text: [Themes: sci-fi]
  
  There's several more matches, before it finally gets to you.
  
  "Mia Min-Taylor vs Savian Monroe," the Doctor says.
  
  "Oh, fuck," you mutter.
  
  "Good luck, Mia," Luc says, patting you on the back.
  
  "Oh, sweet Jesus," Seamus says. "Uh... avoid the acid, I guess? Good luck?"
  
  "We'll be rooting for you, Mia," Shada says.
  
  Savian Monroe is a terrifying bastard. You don't know him well on a personal scale, but he has a reputation. Whilst he has super-human strength, his nickname comes from his other super power, the ability to spit a powerful acid, which quickly gave rise to his nickname, Sulfuric. You've often seen signs of his work, holes in metal tables and chairs from spitting. Without a doubt, he'll be a tough bastard to take down. For fuck's sake, he's already gotten the super-villain moniker down to a tee.
  
  Sulfuric hops up, and eagerly strides down to the arena. You're going to need to know how to handle him. This will be a hard fight. Any misstep will lead to death. You take your position on your dot in the circle, and raise your fist. You watch as the Doctor readies his bell. You stare at Savian, who has a shaven head, bulging muscles and spit dripping from his jaw onto the floor, where it sizzles as it burns through the wood.
  
  The bell rings.
  
  > Charge towards the guns
  You sprint towards the guns as quickly as you can. You hear Sulfuric's breathing behind you as he gives chase like a frenzied animal. You continue running as fast as you can, your cybernetic eye whirring as it narrows down on a pistol pre-loaded with rubber bullets. You pass the melee table, quickly grabbing a wooden baton and flinging it at Sulfuric. It slams into him and he stumbles, giving you the time to continue sprinting towards the table. You jump, sliding over the weapons table and knocking the weapons to the floor. You grab the pistol, and raise it, aiming at Savian's chest. You fire off several rounds, as they slam into Sulfuric, knocking him to the floor. He groans, before launching a stream of acid at you. You roll out of the way. Sulfuric quickly stands, preparing another acidic spit burst.
  
  > Open fire
  You open fire, the rubber bullets smashing into Sulfuric, one hitting him in the head as and snapping his neck back so the acidic spit misses you. He collapses backwards as your gun clicks empty, so you toss it aside and quickly grab one of the rifles. You fire at his chest and he groans, before pointing it, blank-range at his head, and firing. His head snaps back again and slams into the hard wood floor, and his eyes go dull. The Doctor strolls forward, drawing a syringe, wearing heavy plastic gloves. He grabs Savian's head, holding his jaws shut to prevent spitting as he jabs the syringe into his arm. He pushes down on the plunger, and lifts Sulfuric up into the air and throws him over his shoulder, walking off. You stand, and slowly make your way back to the seat.
  
  > Continue
  You take a seat in the crowd, and watch the few remaining few matches take place. Eventually, the Doctor drags the last combatant off, and the exam finishes. Mr DeVont stands in the center of the circle, clenching a microphone in his hand.
  
  "Students, we have finished. Your numbers have been cut in half, but you've proved yourself. Your training will get harder, but you will grow stronger. You're dismissed. Have a good night."
  
  You stand, walking down the bleachers towards the exit. You've had a long day. Thankfully, you're not too wounded because you mainly used firearms, so you don't need to head to the medical bay. No, you're heading straight towards bed.
  
  > Three Days Later...
  "Come on, for fuck's sake! How the fuck do you expect to take out a flyboy if you can't do this?" Sergeant Doyle barks.
  
