It ended up taking most of the pay from his summer job, but to Gil, that was a minor inconvenience for something he’d hoped to acquire for quite a while now. Universal media players came in all shapes and sizes, but so few could play the stuff that older films were stuck in, having never made one medium jump or another, or simply got too difficult or expensive to find in later variations. It made it tough sometimes for people who enjoyed watching the classics on a limited budget, especially considering the motion picture had been invented so very long ago… nearing almost two-hundred years now, depending on where you pin-pointed the true beginnings. Sometimes it seemed like no one cared and all those stories from the past would inevitably fade away, but then some people would bring something like the “century projector” into the market, and film buffs like Gil could re-experience the spark of hope that those examples of antiquated cinema weren’t completely out of reach. Relics of media past like DVDs still managed to spring up online, and people never seemed to realize the sort of amazement and wonder that could be housed in those dated discs… when they hadn’t scratched and decayed beyond all usage at least. Gil had stacks of them in his room, just waiting for a moment like this to come where he could finally watch them, in full, not just the few that managed to pop up in various streaming services.
It looked so nifty too, like one of those ancient film projectors, and it even moved like one, just to simulate that really old-timey feel, though fortunately the noise was negligible by comparison. Setting it up, Gil popped in a random disc of his, and fortunately it was one that worked, as he navigated through the menu screen and started the film. This one was an old animated film apparently, about superheroes, a rather significant subject this day and age. This was different through, this was a genre that Gil admired more than most, the pre-quirk portrayals of superheroes and villains. It fascinated him to no end how the world once saw superpowers and costumed crusaders of justice, as well as injustice. There was a different tone to it back then, these powers were seen as something truly unexpected, fantastical, inspiring. But perhaps above all they were seen as… well… rare. Special instances beyond the norm, people with abilities that they just weren’t expected to have. It was the exact opposite now, a world where not having powers put you in the ever-shrinking minority, and seeing people turn into giants or soar through the air was just plain commonplace. The main characters in this story all had fairly standard powers themselves, at least as far as they’d be classified if they were quirks. Strength, speed, stretching, invisibility, ice… Those tended to be pretty great if you could get any of them without some frustrating strings attached. Boy, to be able to actually move that fast… instead of just having everything fast-forward, hardly much of a use for that quirk outside of impatience. Slowing things down at least had some benefit when it came to reflexes, but to be able to move normally while everything was still so sluggish? Now that would’ve made things convenient. The closest film example he could find reaching that ideal was a so-so comedy about a guy with a magic remote that could manipulate time, but with a little more control given to the user when it came to temporal laws… sort of. The movie was kind of a jumbled mess, all things considered, but in any case, it starred a fictional device that Gil envied more than most actual living people. But on the topic of more appealing movies… like the one he was currently watching, they had that ability to inspire and yet… discourage all at once. Not so different from the viral videos online displaying all sorts of real-life heroics in that sense. It could make a viewer want to run through a brick wall… but unless you were built for it, that wall wasn’t going to budge. Such was the reality of it; in the past, a quirk of any variety was a wonder to behold. Now, to Gil at least, it felt a lot like how the villain in this superhero film put it… When everyone’s super, no one is.
Beyond the teenage angst, Gil nonetheless knew deep down that such a cynical outlook wasn’t really the fact of the matter. Of course, people were still individually super in a powered-up majority, but they couldn’t just flaunt their quirks about and expect fame and respect out of thin air. Most people had to work for that, and as usual, the race was anything but a fair one. To say nothing of the poor few still without quirks at all, most abilities were very niche, if not downright useless for anything beyond parlor tricks. Gil was worried his councilor would think such things regarding his quirk, discouraging him from attempting the hero trade, saying it was for his best interests not to stumble into the popular career choice when it just wasn’t for him. Planning on undergoing the hero track was worrying enough, but getting into the school he had in mind? He was afraid the councilor would recommend a psychiatrist…
---
“You just gotta tell him upfront, Gil. Look him straight in the eye, make sure he knows this isn’t some joke. Sincerity, confidence, people love that shit.”
Gil was silently nodding along to the advice of the young man sitting across from him as he dug into his sandwich, having torn through most of his lunch in record time as the anxiety of his upcoming meeting loomed in his mind. There weren’t too many people within his age group that he earnestly took advice from. Most of them either didn’t bother to acknowledge him in the first place, they veered more towards sarcasm and mockery, or their so-called sage advice was just garbage. Zef was the outlier, a friend he’d had way back in their early elementary years, and one of the dwindling percentage of children born quirkless. He never seemed to let that unfortunate fact get him down, not openly at least. If anything, he took the hardships that came without powers in stride, and by now he’d come across as a rather worldly and down to earth sort, one worth turning to for a number of personal troubles. In a way, he’d made that approachability his own sort of quirk.
“I know, being blunt seems to be the way to go, but what if it just gets me rejected sooner? I feel like he’ll just shoot me down immediately without all the flashy roundabout talk,” said Gil as he put the last few crusts of his sandwich down, wrapping them in a napkin and tossing the bundle into the trashcan beside them. The ball of paper and bread crumbs froze in place for a moment, before flying off into another bin in the distance. Some telekinetic sort showing off again… though it was far more amusing hearing the faint sound of a teacher telling off whoever they caught in the act. Quirk regulation was pretty strict in their school, as it was for much of the world.
“Isn’t that better though? If he’s really not gonna give you a chance, it ain’t worth dancing around it. Trying to stretch things out like that will only get your hopes up, and it’ll make you sound kinda pathetic, don’t make a fool of yourself,” said Zef as he downed the rest of his milk carton. “It’s not like you ought to be worrying this much anyway, Gil. Your quirk’s not flashy, okay, but it’s effective, isn’t it? I mean, whenever I see you triggering it, you look like a different person entirely. Those idiots who think you’re faking it are too ignorant of how it really feels being quirkless to understand what you’ve got, don’t let ‘em mess with your head.”
“Yeah… It’s not useless, I’ll give you that, and I’ve really been practicing with it too. I’m not quite getting as many headaches anymore when I’m slowing things down… and I mean, I’ve managed to figure out how to stop time entirely just this summer. That was a trip the first time…” said Gil as he lightly rubbed at his forehead from the memory alone. He’d never managed to speed up his perceptions that quickly, he’d been too afraid to try it, but one afternoon, after a veritably inspiring showing of hero highlight reels graced his television, he decided to take the mental training wheels off and see how far he could go. Unlocking a new ability proved to make it a worthwhile risk.
“See what I mean?” Zef said, holding his hands up in the air. “You’ve got something special there, Gil. You can’t even deny it ‘cause you know it more than anybody.”
“Yeah, but that’s the problem, Zef… I’m the only one that can really tell that I’m not goofing. I mean, my mom can sense my brain waves changing and all that, but she still can’t see what I see. Dad’s the only one I know who really understands it on account of having something similar, but I can’t exactly prove what I’m doing.” Zef raised a finger up immediately with a retort in mind.
“Now hold up, you’ve got one way to prove it,” he said, and Gil immediately flinched as he knew exactly what his friend was referring to.
“Yeah, and isn’t that a thrill? Peering into other people’s pasts like a complete creep and then having a damn migraine afterwards… Rewind isn’t as fun as it seems, man. Besides, that’ll probably just get the councilor to put me on the fast-track to the police academy like my folks expect it to.”
“Okay, so, then you’re right back to what I said before. Just tell it like it is, make it clear you think you can get in, that’s probably just as much what they’re looking for as any mind-blowing quirk display. I mean, look at you, like, Jesus Gil, you look like you’ve been punching boulders… and it looks like they’ve been hitting back…” Zef had declined to comment on Gil’s condition for a time, but he could only hold his tongue for so long. Gil’s knuckles were all calloused with bright white marks, and his face was clearly still recovering from some recent bruises. His habit of perpetually wearing his aviator sunglasses was also proving a lot more aesthetically justifiable as well, as the evidence of a black eye was just within the view of his exposed right cheek.
“The old man hasn’t been holding back with the training, I’ll give you that… He doesn’t look like he enjoys it either, but I always tell him I don’t wanna let up. Heroes have to take a punch as well as they can throw ‘em, right?” said Gil, with an expectant look inferring the question wasn’t rhetorical.
“I mean, I guess… Just try dodging a little more next time, huh? I know you’ll probably be wearing a mask if this all goes your way, but that’s still no reason to get your face pulped.”
At that, a series of beeps echoed through the hall, the ‘bell’ to signify lunch was over and the next period was about to begin. “Alright… You just take my advice, Gil. Confidence. That’s the key, I guarantee it,” Zef said, collecting his books from under the table and scurrying off into the dispersing crowd of students. Gil similarly got up and made his way in the opposite direction. As he navigated through the maelstrom of his peers, one of them seemed to intentionally bump into him, sending a rather nasty electric jolt through impact.
“Watch where you’re going, ‘Shady’. Can’t have you hurtin’ yourself before you become the upstanding janitor we all know you can be,” the particularly boorish student quipped.
“Hah, yeah, exactly, great talk, Drake, later…” Gil muttered once the pain of the jolt faded and he continued walking, hearing Drake’s snorting laughter amidst the student chatter. He was used to the occasional harassing by now, at least, by a certain crowd, namely one that started targeting him when he left it.
Interscholastic traditional sports had lost a great deal of popularity throughout most of the U.S. after quirks and the superhero culture really started taking off, but some school districts never seemed to get the memo, and the schools in Ohio seemed particularly adamant in keeping these pastimes popular. Of course, such sports required plenty of further rulemaking, and one had to have enough control of their quirk to be able to not use it in any capacity in order to participate. Gil had grown up in this subculture all his life, and had, for a time, particularly enjoyed playing American football. His size ensured him a position all in itself, and he’d proven quite the adept offensive lineman, but around the time middle school came around, he realized he absolutely hated the majority of his teammates, and the coaches weren’t exactly shining examples of humanity either. As such, he left the team midway through the 8th grade, and said team had been embittered by his sudden departure ever since. People like Drake were happy to remind him of their disdain whenever they got the chance.
