In an airport on the continent of Old Europe, now Eisenhelm, Elijah stood in a long line beneath a flickering sign:
[ CAUTION TO ALL NEOS: NO SUPERPOWERS ALLOWED ]
"Next!" an officer bellowed.
Elijah stepped forward. Although his white, baggy jacket hid his physique, his large frame still drew glances. In front of him sat a young man in a navy-and-black uniform; his blue-dyed hair was slightly distracting from his various facial piercings.
Well, that's a strong look, Elijah thought.
His eyes then fell on the black, pulsing dragon emblem that gleamed on the officer's chest. Beneath it were the letters F.F.H. Looking down at his desk, the officer said, "Congratulations. As part of our promotion, you get a free bottle of sunscreen." He sighed as he handed it over.
"Yeah, I don't think that applies to me," Elijah said.
"Hmm?" The officer looked up, his eyes flickering over Elijah's dreads before lingering on the cloth covering his left eye.
"Oh, right—" He chucked the lotion behind him. "—Sorry about that. I'm just kinda swamped at the moment."
The officer then glared at the next desk. The line there was vacant; the other officer sat with his feet on the desk, eyes closed and hands behind his head.
The blue-haired officer turned back to Elijah. "Anyway, name, age, and reason for application?"
"Elijah Blackwell, 21. To take part in the hero exam."
For a second, the air stilled. The mutterings behind them fell silent.
"Take part in the hero exam?" The officer scanned him up and down.
Really? This guy's attempting it? All the heroes I've seen walk with an unexplainable, undeniable presence, but this guy is just… bland.
"Are you sure? Do you know what's involved in taking part?"
Slightly yawning, Elijah replied, "I trust my skills. So long as you're strong enough, you should be able to pass, right?"
His nose then flinched, catching something in the air. "What's that smell… sulphur?"
The officer replied, "Sir, it isn't that simple! Multiple people have died! You cannot go in there unprepa—"
Suddenly, the large officer from the next desk appeared in front of them. With a sly grin on his face, he spoke loudly. "What's this, Pierce? Managed to get a future hero in your hands?"
He shoved the blue-haired officer—Pierce—aside, nearly knocking his dragon emblem loose. "I'll take over from here."
Managing to catch himself, Pierce looked back at him, his fist clenched, but he said nothing. Elijah watched Pierce for a second before turning back to Erick, the officer who now loomed over him.
You're gonna be a problem, aren't you? Elijah thought.
Erick continued, "Hero program, huh? Finally, something worth my time. Most Neos in here are just refugees—victims looking for a way out."
He tapped his gauntlet, and a holographic form popped to life. "So, what's your power? Wait, let me guess—" Erick leaned in close with his egg-smelling breath. "I'm guessing it's electric?"
The officer leaned in, and so did the people nearby. Even Pierce, who had turned away with crossed arms, couldn't hide his curiosity.
With a defeated sigh, Elijah replied, "Yes."
Nods immediately swept the crowd. "Of course." "Saw that coming."
Erick, now grinning like a kid on Christmas morning, shouted, "Called it! I almost pre-filled it, but—you know—I didn't want to assume. Riiiight. And now for the big one: what's your Neo level?"
Before Elijah could answer, Erick continued. "I bet you're a Level 2. Wanna know how?"
"Not really, I—"
Erick ignored him. "Most Level 1s and some Level 2s aren't as buff as I am," Erick bragged. "Since you seem to have a bit of size on you, I'd go with the latter. You see, I know all this because I—"
"Used to be a soldier for the F.F.H.," Pierce grumbled. "You brag about it so much it's a miracle you found someone who didn't already know."
[ F.F.H. NEO CLASSIFICATION DATA ]
Level 0 (Zeros): Most Neos fell into this category. These individuals possessed a superpower but a body fundamentally unable to support it. The result was often fatal upon use—for example, the ability to turn into smoke without the ability to reform, or the power of flight without the endurance to sustain it resulting in a slightly longer than average jump. Ultimately, most Zeros were better off not using their abilities.
Level 1 [The Iron Class]: Somewhat rare—1 in 80,000. Neos in this category could handle their powers; most served in the F.F.H. military as soldiers.
Level 2 [The Steel Class]: Incredibly rare—1 in 250,000. These Neos had bodies that supported their powers so well that their physical forms were considered weapons themselves.
As the terminal waited in silence, Elijah thought to himself,
I was warned that a Neo's level was akin to their worth in this part of the world, but by how much is the question.
Elijah's voice finally cut through. "I'm a Zero."
Erick's grin vanished. His face went blank as a tsunami of laughter erupted all around them.
So, it's a lot, Elijah realized.
Erick suddenly rushed forward. With the ferocity of a freshly built bear trap, he grabbed Elijah by the shoulder, shouting, "Oh, you better be messing with me, kid—"
SMACK.
Erick staggered backward, touching his face in disbelief. Pierce ran forward, thinking to himself, He's gonna kill him.
As Erick slowly rose, Pierce reached for his shoulder. "Come on, man, he's just being a stupi—"
A hiss erupted. As soon as Pierce's hand touched him, his palm immediately turned red, and he yanked it back.
"Stay out of this," Erick barked as flames wrapped around his skull. With a gulp, Pierce raised his hands and retreated.
Erick's skin hardened, forming a metal shell; within its grooves, flames and embers roared to life. He then stepped towards Elijah, his footprints leaving cracks and scorch marks on the tiled floor.