  You raise your weapon, an odd invention that both vaguely resembles and is based on a harpoon.. You take a deep breath, and aim at the humanoid dummy hanging from the commercial drone overhead, set in classic Superman pose. Doyle's even put a red cape on it. You take aim as it flies past, before firing. The harpoon flies through the air, penetrating the dummy. You drop to a knee, jamming the weapon's tripod into the ground to stabilize it and putting your full weight on top of it, using your bionic arm to tightly grip the battle to keep it from flying away. The dummy snags as the slack on the harpoon line runs out. You press a button on the side of the weapon, as the line begins to recede inside the device. The dummy is quickly dragged towards the ground, slamming into the soil next to you. You grab it by the neck, crushing the drone carrying it to prevent it from flying off again.
  
  "Well done, Mia. Feel free to tear off its head for good measure."
  
  You grab the head, yanking it off, as Doyle smiles.
  
  "Now that's a confirmed kill. You're finished for the class. Do whatever you want for the remaining five minutes."
  
  You nod, and stroll out of the class. You pause, noticing Dead-Eye waiting for you.
  
  "Mia, I need to talk to you."
  
  "Should I be worried?"
  
  "Not at all. It's come to my attention that the various teachers have been picking protégés to teach so they'll be able to get them jobs with their contacts. Shattered Mask is picking the Supers who are best at fighting to work for the Black Eagle Mercenary Corp, Four's picking Supers with useful abilities for the League of Crime, Mr DeVont's picking spies for M&J Inc., Doyle's getting teams together for Maximov and now I've realized not only do I have contacts that students could need, but I have a lot of kids who could use a job from them."
  
  "Are you offering me a job?" you ask.
  
  "I'm offering you the chance to work as my protégé. Or, one of them, at least. I've cleared your Geometry and Trigonometry classes. I'll make sure you receive a passing grade in each of them. But be warned: If you shooting classes' grades drop below an A, you'll be kicked out of the class. And trust me, you don't want that. Now, can you do that?"
  
  "Yes, sir!" you bark in response.
  
  "Good. I'd expect nothing less of you. Be at the shooting range for each of them. Got it?"
  
  "Yes, sir," you reply.
  
  Dead Eye nods, before turning and walking off. Well, you're a protégé now, you suppose. You hope it'll go well. Still, you need to start thinking about after this academy ends. You at least have a job secured, if you can keep up with Dead Eye's class.
  
  > The Next Day...
  You stand at the shooting range, aiming your rifle at the target far down the line. Dead Eye has set up a miniature shooting course for the students. You're up last.
  
  "Wait..." Dead Eye says. "Line up your shot. The course doesn't start until when you pull the trigger."
  
  You line up your shot, look down the sight... put your finger on the trigger... and pull the trigger.
  
  The bullet slams into the bullseye, but you don't have time to check the accuracy. You sling the rifle over your back. You pick up the assault rifle in front of you, twirling around and fires several bursts of bullets, all of which hit the rapidly approaching targets on a rail. You continue firing until the gun clicks empty, before slinging it over your shoulder again and running forward to the final target, three rapidly moving punching bags. You draw the sawn-off shotgun in your side holster, firing at the first two before dropping it, finally drawing your revolver and unloading it into the third bag.
  
  "22 seconds. Not bad, Mia. Let's check your accuracy," Dead Eye says, strolling along between the targets. "Impressive. Well done, Mia. You'll be meeting with me to train every day from now on."
  
  Dead Eye steps back, turning his attention from you to the rest of the group.
  
  "You'll all be expected to train and work hard. I need killers, not kids. I have high hopes. They'll be a... minor test of abilities tomorrow. Now, class dismissed!"
  
  > The Next Day...
  A head explodes next to you as you duck lower, avoiding machine gun fire.
  
  "I was going to go generic "Kill the terrorist,"," Dead Eye's voice says as it comes from everywhere. "But We Were Soldiers last night, so..."
  
  You roll out of the way of an incoming mortar, and grab your M16.
  
  "Capture the hill, people! First one to reach the top gets... something. I'll decide later."
  
  You aim your rifle, peering at the Viet Cong charging towards your position. You open fire, as bullets thud into them. They collapse to the ground, bleeding. You hold the VR rifle tightly, as you peer at the holographic trees that surround you.
  