Shaking off that unfortunate setback, Gil walked into the administrative office and turned towards the room residing Councilor Crandall, his name marked on a brass sign hanging on his closed door.
“He’s still with another student, shouldn’t be much longer,” the secretary at the desk in the middle of the room said. Gil shrugged and took a seat near the door, though just as he sat down, the door opened and an all-too-familiar classmate sauntered out, her long, blonde hair glistening like ice reflecting the sunlight.
“Thank you, Ms. Rathburn. Let the next student know I’m ready for them,” Crandall’s voice emanated from the door. The young lady looked over to Gil and merely motioned towards the door before continuing on her way out without a word. He didn’t expect Beth Rathburn to speak to him, it sometimes seemed like a privilege to have her acknowledge one’s presence if they weren’t near her particular level of notability within the student body. Gil awkwardly got back up to his feet, though he did his best to fix his posture as he strode into the councilor’s room. Zef’s advice of ‘confidence’ rang through his head and he gave a cheerful smile as he shut the door behind him and waved to the man at his desk, putting some papers back in his filing cabinet and fishing out another pile to place in front of him.
“Mr. Shannon, please take a seat,” Crandall said in his usual soft but professional tone of voice. He was a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties, having some experience under his belt but not yet looking like the years of academia were weighing down on him. His ears seemed to twitch every time someone spoke loud enough for him to hear, and while no student knew officially what his quirk was, the presumption was that the whole ear wiggle thing had something to do with it. Gil took the seat across the desk and courteously took off his cap as he looked Crandall directly in the eyes, one of those things he’d been advised to do as a means of looking mature, not that it was so simple to notice with the accessory hiding his glance.
“So… sunglasses indoors?” said Crandall, having noticed the peculiarity almost immediately.
“Oh, ah, yes sir, took a bit of a shiner while sparring,” Gil said as he motioned to the injured eye in question, somewhat grateful for it now, as it gave him an excuse.
“I see… So, you’ve been taking up some combat training? I suppose that only makes sense as you’ve stated your intention on taking the hero track a number of times. Have you been considering any specialty schools to apply to?” There it was, the big question being brought up so soon. Gil clenched his fists tightly as they rested on his lap, attempting to will his anxiety away as he took a breath to speak.
“Well sir, I do have one school in mind. I wish to be seen as the candidate for NIHA this year.”
Crandall’s eyes widened slightly. “NIHA? Are you sure?” He didn’t seem flabbergasted about it, but clearly the declaration had thrown him for a loop. It wasn’t any surprise to Gil of course. The Northerly Island Hero Academy was one of the absolute premier schools in the nation when it came to superhero academia, and as of late, the admittance percentile was nearly as miniscule as that of Japan’s UA, a school that set the international bar for all others. Still, with all this knowledge and the councilor’s surprise, Gil didn’t budge.
“I’m sure, sir. I’ve been studying and training for years to prove that I’d make an ideal candidate,” said Gil, speaking as clearly and articulately as possible.
“Hmm… So you have… Your grades in hero courses have been in the top percentile since you began taking them, very impressive… and the rest of your grades aren’t too shabby either. Tell me something, Mr. Shannon, what inspired you to apply for NIHA in particular? I know it’s certainly an academy of great merit, but, would you say you have any personal reasons?”
The question had lingered about in Gil’s mind long before this conversation, but he never could find the answer that he felt defined his motives, not completely. Still, he had to give some kind of answer and, after pausing for a moment of contemplation, he decided to give one.
“It’s because of movies, sir.”
Crandall raised an eyebrow. “Movies?”
“Yeah… I mean, the older movies, y’know, before quirks, before powers. There were movies people produced all those years ago of superheroes, extraordinary people doing fantastic things for the betterment of the world they live in. It was all fiction, fantasy, that sort of thing, but the messages, the ideals, those were real. It wasn’t just drivel from an actor reading a script. At least, I like to believe a good deal of it wasn’t… These people with these powers, they strove to do good for the world in ways they felt was right. Their ideals weren’t all the same, I mean, they’d often clash because of that, but deep down, everyone who called themselves a hero and truly believed it, they all fought for the same basic thing. They fought to bring just a little peace to a reality of chaos, to let people know that the world doesn’t have to end, that the bad doesn’t have to overshadow the good, that so long as we exist there’s something to fight for, no matter the odds. Yeah, so much of it was big-budget Hollywood looking to sell tickets, but they didn’t know all this would happen, they didn’t know what they were making would become real one day. I see those heroes of old and I can tell myself that I can do what they do if I wanted to. It’s not all just for show anymore, and I’m not going to waste what I can do on anything less. That’s why I want to go to NIHA, Mr. Crandall, because I want that ideal to mean something, not just to me but to others, I want to inspire them the way I’ve been inspired. NIHA can realize that opportunity, and I don’t care if my powers aren’t the flashiest or the most awe-inspiring, I know that if I’m taught by the right people, none of that will matter, because I’ll be helping to save the day anyway, and that’s what a hero does, right? I just need the chance.”
There was silence for a moment after, aside from the light sound of panting coming from Gil as he struggled to catch his breath after his unexpected monologue. Crandall eventually scribbled something down on one of the forms, and Gil could detect the light twitch of a smile coming from the man, as if the shadow of an epiphany was beginning to form in his mind.
“A noble reason… and your quirk is… let’s see… Emitter class, and you call it ‘Footage’? You can manipulate your own perception of time to both speed up and slow down reality, and you can also look back into the past of anyone you make direct contact with… Certainly a unique quirk, even if it’s not, as you put it, ‘flashy’ on it’s own… Ah, and I have an addendum here, your parents recently reported that you developed a way to stop time for yourself entirely as well… You really have been working quite hard on this, haven’t you?”
“Yes sir… This is really important to me,” said Gil as he nodded his affirmation.
“You know, your dedication reminds me a lot of your sister when she applied for a hero academy. Funnily enough I remember telling her she had potential to go to a place like NIHA herself but she wanted to go to a school that specialized more in what she wanted to do specifically. I hear it’s worked out for her quite well.” Crandall wasn’t mistaken, Gil’s sister Lari had gone to a hero school that specified in the protection of nature, a passion of hers rarely matched by anyone. He may’ve not spoken of it openly, but much of his own resolve to become a hero stemmed from the inspiration she’d given him in light of her success.
“Well now… I believe that just about covers everything I needed to know. I’ll get back to you on what the schoolboards decide upon, Mr. Shannon, you have a nice rest of the day,” said Crandall, and just like that, the meeting was over.
“Oh ah… Yeah, you have a nice day too, sir,” Gil said as he reached to shake the councilor’s hand before making his way out of the room, back to class as usual but with the agonizing feeling of anticipation that he knew would linger in his subconsciousness.
---
A week had passed since every student interview had been conducted, and the school’s teachers and faculty were gathered for an assembly to discuss which 9th grade student should be sent as the candidate for the NIHA trials. With the high level of exclusivity that the academy possessed, the school districts in the central Ohio area could only elect one student to take the trials every year. Each school selected one of their own, with an accompanying report over why the student was chosen, and they would in turn be looked over by a board of directors who would partake in a group vote to select the one to send to the trials, situated promptly within the school grounds on the Northerly Island peninsula in Chicago. Ultimately, each student’s chances relied on the convincing nature of their report, which made the method controversial for some, but ultimately, the districts couldn’t agree to an alternative, so it stuck.
“Our school hasn’t had a candidate selected in more than a decade now, and I firmly believe it is because we’ve been looking for the wrong traits in these children,” Crandall spoke to the crowd as he held a single file under his arm. “We’ve been selecting students who seemed the physically strongest or most visually impressive, or worse off, we’ve been playing favorites because of staff connections or other hereditary appeal…”
There were murmurs among the crowd, some seemed eager to protest this claim, others simply hung their heads in guilt, but most simply waited for the councilor to continue as he placed the file on the podium in front of him.
“…I wish to put a stop to that, and in doing so, I’ve selected a candidate who has shown to me an ambition and drive that I feel carries a heroic essence we simply cannot ignore. Before me I have the file of Gil Shannon…”
His voice was immediately drowned out in voices of surprise, confusion and a bit of outrage.
“What kind of sick joke are you trying to pull on us, Crandall!?” One particularly outspoken voice broke out from the rest of the group as the speaker barged his way up to the podium, looking about ready to tear either the file or the councilor apart.
“Coach Rathburn, please, let’s be civil about this,” said Crandall without much of a gasp, clearly used to the temperament of the man approaching him.
“Civil?! You have my daughter in this lineup, the best goddamn student by a wide-ass margin, and you turn her down for this… no-name!? What the hell has this kid got that makes him so goddamn special?!” Said Coach, going red in the face as two deep crimson wings sprang out from his back, a similarly colored tail lashing out to accompany them. The hot-headed man’s quirk tended to show itself whenever his frustration got out of hand, so it wasn’t a surprise to anyone that his clothing tended to consist of specially cut spaces to keep his budget from being almost entirely spent on a new wardrobe every week.
“I saw a drive in this young man, Seth. A motivation that was all his, not spurred by appeasing others’ wishes or earning their favor. His goals were noble, and I feel that all this has been lacking in our previous candidates. They’ve been some of the most physically gifted students we’ve ever seen come through these doors, but so few of them were striving to get into NIHA because they genuinely felt they could benefit the world at large from the teachings they’d receive. They may’ve not all spoken of it plainly, but I’ve replayed their interviews over and over, and you know just how accurate my retrospect is,” said Crandall as he motioned to his twitching ears. “I’ve made this mistake far too many times, no heart, no willpower, I’m not making another choice that’ll just be tossed aside by the board again.”
