---

The Previous Evening...

---

---

Henry and Eli sat together in the observatorium, at the very top of the highest spire on The Promise. They did this every new year, in some form of tradition. As if it was some recognition process- celebrating a new group coming aboard.

“Hey, Eli,”

The man rustled some, turning his head lazily towards his reptilian companion. Henry pointed toward the clear ceiling towards no star in particular.

“That, right there, is why I stay on this ship.”

Eli sneered.

“You could get that view on the ground, man. It’s pretty much the same view.”

“Yeah, but I feel closer. Y’know? Who was it- was it black science man, Sagan, or Clarke that made that ‘Alone in the universe’ quote?”

“Clarke, Henry. That was Clarke.”

“Yeah- I just… Some part of me thinks that me doing my part here helps us take one step closer to getting there.”

“Zoey, how far away is that star Henry’s pointing at?”

”That star is approximately… 227 light years away, Doctor Winzer.”

“Well, Henry, we have a hell of a lot of steps left.”

---

Present

---

Today is the day. All of that time being vetted in physicals, taking shots, and having strangers put their fingers in every possible orifice have all come to their climax. Whether you have been excited, fearful, or a combination of both, the time has come.

Today is the day you realize, as you slide off of your bed in your quarantined room and press your bare feet onto the ground, that this is a day of lasts. This is the last time you will shuffle into a line to get breakfast, the last time you would see see your family, and the last time your feet would touch Earth for eight years.

Today is the day for launch.

---

---

"Wakey, wakey! Eggs and bakey!" a voice called out, rousing Wednesday from her slumber and enticing her to roll over from her lumpy cot. She couldn't see the person outside of the door, but she recognized the voice. It was the same one that had come to her cell every morning and every night, and sometimes at lunchtime- but only to annoy her. Her nature had forced her to come to know the person the voiced belonged to, if only to cause heartache in return.

"Wow, eggs and bacon today? You're spoiling me." She commented as food was slid under her door and into her room. It most certainly was not eggs and bacon. It was oatmeal and bread. Just like it had been every other day since she had gotten into solitary confinement.

"Trust me, I really fought for your last meal to be different. Better eat up! It's a big day today!" the voice commented sarcastically. There was the sound of whistling and footsteps that faded, and then Wednesday was alone again with her... slop. She sighed and knelt down on the ground, dipping her bread in the oatmeal and took a bite like she normally did. Her mind drifted to his words- last day. Did that mean they were going to kill her? She knew she hadn't been a model citizen in any country, but she was certainly not a super villain. Everyone she'd done in had it coming in one way or another.

The past few weeks had been eventful, but in a bad way. She had been pulled in and out of her quarantined cell and restrained so that doctors could do whatever they wanted with her. When she had screamed and burnt several, they had claimed it was for research purposes in preparation. Maybe they were just finding the best way to kill her? She snorted and smiled to herself. Fools, she was just like any normal person in that regard. She took pride knowing that she had wasted thousands of taxpayer dollars and hours of their time. If she was going to die, she was going to die a pain in the ass.

A few hours passed, and she spent the time the way she did any other day- which was carving something into the wall. It usually wasn't anything good, since she couldn't draw for shit, but it got her mind working and that was what mattered. She heard the marching of feet, and immediately stood up. She had spent the time steeling herself for this situation. She had faced fatal situations before, and death was no stranger to her. If she was going to die, she was going to die with dignity. Her cell door unlocked, and two heavily armed guards stood in the doorway. She offered her arms to be bound in that strange goo they always used (since she always melted through the normal handcuffs), but instead she was swiftly stuck with a needle. She wrenched her arms back, and tried to activate her powers- but to no avail. Her vision began swimming, and she felt her strength go. She collapsed to the ground and as her vision began blacking out, she heard:

_{"Dude! Did you just Bill Cosby her? Not cool!"}

Her delirious mind was not looking forward to whatever was coming next.

---

When she came too, Wednesday awoke heavily restrained, and not in the fun way. She couldn't move any of her body aside from turning her head, and her powers weren't acting like normal. She was alone in a room that had to have... fifty or more seats in it. Some of which were occupied with people restrained similarly to her. What the hell kind of execution was this?

"Woah! Looks like she's awake!" a voice rang out over the intercom. This voice was... nerdy for a lack of better description.

"Where the fu-"

"You're being launched into space."

Wednesday was taken aback.

