text: "Good. Now, ready!"
  
  You quickly drop your magazine on the ground, fumbling through your ammo bag for another magazine. You load it into the gun and pull back the bolt, subconsciously imagining the Crimson Cape standing in front of the bullseye.
  
  "Aim!"
  
  You line up your sights with the bullseye and take a deep breath.
  
  You have two options here. You could unload as many rounds as you can and play the odds game, or you could take your time and pray the better students fuck up in their eagerness to prove themselves. You are using a bolt action rifle, and they're not exactly known for the spray and pray approach.
  
  > fire as many shots as you can
  You begin firing, your fingers squeezing on the trigger as your hand shots forward to pull back the bolt, the shell spiraling out of the gun. You fire again, repeating the process, before quickly finding a pattern, unloading your clip quickly. You quickly drop the clip out and grab another one, clicking it into place. You repeat the process, firing a full clip and replacing it again. You get halfway through the magazine before the sergeant barks out an order.
  
  "STOP! Alright, let's count up the shots!" Doyle barks.
  
  Doyle begins walking along past the targets, checking each and calling out a number.
  
  "Four!"
  
  "Seven!"
  
  "Nineteen! Impressive, Seamus!"
  
  Finally, he reaches you.
  
  "Two! How fucking shit a shot are you! Pathetic!" he says, looking disgusted.
  
  He continues going along the line, eventually stopping.
  
  "Alright, Palmer, you win. Twenty shots is damn near impressive. Everyone else, fifty push ups!"
  
  You drop to the floor, and begin your push-ups. You struggle at first, but eventually find your rhythm, and with a burst of adrenaline get through them. You finish, collapsing on the ground, panting.
  
  "Alright, hurry the fuck up. You have the doctor next, and if any of you are late to class I can see you ending up with your brain and nervous system ending up hooked up to the building's lights," Doyle shouts.
  
  You stand, panting, and begin walking along to the next class.
  
  > Several Hours Later...
  The day is long and hard. Thankfully, the periods of strenuous exercise such as fighting, knife combat, fitness and grenade practice is outnumbered by the normal, classroom learning-type classes such as learning about the various types of fire arms, the weak points of various super-human categories and lock picking, with even a few normal classes mixed in. For some reason, they think you need to learn about Algebra alongside stealth training and use of poisons. After a long, hard day that was both physically and mentally exhausting, you could use a break and a hot meal. After finding some nourishment in a dinner of hearty strew, you begin trudging back towards your room. Luc and Shada walk alongside you, Luc sporting a large cut along his upper arm from a mistake with a high-tech Rebanium blade that was being shown around the class in the Rare Metals class to show its effectiveness at breaking bone and carapace, and Shada finish the last of her few cigarettes she had won in a competition in Blade training by almost running the kid she was facing through despite using a blunted blade and facing a kid wearing protective gear. Shada raises her lighter, re-igniting the end of her cigarette.
  
  "Can I have a smoke?" Luc asks in a thick French accent, one of the few times he's talked so far.
  
  Shada sighs, taking in a deep breath of smoke and blowing it upwards.
  
  "Yeah, fine. Finish it," she says, handing the cigarette over.
  
  You walk onwards, too exhausted to converse, arriving at your dorm. Luc shoves the door open, and you quickly collapse on your bed, falling like lead. Your other roommates come in after you, Seamus's loud voice already filling the room.
  
  "So he said "No, it's not my kid, the baby's just albino, like that black sheep in the field." Then the Chieftain says "Alright, you don't mention the sheep, I won't mention the baby!" Seamus says, laughing.
  
  "You said it'd be good," Jesus complains. "That was a shit joke."
  
  "Oh, fuck off. That was quality," Seamus says.
  
  "So, question? Do we sleep in our clothes?" Luc asks.
  
  "Just go to sleep, I'm exhausted," Shada says, jumping onto her bed. You follow her example and curl up in your blankets, closing your eyes tightly and falling asleep.
  
  > fall asleep
  "Rise and shine! The sun is out, the birds are chirping and there is shit to be done! Move it!" Dead-Eye yells from the hallway.
  
  You slowly open your eyes and let out a yawn. You roll out of bed and stand up. The others all slowly get out of bed. You see Luc, who had stripped to his underwear the night before, hop out of bed and let out a massive yawn, taking the time to marvel at how incredibly chiseled the Frenchman's chest is, with almost unrealistic definition. He catches you staring and smiles, and you quickly blush and look off to the side.
  