Coach’s eyes seemed to burn with a wild intensity, but he felt two teachers grasp at his arms to restrain him before he could do anything rash.
“It’s not worth it, Coach. Let’s just take a seat, huh?” one of them said.
“She’ll get into another school, easily, NIHA’s not the only lucrative option,” said the other.
Coach seemed to relent, but as he took a seat, he never took his eyes of Crandall, but the councilor similarly refused to budge.
“I’ll be making the announcement Friday. Once I have Mr. Shannon signing the acceptance papers, it’ll be official. The meeting is adjourned.”
At Crandall’s declaration, the teachers filed their way out of the assembly hall. The tense conclusion to the meeting had apparently distracted the crowd from the sight of a male student dashing out of the building from the opposite direction.
---
“You’re… messing with me, aren’t you, Zef… Cut it out, that’s not funny,” Gil said, having nearly choked on his food at the news his friend was suddenly bringing to the table.
“I’m not bullshitting you, Gil. I knew the teachers were gonna have an assembly yesterday so I snuck in to get a listen. I figured it was gonna be the usual NIHA announcement, my brother told me they always have the assembly for that at around this point. I had to know if you made the cut, and you totally did!” What really stunned Gil about all this was that he could almost always tell when Zef was lying, they’d been friends long enough where those tells were apparent to him. He wasn’t getting any sign of deception no matter how much he sought it out. Which only meant… he was hearing the honest truth.
“Oh my god… I’m seriously the candidate… Did they… I mean, you know when they’re gonna break the news, like… officially?” Gil asked as he appeared to be struggling to avoid vocally crying out in joy at that moment.
“They’re gonna break out the acceptance forms for you to sign tomorrow, so, that’s probably the day they’ll announce it as well… but look, there’s something else I need to mention about it,” said Zef, his tone almost grim-sounding. “Coach Rathburn is beside himself over Beth not being selected, he sounded like he was about to go on a damn rampage when he heard the news. Anyone else I’d just say it’s sour grapes and we can move on, but… He’s not right in the head… He might try to pull something before tomorrow comes around. He’s got the football team hanging on his every word, and you don’t need my reminding you over how much they already hate your guts.”
This nearly deflated Gil’s excitement completely as the realization of imminent danger seemed to set in. “Ah… didn’t think about that…” They both hushed up immediately as Beth passed by their table, stopping to stare at Gil for a moment, analytically it seemed, before walking away with nothing more than a sigh.
“Seems like I’m not the only one who broke the news early…” said Zef in a nervous mutter.
“I mean, I’ve got nothing against Beth, she’s probably worked hard at everything she’s done, and with that nightmare of an old man looming over her all the time… but that just hammers your earlier point home…” Said Gil, stroking his chin ponderingly as he tried to ward off his nerves. “…Look, we need a plan, and I think I’ve got one…”
From there the day continued uneventfully, and Gil was soon making his way home, walking down the narrow asphalt path that connected the school to his neighborhood. Typically, only a few students came down this trail, providing the first sign something was amiss… Gil found himself walking alongside a small crowd of students… He recognized a few, and he knew for a fact they didn’t live anywhere near his home. Before he could try edging his way out, the group seemed to converge on him at once, and he could feel another shock rush through him, stronger this time, enough to send him to the ground. Drake cracked his knuckles as he gave a chortle at the sight before him.
“About time you earned your comeuppance, Shady. I’ve been waiting a long-ass time for this.”
“Wait, we can’t do this here, we gotta stick with the plan,” another voice said, and Drake merely let out an annoyed grunt in acknowledgement.
“Yeah… Right… Fine, no problem, I can wait a little longer then. Put the shithead to sleep…”
At that, Gil felt a hand grasp tightly at the back of his neck, an ice-cold chill seemed to pulse through his body before everything suddenly went numb, his vision fading to black.
---
Gil’s consciousness came back to him before his eyesight did, and he knew long before the blurs shaped back into clear vision that he was in a very unenviable position. He could feel the beads of rubber in the artificial turf beneath him as he shifted himself to his knees, cluing him in that he was laying in the middle of the school’s stadium. There was a light sound of rustling all about, evidently others were there as well, surrounding his current position, murmurs of varying volume flying about, but he couldn’t make out any of it. Once he got to his feet, his senses all seemed to steadily come back in full, and he could see that the same students who’d ambushed him were now circled about, many of them eyeing him intensely… He knew for a fact now with the familiar faces that this was the football team, clearly tasked to bring him here… and it didn’t take a genius to guess who was behind it.
“Coach finally lost it, huh… and you’re all just blindly doing this? Are you kidding me?” He wasn’t surprised to see certain classmates here, but others? He’d thought they were better than this… but then, from how some of them were clearly looking away, it seemed to infer something a little worse, if that was even possible.
“Loyalty’s something important to us, not like we expect you to understand that,” said Drake, cracking his knuckles with an intense look in his eyes as arcs of electricity danced across his arms.
“Loyalty… This isn’t loyalty, Drake, this is a bunch of scared kids doing something ‘cause their psychopathic authority figure decided to overstep his bounds!” said Gil, and for a moment, some of the others looked inclined to agree, but a scoff from one of two figures approaching the circle seemed to force that uncertainty away.
“I’m the psychopath, son? Sure, call me whatever you want, your words ain’t worth the dirt on my shoes. I’m the only one that seems to get that, this damned school wouldn’t know real potential if it bit ‘em all in the ass! You wanna talk crazy? That sniveling little counselor’s the crazy one. But y’know, it’s not all his fault, he’s just weak, susceptible to a plague that hit this school and tried to ruin the chances of the only real hero it’s got in the making. All I’m doing is providing the cure.” Coach motioned for the second figure to stand beside him. Sure enough, Beth emerged with an icy glare in Gil’s direction, accompanied by tear streaks that looked freshly shed.
“Tomorrow when the school board see’s you’re too crippled to do anything remotely hero-worthy, they’re not gonna have a choice but to go with the only appropriate candidate. You shouldn’t have tried applying for something out of your league, Shannon, these are the consequences,” said Coach as he turned to his daughter. “I don’t want to see that boy standing up ever again. When you hit him, break something, you got that?” Beth said nothing. “UNDERSTAND ME?!” Coach shouted, and Beth flinched before responding with a “Yes, I understand!” her voice sounding uncharacteristically strained.
“Right. My daughter’s not gonna have her hero career taken away, now go get it!” Coach pointed at Gil before slipping behind the football team’s circle. Beth shivered, incensed as wings much like those of her father sprouted from her back and her breath became cloudy, as if the temperature around her took a sudden drop. Elemental energy of some kind… Most likely a breath weapon, nothing else seemed to be changing around her, Gil surmised. He didn’t want this to go down this way, but he had to prepare to defend himself. He got in a fighting stance, raising his arms, but not moving to strike, still holding on to the futile hope that maybe Beth wouldn’t have the heart to go through with this. Said hopes were hastily dashed as a blast of ice nearly hit him in the forehead, Gil having managed to duck out of its way.
“Beth, please, is this what you want? Like, at all?” said Gil, trying to reason with her, but the fact of the matter was he knew very little about Beth as a person. They had very different circles of friends, her popularity and one family member were all he had to go by, for all he knew she could’ve very well wanted to take such drastic measures, but the way she was reacting painted a very different picture. If there was one person he’d come to know, it was her father. He never played directly for Coach Rathburn, but the man often frequented the local middle school practices as if he were a scout on draft day. He’d bicker with the coaches, arguing his training routines over theirs… all over a middle school level sport. He was a powder keg, no one wanted to be the one to set him off, and this was exactly the sort of reason why.
Beth didn’t respond to Gil’s question, not vocally at least. She merely sent another blast of ice his way, and as he went to dodge this one as well, he could see she was preparing something else, something he wouldn’t have the reflexes to prepare for, not normally… In that split second of time to make a decision, Gil realized he had no choice but to resort to using his quirk in retaliation, gesturing a stretching motion with his hands as he dove towards the turf. He could feel a surge run through his brain as everything suddenly slowed down around him, his fall going into a sluggish descent as he took the extra time he bought for himself to see exactly what Beth was planning. She’d clearly predicted how he would dodge this second ice-breath attack; she’d leapt forward with a flap of her wings, soaring right for him like a bullet with a punch at the ready. Even in slow motion she was moving rather quick in comparison, and Gil had only the slightest amount of time to position the best parry and counter. He moved one arm to brush her punch aside, raising the other to grasp at her opposite shoulder, stopping her momentum as they both landed back onto the artificial grass. Gil muttered “action,” and reality sped itself back up to normal for him as he pushed himself back up and away from Beth. His opponent hadn’t expected him to block her strike, evidently, as she was a bit slower to get up with the look of shock taking a moment to fade.
She looked to Gil intently, a thought having crossed her mind as she charged at him again. Gil went into slo-mo once more as he weathered a vigorous assault of fists, wings and ice, the slowed perception being the only thing keeping him reacting fast enough to keep any strike from flooring him. He knew he couldn’t let her place him in a vulnerable spot, or else it’d be all over. It felt like minutes to him in what was most likely only seconds, but no matter how long it really was, it seemed like Beth wasn’t tiring from the offensive at all. Gil eventually spotted an opening and shoved her backwards, resetting time again once he placed some distance between them.
“Beth, listen! This isn’t gonna solve anything, you can’t think it will! Your old man isn’t the one to make your life decisions, that’s something you gotta do!” said Gil, but Beth still appeared unwilling to hear him out.
