Free Trainee Superhero (Book One) by C. H. Aalberry Page A

because I’m even clumsier in the air than I am
on the ground. The suit shields me from hits that would otherwise
have killed me, but I’m still getting battered around. We keep
going until my low power alarm rings out ( whaah-whaah ) and Talented Brat calls a stop.
    “Flight test complete,” he says, “weak
agility, average speed, average stamina. Let’s move this on
already.”
    We land beside a set of big metal crates. Brat talks to me through my helmet as Small Talk walks to the crates. They are full of weapons. Small Talk hands me a powerglove and points me towards a metal cube set into
the sand. The glove lights up.
    “Targets ready,” says Talented
Brat .
    “Set,” I say.
    A couple of red balls shoot out of the cube
and I hit them both. Using the powerglove barely takes up any of my
energy. Neither Small Talk nor Talented Brat make any
comment, but Small Talk motions me to take the glove off and
passes me a laser rifle. It doesn’t seem to have a trigger, but
neither did the gloves. The targets pop up again, but I can’t make
the laser rifle shoot. I try a second time and then look towards Small Talk .
    “Is there like a button or something I need
to push?” I ask.
    “Next,” says Brat impatiently.
    Small Talk takes the rifle away and
hands me a plasma pistol like the ones Bad Day uses. I shake
it a few times, but nothing happens. Great.
    “You have to arc the power down your arm and
into the barrel. Can you do that?” says Brat .
    I don’t even know what that means, so I hand
the pistol back to Small Talk . There is a plasma rifle there
as well, but Small Talk doesn’t bother with it. He hands me
a pulse spear. It’s a clumsy weapon and the only thing I manage to
hit is the side of Small Talk ’s helmet. He glares at me and
snatches it back.
    We move to pulse casters, beamgats and
coldstorm cannons but I’m terrible at all of them. They either
don’t work properly or they drain too much energy with every
shot.
    “Come on, kid,” implores Brat .
    The next weapon is a short, thick cannon that
sits on my shoulder. It’s heavy. The targets pop up and I lob a
blast of green energy towards them, hitting one and destroying it
instantly. A set of targets pop up, but I can’t get a second shot
out of the cannon.
    “Next next next,” sings out Brat .
    I don’t think I’m doing very well at all. We
move through light lances, which don’t work for me, and blade
catapults that I keep missing with. My frustration grows with every
failure, and Brat gets increasingly edgy. Small Talk doesn’t seem moved by my inability to use the weapons, but keeps
handing them to me.
    “This one looks like a crossbow that fires
rockets,” I say.
    “Yep… but can you hit anything with it?” says Brat .
    I hit a target dead on, but the bow only has
one shot in it.
    “No,” says Small Talk and takes the
bow away from me.
    We are running out of weapons, and I am
losing hope. I can’t be a super without a weapon, unless I want to
join team Mercy . Small Talk hands me a glove as long
as my arm. Two delicate spikes run down the side and project out
past my fingers.
    “Multiblaster,” says Small Talk .
    “Don’t bother,” says Brat , “that thing
doesn’t work for any-”
    The multiblaster lights up. A pair of targets
shoots into the air, and I hit them both dead center with thin rays
of light.
    “Lucky shot,” says Brat .
    More targets fly into the air and I hit them
all. The mutliblaster shoots exactly where I want it to and soon
targets are falling out of the sky by the dozens. It uses a lot of
my energy, but I don’t care.
    “Fine,” says Small Talk
    I have never felt so great from such little
encouragement
    “Whoop-dee-doo, it’s about time,” drawls Brat , “now let’s see if you are any good with an egg
launcher.”
    “A what?”
    “The egg cannon,” lectures Brat , “is a
weapon I developed for hopeless trainees like you. The trigger is
in the mouthpiece; just point and bite down twice to