B2 5-6 - Report Cards and Party Hardy, Superheroes

Hello Little Leaguers! I think I accidentally forgot to post these chapter on Thursday of last week. To make it up to you, expect chapters on Wednesday and Friday this week. My bad.

I'll be taking a one-week break next week to relax a little, allow myself to write a little more slowly, and generally take a breath. I've been writing, on average, 4 to 5 chapters a week for the last five months, and that pace is starting to wear on me, especially because of the other thing I've been working on.

I'm sending MGU 1 to an audiobook/ebook publisher on Wednesday! I've been working hard for the last three or four weeks on editing, fixing continuity errors, making adjustments to the System, and polishing up both description and characterization. More importantly, though, I've also cut almost five thousand words from the original version to tighten the pacing through some slower parts. I'm really excited to go through this process, but it's been a ton of work, and I need the break.

Thanks for your patience, everyone!

5 - Report Cards

Monday, December 29

- - - - -

Fall Semester, Freshman Year

Math:

Algebra - C-, 2.0

History:

Post-Launch Day North American History - C, 2.0

Performing Arts:

Intro to Drama - A, 4.0

Political Science:

Ilneat Relations - B, 3.5

Ethics:

Ethics - Pass, 3.0

Cumulative GPA: 2.8

I hadn’t failed Algebra, but I wasn’t looking forward to telling my parents about my grades. Cs get degrees, but in high school, they’d also gotten my parents mad at me.

I curled up on the couch and tried to think up a way to spin this. Math was expected. And, to be honest, I’d ditched too much of Post-Launch Day North American History to have a shot at an A there. The other two were fine, and Ethics…was what it was. I could call the bottom three a victory. History hurt, but I could recover from that, and none of my career options needed any more math. I was fine. I just had to convince my parents.

Easier said than done.

I scrolled to the next email.

Subject: Academic Performance Meeting Request

Magical Girl Understudy,

As your advisor, I’m requesting a meeting to discuss your academic performance this past fall semester. You are not currently in danger of academic probation. However, reports from some of your instructors are troubling, and I would like to head off any future issues.

Are you available for a meeting today at 12:15? I will provide lunch. You don’t need to bring anything.

Doctor Mindstorm

Associate Professor of Superpower Studies

“Well, shit,” I muttered. “On my break, huh?”

<It seems so. I’d say nya, you’re busy, and school’s not in session,> Tails said, voice echoing in my head. The plushie cat lay unmoving on my bed in the other room, but since our first session as Copy Cat, she’d been much easier to talk to. All. The. Time.

“Yeah. That’s what I want to do, but she’ll corner me sometime during the first week back if I don’t,” I answered. “I’ll just get it over with.”

Subject: RE: Academic Performance Meeting Request

Doctor Mindstorm,

I’m available today at 12:15. I’ll see you then.

Magical Girl Understudy

◄▼►

Doctor Mindstorm’s office hadn’t changed over break, but she wasn’t dressed for teaching, supervillainy, or lounging on the couch. The retired supervillain wore a sweatshirt with ‘Friends of Tokyexico Public Library’ on the front and a pair of jeans. Two cardboard take-out boxes sat on her desk.

“Sit and…enjoy the food,” Mindstorm said in her bored, slippery-sounding voice. She slid a box my way: Lo Mein and vegetables. I sniffed it as she kept talking. “I’m a vegetarian and was unsure what your…eating habits were.”

The salty smell of soy filled the tiny room quickly as we ate. Mindstorm took three bites, then stared at me until I paused. “What’s this meeting about?” I asked.

“Your academic future at Tokyexico University. I am having a…similar meeting with all my mentees. However, your case is my most pressing. Your plans post-school revolve around superhero work…correct?”

I nodded and slurped a noodle. “Yeah. I’m taking some theater classes, and Mom wants me in superpower law, but I’m going to be a hero.”

“I thought that was the case. Are you familiar with the ‘Freshman Fifteen?”

