Electra
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"He's a sadist," Erin said with a grimace. "He's a good trainer," she had to admit, "but the training sucks. Hope you don't mind dying in simulation a lot. He likes to figure out your weight class and make you fight just enough outside it that you get your ass kicked most of the time. Then when you get better, he ratchets it up again. I don't know what he'd do for speeders, but I hope you're not too fond of winning."
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Satisfied that her assets would be protected, Erin let Frank go about his work. "That's because Archer hasn't gotten his hooks into you yet," she told him with great confidence. "Run through a few dozen of his simulated torture sessions and you'll be wanting to get out of classes too. I'd be searching for ways out myself, but I'm not supposed to play competitive sports yet." She sighed. "Maybe in the fall."
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The transit itself was a quick rush of green and an instantaneous transit, even over hundreds of miles. They came out in a little alley, popping out of a scraggly dandelion, luggage and all. Stesha had made arrangements for the car in advance, so it was a simple matter to pick it up from the rental agency and start heading for the suburbs. Because she was nervous, Stesha turned on the radio and sang along as they went, trying to keep her spirits up even as they crawled through the traffic. Gradually the press of cars eased as they got off 90 and onto the smaller county roads around Northwestern University. Almost despite herself, Stesha relaxed a little as they entered the neighborhood of big old homes and spacious yards that had been her stomping grounds for her entire life before the past two years. The Madison house was a two story brick building with a broad front porch and a huge garden in the side yard, with abundant flowers, trees and bushes everywhere. The barbecue had already started, and there was a spirited, if small game of touch football going on on the lawn. "Well, here we are..." Stesha said, taking a deep breath. "Home, sweet home."
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As soon as Frank took his hands off the fabric, Erin pulled it back up again, giving him a significant look before turning her attention back to Trevor. "You know, if you play your cards right, maybe you could get a P.E. credit for it. I know some students who do gymnastics and stuff have gotten class credit. Less time with Archer, more time doing something you like, it'd be pretty win-win."
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"It was nice to meet you," Fleur agreed. "Good luck!" She looked over to Dark Star. "I'm just about done here," she told him with a smile. "Wanna give me a ride home?" Stesha was more than capable of making her own way home, but flying with Dark Star was much more fun. As long as the weather was nice, anyway.
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"It's pretty good here, and we choose our own teammates, mostly, but yeah, sounds different. Makes sense, I guess, it sounds more like college than high school." Erin shrugged. "You met Mr. Archer yet? He's the gym teacher, he's the one who coordinates most of the solo training programs." She tried to keep her face neutral, but wasn't sure how well she succeeded.
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"I'll be a senior in the fall," she told him with a shrug. "Late birthday." That was true enough, though missing a couple years of school hadn't helped. "I don't think the Interceptors would be the right team for me," she told him honestly. "There'd probably be some personality conflicts." She kept up with the various super teams in the city to have eventually pieced together the identity of the jerk who'd been baiting her at the sparring contest. The idea of being on a team with Jack of All Blades was hardly appealing. "It's good you found a team you like. Are they good with you coming out here to get training?"
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"Doing hero work," Erin replied very definitely. "I don't really see myself going to college, so I'll probably try and join the Freedom League or another team that supports its members while they do hero stuff full-time. Easier than trying to keep a job and a secret ID and all that stuff, and you can concentrate on bigger stuff."
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Erin turned from her investigation of the house at Eve's soft gasp and murmured "Oh dear..." The burst of surprise and worry the psychic girl was projecting was alarming enough, even before she shared what she'd seen. She listened grimly as Sage related the unpleasant circumstances inside the house, then pursed her lips and studied the oh-so-innocuous house once more. "We're going to have to go in there. Mark's room is on the second floor. The front door opens onto a foyer between the living and dining room, the stairs are just beyond that, and behind them is the kitchen. There's a second entrance out of the kitchen leading onto the patio. Upstairs there's a master bedroom, a bathroom, and Mark's bedroom is the last door on the right. The bathroom window is too small to get in or out of, but if Martha's downstairs, we could probably get in through the window in the master bedroom."
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"It's probably easier to keep that sort of thing from your friends than your family," Erin replied, after draining the bottle and tossing it back into her backpack. "I'm guessing, anyway. You think you're gonna go all the way with the secret ID thing? Get a regular job, have a family, all with nobody ever knowing? I always thought that was kinda weird, but I guess people do it all the time."
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"I guess that makes sense," Erin said with a thoughtful nod. She sat down on the bleachers, crossing one leg over the other automatically and took a drink from her water bottle. "Are you ever going to tell them about it? I mean, eventually, when you're all trained up and a famous hero and stuff?"
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Now Erin was really curious, but people who lived in glass houses shouldn't ask uncomfortable questions about someone else's past. "Do you still ever do it?" she asked instead. "I'd like to see it sometime. Maybe if you have a competition in Freedom City, we could all come out and cheer you on." She shifted uncomfortably as Frank wrapped the material across her chest in a way that would've revealed a lot more than she was comfortable with if she hadn't been wearing a shirt. When he turned aside to make another measurement, she tugged the fabric up into something more modest.
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Fleur rummaged in her pocket and pulled out a little spiral notebook and pen, the kind usually used to keep shopping lists. She scribbled something on it, then tore off a page and handed it to Slipstream. "Here you go," she told him cheerfully, "this is my number. If you get in a jam, give me a call, and even if I can't help out, I'll find somebody who can. Nobody should start out alone in this business, it's too risky!"