  "End of the hallway are two large bathrooms! There should be a locker with your name on it, where a towel and a fresh pair of clothes will be. You have twenty minutes."
  
  You rush out of the room, heading towards the end of the hall where you are absorbed by a stream of other children. You reach the bathrooms, which are divided by simple "MALE" and "FEMALE" signs, and quickly head into yours. The bathrooms are simple, with a large section of stalls and sinks, a large open area room filled with showers and dozens of lockers lining the room. The lockers are arranged by alphabetical order, so you head to roughly three quarters down to the M Section, and find your name. You open it, and find a white towel, undergarments, a pair of grey trousers and a grey t-shirt, emblazoned with a large flame insignia with the words "Prometheus Academy" underneath. It's certainly more fitting than the plain white clothes that would quickly be stained with food, dirt or blood, depending on the day.
  
  You grab a towel, and look around, wondering how you're supposed to get naked and wash with all these other kids around. You blush as you see other girls shamelessly stripping down and tossing dirty clothes aside, so you quickly decide to follow suit. You cautiously pull off your clothes, and head nervously into the showers, covering your privates and chests as best you can without looking awkward. You turn on the showers, and in return are hit by a blast of hot water. You begin washing yourself, noticing as several harsh looking scars covering the other girls in there. You're particularly impressed by the size of Shada's burn, which goes from the bottom lip all the way down to her navel. It looks painful, and you doubt it's a story she'll want to share, so you stay quiet. You quickly wash and dry yourself off, and get dressed. Outside, the various teachers wait to take their classes off to the various sections of the facility. You check your schedule. First up is "Improvised Explosives". That'll be... interesting.
  
  > The first class of the day...
  You sit in a class of two dozen kids, all divided into pairs with a small table in front of each pair, with plastic explosives, wiring and other bits of technology for bomb making. Dead Eye watches from the edge of the room. Your partner, Shada, eagerly bounces on the balls of her feet.
  
  "I've always wanted to play with explosives," she says. "Do you think if we do well they'll let us play with bigger payloads? I mean, plastic explosives gets the job done, but it's not enough on its own. There needs to be steel ball bearings, or gasoline canisters, or something to make it a bit more interesting, you know?"
  
  "You're messed up, you know that?" you say to her.
  
  "If I wasn't messed up, people would find me much more boring."
  
  "Alright, for the next hour, I don't want any joking around, I don't want any messing, and I don't want anyone messing anything up," Dead Eye shouts. "You are not playing with fire, you are playing with high grade explosives. If you don't listen to me, these thing's could go off. These are not decoys, they will not spray dye in your face, they will tear flesh, break bone and end life. These things are lethal. Got it?"
  
  "Yes, sir," you all respond.
  
  "Good. They're all spaced apart so one detonation shouldn't detonate the others, so you're only dying today if it's your own fault. Or your partner's, I suppose. Alright, everyone, look at what you have. The explosive itself, the detonator, the timer, wiring..."
  
  Dead Eye continues listing out parts of the device, as Shada listens eagerly. Dead Eye begins his instructions, but it seems Shada has already pushed you out and taken over the project with unrelenting glee.
  
  "Alright, now..."
  
  There's a loud boom and you're sent head first sprawling to the floor. You smack your head against the hard ground. You groan, looking up. One of the tables has been completely destroyed, and the remainder of what was once a student lies there. Another student lies on her stomach, covered in a growing pool of blood. Dead Eye lets out a curse, grabbing a walkie-talkie.
  
  "Get me medical, fast!" he says. "Everyone, stand away from the explosives."
  
  Dead Eye quickly moves around the room, disabling the explosives by snipping the wires connecting the detonator to the payload. Only then does he actually check the pulse of the girl on the ground.
  
  "Shit. Look at this, kids. This is what the academy is. You're risking your life here. Class dismissed."
  
  You notice Shada is lying on the ground, and you grab her hand and help her stand.
  
  "Oh fuck... that was Jesus' table."
  
  You stare at the remains of the kid on the ground, and wonder if you should've ever joined Prometheus Academy. You flex your bionic arm, wondering.
  
  > Continue
  There's little ceremony for Jesus and the girl, AJ. Their bodies, or what remained of their bodies, were taken away, and you're sent onto your next class. You feel horrible thinking of those bodies, but if anything, that demonstrated that you can't be weak. You need to stay strong, and keep working. You walk through the doors of the Doctor's Lab. The Doctor stands there, waiting.
  