“Yeah, of course.” The Freshman Fifteen was the mythical idea that college students, exposed to tons of free food, inevitably gained weight. It didn’t always happen, and I was crossing my fingers—and eating plenty of burritos. “What’s that got to do with academics?”

“You’re also familiar with New Power Boldness Syndrome?”

I nodded. Fursona had mentioned it during our discussion about The Agent and responsibility last semester.

“There’s another common issue with superpowered students—actually, most supers, but it’s almost…universal in students. Superpower Slacking, we call it. It’s the idea that the rest of a super’s life isn’t important compared to the mask, cape, or cowl. It happens…frequently…on campus. The job becomes all-consuming, and super students stop attending classes they really should be at.”

I winced. She was talking about me ditching history.

“I’m not talking about your history attendance, though that is a warning sign.” Mindstorm sighed. “You missed it consistently, according to Teaching Assistant Smith, but Rocko Studios claims you didn’t make a single Episode during your truancy. Superpower Slacking is more consistent across all classes, and also…impacts your social life.”

“If I’m not doing it, why are we talking about it?” I asked. Honestly, this all felt pretty accusatory, and I didn’t like that—not from a former supervillain.

“You’re currently at high risk for Superpower Slacking in the upcoming semester. Your record of truancy and your…flouting of the rules during finals week are both major warning signs. So is your lack of…direction relative to your peers. Many super students have majors picked out, or at least directions they’re pursuing as covers. Alone, your lack of direction is not a problem. Taken with the other…warning signs…I have concerns. I also have…recommendations.”

“Like what?” I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not on academic probation. I did well enough not to be in trouble, so I’m not sure why I’m in trouble anyway.”

“You aren’t in trouble.” Doctor Mindstorm sighed and stared at the ceiling. “Why are the ‘good guys’ always so hard-headed? This would be easier if I just…snipped the slacking out.”

I stiffened. “What?”

“Nothing. I recommend an every-other-week check-in to see how classes are going.”

“No. I’m fine.”

“Magical Girl Understudy, I am not trying to make you miserable. I am trying to help you be successful at Tokyexico University, get your minor in Superpower Studies, and use the skills we teach to springboard your post-school career. You’re signed up for Combat Styles with Professor Tennyson and me. In that class, we will…experiment…with minor league-leveled powers and techniques for combat. There are more classes like that, all designed to make you a better super post-college. But the administration watches supers carefully, and you’re on their naughty list after…destroying the Engineering and Applied Sciences building and Mister Felsic Statue.”

“Ah.” I had no interest in meeting with Doctor Mindstorm…five times next semester. But I didn’t see a way around it other than just saying no. “Can we make the meeting times between my classes and keep my evenings and weekends free?”

“Yes.”

“Then…fine.” I crossed my arms, feeling like Rainy Day with how stupidly petulant I probably looked.

“Wonderful.”

We finished our Lo Mein in an awkward silence.

◄▼►

My pastel-pink green room smelled like hot chocolate and cinnamon.

And green apples.

“Okay, you’re ranked three hundred forty-eighth in Tokyexico. Our friend Magical Boy Vigilant Vow is two hundred ninety-ninth—he moved up again. So, let’s make a plan to change that.” Bianca had a whiteboard on wheels, probably from a classroom on campus. She wrote ‘Rank-Up Plan’ in the middle of the board, then drew a big circle around it.

“We need Episodes. Lots of Episodes,” I said.

Bianca wrote ‘Episodes’ and circled it, then linked it to the middle circle. “Yeah. Who do we know? Any likely wins, or anyone that’d be impactful?”

“Easy fights? Honeycomb and Jumper. Tottergarten. Flare and The Crumb. But none of them are…good. Maybe we can talk to Gourmet and get her to show up without Theseus this time. We could probably beat her now two versus one.”