“…So that’s how you do it…” She muttered. Gil wasn’t sure what she was talking about at first, but as Beth appeared to try the flurry of close-combat strikes again, he went to repeat the slo-mo gesture, only for Beth to grasp at both of his wrists before he could do so. A jolt of panic ran through Gil as he managed to kick Beth away before she could do anything more. He knew this was bad, she’d picked up on his hand gestures. He couldn’t control his time perception without them yet, the gestures helped his concentration, and without them, he’d be powerless… A pair of broken wrists wouldn’t be easy to fight with even without that fact, but in any case, Gil couldn’t lean back on the slo-mo anymore. He had to find a weakness or otherwise stop this fight quick, or else it was only a matter of time before Beth wore him down.
Gil awaited another running charge, but instead, Beth suddenly ascended high into the air and divebombed in Gil’s direction. Gil made a slashing motion in front of his neck, and this time, everything completely froze in place. Beth was already so close… He hadn’t expected her flight speed to be so near-blinding. He’d only have one shot, but what to do with it... He could feel the strain start to hit as things remained on pause, like his brain was slowly being crushed by a vise. He had to make a move, but he couldn’t think of any that would put him on top. One move, rather desperate in nature, came to mind, and it would have to do. It was now or never. “Action,” he spoke, moving his hand that was still in the slashing motion to grab at Beth’s neck as she pinned him down. The move managed to work, for what little benefit it could offer. She had the advantageous position, but his grip on her neck was not only cutting off her air intake, but any chance of using her ice breath. It bought him just a little more time, not to fight, but to speak…
“Don’t do this, Beth… I can’t in good faith believe you’d really think this is right. I wanna understand what’s going on, if you’d just let me... Either way I’m done fighting you… I’m done, do whatever you gotta do…” He released his hand from her neck, fully at her mercy now. In the distance he could hear Coach yelling for her to finish the job, and he shut his eyes tightly to brace for some kind of terrible pain.
Yet, that pain didn’t come. Beth did nothing, yet it seemed Gil’s words finally reached something within her. She picked him up and held him by the front of his shirt as if she were still going to beat him senseless, but still, no punches came.
“...I don’t know how you’d be able to understand…” Beth muttered quietly.
“I can try… My quirk, I can… look back at stuff you’ve been through if you’d be okay with that,” said Gil. Beth didn’t say anything, but gave a soft nod, and, sensing she was holding him like this to keep the façade that they were still fighting up, Gil grasped at her hand gripping at him, as if he were trying to pull away from her as he gave a hitchhiker-like gesture with his free hand, attempting to clear his own thoughts out, as his mother had instructed him whenever he tried to delve into another person’s past. He went back just enough to earlier that day, and that was all he needed to see… He watched Coach shouting down Beth despite her admittedly weak-sounding protests, as if she’d lost the effort to fight back long ago… There was a picture in the room they were in with a much younger child standing beside Coach and a woman with similarly icy blond hair. There didn’t appear to be any more recent pictures of this woman, not in this room at least. No evidence of the woman herself in the flesh either, leading to Gil connecting a few more dots, deciding he’d seen enough. Flashing back to the present, hearing some annoyed shouts, not just from Coach but some of the football team as well, Gil, tried to ignore them as he looked intently at Beth.
“…Whatever happened to her… You don’t have to tell me, I didn’t check but… It’s not your fault, Beth… If that’s what you’re doing this for… You know… You gotta do what you think is right for you… That’s the best way to honor people who care about you, don’t you think?” He said, and by now, tears were rolling down Beth’s eyes again… but with a newfound determination within them. She let Gil go and turned around to face Coach, fists clenched tightly.
“Dad, I’m done.”
“What… What do you mean you’re done? He’s still standing!” Coach remarked dumbfounded.
“Yeah, and he’s gonna stay that way, because I’m not beating up some innocent kid just to get into a hero school. That was your dream, not mine, I’m done pretending!” said Beth. Coach’s tail lashed in a rage as he barged his way back into the circle.
“Now listen here young lady, I told you this a thousand goddamn times…”
“Shut up and listen to me for once!” Beth interrupted, steadfast. “I thought doing everything to make you happy would help you after mom… but it hasn’t! You haven’t gotten over it, you haven’t moved on, and you’re holding me back! I miss her too, but she’d want me to make my own future. I’m done with this!”
Gil was positive he saw fumes coming out of Coach’s now beet-red face, his tail now lashing so violently it managed to inadvertently knock a few of the players in the circle over. “…We’re gonna have a long talk about this, young lady… but first I’m gonna do what’s best for you!” he shouted as he approached Gil maliciously, but before he could do anything, a blast of ice hit him in the side of the head, knocking him down as Beth looked over him with her arms crossed defiantly.
“I’m doing what’s best for me,” she said with utmost confidence before proceeding to freeze the turf around Coach to keep him in place.
Grunting from the pain as he tried in vain to get free, Coach looked to all the onlookers as his frustrations finally seemed to peak.
“Don’t just stand there, you idiots! Get him!” he shouted, and indeed some of the players were up to comply as they converged on Gil.
“Don’t put up with this anymore guys! He never had your best interests at heart either!” said Gil, fearing his words were going to go back to falling on deaf ears… only to see some of the players coming towards him get floored by some of the others. Suddenly quirks were being thrown all over the place as the stadium erupted in a full skirmish, with only one player left focusing his sights on Gil. Drake smiled rather manically as electric arcs discharged from him light lightning bolts.
“Perfect, oh this is so goddamn perfect, finally I get to have my fun beating the shit outta you, Shady!”
“You can always quit being an idiot at any time, Drake, no one’s stopping you,” said Gil in retort. As expected, the electric brute didn’t listen and lunged for him with a fully charged punch, but Gil shifted into slo-mo once more and easily ducked out of the way, knocking Drake down with a few well-placed punches in the stomach.
Before things could get any further out of hand, the sound of police sirens began to echo louder and louder before a team of cops emerged onto the field, with Zef in tow. As everyone was accounted for and escorted out of the stadium, Gil gave a smirk towards his friend, who returned one in kind.
“Good plan, Gil, gotta say,” said Zef.
Gil chuckled weakly at that. “Yeah… though I’ll admit it would’ve probably been less of a headache if you could’ve found me sooner...”
---
When everything was sorted out, the cops had arrested Coach and a few of his players most directly involved with the scheme, whereas the rest of them, along with Gil and Beth, were eventually let go after being told not to divulge the details of the events that had transpired to the public. Gil had explained to them that he and Zef had been concerned that Coach might try something, but they had no outstanding evidence to know for sure, so they’d come up with a plan where Zef would call Gil’s residence after a certain hour to see if he was home, and if he wasn’t, he’d seek him out and contact the authorities. Zef managed to deduce that something would likely happen at the stadium, as the team often held evening practices there, and he attempted to get as much footage of the scene as possible after letting the police know what was happening. Naturally, he handed all his footage over to them as well.
“Well that all went about as well as it does in the movies, I’d say,” Gil said the day after to Zef, having officially signed his consent to be reviewed for the NIHA candidacy.
“Yeah… Shame we have to tell everyone we weren’t involved though… ‘Just a football practice that got out of hand’… bunch of bull… I mean, you managed to get like, half of them and Beth to all side with you, you ought’a get some recognition at least,” said Zef with a sigh.
“Yeah well, my parents certainly gave me more than enough recognition, I’m surprised they even let me come to school today after hearing what happened... but hey, they care, I ought’a be grateful for that much.”
A week or so passed uneventfully, until one day when Gil was asked to go to the Councilor’s office. Mr. Crandall was waiting for him with a folder in hand.
“Morning, Gil… Everything going okay?” he asked, being one of the few to know of the actual details of the stadium incident. It was figured that a few members of the schoolboard ought to know what actually transpired.
“Yeah… Got most of that behind me now… Just hoping Beth’s alright,” said Gil as he took a seat across the table.
“She’s doing fine. I naturally can’t divulge the personal details, of course, but I can at least tell you that much… but this is a different matter I wish to discuss with you… See, of the few people that the police entrusted with the knowledge of what happened that night, the district board of directors were included in that lineup…” Crandall explained, and Gil nodded, though he wasn’t sure where the Councilor was going with this.
“Now, I bring this up because it could be coincidental, but I want you to understand what you did that night didn’t go entirely unnoticed… and it perhaps did more for you than you would’ve thought,” he said as he opened the file and passed an invitation to compete in the NIHA trials over to Gil, looking completely astonished, even with the sunglasses covering his eyes.
“I… They… they…” Gil attempted to speak, but he could barely find the words.
“Congratulations, Gil. You’ll be representing our school district this year. I knew you had something special going for you, and you showed your potential far beyond what you were expected to. You’ve earned this shot, good luck, though I’m sure you won’t need it,” Crandall said with a smile.
“Y-yes sir, thank you,” said Gil as he eagerly beamed over the invitation as he read over it in more disbelief now than he’d felt upon his nomination.
After filling out the necessary paperwork, Gil thanked Crandall a few more times before making his way out of the room, unexpectedly running into Beth of all people at that moment.
“…Gil, right? Sorry I never got your name after all that, not officially or whatever… You understand though, yeah?” She said, and he nodded.
“Of course, that was a… stressful time, I totally get it.”
“Yeah… Look… Gil, kick ass at the NIHA trials, alright? I’ll be rooting for you,” said Beth, offering a high-five which Gil gladly accepted.
“Thanks Beth. You look after yourself, alright?” Said Gil, and Beth merely smiled lightly at that.
“I will. Was about time I did that anyway.”
---
At the airport, only Gil’s family and Zef were there to see him off, but Gil hadn’t expected much fanfare anyway, nor did he really want it. After all, he still had to make it through the final tests before NIHA would actually take him in as a student, and that remained a tall order.
“You’ll be great, Gil, you’ve worked hard for this, we’ve got all the faith in the world for you,” his father said, patting him on the shoulder as his mother slipped in to hug her son tightly.
“Just know we’re proud of you no matter what, honey. Don’t forget that,” she said assuredly.
“I won’t forget, mom, I promise,” he said, before turning to Zef. “Still, gonna try being confident about this, that’s the trick, right?” His friend smiled with a nod as they exchanged a fist-bump.