  "Come right in, children. We have work to do. Today's your first round of treatment."
  
  "Treatment?" Luc asks. "What is this treatment?"
  
  "I'm glad you asked. Your bodies are weak. Pathetic. This... serum will help. It will increase adrenaline production, increase muscle mass, intelligence, bone density, skin toughness, white blood cell production, and much more. It will give you a fighting chance against the Supers."
  
  "What's it made of?" someone asks.
  
  "Many things. Calcium, Adrenaline, Darwinium, Super-Human blood, White Blood Cells, much more. It should hurt a lot."
  
  The Doctor draws a syringe, his face as cold and emotionless as stone. He walks forward, up to a student, and slowly jabs the syringe into her wrist, before pushing down on the plunger. The girl shudders and contorts her face in pain.
  
  "It... burns!" she whimpers.
  
  "I'm glad," the Doctor says.
  
  Shada whimpers, looking nervously at the needle.
  
  "I REALLY hate needles," she mutters to you.
  
  The doctor pulls the syringe out, replacing it with another in his coat pocket. He moves onto the next student, continuing around the room, injecting each was a shot of serum. Finally, he reaches you. You stick out your arm, and he grabs your wrist, injecting his syringe into your wrist. He presses down on the plunger, and you feel the horrible, burning liquid enter your bloodstream. You feel a sharp, burning pain, which slowly dies down as the serum dilutes itself your blood. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, as the burning feeling slowly dissipates.
  
  The Doctor walks to the front of the class, staring at you all.
  
  "Hmmm... I badly misjudged this," he mutters.
  
  "You misjudged this how?" Shada asks nervously, looking at the needle hole in her arm.
  
  "I was told that as long as 85% of you survived, this would be a success, and hence, I increased the concentration of the serum. I was hoping for at least a few of you to die."
  
  Shada lets out an awkward laugh, perhaps thinking the Doctor is joking.
  
  "Yes. Hilarious. You watched two students blow themselves up earlier, but don't worry. I'm the person hear to trust with your safety" the Doctor says.
  
  Shada goes quiet. The Doctor goes to his desk, opening a draw and pulling out a notepad. He flicks through the notepad.
  
  "It seems you have an exam coming up soon. Lovely. Alright, feel free to talk until the end of class. Unless you have any questions, of course."
  
  > ask a question
  Time to ask a question.
  
  > say "Does the serum have any side effects?"
  "Yes. Many," the Doctor says.
  
  He doesn't offer anymore information.
  
  > stop asking questions
  You turn to Shada, who sits next to you. She's drawn a knife, which she's balancing on her thumb by the point.
  
  "Harsh thing about Jesus, huh?" you say.
  
  "Meh. I didn't like him," Shada says, grabbing the knife handle and beginning to pick her nail.
  
  You look at Shada, and wonder if she cares for anyone, or if she just particularly disliked Jesus.
  
  "Are you feeling funny? That shot's making me burn all over," Shada says.
  
  "It died down for me," you reply.
  
  "Really? Aw, fuck. If I pass out, just smash my head in. I don't want to end up in the hands of the old Doctor there."
  
  "Sure thing, Shada."
  
  "So, how does the whole pain rate work for you?"
  
  "What do you mean?"
  
  Shada taps her knife against your bionic hand, the metal clinking gently against it.
  
  "So, can you feel that?" Shada asks.
  
  "Yeah."
  
  Shada scrapes the knife against your arm quickly.
  
  "How 'bout that? Does it hurt?"
  
  You flinch slightly at the knife. It's an... interesting feeling. You can definitely tell something damaging has happened to your "hand", but it doesn't feel particularly bad. With the slightest application of willpower, you could let it happen again without flinching.
  
  "Um... no? No, I don't think so."
  
  The speakers let out a short sound, like a bell ringing, and the Doctor waves nonchalantly for you to leave.
  
  > The end of the day
  The rest of the day is pretty easy. During combat drills such as Wrestling and Pragmatic Fighting, you notice you're acting much more effectively. You have more endurance, and your punch strength has increased by 40% according to the machines in the Gym. By the end of the day, you're left as exhausted as the previous days, but you've managed to fit in a lot more. That serum must really work.
  
