Shrinkman spit pink saliva onto the concrete.

  “You…”

  “Me.” Instructor Hill sweetly responded. However, his expression as he regarded Shrinkman was anything but friendly. Jeremiah suddenly felt worried for the life of this criminal. But could Instructor Hill really do anything? Jeremiah thought. A guy like him?

  The other Instructors of the Main Halls of Myriad had years of accolades and Heroic Deeds to convince any evildoer to surrender, but Instructor Hill? He could easily be mistaken as a normal school teacher.

  “Ashley, Isaac, Jeremiah? This lesson is very early, but opportunities like these are rare.” Roger made it fully into the building, wiped his slacks of dust, and cracked his knuckles. Shrinkman, delirious as he was, could tell that Roger had become the main priority. He gripped his knife with newfound vitriol, and began to slowly approach Roger.

  “Superpowers or not, hand-to-hand combat cannot be ignored. Especially when you want to apprehend criminals rather than killing them.” Instructor Hill straightened up as if at attention. Despite being merely steps away from Shrinkman, he continued to look past him towards his students.

  “I would never recommend fighting someone with a weapon while being unarmed yourself. A single slash or puncture can severely injure or kill the average person.”

  By the end of his sentence, Shrinkman was already in range, slashing towards his neck. But Instructor Hill leaned into a fall just before, boosted off the ground and rolled back to standing over his three students. What just happened? Jeremiah wondered in shock. It’s like he knew he was going to do that! In Shrinkman’s already dazed state, the disappearance of Instructor Hill stunned him for a moment.

  Instructor Hill wiped himself off once again, and inspected his students.

  “The green paint. . .” Instructor Hill said.

  “Yeah, Today’s Color is green.” Ashley replied.

  “Incredible!”

  “It was Froggy’s idea, not mine.”

  Instructor Hill gave two thumbs up to Jeremiah.

  “And his broken nose, would that mean. . .”

  “Jerry dropped his stomach on him!” Isaac blurted.

  “Incredible! Ah, wait. The lesson. Watch closely.”

  Instructor Hill turned to face Shrinkman, who just realized what had happened. Shrinkman cursed and charged, moving to stab rather than slash. This time, Instructor Hill took the initiative. He cleared the distance between himself and Shrinkman by leaping forward. Shrinkman’s look of shock was quickly obscured by Instructor Hill’s shoes, as the mild-mannered teacher knocked him flat on the floor with a dropkick. The trio sat in awed silence.

  As Shrinkman thrashed on the floor, holding his ruined face, Instructor Hill gave a few crumbs of knowledge to his jaw-dropped students.

  “Going to grab the enemy’s knife opens you up quite a bit. If you fail to do so, It’s likely the enemy will strike exactly where he wanted, likely being your torso. The legs have more reach and more power, so make use of them when possible. Unfortunately, it also requires you to succeed in landing a powerful blow to your enemy. Yes, unarmed combat against weapon-wielding enemies is far from optimal.”

  He smiled at the trio.

  “Luckily for me, my chances of winning this fight are much higher thanks to you all.” Instructor Hill said. He strolled over to Shrinkman, who has found himself on the floor far too many times tonight. Before Shrinkman could use his knife, Instructor Hill pressed his foot on the shoulder previously wounded by Jeremiah.

  “It’s time to give up, friend. You see those lights don’t you? Let go of the knife.”

  Jeremiah noticed red and blue lights slowly covering the building. The sirens weren't blaring, which made sense, since this was a Blessing Related Crime. If T.H.R.O.N.E. was directly involved, cop cars would not even be used in response to BRCs.

  Shrinkman’s eyes darted around in recognition. He then smiled and managed to spit bloodied saliva onto Instructor Hill’s face. The tiny smile on Instructor Hill’s face didn’t change at all.

  “Ok.”

  With a foot on Shrinkman’s shoulder, Roger grabbed the wrist holding the knife. Instructor Hill stood, holding Shrinkman’s arm up, pointed to the ceiling. With a fluid motion, he kicked Shrinkman’s elbow in.

  It snapped cleanly.

  Thirty minutes later, Detective Clark struggled with his faulty lighter after dismissing the ambulance and secondary squad cars. It was going to be another long night. When was the last time he had even close to eight hours of sleep? He cursed as his lighter failed to ignite. The coarse, scarred hand of Roger brought a lighter to the detective’s cigarette.

  “You don’t smoke.” Detective Clark said.

  “Correct.”