“Don’t think you need me reminding you about that by now. Give ‘em hell, man.”
At that, Gil made his way through the airport gates to his awaiting flight to Chicago. It was still a surreal thing, this dream of his was so close to getting fully realized… It really was turning out a lot like something from a feel-good sort of movie… and as the plane took off and the school at Northerly Island got closer by the second, Gil could only hope this movie would be the sort with the happy ending… and perhaps an even-better sequel on the horizon.
It looked so nifty too, like one of those ancient film projectors, and it even moved like one, just to simulate that really old-timey feel, though fortunately the noise was negligible by comparison. Setting it up, Gil popped in a random disc of his, and fortunately it was one that worked, as he navigated through the menu screen and started the film. This one was an old animated film apparently, about superheroes, a rather significant subject this day and age. This was different through, this was a genre that Gil admired more than most, the pre-quirk portrayals of superheroes and villains. It fascinated him to no end how the world once saw superpowers and costumed crusaders of justice, as well as injustice. There was a different tone to it back then, these powers were seen as something truly unexpected, fantastical, inspiring. But perhaps above all they were seen as… well… rare. Special instances beyond the norm, people with abilities that they just weren’t expected to have. It was the exact opposite now, a world where not having powers put you in the ever-shrinking minority, and seeing people turn into giants or soar through the air was just plain commonplace. The main characters in this story all had fairly standard powers themselves, at least as far as they’d be classified if they were quirks. Strength, speed, stretching, invisibility, ice… Those tended to be pretty great if you could get any of them without some frustrating strings attached. Boy, to be able to actually move that fast… instead of just having everything fast-forward, hardly much of a use for that quirk outside of impatience. Slowing things down at least had some benefit when it came to reflexes, but to be able to move normally while everything was still so sluggish? Now that would’ve made things convenient. The closest film example he could find reaching that ideal was a so-so comedy about a guy with a magic remote that could manipulate time, but with a little more control given to the user when it came to temporal laws… sort of. The movie was kind of a jumbled mess, all things considered, but in any case, it starred a fictional device that Gil envied more than most actual living people. But on the topic of more appealing movies… like the one he was currently watching, they had that ability to inspire and yet… discourage all at once. Not so different from the viral videos online displaying all sorts of real-life heroics in that sense. It could make a viewer want to run through a brick wall… but unless you were built for it, that wall wasn’t going to budge. Such was the reality of it; in the past, a quirk of any variety was a wonder to behold. Now, to Gil at least, it felt a lot like how the villain in this superhero film put it… When everyone’s super, no one is.
Beyond the teenage angst, Gil nonetheless knew deep down that such a cynical outlook wasn’t really the fact of the matter. Of course, people were still individually super in a powered-up majority, but they couldn’t just flaunt their quirks about and expect fame and respect out of thin air. Most people had to work for that, and as usual, the race was anything but a fair one. To say nothing of the poor few still without quirks at all, most abilities were very niche, if not downright useless for anything beyond parlor tricks. Gil was worried his councilor would think such things regarding his quirk, discouraging him from attempting the hero trade, saying it was for his best interests not to stumble into the popular career choice when it just wasn’t for him. Planning on undergoing the hero track was worrying enough, but getting into the school he had in mind? He was afraid the councilor would recommend a psychiatrist…
---
“You just gotta tell him upfront, Gil. Look him straight in the eye, make sure he knows this isn’t some joke. Sincerity, confidence, people love that shit.”
Gil was silently nodding along to the advice of the young man sitting across from him as he dug into his sandwich, having torn through most of his lunch in record time as the anxiety of his upcoming meeting loomed in his mind. There weren’t too many people within his age group that he earnestly took advice from. Most of them either didn’t bother to acknowledge him in the first place, they veered more towards sarcasm and mockery, or their so-called sage advice was just garbage. Zef was the outlier, a friend he’d had way back in their early elementary years, and one of the dwindling percentage of children born quirkless. He never seemed to let that unfortunate fact get him down, not openly at least. If anything, he took the hardships that came without powers in stride, and by now he’d come across as a rather worldly and down to earth sort, one worth turning to for a number of personal troubles. In a way, he’d made that approachability his own sort of quirk.
“I know, being blunt seems to be the way to go, but what if it just gets me rejected sooner? I feel like he’ll just shoot me down immediately without all the flashy roundabout talk,” said Gil as he put the last few crusts of his sandwich down, wrapping them in a napkin and tossing the bundle into the trashcan beside them. The ball of paper and bread crumbs froze in place for a moment, before flying off into another bin in the distance. Some telekinetic sort showing off again… though it was far more amusing hearing the faint sound of a teacher telling off whoever they caught in the act. Quirk regulation was pretty strict in their school, as it was for much of the world.
“Isn’t that better though? If he’s really not gonna give you a chance, it ain’t worth dancing around it. Trying to stretch things out like that will only get your hopes up, and it’ll make you sound kinda pathetic, don’t make a fool of yourself,” said Zef as he downed the rest of his milk carton. “It’s not like you ought to be worrying this much anyway, Gil. Your quirk’s not flashy, okay, but it’s effective, isn’t it? I mean, whenever I see you triggering it, you look like a different person entirely. Those idiots who think you’re faking it are too ignorant of how it really feels being quirkless to understand what you’ve got, don’t let ‘em mess with your head.”
“Yeah… It’s not useless, I’ll give you that, and I’ve really been practicing with it too. I’m not quite getting as many headaches anymore when I’m slowing things down… and I mean, I’ve managed to figure out how to stop time entirely just this summer. That was a trip the first time…” said Gil as he lightly rubbed at his forehead from the memory alone. He’d never managed to speed up his perceptions that quickly, he’d been too afraid to try it, but one afternoon, after a veritably inspiring showing of hero highlight reels graced his television, he decided to take the mental training wheels off and see how far he could go. Unlocking a new ability proved to make it a worthwhile risk.
“See what I mean?” Zef said, holding his hands up in the air. “You’ve got something special there, Gil. You can’t even deny it ‘cause you know it more than anybody.”
“Yeah, but that’s the problem, Zef… I’m the only one that can really tell that I’m not goofing. I mean, my mom can sense my brain waves changing and all that, but she still can’t see what I see. Dad’s the only one I know who really understands it on account of having something similar, but I can’t exactly prove what I’m doing.” Zef raised a finger up immediately with a retort in mind.
“Now hold up, you’ve got one way to prove it,” he said, and Gil immediately flinched as he knew exactly what his friend was referring to.
“Yeah, and isn’t that a thrill? Peering into other people’s pasts like a complete creep and then having a damn migraine afterwards… Rewind isn’t as fun as it seems, man. Besides, that’ll probably just get the councilor to put me on the fast-track to the police academy like my folks expect it to.”
“Okay, so, then you’re right back to what I said before. Just tell it like it is, make it clear you think you can get in, that’s probably just as much what they’re looking for as any mind-blowing quirk display. I mean, look at you, like, Jesus Gil, you look like you’ve been punching boulders… and it looks like they’ve been hitting back…” Zef had declined to comment on Gil’s condition for a time, but he could only hold his tongue for so long. Gil’s knuckles were all calloused with bright white marks, and his face was clearly still recovering from some recent bruises. His habit of perpetually wearing his aviator sunglasses was also proving a lot more aesthetically justifiable as well, as the evidence of a black eye was just within the view of his exposed right cheek.
“The old man hasn’t been holding back with the training, I’ll give you that… He doesn’t look like he enjoys it either, but I always tell him I don’t wanna let up. Heroes have to take a punch as well as they can throw ‘em, right?” said Gil, with an expectant look inferring the question wasn’t rhetorical.
“I mean, I guess… Just try dodging a little more next time, huh? I know you’ll probably be wearing a mask if this all goes your way, but that’s still no reason to get your face pulped.”
At that, a series of beeps echoed through the hall, the ‘bell’ to signify lunch was over and the next period was about to begin. “Alright… You just take my advice, Gil. Confidence. That’s the key, I guarantee it,” Zef said, collecting his books from under the table and scurrying off into the dispersing crowd of students. Gil similarly got up and made his way in the opposite direction. As he navigated through the maelstrom of his peers, one of them seemed to intentionally bump into him, sending a rather nasty electric jolt through impact.
“Watch where you’re going, ‘Shady’. Can’t have you hurtin’ yourself before you become the upstanding janitor we all know you can be,” the particularly boorish student quipped.
“Hah, yeah, exactly, great talk, Drake, later…” Gil muttered once the pain of the jolt faded and he continued walking, hearing Drake’s snorting laughter amidst the student chatter. He was used to the occasional harassing by now, at least, by a certain crowd, namely one that started targeting him when he left it.
Interscholastic traditional sports had lost a great deal of popularity throughout most of the U.S. after quirks and the superhero culture really started taking off, but some school districts never seemed to get the memo, and the schools in Ohio seemed particularly adamant in keeping these pastimes popular. Of course, such sports required plenty of further rulemaking, and one had to have enough control of their quirk to be able to not use it in any capacity in order to participate. Gil had grown up in this subculture all his life, and had, for a time, particularly enjoyed playing American football. His size ensured him a position all in itself, and he’d proven quite the adept offensive lineman, but around the time middle school came around, he realized he absolutely hated the majority of his teammates, and the coaches weren’t exactly shining examples of humanity either. As such, he left the team midway through the 8th grade, and said team had been embittered by his sudden departure ever since. People like Drake were happy to remind him of their disdain whenever they got the chance.
Shaking off that unfortunate setback, Gil walked into the administrative office and turned towards the room residing Councilor Crandall, his name marked on a brass sign hanging on his closed door.