The dry-erase marker flew across the whiteboard; the first three ideas went into a circle labeled ‘Filler Episodes,’ while Gourmet went into one called ‘Headliners.’ Both of those connected to the ‘Episodes’ circle.

“Add ‘The SSS’ to ‘Headliners.’ They’re big-shot Episodes, even if we join as sidekicks. And I also have patrols with Tele-Portal.”

“Yeah, if she doesn’t decide to get rid of you after the Season Finale shenanigans. We’ll add to ‘Headliners’ as we find them, but let’s not add to the ‘Filler Episodes’ unless we have to.” Bee nodded thoughtfully. “Any other ideas? No? Then let’s move on.”

She drew another circle. I groaned. “Training doesn’t move the community rank.”

Bianca glared at me. “I had six soccer practices for every game in high school. That’s how we got to the third playoff round my senior year. Training doesn’t move your rank, but it does help us fight better together. What are our options there?”

“Tottergarten again.” If it worked—kind of—for Honeycomb, it’d work for us. Plus, we wouldn’t be relying solely on fighting the Anti-Nap League to get better, and if we talked to The Narrator, she might be willing to accommodate us and set us up with some more challenging fights.

Bianca nodded. She wrote ‘Tottergarten’ under ‘Training.’ Then she added ‘The Triad.’

“Yeah! They had the training arena. Maybe Tele-Portal will let us run an old Episode or two.

“Maybe. We also have the Combat Styles class. There might be something there for fighting with a partner.” ‘Combat Styles’ went on the board.

I stood up and started pacing. “So, we have ‘Episodes’ and ‘Training.’ How else do we move up the ranks?”

“Wedon’t need to move,” Bianca said. She shrugged. “I’m currently in the 400s. The low 400s, but I won’t catch up. We need you to move, and I have an idea to make that happen in a high-risk, high-reward way.”

My danger sense—my nonexistent danger sense, which never worked when I tried something dumb—went off like a fire alarm as she wrote ‘Public Relations’ on the whiteboard. She circled it. “I’m thinking three fronts. First, PSAs.”

“I’ve done PSAs before.” I’d done a couple for the high school ‘news’ channel back home. They barely counted, but it was an option if getting recognized was my goal. “I don’t think it’s the best option, though.”

“Neither do I. That’s why I have three options.” Bianca wrote ‘PSAs.’ Then she wrote another option. “KRTU. It’s the campus radio station. The 3 p.m. Tuesday and Thursday DJ runs an Ask Me Anything and Interview segment after his playlist. So far, he’s interviewed some heroes and villains, the campus vice president in charge of student affairs, the TU women’s soccer coach, and a Tokyexico Council of Heroes representative. That last one was interesting—it was a no-holds-barred discussion about Man vs. Nature and safety issues on campus and across the city.”

“Who’s the host?”

“No idea. Goes by DJ Smooth—I know it’s dumb, but there it is. He’s a freshman, and sometimes he arranges round tables and panel discussions, too. He’s shockingly professional for a freshman.”

“Okay. I’m in. What’s the last one?”

“Television talk shows.”

“Nope. That’s too much.” I sat back down and went for my phone. I can do radio on campus, but live TV is too much. I’m good at putting my foot in my mouth.”

“Oookay, setting that one in the ‘Strong Maybe’ pile, then,” Bianca said. She wrote ‘Strong Maybe’ on the board and scribbled ‘Talk Shows’ underneath it. Then she flopped down, not in her regular chaise lounge but beside me. I wiggled so my head rested on her leg, and she played with my hair. She’d been doing that a lot since I got the Copy Cat Costume.

I knew she wanted me to transform, but I didn’t want to. Not right now. I needed my Bee time, not my Bee and Tails time. So, instead, I pulled out my phone and started doomscrolling on Followbook. Every time I found a funny video, I made Bee watch it. We bounced other ideas for The Plan off each other, but nothing sounded promising enough to add to the board. And she played with my hair the whole time—almost thirty minutes.