"Wha-"

"Yeah, see, I do this a lot so the line of questioning gets pretty standard. There was an agent in your food this morning, and a catalyst in that needle along with a sedative. Knocked you and your powers out. Basically some higher up decided that we're the last thing besides you and being shot into the sun, so you're taking a trip on the world's biggest rollercoaster."

As the others began to wake up, the voice answered similar questions. After a while, it announced that the others would be arriving soon, and to sit tight. Then she heard something about him mumbling about coffee breaks not being often enough. After a short period, a slow trickle of people wearing bright white uniforms began coming into the room. They were chattering about 'The Promise' and how they'd been invited. Some were talking about their families. All of them had personal items and luggage- it was like they were walking into a plane or something. They had obviously known about this, and had somehow agreed to it. The noise in the room grew as the seats were filled- and then promptly silenced when the voice came onto the intercom once again.

"Students, welcome! My name is Elias, and I am required to sound like I give a shit."

That prompted a few laughs.

"So, I gotta brief you all- basically you'e being shot into space towards a hole that's moving really really fast. Kinda like a really big game of pool. If we undershoot, you die. If we overshoot, you die. If you leave the ship now, you probably wont die. Last chance to get off!"

No one moved. Some out of balls, and others out of fear.

"Wow, buncha winners we have here. Anyways, keep yourselves strapped in- and keep your gear secured. Dont want that killing anyone during the flight!"

The comms shut off again, and the chatter resumed. Wednesday was just trying to remember her family.

Half an hour passed, and then...

---

"10!"

The countdown began. Some students were giddy in their seats, eagerly looking out their windows. Others were clutching various religious objects and praying in various languages.

"6!"

"You ready?" Someone called.

"4!"

"Not even a little bit!" another person answered.

"3!"

A large portion of those aboard the pod joined in on the counting.

"2!"

Some students were holding hands.

"1!"

Wednesday made a cross across her chest.

"Liftoff!"

For a moment, there was dead silence, and Wednesday wondered for a brief moment if there was an issue. Then her stomach lurched as the pod's engines rocketed to life. She and everyone else felt the push as the amount of thrust overcame gravity- and then were pressed into their seats as the rocket picked up speed. Mötley Crew's "Kickstart My Heart" began playing over the intercom, no doubt as a courtesy of one of those overseeing them from the control room. Wednesday was able to turn her head and gaze out of her window- a huge white cloud of emerged from the base of the shuttle, then brightness so intense it was almost hard for her to look at- but there was no looking away. This was it. Wednesday's heart was in her throat as memories of nightmares she’d had popped into her head- of fears she had, of her family and friends both living and dead. The flames shooting out of the bottom of the shuttle were scorching a line through the sky, leaving a thick trail of orangey smoke behind them. Within moments the shuttle was soaring high above the Earth, to a soundtrack of cheering. Then came the first inkling of the rumble that went on to be a wall of sound so powerful it literally shook her bones. The deep rumbling built to a crescendo of popping like the sound waves were ripping the air apart, bursting their way through to them. Had she not been provided context, she would have assumed that it was the sound of an earthquake. It was like one thousand fireworks exploding all at once, with an accompaniment of an Earth-shaking rumble.

"Enjoy your trip. ETA: ten minutes. See you all soon." Eli's voice came onto the intercom.

The launch was immensely powerful, and she truly felt herself in the centre of it. It was like riding an enormous- overpowering wave, or being pushed and lifted, or shaken in the jaws of some gigantic animal. The pod shook and vibrated, and she was pinned hard down into her seat by the acceleration. As one set of engines finished and the next started, she was thrown forward and then shoved back. The weight of over 4 Gs for many minutes had been oppressive, and the sudden shift rocked her to her very core. As if an enormously fat person had been lying on her, until suddenly, after 9 minutes, the engine shut off and she was instantly weightless.

Outside, The Promise was rotating around the planet at five hundred miles an hour, and as the pod approached, the port at the bottom of it's central spire opened- and the pod flew seamlessly into it. Wednesday and many other students lurched forward when a series of braking systems enclosed around the pod as it flew through the port's bowels. As it came to a stop- the seat belts released from around the normal students.

The whole process of transporting the group 350 miles had taken twenty minutes.

The doors opened, and a flood of people in all shapes and sizes rushed in. The woman who had approached Wednesday unlocked her restraints and offered her a hand. She weakly raised her arm and took it, and was pulled up slowly, but all too quickly at the same time. She fell against the woman, who held her until she was steadied. It dawned upon Wednesday how fast her heart had been beating, and she placed a hand against her chest and tried to keep herself from coughing.