“He’s still with another student, shouldn’t be much longer,” the secretary at the desk in the middle of the room said. Gil shrugged and took a seat near the door, though just as he sat down, the door opened and an all-too-familiar classmate sauntered out, her long, blonde hair glistening like ice reflecting the sunlight.
“Thank you, Ms. Rathburn. Let the next student know I’m ready for them,” Crandall’s voice emanated from the door. The young lady looked over to Gil and merely motioned towards the door before continuing on her way out without a word. He didn’t expect Beth Rathburn to speak to him, it sometimes seemed like a privilege to have her acknowledge one’s presence if they weren’t near her particular level of notability within the student body. Gil awkwardly got back up to his feet, though he did his best to fix his posture as he strode into the councilor’s room. Zef’s advice of ‘confidence’ rang through his head and he gave a cheerful smile as he shut the door behind him and waved to the man at his desk, putting some papers back in his filing cabinet and fishing out another pile to place in front of him.
“Mr. Shannon, please take a seat,” Crandall said in his usual soft but professional tone of voice. He was a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties, having some experience under his belt but not yet looking like the years of academia were weighing down on him. His ears seemed to twitch every time someone spoke loud enough for him to hear, and while no student knew officially what his quirk was, the presumption was that the whole ear wiggle thing had something to do with it. Gil took the seat across the desk and courteously took off his cap as he looked Crandall directly in the eyes, one of those things he’d been advised to do as a means of looking mature, not that it was so simple to notice with the accessory hiding his glance.
“So… sunglasses indoors?” said Crandall, having noticed the peculiarity almost immediately.
“Oh, ah, yes sir, took a bit of a shiner while sparring,” Gil said as he motioned to the injured eye in question, somewhat grateful for it now, as it gave him an excuse.
“I see… So, you’ve been taking up some combat training? I suppose that only makes sense as you’ve stated your intention on taking the hero track a number of times. Have you been considering any specialty schools to apply to?” There it was, the big question being brought up so soon. Gil clenched his fists tightly as they rested on his lap, attempting to will his anxiety away as he took a breath to speak.
“Well sir, I do have one school in mind. I wish to be seen as the candidate for NIHA this year.”
Crandall’s eyes widened slightly. “NIHA? Are you sure?” He didn’t seem flabbergasted about it, but clearly the declaration had thrown him for a loop. It wasn’t any surprise to Gil of course. The Northerly Island Hero Academy was one of the absolute premier schools in the nation when it came to superhero academia, and as of late, the admittance percentile was nearly as miniscule as that of Japan’s UA, a school that set the international bar for all others. Still, with all this knowledge and the councilor’s surprise, Gil didn’t budge.
“I’m sure, sir. I’ve been studying and training for years to prove that I’d make an ideal candidate,” said Gil, speaking as clearly and articulately as possible.
“Hmm… So you have… Your grades in hero courses have been in the top percentile since you began taking them, very impressive… and the rest of your grades aren’t too shabby either. Tell me something, Mr. Shannon, what inspired you to apply for NIHA in particular? I know it’s certainly an academy of great merit, but, would you say you have any personal reasons?”
The question had lingered about in Gil’s mind long before this conversation, but he never could find the answer that he felt defined his motives, not completely. Still, he had to give some kind of answer and, after pausing for a moment of contemplation, he decided to give one.
“It’s because of movies, sir.”
Crandall raised an eyebrow. “Movies?”
“Yeah… I mean, the older movies, y’know, before quirks, before powers. There were movies people produced all those years ago of superheroes, extraordinary people doing fantastic things for the betterment of the world they live in. It was all fiction, fantasy, that sort of thing, but the messages, the ideals, those were real. It wasn’t just drivel from an actor reading a script. At least, I like to believe a good deal of it wasn’t… These people with these powers, they strove to do good for the world in ways they felt was right. Their ideals weren’t all the same, I mean, they’d often clash because of that, but deep down, everyone who called themselves a hero and truly believed it, they all fought for the same basic thing. They fought to bring just a little peace to a reality of chaos, to let people know that the world doesn’t have to end, that the bad doesn’t have to overshadow the good, that so long as we exist there’s something to fight for, no matter the odds. Yeah, so much of it was big-budget Hollywood looking to sell tickets, but they didn’t know all this would happen, they didn’t know what they were making would become real one day. I see those heroes of old and I can tell myself that I can do what they do if I wanted to. It’s not all just for show anymore, and I’m not going to waste what I can do on anything less. That’s why I want to go to NIHA, Mr. Crandall, because I want that ideal to mean something, not just to me but to others, I want to inspire them the way I’ve been inspired. NIHA can realize that opportunity, and I don’t care if my powers aren’t the flashiest or the most awe-inspiring, I know that if I’m taught by the right people, none of that will matter, because I’ll be helping to save the day anyway, and that’s what a hero does, right? I just need the chance.”
There was silence for a moment after, aside from the light sound of panting coming from Gil as he struggled to catch his breath after his unexpected monologue. Crandall eventually scribbled something down on one of the forms, and Gil could detect the light twitch of a smile coming from the man, as if the shadow of an epiphany was beginning to form in his mind.
“A noble reason… and your quirk is… let’s see… Emitter class, and you call it ‘Footage’? You can manipulate your own perception of time to both speed up and slow down reality, and you can also look back into the past of anyone you make direct contact with… Certainly a unique quirk, even if it’s not, as you put it, ‘flashy’ on it’s own… Ah, and I have an addendum here, your parents recently reported that you developed a way to stop time for yourself entirely as well… You really have been working quite hard on this, haven’t you?”
“Yes sir… This is really important to me,” said Gil as he nodded his affirmation.
“You know, your dedication reminds me a lot of your sister when she applied for a hero academy. Funnily enough I remember telling her she had potential to go to a place like NIHA herself but she wanted to go to a school that specialized more in what she wanted to do specifically. I hear it’s worked out for her quite well.” Crandall wasn’t mistaken, Gil’s sister Lari had gone to a hero school that specified in the protection of nature, a passion of hers rarely matched by anyone. He may’ve not spoken of it openly, but much of his own resolve to become a hero stemmed from the inspiration she’d given him in light of her success.
“Well now… I believe that just about covers everything I needed to know. I’ll get back to you on what the schoolboards decide upon, Mr. Shannon, you have a nice rest of the day,” said Crandall, and just like that, the meeting was over.
“Oh ah… Yeah, you have a nice day too, sir,” Gil said as he reached to shake the councilor’s hand before making his way out of the room, back to class as usual but with the agonizing feeling of anticipation that he knew would linger in his subconsciousness.
---
A week had passed since every student interview had been conducted, and the school’s teachers and faculty were gathered for an assembly to discuss which 9th grade student should be sent as the candidate for the NIHA trials. With the high level of exclusivity that the academy possessed, the school districts in the central Ohio area could only elect one student to take the trials every year. Each school selected one of their own, with an accompanying report over why the student was chosen, and they would in turn be looked over by a board of directors who would partake in a group vote to select the one to send to the trials, situated promptly within the school grounds on the Northerly Island peninsula in Chicago. Ultimately, each student’s chances relied on the convincing nature of their report, which made the method controversial for some, but ultimately, the districts couldn’t agree to an alternative, so it stuck.
“Our school hasn’t had a candidate selected in more than a decade now, and I firmly believe it is because we’ve been looking for the wrong traits in these children,” Crandall spoke to the crowd as he held a single file under his arm. “We’ve been selecting students who seemed the physically strongest or most visually impressive, or worse off, we’ve been playing favorites because of staff connections or other hereditary appeal…”
There were murmurs among the crowd, some seemed eager to protest this claim, others simply hung their heads in guilt, but most simply waited for the councilor to continue as he placed the file on the podium in front of him.
“…I wish to put a stop to that, and in doing so, I’ve selected a candidate who has shown to me an ambition and drive that I feel carries a heroic essence we simply cannot ignore. Before me I have the file of Gil Shannon…”
His voice was immediately drowned out in voices of surprise, confusion and a bit of outrage.
“What kind of sick joke are you trying to pull on us, Crandall!?” One particularly outspoken voice broke out from the rest of the group as the speaker barged his way up to the podium, looking about ready to tear either the file or the councilor apart.
“Coach Rathburn, please, let’s be civil about this,” said Crandall without much of a gasp, clearly used to the temperament of the man approaching him.
“Civil?! You have my daughter in this lineup, the best goddamn student by a wide-ass margin, and you turn her down for this… no-name!? What the hell has this kid got that makes him so goddamn special?!” Said Coach, going red in the face as two deep crimson wings sprang out from his back, a similarly colored tail lashing out to accompany them. The hot-headed man’s quirk tended to show itself whenever his frustration got out of hand, so it wasn’t a surprise to anyone that his clothing tended to consist of specially cut spaces to keep his budget from being almost entirely spent on a new wardrobe every week.
“I saw a drive in this young man, Seth. A motivation that was all his, not spurred by appeasing others’ wishes or earning their favor. His goals were noble, and I feel that all this has been lacking in our previous candidates. They’ve been some of the most physically gifted students we’ve ever seen come through these doors, but so few of them were striving to get into NIHA because they genuinely felt they could benefit the world at large from the teachings they’d receive. They may’ve not all spoken of it plainly, but I’ve replayed their interviews over and over, and you know just how accurate my retrospect is,” said Crandall as he motioned to his twitching ears. “I’ve made this mistake far too many times, no heart, no willpower, I’m not making another choice that’ll just be tossed aside by the board again.”
Coach’s eyes seemed to burn with a wild intensity, but he felt two teachers grasp at his arms to restrain him before he could do anything rash.
“It’s not worth it, Coach. Let’s just take a seat, huh?” one of them said.
“She’ll get into another school, easily, NIHA’s not the only lucrative option,” said the other.
Coach seemed to relent, but as he took a seat, he never took his eyes of Crandall, but the councilor similarly refused to budge.