My phone buzzed. So did Bee’s, but she blew it off. I read the email and passed the phone to her. “Sound fun?”

She read the email and passed it back. “Yeah, that sounds fun.”

Subject: TUSSA New Year’s ‘Rager’

Greetings, Magical Girl Understudy,

According to Hephaestus, it is time for a ‘rager.’

When: December 31, 11:00 pm

Where: TUSSA-Cave

What: New Year’s Party. Tap beer provided. Pizza provided. Music Provided. Show up in costume, but be ready to be accessorized. Keep your New Year’s Day open to recover.

Party Hardy, Superheroes,

Ikenga

President, TUSSA

◄▼►

6 - Party Hardy, Superheroes

Wednesday, December 31

- - - - -

Fursona and I walked furtively through the tunnels, on the lookout for any SSS members. A few of them were back on campus, and if they found out the whole student superhero population was at a party, they might try something.

And it really would be the whole population. Vigilantes too. Someone had invited them. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but I’d spend the time with Springlock and Milo. And Fursona, of course. I enjoyed their company.

“You’re such a hottie in the new costume,” Fursona said through her voice modulator. “I’m really excited for tonight.”

“Me too.” I felt like a hottie. An added, unforeseen benefit to the Understudy costume was the ballerina-like skirt. Pataki had included a cool function in it, though. The stiffness snapped off with a few moves, leaving me with a passable cocktail dress-style outfit that swished around mid-thigh. “Sorry that you’re not gonna be able to drink or anything.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Pataki took care of that problem.”

We arrived at the door to the TUSSA-Cave. Hephaestus stood just outside, next to a table of goofy accessories; New Year’s glasses, pointed hats, noisemakers and kazoos, and a pair of glittery spheres with ‘Take at Your Own Risk’ written on the tablecloth beside them. “Don’t take those,” the Genius said. “If you do, and you use them in there, that’s on you. I don’t know why Ikenga told me to bring them.”

“What do they do?” Fursona asked.

Hephaestus snorted. “What do you think they do? They’re glitterbombs. Choose something, come on in, and have fun. The bar opens in eight minutes and thirty-four seconds. Swing by for a free drink.”

“Sure. Thanks.” I picked a hat with a cartoon baby on it and a noisemaker—the kind you blew to whack your neighbor with the unfurling paper bit. Fursona picked the kazoo and, against everyone’s better judgment, a glitter bomb.

“Come on in. No powers. Everyone’s drinking, so it’s better if you don’t use anything. We don’t want a repeat of what happened last year.” Hephaestus shuddered dramatically.

“What happened last year?” Fursona asked as I opened the door. The frenetic pulse of drum-and-bass music roared out toward us, along with shouted conversation. My whole body shook.

“You don’t want to know!” Hephaestus shouted back.

The door shut behind us. Fursona wrapped her paw around mine and dragged me toward the ‘dance floor,’ where two familiar, green-and-purple-suited superheroes bounced up and down with a bunch of heroes I’d seen at the job fair. I slapped the goofy, cone-shaped party hat on my head and followed her.

Punch caught sight of me before we even started dancing. He turned, uh…punched…, his brother in the shoulder, and pointed right at me. Shit.

The last time I’d seen Punch outside of a class was right here, in the TUSSA-Cave. We’d just won the lair assault Episode in a come-from-behind finish, but he’d been upset at me for…I wasn’t sure, to be honest. For using my power? Sure, I’d turned into a villain, lost control at the last possible moment, and maybe hit his brother a few times.

No big deal, right?

Wrong.

Punch stormed over, fists balled. The Bruiser superhero also wore a pointy party hat. He said something, but I couldn’t hear him. When I cupped my hand over my ear, he started shouting. I couldn’t tell if it was angry shouting or just loud shouting. “Underoos, you figured out your villain problem yet?”

“I don’t know. It seemed pretty good in my finale, didn’t it?” I shouted back.