  > charge for the hill
  You charge up the hill, your rifle raised. You open fire at an approaching Viet Cong, charging with bayonet, before continuing sprinting. You wince as you feel a sharp electrical shock, looking down to see a bullet has torn through your stomach. You collapse to your knees, before the world goes black.
  
  > take off your helmet (Failure)
  You pull off your helmet, looking at Dead Eye.
  
  "You need a lot more work, Mia," he sighs.
  
  "I know," you say, looking down.
  
  The rest of the students are quickly killed, and as the last one removes his helmet, the bell rings.
  
  "Alright, get to your next class," Dead Eye says.
  
  > Several Months Later...
  The next few days are similar. You spend a lot of time either at the shooting range or in the VR simulation, quickly learning under the watchful eye of Dead Eye. You ace the shooting classes, getting straight A's, which allows Dead Eye to help you pass the mental exams, and you can pass the physical challenges with relative ease.
  
  These days quickly turn to weeks, which turn once again to months. Slowly, the year mark creeps up on you, and with that, graduation.
  
  You find that your large amount of training has kind of made you a more solitary figure. You spend a lot of time practicing with weapons, most of your free time, and only have a tiny amount of time left over to spend with your friends, most of which you're too exhausted to actually interact with them on any meaningful level. Still, you're doing well in class. Soon, the final exam, and then, the test.
  
  > Continue
  You walk into the combat hall, your assault rifle raised. You squeeze the trigger, firing a long burst of rubber at the student at the other end. You charge forward, unloading your clip at her, before diving behind one of the tables spread about the room, kicking the leg away so it can act as a shield. Bullets thump into the table, as you reload your gun. You count the shots fired, until you reach what you assume to be thirty bullets. You dive forward, aiming at her central mass and firing. The first few rounds miss, before a few bullet hit, slamming into her as she topples backwards. You stand, quickly moving forward, firing another burst into her chest as she groans.
  
  "Alright, that's a kill," Dead Eye says from the bleacher's. "Mia, this isn't far from what the final exam will be, but you should be fine. I'll try get some melee-orientated students, or Supers, in later today to help you prepare. Ashley, don't reload out in the open. Take cover. If you don't improve, and do it fast, you're not going to pass tomorrow. Alright, get out of there."
  
  You nod, throwing down your weapon. You turn and begin walking towards your room. It takes about twenty minutes to arrive there, before you walk in, collapsing onto your bed. Seamus lies in the bed next to you, a cigarette lit in his mouth.
  
  "How was class?" he asks. "Dead Eye making you into John Bernthal yet?"
  
  "Slowly but surely."
  
  You know that Seamus has been assembled into a squad with Shada and Luc, which you've already decided. That's probably interesting enough.
  
  "How was your class?" you ask.
  
  "It was... was not great. Doyle thought that we needed to trust each other more, so he filled us with truth serum and... well... they asked me some questions that I would rather have not had answered."
  
  Shada pushes open the door, walking inside.
  
  "I don't want to hear it!" Seamus shouts.
  
  "Hey, Mia..." Shada starts, grinning.
  
  "Don't tell her," Seamus says.
  
  "...did you know that...?" Shada continues, struggling not to laugh.
  
  "Does it matter that much?" Seamus interjects again.
  
  "...Seamus has a foot fetish?"
  
  "Oh god," Seamus moans, putting his head in his hands.
  
  "I thought I'd have to get some lingerie, but it turns out a pretty pair of heels is all I need," Shada giggles.
  
  "Just stop," Seamus says.
  
  "Do I have pretty feet?" Shada asks, going from mocking to curious.
  
  "I'm also curious. Is it... like the painted nails?" you ask.
  
  "Hey guys, we have a test tomorrow. Remember? And if we fail we'll have our memories stolen? Let's go practice and train!"
  
  Luc walks in, noticing you and smiling.
  