  It was an interesting day. You've quickly found your strengths and weaknesses. You're seriously untrained and that puts you at a disadvantage, and you also lack the unfair, completely game-changing abilities of the Supers, but your instructors remark that you have talent that cant be thought, and your cybernetics are helpful. You have great eyesight, which increased to an incredible degree with your new eye. You have fast reflexes, you're relatively fit, you showed good results in a fire-fight simulation and you've proven to be fairly intelligent and quick to learn. Your new hand has helped your accuracy, increased dexterity and strength. Best of all, after a fencing lesson, both with and without rules, you find that you're by far the best with a blade. No criminal organization or combat training would teach swordsmanship, so you all went in there with no prior training. The day's been long and hard, and Jesus' death was brutal, but you only knew him a few hours, so it doesn't sting as bad. It's certainly not boring here. You suppose this is now your life.
  
  > head to your room...
  As you walk into your dorm, you feel like collapsing onto your bed without a word.
  
  "How the fuck was this my fault? She was the one who did it!" Seamus complains.
  
  "Don't throw me under the bus!" Shada says. "You suggested it. You're the one who snagged the poison ivy from the greenhouse."
  
  "My throat hurts like a bitch because of you," Luc says, rubbing his throat.
  
  "Serves you right for eating salad," Seamus smiles, before being slugged in the head.
  
  "Ow!" Seamus says as Luc punches him in the stomach.
  
  You climb into bed, placing your head on the pillow, as Luc switches off the light. As you close your eyes, you notice two bright, purple eyes open, appearing out of thin air.
  
  > scream for help
  You scream, as the eyes blink slowly. Seamus quickly flicks on the lights as Luc jumps from his bed, half-naked with his fists raised. As the light illuminates the room, you're met with a woman who looks only to be a year or two older than you standing in the center of the room, with bright, purple eyes, wearing a purple jumpsuit with black, metal-like plates sewn into it.
  
  "Stop," she whispers.
  
  Luc stares at her, his teeth gritted as you climb out of bed, ready to break some bones with your bionic hand. Seamus is the only one who manages to make sense of the situation.
  
  "Aren't you... one of the teacher's? Void?" he asks.
  
  "Aw... I was hoping for a fight," the figure says. "It's been so long since I've been able to let loose and break some bones. I should've never accepted this job. I need to fight, not teach. I'm too young for this."
  
  "How did you get in here?" Luc asks.
  
  "Shadow teleport," the Void answers, as if that needs no further explanation.
  
  "Why are you in our room?" you ask.
  
  "Oh, nothing important. Pure bureaucratic mistake. It seems you were supposed to have been given a form about choice subjects."
  
  "Could you not have waited until the morning?" Luc asks.
  
  "No, it needs to be done tonight," the Void says.
  
  "Could you not have knocked?" Luc asks.
  
  "Pffh. I could've also been a pretty good accountant, but where's the fun in that?"
  
  The Void tosses a small piece of paper and a pencil at you. You look down at it, and see four groupings of subjects. Choose wisely. Or just fill them out at random. Random's more fun, actually.
  
  Group I
  
  Team Tactics, Advanced First Aid, Co-Operative Combat Simulation, Specialization
  
  The first group of subjects seems to be for the most part to be about working as a group. You're sure it'll help in regards to that, but you doubt it'll help you grow as an individual.
  
  Group II
  
  Weapons Skills, Advanced Explosives Training, Solo Combat Simulation, Culinary Class
  
  The second group of subjects seems to be for the most part about training as a fighter who can operate by herself. Also, you've always wanted to make a Soufflé.
  
  Group III
  
  Advanced Hacking, Advanced Stealth Training, Sex and Seduction, Advanced Torture
  
  The third group seems to be about pursuing one's goals and achieving success through methods outside of combat. Interesting, but probably boring in comparison to the Dirty Harry approach.
  
  Group IV
  
  Combat Drugs, Advanced First Aid, Bio-Augmentation, Cybernetic-Advancing
  
  From the brief descriptions, the fourth group seem to be about messing with your body through drugs, robotics and surgery to make you a better "human". Ideally, the final few classes will make you into Robert Patrick.
  
  > pick Group I
  "I'll do Group I," you say, as the Void's eyes flicker with annoyance.
  
  "I don't care. Fill out the form and hand it back," she says, handing out other forms and pencils.
  
  You tick the box and sign your name at the bottom. You hand back your form, and the Void quickly collects the rest of them.
  
  "Alright... hope you enjoyed your first day, kids. Goodnight," she says.
  
  The Void flicks out the light, her bright, purple eyes illuminating the room, before she closes her eyes, and presumably, or hopefully, at least, teleporting out of the room.
  