“You don’t have to do this,” Fursona said. I only half-heard her, and when she grabbed my hand to pull me to the bar, I didn’t move. I did have to do this, not to win, but because Punch wouldn’t stop until he got to say his piece.

A pair of vigilante heroes gave us side-eyes. One pointed at the bar, where Haephestus pushed the table of party props into place. I didn’t blame them; I had no intention of fighting another hero, but they didn’t know that.

“You may be Ikenga’s golden girl for giving Monologue a rough time, but not everyone loves your bullshit, Underoos. You’re just another gimmicky Magical Girl, but without that costume-changing trick, what do you have?”

“[Stellar Ray], a cool sailboard, a guided punch, a speed boost, and a massive ranged damage power. How about you?”

“Work. Hard, hard work. Grapple and I train every day to be stronger and faster than the villains we fight, and it’s paying off. We don’t see you at the gym.”

“What time do you go?”

“Five thirty in the morning and six at night, just before dinner. TUSSA has a gym room, so we can work out like supers. Gotta work up an appetite!” He held up a hand for a high five. Grapple gave it to him, but the other twin didn’t seem very enthusiastic about it. Punch barely noticed. “Meet us there any day if you want to see how real heroes work. Unless you’re too much of a wimpy, noodle-armed Magical Girl.”

The joke was on Punch. I’d been working out since October, originally at Fursona’s insistence. More recently, though, I’d been doing it for myself. I didn’t always love it, but it helped focus me for the day. “I hit up the Roth Arena gym. I didn’t know TUSSA had a weight room. That sounds way better.”

Fursona shook her head, face-palming dramatically, but I ignored her. “See you there, Punchy,” I said loudly.

I didn’t have a better conversation ender than that, so I turned and headed for the bar. Before I took three steps, though, a hand clamped down on my shoulder. An insistent hand. One with far more grip than ordinary people had. I stopped—not that I could have pulled away if I wanted to—and turned back to the twins.

Or, more accurately, to Grapple. Punch stomped across the dance floor toward a pair of drinks with plastic covers, but the other twin had stuck around. “Sorry about him!” He shouted in my face.

“He’s kind of pissy!” I shouted back. “What’s his problem?”

“We’re D-rate superheroes, that’s what. Punch was so excited to get powers, but there’s nothing special about him, and he hates it. Milo’s a better wrestler than me, and Iron Fist hits harder than him. I’m okay with being a high-little-league or low-minor-league hero, but he’s got dreams and goals. And you didn’t just save the day during the ‘TUEAS Dogpile.’ You had to go and run a finale right after it. Eyes were on you for a month. Not him. Not Springlock—who’s damn hot and deserves all the eyes. But you.”

“Oh. Yeah, I can see why he’s still angry!” He had ambitions, and his circumstances kept holding him back. I got that; I’d been in a little league show for almost six years. Not moving up wasn’t easy, especially when you wanted it so badly.

Still, I couldn’t let a challenge go unanswered. Not one like Punch’s gym barb. “So, six pm? Here at the TUSSA-Cave? I’ll be there.”

“Great. It’ll be good for Punch to put you in your place,” Grapple said. He winked and left to sit with his brother.

I joined Fursona at the bar. She’d opened up a flap in her costume, revealing an empty tank with a hose leading from it, and she was shouting at Hephaestus. “Just put the damn beer in the bladder, dude! Skip the cup. I’m just gonna dump it in there.”

“Nope.” Hephaestus pointed up at the sign. “Serving in a non-bar container is against the rules.”

I looked up. Sure enough, Rule 4 said, ‘Beverages may only be served in approved containers.’ “He’s got you there, Fursona. I’ll take one too.”

Hephaestus poured the drinks while Fursona grumbled. “We’re underage too. Isn’t that against the rules?”

“No.”

We sat at the bar, nursing our drinks. At least, I nursed my drink. I heard Fursona’s furious sucking through the modulator; she’d filled the bladder up, and now she was working on emptying it. “Why are you picking a fight with Punch?” She asked me.