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"I think we'll play that by ear," Stesha told him. "I want them to be able to appreciate you for everything you are, but it might be a little too much to take in all at once. If things are going really well or really badly, maybe we'll just tell them everything all at once." She sat down on her suitcase, and kept hold of his hand, looking towards one of her potted trees as it snaked a long branch in their direction. "You ready to go? Google Maps found me a nice little back alley near the car rental place, it should do us just fine."
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"Yeah, well the costume wouldn't be so hard," Erin allowed, "but do you try and keep it a secret from your family and friends, too? Don't they ever notice that something's weird?" An academic concern in her case, to be sure, but she was curious. None of her friends at school really kept a secret identity except Chris, and his had blown up magnificently in his face.
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"That's cool," Erin decided, still watching him in the mirror. "Sounds like a lot more fun than doing the agility course all night long. And hey, prizes. Doesn't swing dance take a partner?" she asked him. "Who do you dance with?" She squelched a small feeling that definitely wasn't jealousy, seeing as how that would be an absurdly out of place emotion in this case.
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Erin shrugged, rummaging in her bag for a bottle of water. If she was going to take a break, might as well take a break. "I don't really have a lot to compare it with, but I guess probably. I have no idea how anybody keeps up a secret identity. It seems really tedious. What's your name, anyway?" she asked him. "You already know mine."
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Erin nodded. "Claremont's a good place to come for that," she agreed. "They know more than just about anybody about powers and training. They'll work you really hard, especially if you have powers that might be dangerous, but they'll make you a lot better. I had my powers for two years before I started here, but I've learned ten times as much since I've been here. If you're really smart and you don't need to catch up on a lot of school stuff at the same time, you can probably learn even faster. What do you want to do with it?"
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Erin raised both eyebrows at this startling revelation, forgetting for a moment the fact that she was wrapped up like a Christmas present. "You swing dance in contests and stuff? Do you win?" It took her a moment to remember swing dancing, and to dismiss the errant thought of Trevor in a leotard and tutu, no matter how funny it was. "That's what that music was that you were playing in the car, right?"
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"I hope so," Stesha said, stopping to take a deep breath. "I know I have to tell them, but my heart's still in my throat about it." She walked over to him and gave him a hug. "I'm glad you'll be with me, you'll keep me from chickening out at the last minute... again. And they're gonna love you." Stesha looked up at him and gave him a sunny smile. "Bringing you home with me should make up for any little "being a superhero" thing. You about ready to go?"
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Erin's lips curved for the first time since she'd stepped up onto the stool. "No, wait, I think I want to hear this, Frank. Tell me more about Trevor and dancing. I think he owes me, since he talked me into going out to this party with him in the first place."
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"Um... I don't want anything to carry around I might lose," Erin said, dodging the question about how confident she was feeling. "I might set down a shawl somewhere and forget it. Maybe something scooped, and I could wear a necklace with it?" "Necklace, yes. Scoop, no!" Frank told her with consummate assurance. "We'll drape it off the shoulder and leave the rest of it simple, not a lot of fabric in the way. You'll want to put that hair up and get earrings to match, a few inches of heels. We're lucky young Trevor here is tall enough for that." He continued working with the fabric, making Erin lift her hands to hold it over her chest while he pinned and made notes. A little uncomfortable with trying to envision what Frank had in mind, Erin looked at Trevor in the mirror. "So... you know how to dance, right?"
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Derrick's philosophy of packing didn't seem to resonate with Stesha, who was already well into her second suitcase. Part of it was all the presents and souvenirs she was bringing home, part of it was that she kept unpacking clothes to try them on, uncertain of what she should wear. She didn't exactly have to dress up for her family, sure, but this was a big day. Not only were they meeting the man she loved for the first time, but she was also going to drop the "I'm a superhero" bomb onto them. What did one wear for that? She was on her fourth outfit by the time she dragged her luggage out to the living room for the trip. "How can you be so calm," she asked Derrick with affection exasperation, "when I feel like I'm losing my mind?"
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Erin relaxed a little at the explanation; it made sense and it had nothing to do with her specifically. "Right now I'm doing control exercises," she told him, leaning on the dummy's head. "I do most of my training in the simulator because it can handle metahuman strength better, but so long as I don't miss, I can do this stuff on the gym equipment." She glanced involuntarily into the corner where her last miss, the result of someone's loud ringtone, had been tossed for repair. The steel head of the dummy was crumpled like tissue paper. "We have some speedsters here, so I know they have facilities to train you. You've only had powers two months?" That was a little surprising, especially considering she hadn't seen him in nearly a month. It was gutsy of him to have gone out to a meet-up like that, well, gutsy or stupid.
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"Yeah, well. I'm fine now," Erin replied shortly, her pale skin coloring with embarrassment. That had hardly been her finest moment, for all she'd probably do the same again if she had the evening to do over. And no matter what she'd told Doctor Marquez about striving for increased self-control, that zombie had deserved what it had gotten. Relaxing into a hipshot posture as she wiped her face with a workout towel, she looked over the speedster, Dynamo, she thought she remembered, with some curiosity. "Are you starting at Claremont?" she asked. He seemed a little old, but that was often deceptive in people with powers.