  "Oh, hey Mia. Come to join us normals again from your special Punisher class?"
  
  "I thought I'd come see what you pathetic bastards are like," you reply, smirking.
  
  "How are you set for tomorrow?" Luc asks, smiling.
  
  "I'll cope," you reply. "Is it first thing in the morning?"
  
  "Yeah, so I think this is our last night together. Well, all of us, I mean," Shada says.
  
  "We should get drunk. Or high," Seamus says.
  
  "We have neither drugs nor drink," Luc points out.
  
  "Also, it's not exactly a good idea to go into tomorrow with no sleep and a hangover so brutal it'll kill us. We should probably head to bed," you say, lying down on the bed.
  
  "Mia's right. I'll see you in the morning," Seamus says, putting his pillow over his head.
  
  "Aw, really?" Shada says. "I bet I can score some nail polish and get my feet nice and..."
  
  "Shut up!" Seamus complains.
  
  "Only teasing, Irish. Still, if you're up for it, we could head off... there's a few empty dorm rooms since a shit ton of students have gone home. I bet we could... well, you know."
  
  Seamus tosses his pillow aside and hops out of bed, grinning.
  
  "I'm up for that," he says, and the two disappear outside the door. Luc chuckles as he watches them leave, before nervously glancing at you. He half opens his mouth, seemingly wanting to ask something, before turning away and climbing into his bunk.
  
  There's two ways to look at this. The logical, reasonable way to look at it is that sex increases testosterone, which is great for a fighter like you, but it could also leave you tired for tomorrow, so there's a hard choice to be made here.
  
  The infinitely superior way to look at it is that you're a stupid, horny teen whose body is filled with hormones, and he's a sexy dude with a six pack, so your choice is obvious.
  
  > make a move on Luc
  You slide out of bed, smiling at Luc.
  
  "Hey, Luc..." you start.
  
  "Yes, Mia?" he replies, expectant and hyped.
  
  "Seeing as this is our last night together... maybe we should do something," you say coyly.
  
  "Like what?" Luc asks, as if for some reason his brain is hard-wired not to screw you.
  
  Oh, for fuck's sake... you grab Luc, pulling him in closely and kissing him. You collapse back onto your bed, his massive, muscled arms wrapping around you. You slide a hand across his chest, feeling the defined muscles. His large, course hands, unsurprisingly, go to your chest, although it's presumably for reasons other then feeling muscles.You yank down his pants with your spare hand, as he chuckles, his hands going south of your chest, drifting below the belt, as he pulls down your trouser. You both quickly undress both yourselves and each other, and embrace each other again, falling onto the bed.
  
  Needlessly to say, you don't get to bed for another few hours.
  
  > Continue
  You stand in the bleachers among the few remaining students, watching the teachers assemble in the center of the hall where you once unloaded rubber into Savian Monroe, except where once was open ground, now there's a circle in the center of the hall, with large walls, put up to either side of there the people would stand to act as a building, with the insides furnished. The open roof allows you to gaze inside at the fight, where you see weapons hidden throughout, to add an urban feel to the fight.
  
  "Good evening, students. What we are going to do today for our final exam is simple. We are going to do something similar to your first exam. Some of you have formed groups, and you will face a group of identical sizes. Others will fight solo. The rules are the same as last time. This is the end of your long, and hopefully enlightening time at Prometheus Academy. You could end the day with a prosperous future or with all memories of here gone, so fight well. Best of luck."
  
  With that, Mr DeVont leads the teachers to the bleachers, leaving only the Doctor to stand at the sidelines. The first few names are called, as two monstrous Supers face off. The battle is fast and brutal. You sit there, watching as two gargantuan brutes charge at each other, one covered in scales with a forked tongue and the second covered in tumor-like lumps made of bone. Scales rams into Bony, attempting to bite into his flesh, but only actually succeeding in biting bone. Bony rams a fist into Scales' throat, and he flops to the floor. You feel a sense of Déjà vu as you watch the Doctor walk forward, jamming a needle into Scales' soft throat, before requesting two guards to help him drag the beast off.
  