“I didn’t try to pick a fight with him. He did that on his own. But I won’t back down just because he’s upset. It doesn’t help.”

“I know it doesn’t help, but now’s not the time, babe,” Fursona said. “Let’s enjoy the party instead of posturing, okay?

I reached out and put an arm around her; my other one held my drink. “Sure, little miss marsupial.”

I’d started my third beer, and I felt all three, by the time Ikenga arrived at the New Year’s Party. The music faded to a low hum.

Milo and Springlock flanked the club president at the door; she sat near the bar as he started talking. She’d opted for those glasses with the year on them and the other glitter bomb. Her Greek wrestler boyfriend interpreted Ikenga’s words, fingers flying.

“In just a few minutes, my fellow TUSSA members and vigilante guests, we’ll begin another year of superhero work on Tokyexico University’s campus. I’ve been looking forward, and I see a tumultuous year ahead. We face many threats, and not only from our…colleagues in the Student Supervillain Society. The Man vs. Nature threat is receding, but a Power War may be on the horizon. When that happens, the burden will fall on we heroes—yes, the powerful major leaguers and our professors, but to we in the minor and little leagues, to help.”

I finished my drink. Somehow, another one appeared in front of me. This one was different, though. This one was double-sized. Hephaestus stared right at me, pity in his eyes. “Sorry, Understudy. You’ll want this. It’s your turn.”

“My turn?”

Before the Genius behind the bar could respond, Ikenga kept talking. “Yes, the next year will be filled with challenges, but tonight, we’re celebrating old victories and accomplishments. The ‘You’re Super-Suited for This Job’ Career fair paired twenty-three intern sidekicks with high-minor or major league heroes and only created eighty-seven henchmen for the SSS—an acceptable trade. Then we beat them in the TUEAS Dogpile Episode. And last spring semester, we won most of our TUSSA versus SSS fights.”

He took a deep breath and stared right at me. “We also had new members accomplish big things.”

“Shit,” I whispered. The double-sized beer sat in front of me. I took a big pull and nodded gratefully to Hephaestus. “Thanks.”

“Magical Girl Understudy, in her first semester, finished a Series Finale against her former nemesis, Professor Panic. He’d come here from the small town they’re from to seek revenge for something he should never have sought revenge for.”

“I’m gonna need another.” I drank again.

Hephaestus looked me in the eye, then shook his head. “I’m cutting you off.”

“Please?”

“Nope.”

Ikenga kept talking. “Using her power cleverly and staying in her villain form just long enough, Magical Girl Understudy managed to defeat the villainous Genius—and not only that! She conducted the first arrest leading to imprisonment on TU soil in over five years. For that, Magical Girl Understudy is our Guest of Honor at tonight’s New Year’s Rager!”

Fuck. Shit. I tried to smile happily as the heroes—most of them—clapped politely. The double-sized beer was three-quarters empty.

“Oh, it’s happening!” Someone shouted, interrupting Ikenga’s speech. Sure enough, on the big-screen TV in the corner, the gigantic ball in Confluence Park started dropping.

10, 9, 8

Milo grabbed Springlock’s hand and pulled her up from her seat. I stared for a moment, then figured it out. It was the ball drop. That, traditionally, meant kissing your partner on zero.

7, 6, 5

But Fursona had her damn fursuit head on, and even if I wasn’t drunk, it took more than five seconds to take it off.

4, 3, 2, 1

I gave her a gigantic hug through the plush. She probably didn’t even feel it, but it was the thought that counted, right?

Bang!

“Fuck!” A glitter volcano erupted from Fursona’s pocket, coating me with the stuff and launching more into the air. The party also erupted into angry shouts as superheroes fled from the growing glitterstorm.

“I guess the party’s over,” Fursona said. I nodded, grabbed her paw, and headed for the door.

◄▼►