  After a few puffs, Detective Clark looked at his cigarette like a stranger. She would always moan and groan about these. He thought. So did Thomas. The detective grimaced at the thought of his son complaining about his work schedule, and instead focused on Roger.

  “A mess as usual with you,” Detective Clark said. “I thought you wanted an ambulance just in case the kids were hurt.”

  “I did.” Roger replied. “But all possibilities should be considered.”

  Detective Clark laughed a joyless laugh.

  “Right. Knowing you, if those kids even had a scratch on them. . .”

  The crook would have no use for an ambulance.

  “If you care about these brats so much, why put them—”

  “Any ID on this Shrinkman?” Roger asked.

  Detective Clark smirked. What a terrible working relationship he has with this man. In what world is the Detective only allowed to answer questions? To make it worse, the so-called “Instructor” only seems to ask questions.

  What a sick joke.

  “We don’t have his name yet, but we got something. He’s got two pairs of wings tattooed on his collarbone.”

  Detective Clark didn’t bother looking at Roger. Whatever expression the Instructor had, it hid what he knew he felt. Detective Clark decided there was a silver lining to being the one with the answers.

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  “He’s from Cherub.”

  The detective now stared at Roger, looking for a reaction. He couldn’t help but savor the slight twitch in Roger’s eye, the tightening of his jaw. After so many years, it was finally my turn to ask the questions, Detective Clark thought.

  “Funny little coincidence, isn’t it? We made a deal about the same subject didn’t we? I let the brats play around and you start talking, so talk. Tell me what really happened in Cherub.”

  Sitting side-by-side with Isaac and Ashley in the backseat, Jeremiah watched the two adults converse. Whatever was going on between the two, it only furthered Jeremiah’s suspicion about their relationship. Whatever suspicions he had about his Instructor had skyrocketed after that fight. All that struggle and planning that took a whole day of sleuthing, just for him to deal with it so fast! From the conversation Jeremiah barely heard, Isaac and Ashley felt the same way.

  “Teach probably has some mind reading thing, man! That’s how he acted like he already knew what Shrinkman was going to do!” Isaac said, scratching at his birthmark.

  “But, like, what if he can see the future?” Ashley replied. “That explains his totally calm attitude all the time, too.”

  If their Instructor was using a Blessing, Jeremiah couldn’t tell. He took care of Shrinkman with nothing but his body. To think, they’ll be learning moves like that in the future. . .

  Jeremiah shook off the thoughts for now.

  “He’s coming back.” Jeremiah said.

  Ashley and Isaac’s conversation died out as they watched the detective and teacher break away from each other without a hint of a farewell. Instructor Hill strolled to the driver’s door, opened it, and sat down without a word. Though they wouldn’t know, all three of them remembered the clean snap of Shrinkman’s elbow being kicked in. It had nothing to do with them, of course. There was no need to think they would receive that kind of treatment. However, they all knew now that Instructor Roger Hill was capable of doing something like that effortlessly.

  And more.

  “It’s not quite like the comic books, isn’t it?” Instructor Hill said. As cold as his voice was, it was a soft sentence. A half-hearted attempt at comforting them, maybe. Staring into the rear-view mirror, he cleaned the dried blood-saliva mixture from his face. It didn’t seem like he was waiting for a response, and neither of them gave him one.

  “It will never be like the comic books, no matter how high in paygrade you go.”

  Instructor Hill’s eyes pierced through all of them in the rear-view mirror.

  “You all did well today, but this is par for the course. In fact, things went very, very cleanly tonight.” Instructor Hill ended his gaze, and instead looked forward, watching as the detective drove away in his own car.

  “The career of a T.H.R.O.N.E. Agent, if you choose to take it, will be drenched in scenes like this, views like this. Myriad graduates will have the same look in their eyes that you all have.”

  Now, his eyes returned to the rear-view mirror, and Jeremiah saw eyes burning with purpose, with vigor.

  “But you three have already reached that step! You have more experience than a Myriad graduate before your first day! You won’t get hurt or killed like so many rookies have because of their greenness!”

  And then his eyes shut. He adjusted his glasses, regained his calm, then continued.

  “There are far worse men than Shrinkman. While you three have stopped him, there are more ruthless, more clever, more powerful criminals out there using their Blessings for terrible crimes.”

  Instructor Hill’s voice began to stumble, becoming shaky.

  “And they won’t wait for you to be ready. They never have. They never will. So don’t think the hard part is four years away. It’s already here.”

  He turned to face the three of them.