“I’ll be making the announcement Friday. Once I have Mr. Shannon signing the acceptance papers, it’ll be official. The meeting is adjourned.”
At Crandall’s declaration, the teachers filed their way out of the assembly hall. The tense conclusion to the meeting had apparently distracted the crowd from the sight of a male student dashing out of the building from the opposite direction.
---
“You’re… messing with me, aren’t you, Zef… Cut it out, that’s not funny,” Gil said, having nearly choked on his food at the news his friend was suddenly bringing to the table.
“I’m not bullshitting you, Gil. I knew the teachers were gonna have an assembly yesterday so I snuck in to get a listen. I figured it was gonna be the usual NIHA announcement, my brother told me they always have the assembly for that at around this point. I had to know if you made the cut, and you totally did!” What really stunned Gil about all this was that he could almost always tell when Zef was lying, they’d been friends long enough where those tells were apparent to him. He wasn’t getting any sign of deception no matter how much he sought it out. Which only meant… he was hearing the honest truth.
“Oh my god… I’m seriously the candidate… Did they… I mean, you know when they’re gonna break the news, like… officially?” Gil asked as he appeared to be struggling to avoid vocally crying out in joy at that moment.
“They’re gonna break out the acceptance forms for you to sign tomorrow, so, that’s probably the day they’ll announce it as well… but look, there’s something else I need to mention about it,” said Zef, his tone almost grim-sounding. “Coach Rathburn is beside himself over Beth not being selected, he sounded like he was about to go on a damn rampage when he heard the news. Anyone else I’d just say it’s sour grapes and we can move on, but… He’s not right in the head… He might try to pull something before tomorrow comes around. He’s got the football team hanging on his every word, and you don’t need my reminding you over how much they already hate your guts.”
This nearly deflated Gil’s excitement completely as the realization of imminent danger seemed to set in. “Ah… didn’t think about that…” They both hushed up immediately as Beth passed by their table, stopping to stare at Gil for a moment, analytically it seemed, before walking away with nothing more than a sigh.
“Seems like I’m not the only one who broke the news early…” said Zef in a nervous mutter.
“I mean, I’ve got nothing against Beth, she’s probably worked hard at everything she’s done, and with that nightmare of an old man looming over her all the time… but that just hammers your earlier point home…” Said Gil, stroking his chin ponderingly as he tried to ward off his nerves. “…Look, we need a plan, and I think I’ve got one…”
From there the day continued uneventfully, and Gil was soon making his way home, walking down the narrow asphalt path that connected the school to his neighborhood. Typically, only a few students came down this trail, providing the first sign something was amiss… Gil found himself walking alongside a small crowd of students… He recognized a few, and he knew for a fact they didn’t live anywhere near his home. Before he could try edging his way out, the group seemed to converge on him at once, and he could feel another shock rush through him, stronger this time, enough to send him to the ground. Drake cracked his knuckles as he gave a chortle at the sight before him.
“About time you earned your comeuppance, Shady. I’ve been waiting a long-ass time for this.”
“Wait, we can’t do this here, we gotta stick with the plan,” another voice said, and Drake merely let out an annoyed grunt in acknowledgement.
“Yeah… Right… Fine, no problem, I can wait a little longer then. Put the shithead to sleep…”
At that, Gil felt a hand grasp tightly at the back of his neck, an ice-cold chill seemed to pulse through his body before everything suddenly went numb, his vision fading to black.
---
Gil’s consciousness came back to him before his eyesight did, and he knew long before the blurs shaped back into clear vision that he was in a very unenviable position. He could feel the beads of rubber in the artificial turf beneath him as he shifted himself to his knees, cluing him in that he was laying in the middle of the school’s stadium. There was a light sound of rustling all about, evidently others were there as well, surrounding his current position, murmurs of varying volume flying about, but he couldn’t make out any of it. Once he got to his feet, his senses all seemed to steadily come back in full, and he could see that the same students who’d ambushed him were now circled about, many of them eyeing him intensely… He knew for a fact now with the familiar faces that this was the football team, clearly tasked to bring him here… and it didn’t take a genius to guess who was behind it.
“Coach finally lost it, huh… and you’re all just blindly doing this? Are you kidding me?” He wasn’t surprised to see certain classmates here, but others? He’d thought they were better than this… but then, from how some of them were clearly looking away, it seemed to infer something a little worse, if that was even possible.
“Loyalty’s something important to us, not like we expect you to understand that,” said Drake, cracking his knuckles with an intense look in his eyes as arcs of electricity danced across his arms.
“Loyalty… This isn’t loyalty, Drake, this is a bunch of scared kids doing something ‘cause their psychopathic authority figure decided to overstep his bounds!” said Gil, and for a moment, some of the others looked inclined to agree, but a scoff from one of two figures approaching the circle seemed to force that uncertainty away.
“I’m the psychopath, son? Sure, call me whatever you want, your words ain’t worth the dirt on my shoes. I’m the only one that seems to get that, this damned school wouldn’t know real potential if it bit ‘em all in the ass! You wanna talk crazy? That sniveling little counselor’s the crazy one. But y’know, it’s not all his fault, he’s just weak, susceptible to a plague that hit this school and tried to ruin the chances of the only real hero it’s got in the making. All I’m doing is providing the cure.” Coach motioned for the second figure to stand beside him. Sure enough, Beth emerged with an icy glare in Gil’s direction, accompanied by tear streaks that looked freshly shed.
“Tomorrow when the school board see’s you’re too crippled to do anything remotely hero-worthy, they’re not gonna have a choice but to go with the only appropriate candidate. You shouldn’t have tried applying for something out of your league, Shannon, these are the consequences,” said Coach as he turned to his daughter. “I don’t want to see that boy standing up ever again. When you hit him, break something, you got that?” Beth said nothing. “UNDERSTAND ME?!” Coach shouted, and Beth flinched before responding with a “Yes, I understand!” her voice sounding uncharacteristically strained.
“Right. My daughter’s not gonna have her hero career taken away, now go get it!” Coach pointed at Gil before slipping behind the football team’s circle. Beth shivered, incensed as wings much like those of her father sprouted from her back and her breath became cloudy, as if the temperature around her took a sudden drop. Elemental energy of some kind… Most likely a breath weapon, nothing else seemed to be changing around her, Gil surmised. He didn’t want this to go down this way, but he had to prepare to defend himself. He got in a fighting stance, raising his arms, but not moving to strike, still holding on to the futile hope that maybe Beth wouldn’t have the heart to go through with this. Said hopes were hastily dashed as a blast of ice nearly hit him in the forehead, Gil having managed to duck out of its way.
“Beth, please, is this what you want? Like, at all?” said Gil, trying to reason with her, but the fact of the matter was he knew very little about Beth as a person. They had very different circles of friends, her popularity and one family member were all he had to go by, for all he knew she could’ve very well wanted to take such drastic measures, but the way she was reacting painted a very different picture. If there was one person he’d come to know, it was her father. He never played directly for Coach Rathburn, but the man often frequented the local middle school practices as if he were a scout on draft day. He’d bicker with the coaches, arguing his training routines over theirs… all over a middle school level sport. He was a powder keg, no one wanted to be the one to set him off, and this was exactly the sort of reason why.
Beth didn’t respond to Gil’s question, not vocally at least. She merely sent another blast of ice his way, and as he went to dodge this one as well, he could see she was preparing something else, something he wouldn’t have the reflexes to prepare for, not normally… In that split second of time to make a decision, Gil realized he had no choice but to resort to using his quirk in retaliation, gesturing a stretching motion with his hands as he dove towards the turf. He could feel a surge run through his brain as everything suddenly slowed down around him, his fall going into a sluggish descent as he took the extra time he bought for himself to see exactly what Beth was planning. She’d clearly predicted how he would dodge this second ice-breath attack; she’d leapt forward with a flap of her wings, soaring right for him like a bullet with a punch at the ready. Even in slow motion she was moving rather quick in comparison, and Gil had only the slightest amount of time to position the best parry and counter. He moved one arm to brush her punch aside, raising the other to grasp at her opposite shoulder, stopping her momentum as they both landed back onto the artificial grass. Gil muttered “action,” and reality sped itself back up to normal for him as he pushed himself back up and away from Beth. His opponent hadn’t expected him to block her strike, evidently, as she was a bit slower to get up with the look of shock taking a moment to fade.
She looked to Gil intently, a thought having crossed her mind as she charged at him again. Gil went into slo-mo once more as he weathered a vigorous assault of fists, wings and ice, the slowed perception being the only thing keeping him reacting fast enough to keep any strike from flooring him. He knew he couldn’t let her place him in a vulnerable spot, or else it’d be all over. It felt like minutes to him in what was most likely only seconds, but no matter how long it really was, it seemed like Beth wasn’t tiring from the offensive at all. Gil eventually spotted an opening and shoved her backwards, resetting time again once he placed some distance between them.
“Beth, listen! This isn’t gonna solve anything, you can’t think it will! Your old man isn’t the one to make your life decisions, that’s something you gotta do!” said Gil, but Beth still appeared unwilling to hear him out.
“…So that’s how you do it…” She muttered. Gil wasn’t sure what she was talking about at first, but as Beth appeared to try the flurry of close-combat strikes again, he went to repeat the slo-mo gesture, only for Beth to grasp at both of his wrists before he could do so. A jolt of panic ran through Gil as he managed to kick Beth away before she could do anything more. He knew this was bad, she’d picked up on his hand gestures. He couldn’t control his time perception without them yet, the gestures helped his concentration, and without them, he’d be powerless… A pair of broken wrists wouldn’t be easy to fight with even without that fact, but in any case, Gil couldn’t lean back on the slo-mo anymore. He had to find a weakness or otherwise stop this fight quick, or else it was only a matter of time before Beth wore him down.