"One hell of a ride, huh? Nothing quite like it."

Wednesday noted that her voice had a British accent, and that she was thin and blonde. Wednesday nodded wordlessly, and the woman helped her to her feet. Many of the other students were leaning against the walls of the room or their luggage, and others were walking into a bright corridor outside.

"What's your name?" Wednesday questioned. The woman smiled, and answered easily: "Arianna."

Arianna pointed towards the corridor, and Wednesday looked to her incredulously. Did she really expect her to walk after all that?

"The first steps are a special thing. It's tradition to take them on your own." Arianna said knowingly.

Wednesday gulped, and took a step forward. She nearly collapsed under her own weight, and leaned heavily onto the wall. Only a few more steps. She repeated this process, gaining slightly more strength as she did so, and eventually stepped into the bright corridor, and followed the large arrows on the floor directing her where to go. When she stepped into what couldn't be anything other than her destination, she was greeted by a massive hub. There was a large variety of people- most of which were those on the pod, but some were others that weren't dressed in launch uniforms. They were dressed like normal people, and they were in a ring around the new arrivals yelling something about 'The Promise' and 'School Spirit'. They were loud and proud. Wednesday nearly threw up in her mouth- but she couldn't tell if it was because of the Kumbaya shit or leftover queasiness from the launch.

Arianna walked up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Welcome to The Promise."

---

“Is it crooked?”

“No, doesn’t look it.”

“How about from far away?”

A brief sound of the air being rapidly displaced, twice.

“Nope, looks good.”

“Okay then, coming down…”

Archie descended the ladder and gently placed it aside, compacting it for easier movement. He stepped backward, taking place next to his companion, and took out a small remote device from his blazer pocket. He hit the button, and the rolled-up poster emerged from its casing hung on the wall.



Archie and his companion looked up and down at it. A large poster, seven feet tall, specially printed for this exact spot - the Promise’s central hub. By far the most active area during the academic year, students passing in and out to head for different areas, or generally just lounging, talking, etc. This would get the most attention, no doubt about it. But for the sake of assurance, there had to be more, elsewhere.

“Good start.” Archie’s companion commented. She was a short girl, pale, black hair with red highlights, general punk wear. A grasshopper emblem emblazoned on the back of her coat.

“Yes it is.” Archie replied, “But what’s important is being thorough. You know where the rest are stored, so just go and put them wherever. And space them out too, wanna cover as much as ground as possible. I’ll send the credits to your account after they’re all up.”

“You got it.” The girl replied, turning and suddenly vanishing, distorting the space around her for only a split second. Teleportation. Archie nodded and turned as well, taking a look around the hub. There were already students up and about there, some taking an eye to the poster. Admittedly, Archie was expecting more senior students to participate - people who had already, or were close, to completing their power training. But in his five years aboard, he’d seen a good few come up already knowing plenty of tricks and tactics. He was one such student - but then again, his power wasn’t very combat-oriented. Not directly at least.

As he perused his thoughts, a familiar sound heralded the arrival of the new freshman class. Archie turned his eyeless gaze towards the launch bay entrance, where a cadre of older students were corralling the new folk inland. Archie clapped his hands together, ever so excited to see how the future would play out.

“It begins.”

---

Please input user ID
>ECW241
Identifying…
Identified as user ECW241
Please input user password
>********************
Working…
Accepted

Welcome to the Luminous Communication Network, hosted by Wonderstrike. Please input a command to begin.

>request chat with ZNY519

Working…
Requesting communication with user ZNY519…
Communication established.

ZNY519: Yes?
ECW241: The new batch is here and there’s nothing you’d be interested in. Just telling you now and saving you the extended report later.
ZNY519: I thought I already told you I wasn’t interested anyway. I’m past the power introductions, now all I’m doing is bug testing.
ECW241: I know you.
ECW241: You say you’re done with something and then a week later you double back because you ‘might have overlooked some details’.
ECW241: You just can’t make up your mind sometimes.
ZNY519: Is this a lecture?
ECW241: No, this is me telling you, you suck. And if you try to double back this time it’s not gonna work.
ZNY519: Goodbye, Winzer.
ECW241: I’m serious.