  “If you do not want to do this, I need you to tell me now. I’ll do the paperwork tonight and have you sent home within a week. Make your choice by the time we make it to the outer gates of the academy.”

  And with that, he started driving.

  It was a silent trip. Jeremiah’s thoughts wandered through every possibility and scenario he could. The silence made things worse. If only the other two could start their bickering right now. But of course not. They were going through the same troubles. There was some comfort in that. Jeremiah suddenly thought about the day before, how worried he was about his Blessing’s usefulness. Now here he was, given an ultimatum for something he wanted so badly only a day ago.

  Thankfully, the silence came to an end as the van approached Myriad’s outer gates. Instructor Hill stopped the car and waited. Somehow, Jeremiah’s heart felt heavier than his stomach. All this for my stomach. . .

  “So uh, I’m still with you, Teach.” Isaac said.

  “Why?” Instructor Hill asked gravely.

  “I’m not gonna act like I was in this for pure justice and all that, but. . .” Isaac found himself trying to find the right pose to sit in.

  “The older I got, the less I could use my Blessing, you know? I joined because I feel alive when I use it. But. . . man! When I was in that alley, I was scared! I thought I was gonna die!” Isaac winced at his voice cracking.

  “And—I dunno, murder is more real to me, man! Some people aren’t as lucky so they just get killed and that’s it. If I could use this Blessing to stop that from happening, I’d feel. . .”

  “You’d feel like it would be ok to enjoy a Blessing that allowed you to live when others died?” Instructor Hill asked. Isaac’s silence gave as good of an answer as any.

  “I see.”

  Ashley cleared her throat.

  “You aren’t getting rid of me that easy, Roger~”

  As much as she tried, Ashley’s nervousness was palpable. Her smile quivered and her breathing was heavy. Instructor Hill pierced her with his eyes.

  “Why is that?”

  “If I become a T.H.R.O.N.E. Agent, I’m set for life. And if it saves lives and makes Seraph safer, that’s totally what I should be doing! Also. . .”

  Her charade crumbled as she returned Instructor Hill’s gaze.

  “There’s no way I’m going back home. No way.”

  Their teacher didn’t respond in any way Jeremiah could tell, and the car returned to silence.

  It was Jeremiah’s turn.

  He let the words come out before he could even think of them.

  “I-I’ll stay!” Jeremiah said, nearly shouting.

  “Then why, Jeremiah?”

  “Because! Because. . . I never saw my Blessing as anything other than a curse! But today, my only hope was confirmed!” Jeremiah shouted. His glasses were blurring up. Jeremiah yanked them off only to realize his eyes were blurry as well.

  “If I stay here, I’ll be an Agent—no, a hero! If I give up, I’ll just go back to being a freak!”

  Jeremiah found himself stunned by his own words. It was like an admission of guilt. He wasn’t in it for the sake of good, of saving people and putting away villains. It was to satisfy his ego. The risk of injury and death was apparent, but that is what makes a hero worthy of admiration, right?

  That is why Jeremiah can no longer go home.

  “Very well.” Instructor Hill said. The car returned to silence, and the trio stewed in the new anxiety that comes from laying yourself bare. Waiting for the consequences of what they confessed. It dawned on Jeremiah that there wasn’t a single person in this car whose ambitions were purely for the sake of heroism.

  He took comfort in this, even if he felt he shouldn’t.

  “Major General Myriad, the namesake of the academy you seek to enroll in, was far from a pure hero.” Instructor Hill said. His voice was somber, laced with nostalgia and longing. Could he have. . .? No way.

  “Hard to believe, maybe? It’s the truth.” Instructor Hill continued. “He made desperate calls, reckless mistakes, and found himself on the side of moral quandaries where many others wouldn’t stand. And he did it all because he thought he was the best.”

  Instructor Hill chuckled.

  “That’s right. The greatest Agent of T.H.R.O.N.E., and the most iconic hero of this century had a simple motive of proving what he thought he was. So how could I look down on your motivations?”

  Instructor Hill pulled out that miniature notepad and began writing through it.

  “I’ve decided! From here on out, The Afterschool Waiting List is an early orientation for you three.”

  The words didn’t stick for Jeremiah. The motionless Ashley and Isaac beside him confirmed that they also couldn’t comprehend what he meant.

  “What d-do you mean?”

  Instructor Hill smiled as he closed the notepad.

  “You three are no longer on the Waiting List for the Principality of M.G. Myriad.”

  Instructor Hill regarded his students with a truly warm smile.

  “Consider yourselves enrolled.”