  > One Week Later...
  It's a long week, but an important one. You quickly find yourself picking up new skills and abilities. You can strip a Kalishnakov, use it's components to pick a lock, rebuild the weapon, burst in and run a full training course, hit several bullseyes and then write a philosophical debate about Machiavelli.
  
  You chow into your dinner, a delicious pasta, sitting in the cafeteria. You've learned a lot about the people here. The guards for the most part tend to be all career criminals who have worked for Mr DeVont. The students have all formed various cliques. The normals, left without power, have for the most part made friends with the other people in their room, and make up most of the cafeteria. There's also some normals sitting at the edges, who are either pathetic loners or hard, antisocial bastards who look like they chew metal and spit acid, as well as a few people who flitter from group to group. As you noted on the first day, the supers have mostly stayed by themselves, with a few small teams of three or four forming at most.
  
  As you watch the groups talk and interact, you spot Mr DeVont. It's the first time you've seen him since the introduction, and he's wearing a new, although incredibly similar, white suit. He walks to the center of the room, as guards begin to hush the students down.
  
  "Quiet, quiet!" they shout. "The boss wants to speak!"
  
  Mr DeVont nods at them, and the place immediately hushes down.
  
  "I see you've all survived the first week. Well done. Many of you have As a reward, you have the rest of the day off."
  
  There's a small cheer from the students, before Mr DeVont raises a hand.
  
  "Quiet," he says, and the room obliges. "Tomorrow, however, are your first exams. We'll pit you against another student, make you fight in a controlled environment. The winner will be allowed to stay in the course. The loser will be sent back to whatever shit-hole we plucked them out of... after a bit of a mental cleansing. A simple procedure so you forget what happened here."
  
  Mr DeVont looks at all of you, watching both eager and nervous faces looking at him.
  
  "You were brought here for a purpose: to be soldiers. You are required to fight and kill. We've given you all the skills required to do so. Many of you must think this approach is unfair. But, we require perseverance at Prometheus Academy. All of you have as equal a chance as can be given on this planet. You all have skills. Some of you have incredibly skills with weapons. Some of you have amazing super powers. Some of you have incredibly wit. I'll tell you this: the ability to fire jets of flame or fly are no more useful than a sharp mind. Every tool in the arsenal of man can be used to win, to conquer and to crush. That is all."
  
  Mr DeVont turns to walk away, before pausing.
  
  "Oh yes, the postings of who you'll be against will be available tomorrow."
  
  With that, the businessman walks off, and you're left thinking.
  
  "Well, hopefully I'll be put up against some weak fuck with no intelligence," Seamus says.
  
  "Pffh, coward," Shada says. "Put me up against any random scum, super or human and I'll win this."
  
  "Do you think they will make any of us fight each other?" Luc asks.
  
  You shrug, shoving the last few pieces of pasta into your mouth.
  
  "Well, let's go do something, then. We have a few hours to enjoy. He said we had free time," Shada says. "We could blow something up."
  
  "Should we not train?" Luc asks.
  
  "Screw that. Seamus is fucked either way, you're bulky enough to break a neck, Mia's a cyborg badass and I'm amazing," Shada says.
  
  "Hey, I have a chance!" Seamus said. "I'll just piss myself, drop to my knees and beg for my life. When they turn away in disgust, I stab them in the back and win this."
  
  "So what do you want us to do, Shada?" Luc asks.
  
  "Oh, let's start a bonfire. Oh, or we could raid the explosives cabinet. Or...?" Shada says gleefully.
  
  "Let me stop you right there. You want to fuck with the people behind an academy for psychopath soldiers?" you say.
  
  "What are they going to do, give us detention?" Shada asks.
  
  "Have you seen the doctor? Detention with him would be fucking horrifying," you say again, ever the voice of reason.
  
  "That creepy fucker would stick needles into my testes, stitch new testes to my nipples and sticking needles in them too. The dude's fucking crazy," Seamus says.
  
  "Aw, he's probably just a big, fluffy teddy bear inside," Shada smiles. "Come on, time's wasting. Let's go find something to do."
  
  "We need to train!" Luc complains loudly.
  
  "Alright, for fuck's sake! We take an hour break, then spend the rest of the night training together. Deal?" Shada says.
  
  "Deal," Luc says. "Who else?"
  
  "Sure," Seamus says. "Mia?"
  
  You could train with the others, You could head to the gym and shooting range for some practice. That would give you better chances tomorrow. You could try to find some of that fantastic, miraculous serum that the Doctor gave you, which could give you a serious boost in tomorrow's test. Finally, you