  There's a few other short battles, where students have short, fierce battles that end quickly enough when a simple, small mistake is quickly capitalized on, ending the battle. Few even venture into the "buildings" to get weapons. Finally, they get to some people of relevance to you.
  
  "Seamus O'Riley, Shada Melik, Luc Petit, step down to the stage. Lawrence Bender, Sally Menke, Andrezej Sekula, same for you," Mr DeVont shouts.
  
  "Best of luck, guys," you say, watching as they descend into the arena.
  
  Your friends stand in their positions, ready and waiting. The other team are all fairly bulky, and look ready to kill. The bell rings, and it begins. The enemy team charges forward, fists bared. Seamus and Shada instantly turn and run towards the building to search for weapons, as Luc raises his fists defensively. Luc grabs one of them by the neck and flings him to the ground. He slams his fist into the second, before he's tackled to the ground. Several vicious hits land on Luc as he yelps. Shada emerges from the building, carrying a pair of electro-swords and charging back. The three go for her, but she throws an electro-sword to Luc, who slowly stands, while Shada swings her electro-sword, slamming into the first. She sidesteps a swing from the second, punching him in the head as she jabs him between the ribs, stunning him as she collapses to the ground with a shudder. The first and second both slam their fists into Shada's head and knock her to the floor, but by now Seamus has emerged from the house with an assault rifle in his hands, his specialty. He aims, and begins firing. The first of the enemies collapses to the ground as rubber bullets slam into his head, as Luc stumbles towards the second, whacking his weapon across the back of the second's legs and sending him tumbling to the ground. The third is hit by a burst of rubber to the chest, and stumbles backwards, before Shada sweeps her legs away, groaning as she slams into the hard floor. The three are left on the floor, groaning, and none of them are willing to stand up again, clearly defeated. The Doctor strides forward, sending them all to sleep with his needle, as your friends head back up to you, grinning.
  
  "Well that went well," Seamus says.
  
  "Why was I the distraction?" Luc complains, rubbing the swelling lump on his head.
  
  "You're French, obviously," Seamus says, as Luc gently punches him.
  
  "Mia Min-Taylor vs Thara Richtofen," Mr DeVont shouts.
  
  "Fuck," you mutter.
  
  Thara Richtofen. The German has a reputation for leaving her combatants... less raw then previously. Flames dance around her fists as she descends to the arena. She has a reputation for being cruel and sadistic. Hopefully, rumors is all they are.
  
  "Best of luck, Mia," Luc says.
  
  "Best of luck," Shada repeats.
  
  "Go for her balls. It's her weak spot," Seamus says.
  
  "She's a girl," you point out, trying to hide your nervousness.
  
  "She's a German girl. They're packing more than I am."
  
  "Not hard," Shada giggles, before adapting a stern face. "Best of luck."
  
  You smile at your friends, walking down the bleachers and into the arena. You stare at Richtofen, your fists raised.
  
  The bell rings.
  
  > charge her
  You charge forward, darting with vicious speed.You charge forward, ducking under a burst of flames before a punch goes for your chest. You dodge it, punching Thara in the side of the head. She stumbles backwards, and you punch her in the stomach, then the head three times. She stumbles, but quickly regains her footing position, although she's bleeding badly from her nose. She growls at you, raising her fists again. You launch another punch at her head, but this time she sidesteps your swing and you lose your balance, leaving yourself exposed. Thara's fists explode into balls of flames, before a wall of flames flies from them, straight for you. You regain your footing and attempt to dodge, but the flames engulf you. You feel your skin, char, burn and blister. You let out a pained scream, collapsing backwards. The flames continue to burn you. Mercifully, your brain is turned to ash soon, ending your pain.