Gil awaited another running charge, but instead, Beth suddenly ascended high into the air and divebombed in Gil’s direction. Gil made a slashing motion in front of his neck, and this time, everything completely froze in place. Beth was already so close… He hadn’t expected her flight speed to be so near-blinding. He’d only have one shot, but what to do with it... He could feel the strain start to hit as things remained on pause, like his brain was slowly being crushed by a vise. He had to make a move, but he couldn’t think of any that would put him on top. One move, rather desperate in nature, came to mind, and it would have to do. It was now or never. “Action,” he spoke, moving his hand that was still in the slashing motion to grab at Beth’s neck as she pinned him down. The move managed to work, for what little benefit it could offer. She had the advantageous position, but his grip on her neck was not only cutting off her air intake, but any chance of using her ice breath. It bought him just a little more time, not to fight, but to speak…
“Don’t do this, Beth… I can’t in good faith believe you’d really think this is right. I wanna understand what’s going on, if you’d just let me... Either way I’m done fighting you… I’m done, do whatever you gotta do…” He released his hand from her neck, fully at her mercy now. In the distance he could hear Coach yelling for her to finish the job, and he shut his eyes tightly to brace for some kind of terrible pain.
Yet, that pain didn’t come. Beth did nothing, yet it seemed Gil’s words finally reached something within her. She picked him up and held him by the front of his shirt as if she were still going to beat him senseless, but still, no punches came.
“...I don’t know how you’d be able to understand…” Beth muttered quietly.
“I can try… My quirk, I can… look back at stuff you’ve been through if you’d be okay with that,” said Gil. Beth didn’t say anything, but gave a soft nod, and, sensing she was holding him like this to keep the façade that they were still fighting up, Gil grasped at her hand gripping at him, as if he were trying to pull away from her as he gave a hitchhiker-like gesture with his free hand, attempting to clear his own thoughts out, as his mother had instructed him whenever he tried to delve into another person’s past. He went back just enough to earlier that day, and that was all he needed to see… He watched Coach shouting down Beth despite her admittedly weak-sounding protests, as if she’d lost the effort to fight back long ago… There was a picture in the room they were in with a much younger child standing beside Coach and a woman with similarly icy blond hair. There didn’t appear to be any more recent pictures of this woman, not in this room at least. No evidence of the woman herself in the flesh either, leading to Gil connecting a few more dots, deciding he’d seen enough. Flashing back to the present, hearing some annoyed shouts, not just from Coach but some of the football team as well, Gil, tried to ignore them as he looked intently at Beth.
“…Whatever happened to her… You don’t have to tell me, I didn’t check but… It’s not your fault, Beth… If that’s what you’re doing this for… You know… You gotta do what you think is right for you… That’s the best way to honor people who care about you, don’t you think?” He said, and by now, tears were rolling down Beth’s eyes again… but with a newfound determination within them. She let Gil go and turned around to face Coach, fists clenched tightly.
“Dad, I’m done.”
“What… What do you mean you’re done? He’s still standing!” Coach remarked dumbfounded.
“Yeah, and he’s gonna stay that way, because I’m not beating up some innocent kid just to get into a hero school. That was your dream, not mine, I’m done pretending!” said Beth. Coach’s tail lashed in a rage as he barged his way back into the circle.
“Now listen here young lady, I told you this a thousand goddamn times…”
“Shut up and listen to me for once!” Beth interrupted, steadfast. “I thought doing everything to make you happy would help you after mom… but it hasn’t! You haven’t gotten over it, you haven’t moved on, and you’re holding me back! I miss her too, but she’d want me to make my own future. I’m done with this!”
Gil was positive he saw fumes coming out of Coach’s now beet-red face, his tail now lashing so violently it managed to inadvertently knock a few of the players in the circle over. “…We’re gonna have a long talk about this, young lady… but first I’m gonna do what’s best for you!” he shouted as he approached Gil maliciously, but before he could do anything, a blast of ice hit him in the side of the head, knocking him down as Beth looked over him with her arms crossed defiantly.
“I’m doing what’s best for me,” she said with utmost confidence before proceeding to freeze the turf around Coach to keep him in place.
Grunting from the pain as he tried in vain to get free, Coach looked to all the onlookers as his frustrations finally seemed to peak.
“Don’t just stand there, you idiots! Get him!” he shouted, and indeed some of the players were up to comply as they converged on Gil.
“Don’t put up with this anymore guys! He never had your best interests at heart either!” said Gil, fearing his words were going to go back to falling on deaf ears… only to see some of the players coming towards him get floored by some of the others. Suddenly quirks were being thrown all over the place as the stadium erupted in a full skirmish, with only one player left focusing his sights on Gil. Drake smiled rather manically as electric arcs discharged from him light lightning bolts.
“Perfect, oh this is so goddamn perfect, finally I get to have my fun beating the shit outta you, Shady!”
“You can always quit being an idiot at any time, Drake, no one’s stopping you,” said Gil in retort. As expected, the electric brute didn’t listen and lunged for him with a fully charged punch, but Gil shifted into slo-mo once more and easily ducked out of the way, knocking Drake down with a few well-placed punches in the stomach.
Before things could get any further out of hand, the sound of police sirens began to echo louder and louder before a team of cops emerged onto the field, with Zef in tow. As everyone was accounted for and escorted out of the stadium, Gil gave a smirk towards his friend, who returned one in kind.
“Good plan, Gil, gotta say,” said Zef.
Gil chuckled weakly at that. “Yeah… though I’ll admit it would’ve probably been less of a headache if you could’ve found me sooner...”
---
When everything was sorted out, the cops had arrested Coach and a few of his players most directly involved with the scheme, whereas the rest of them, along with Gil and Beth, were eventually let go after being told not to divulge the details of the events that had transpired to the public. Gil had explained to them that he and Zef had been concerned that Coach might try something, but they had no outstanding evidence to know for sure, so they’d come up with a plan where Zef would call Gil’s residence after a certain hour to see if he was home, and if he wasn’t, he’d seek him out and contact the authorities. Zef managed to deduce that something would likely happen at the stadium, as the team often held evening practices there, and he attempted to get as much footage of the scene as possible after letting the police know what was happening. Naturally, he handed all his footage over to them as well.
“Well that all went about as well as it does in the movies, I’d say,” Gil said the day after to Zef, having officially signed his consent to be reviewed for the NIHA candidacy.
“Yeah… Shame we have to tell everyone we weren’t involved though… ‘Just a football practice that got out of hand’… bunch of bull… I mean, you managed to get like, half of them and Beth to all side with you, you ought’a get some recognition at least,” said Zef with a sigh.
“Yeah well, my parents certainly gave me more than enough recognition, I’m surprised they even let me come to school today after hearing what happened... but hey, they care, I ought’a be grateful for that much.”
A week or so passed uneventfully, until one day when Gil was asked to go to the Councilor’s office. Mr. Crandall was waiting for him with a folder in hand.
“Morning, Gil… Everything going okay?” he asked, being one of the few to know of the actual details of the stadium incident. It was figured that a few members of the schoolboard ought to know what actually transpired.
“Yeah… Got most of that behind me now… Just hoping Beth’s alright,” said Gil as he took a seat across the table.
“She’s doing fine. I naturally can’t divulge the personal details, of course, but I can at least tell you that much… but this is a different matter I wish to discuss with you… See, of the few people that the police entrusted with the knowledge of what happened that night, the district board of directors were included in that lineup…” Crandall explained, and Gil nodded, though he wasn’t sure where the Councilor was going with this.
“Now, I bring this up because it could be coincidental, but I want you to understand what you did that night didn’t go entirely unnoticed… and it perhaps did more for you than you would’ve thought,” he said as he opened the file and passed an invitation to compete in the NIHA trials over to Gil, looking completely astonished, even with the sunglasses covering his eyes.
“I… They… they…” Gil attempted to speak, but he could barely find the words.
“Congratulations, Gil. You’ll be representing our school district this year. I knew you had something special going for you, and you showed your potential far beyond what you were expected to. You’ve earned this shot, good luck, though I’m sure you won’t need it,” Crandall said with a smile.
“Y-yes sir, thank you,” said Gil as he eagerly beamed over the invitation as he read over it in more disbelief now than he’d felt upon his nomination.
After filling out the necessary paperwork, Gil thanked Crandall a few more times before making his way out of the room, unexpectedly running into Beth of all people at that moment.
“…Gil, right? Sorry I never got your name after all that, not officially or whatever… You understand though, yeah?” She said, and he nodded.
“Of course, that was a… stressful time, I totally get it.”
“Yeah… Look… Gil, kick ass at the NIHA trials, alright? I’ll be rooting for you,” said Beth, offering a high-five which Gil gladly accepted.
“Thanks Beth. You look after yourself, alright?” Said Gil, and Beth merely smiled lightly at that.
“I will. Was about time I did that anyway.”
---
At the airport, only Gil’s family and Zef were there to see him off, but Gil hadn’t expected much fanfare anyway, nor did he really want it. After all, he still had to make it through the final tests before NIHA would actually take him in as a student, and that remained a tall order.
“You’ll be great, Gil, you’ve worked hard for this, we’ve got all the faith in the world for you,” his father said, patting him on the shoulder as his mother slipped in to hug her son tightly.
“Just know we’re proud of you no matter what, honey. Don’t forget that,” she said assuredly.
“I won’t forget, mom, I promise,” he said, before turning to Zef. “Still, gonna try being confident about this, that’s the trick, right?” His friend smiled with a nod as they exchanged a fist-bump.
“Don’t think you need me reminding you about that by now. Give ‘em hell, man.”
At that, Gil made his way through the airport gates to his awaiting flight to Chicago. It was still a surreal thing, this dream of his was so close to getting fully realized… It really was turning out a lot like something from a feel-good sort of movie… and as the plane took off and the school at Northerly Island got closer by the second, Gil could only hope this movie would be the sort with the happy ending… and perhaps an even-better sequel on the horizon.