except for a few who take their seconds of fame to strike ridiculous poses or make declarations to the camera.
Don't they know H.I. will just edit them out?
It's only when I reach the gathering area just after the statue that the camera crew leaves me, only for Fiona to take their place, her cell in her hand as she snaps picture after picture and records her feelings. When she puts it down, she says to me, "You missed your interview."
"Actually, I don't miss it." I snarked back, drawing out a snorting chuckle from her.
"Come on, we're finally out on our own! Would it kill you to show some teeth?"
"Yes," I declare. "My teeth are my only weakness."
"No it's not, chocolate is."
I raise my hands in mock surrender, right as a shifty-looking woman takes the podium in front of us. She's wearing an open business jacket over what is clearly a rather racy outfit. Part of her trademark as Night Woman, the foremost shadow user and one of Kora's heroes.
Her tone is completely flat and she looks about as sleep-deprived as I am when she says "Welcome, students, to Star E. Knight High. Before we start the tour, I'm pleased to introduce you to our newest teacher..."
I see a tuft of blond hair start to rise from offstage.
No...
"Everybody's champion..."
No no no no NO! I'm internally screaming as I see Asshole's grinning face rise.
"The great Crusader!" Night Woman barely lifts her voice in a tired mockery of enthusiasm, but the students are more than enthusiastic enough to cover for her.
And behind all the crowd, I groan from the bottom of my soul.