Trainee Superhero (Book Three) Read Online Free Page A

personally. He’s been grumpy ever since he was conscripted for
this role as an alternative to going to jail for selling med tech
on the black market.”
    “He’s a criminal?” I say, only somewhat
surprised.
    “A talented criminal,” she corrects me,
“which is why your arm is now more metal than bone. Now get some
rest.”
    I wait for her to leave, and then I stand up.
My arm is in a cast, but I feel fine. More metal than bone? I can
live with that. I’m doing one-armed push-ups when Never Lies walks into the room. She gives me a bemused look and shakes her
head.
    “You’re an idiot,” she says.
    That’s a fair assessment.
    “No one has ever hit the bell, you know. It’s
meant to be an impossible challenge to teach trainees to push
themselves in a situation they can’t win.”
    I didn’t know that.
    “I don’t know what possessed you to throw
yourself around like that. What were you thinking?”
    I shrug.
    “I wanted to impress you. I guess I was too
stupid to know when I was beat,” I say.
    “ Past Prime tried to argue that you
mother wouldn’t want you fighting and that this incident proved you
take too many risks.”
    “I guess my mom wouldn’t want me fighting,” I
admit.
    “No one’s mother wants their kids to fight,
but Past Prime is too old to remember that. Anyway, Small
Talk said you have the kind of stupid we need, and even Dark
Fire was impressed.”
    “So you voted to let me join?” I ask.
    “I did. I don’t think you are the worst
superhero I’ve ever seen. Now get some sleep.”
    They keep me in the sick bay for another
three days, although I don’t really see the point. I’m ready to get
out of here. I play with my tat-a-gotchi, making it do tricks. It’s
grown bigger now, a long serpent with crystalline wings and a sharp
beak.
    “I remember when you were a lame little
worm,” I tell it.
    Someone coughs politely to get my attention.
It’s the grey-haired steward.
    “They want you in the armory,” he tells me,
and I’m finally free.
    Second Best and Talented Brat are standing in the middle of the armory waiting for me. A crowd of
technicians are gathered around them, and everyone seems
excited.
    “Come here, lad,” Brat says.
    He points me towards a suit of armor in a
dark corner. I can’t see any details.
    “Turn on a light or something,” I say.
    A single spotlight turns on and illuminates
the suit. It’s a squat and bulky thing, all sharp corners and flat
surfaces with no concession to aerodynamics. The helmet is a thick
cube of black glass, and the chest and legs are covered in bulky
flat metal.
    “Woah,” I say.
    The left arm is a thick rectangle ending in a
barrel, the right arm is a set of rods encased in a set of clear
glass cubes and a heavy prism sits on each shoulder. The prisms
look like short-range cutting lasers. It’s a heavier suit than any
I’ve ever seen, with overlapping metal squares all over.
    It looks like the kind of suit that’s
designed to mess things up . I look for a name on the chest,
but the suit looks polished and new, unpainted and without a
label.
    “Like it?” asks Second Best .
    “It’s… brutal,” I say, “but I like it! Whose
is it?”
    They share a confused look, and Brat slaps his face in exasperation.
    “Idiot.”
    I’m being dense; this suit was made for
me.
    “Really?” I ask, and for the first time since
my mom died I break into a genuine smile.
    “Really,” says Second Best , “just for
you.”
    I put it on; it fits perfectly. This suit is
the first piece of clothing made just for me.
    “Ready?” Brat asks.
    I am; I fly right out the armory hangar and
into the sky. The suit feels solid, like I’m a flying rhino made of
steel. I feel good.
    No… I feel invulnerable.
    “Fly east,” whispers Second Best in my
helmet.
    I check my compass and fly east. The suit
turns well, for all its bulk, and flying slowly barely uses any
power. I loop and dive, yelling in pleasure.
    “I kept this power source just