With a slight smirk, Elijah commented, "Hmph, cute."
He then got into a boxing stance and began jumping up and down. "You've gotten too comfortable dealing with these people."
The sound of crackling fire permeated the air as Erick stretched his neck and shoulders. "It's good you're not running away. Gives me more time to get rid of your body before the drones arrive."
Elijah suddenly stopped jumping. With a deep exhale, he put his hands in his pockets. "It seems you'll learn your lesson some other day."
Erick got closer and, with a slight chuckle, said, "It's too late to quit now."
"Yeah? Tell that to him."
Confused but undeterred, Erick continued forward until suddenly, a hand clamped onto his shoulder. "How about you let this one go," a deep voice rumbled behind him.
Erick tried to turn, but the grip held him in place, refusing to budge. "This strength—"
The flames around Erick began to rise; the hand almost sizzled, but it still held, refusing to move. Erick went wide-eyed.
My fire's not even burning him. Don't tell me I pissed off a hero.
His voice trembled. "Whoever you are, I'm sorry—"
The grip released, and Erick quickly spun around. Closing his eyes, he repeatedly bowed. After his fourth bow, he opened his eyes and slowly raised his head.
In front of him stood a tall, heavyset man. His silver-white hair was hidden beneath his black beanie. His belly sagged through his green trench coat, and his glasses, which hung low, hid his eyes.
In a graveled whisper, the man said, "Let's just say this never happened. Do yourself a favor and take a break."
Erick's flaming metal shell shrank, and he returned to normal. Dusting himself off, he yelled at Elijah, "I'll let you off this time. Don't do that again." As he left, he shoulder-bumped Pierce.
The tension in the terminal began to lift, though the scorched floor served as a grim reminder of what almost happened. Elijah turned to the trench-coated man.
"You could've at least let me land one hit."
The man adjusted his glasses. "And let you get on the wanted list? No."
"Wouldn't be the first time."
"You severely underestimate how difficult it is to get a fake ID. I thought training in the tranquility of the mountains was supposed to calm you down."
"I think that only applies when you go there willingly and not as a surprise sixteenth birthday present."
A slight buzzing swirled around the pair of them. The big man continued in a calm tone. "You seem stronger, are you?"
Elijah replied, also calm, "Yeah."
Tearing a part of his trench coat, the man wrapped the bruise on his right hand. "Strong enough to take me?"
A faint smirk rose on Elijah's face. "It'd be close."
A second of silence passed. "Good," the man said, and he turned away. "Make sure to get a ticket to New Sentinel. We leave at noon."
Just then, a drone buzzed overhead.
[ UNLAWFUL POWER USE DETECTED ]
Pierce rushed forward. "No, uh, fall back. It was a false alarm."
The drone hovered silently for a second, then spoke:
[ OFFICER CONFIRMED. NO BACKUP REQUIRED ]
It then zipped away.
"Why'd it take so long to get here?" Pierce whispered to himself before turning to Elijah. "Hey, that was… uh, where'd that big guy go?"
Elijah turned, and the trench-coated man was gone. "No idea. Disappearing is kind of Jakob's thing."
Pierce raised a brow. "Okay… Anyway, you should probably thank him. He may have just saved your life."
"Somebody's life was saved, alright," Elijah muttered. "Did you need more information, or did you already submit the form?"
Pierce blinked. "What, you were serious? Only a few Zeros have survived the hero exams, let alone made the program. Just be glad you're still alive and your power isn't the type to self-activate and blow you up."
Pierce then shouted, "Everybody fall back into line, we gotta—"
Just then, as gentle as a falling flower, Elijah's arm fell over the back of Pierce's neck. Pierce turned, shouting, "I'm an officer, what do you think you're—"
"Woah, calm down," Elijah interrupted, his voice calmer than still water. "I wasn't finished. Now, about my application. I think it'd be for the best if you went along and sent it through anyway."
A vein bulged on the side of Pierce's head. Clenching his fist, he whispered back, "Unlawfully touching an F.F.H. official is a highly punishable offence with a minimum of ten years in prison."
"Then I'll be direct." Elijah's voice turned cold. "The form will be sent. The only question is: will it be done with or without you breathing?"
Pierce looked at Elijah.
There's nothing in his eye. Just a blue, empty void. Wait, why am I hesitating? I'm a Level 1 and have combat experience—this isn't like Erick.
Suddenly, Elijah spoke. "You're right, I'm not like Erick. I guarantee you I'm way worse."
Pierce's eyes widened. How did you—?
Suddenly, a man in an oiled grey shirt walked up to them. "Hey, let him get back to work. Some of us—"
Still holding onto Pierce, Elijah grabbed the man by the neck and zapped him, slumping him over. He glared at the unconscious body.
"Guys like him are the worst. Quick to speak when there isn't a threat, but as soon as a guy like Erick shows up, they shut their mouths. Cowards. Which brings me back to you. Are you sending the form, or are you going to get ballsy and reach for that gun?"
Pierce kept quiet, another vein bulging, until finally, in a soft whisper, he said, "Authorize application."
PING.
His gauntlet made a short, pleasant sound, and Pierce shoved Elijah's arm off himself. "There. If you have a death wish, I won't be the one to stop you."
Pierce then began to storm off. Elijah yelled out, "The sooner you learn to fight back, the sooner guys like Erick will back off."
Pierce continued walking, raising his middle finger. "Fuck you!"
A slight smirk tugged at the corner of Elijah's mouth as he began to walk away.