Connection with user ZNY519 terminated
>logout
Logging out user ECW241…

---

---

Abe was one of the lucky few that made it onto the shuttle without being drugged and kidnapped, but was only just on the other side of a thin line that kept him away from that circumstance. He believed that, if he refused, they might have just taken him anyways. If face with a no win scenario, it's better to take the better option so that you're at least left with something – then you can bide your time and win later. But it is hard to call yourself lucky when you were forced into something, especially when that “something” is being strapped onto a rocket and getting shot into space. The trip was so stomach wrenching, and the force was so powerful, he was positive that he'd throw up everything he had eaten if he had actually bothered to eat today. He was fortunate in this regard – word had it that some among them were already puking on themselves or on the floor. This is the sort of thing Abe meant when he was thinking about being left with something and winning later.

Whatever promise that the Promise had was unclear to him at best. He just hoped it wouldn't be a waste of time.

-

As the pod approached, the port at the bottom of it's central spire opened and the pod flew seamlessly into it. Abraham and many other students lurched forward when a series of braking systems enclosed around the pod as it flew through the port's bowels. As it came to a stop, the seat belts released from around the normal students.

The whole process of transporting the group 350 miles had taken twenty minutes.

The doors opened, and a flood of people in all shapes and sizes rushed in. Abraham unlocked his own restraints, but he was still too disoriented from the blast-off to stand. A variety of strangers came into pod to help the new first years get out of the pod and help them stand, and to Abe's aid came a younger woman. Blonde and thin, dressed with a wool peacoat over her regular clothes as space travel can be quite chilly at times. She had the most ethereal blue eyes that looked to glow in the dark. She offered her hand to him with an uncomfortable smile.

“Hi, welcome aboard the Promise!” She said in a thick Slavic accent. “What's your name?”

Abe looked her up and down and gave her a weak smirk. “The name's Abraham, darlin',” he replied queasily as he took her hand to help himself up - “Oof!”

The girl might have been somewhat tall, but she was tiny in comparison to the man, and had to use her whole body just to support Abraham's weight.

“...But you can call me Abe.” He finished.

The girl laughed a little. “What if I just call you Abraham?”

“Oh man, that's cold.” Abe joked. “Well what do I call you then?”

“My name's Andrea.” She said with a smile. “This will be my second year on Promise.”

“Is that right? So, I hope you don't mind my asking, but what's with the...?” Abe drew circles around his eyes.

“Do you start every conversation about powers?” Andrea joked back. “It has to do with being a cerebral, I guess. There are so many different kinds meta-humans on board, that you just learn not to question anything. All of it becomes normal after a while. I promise you'll eventually feel at home here.” She guaranteed with a smile as the two finally hauled themselves to the door.

“You people and this place sure like their promises.” Abe commented. He looked at her as she left him leaning against the frame. “Is there a problem?”

“Oh, uh, your first steps!” Andrea said. “There's a sort of custom on board that encourages newcomers to take their first steps on their own.”

“Even the people who were forced here?” Abe asked, picking up on the hypocrisy.

“It's hard to get, I know.” Andrea agreed. “But it's easier to understand the longer you've been here.”

Abe just sighed and shrugged. Holding tightly onto the doorway for him to keep his balance, he stuck a foot through the doorway and felt the dock firmly beneath his boot - but his ankles felt wobbly. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wasn't intending on embarrassing himself here. He wasn't weak. He didn't need help. He braced his legs and steeled nerves. Pissed himself off a little, honestly. He opened his eyes, steeled his face, and let go of the doorway and walked out. Posture straight and legs strong. Andrea watched him stroll away from the shuttle, alarmed.

“That's... impressive.” She said. “Most people can barely hold their lunch in, let alone...”

“Most people aren't like me.” Abe interrupted with cocksure bravado.

“Uh... right...” Andrea said. She was skimming his surface thoughts for any clues, but what she gathered was just too big a flurry of overwhelming and aggressive emotions for her to discern anything– but how Abraham conducted himself betrayed all of it with a convincing portrayal of moxie.

“So, what do you think--” Abe tried asking, but Andrea put a finger up.

“Uh, excuse me, I-I'm sorry, but I've got to be somewhere. Help more of the newcomers! Feel free to look around and mingle and... stuff. Sorry – got to go!”

Andrea hurried off in a rush towards another section of the shuttle, seemingly finding her way through the crowd well, and leaving Abe out to dry and curious. He shrugged his shoulders and promised himself to go find her later as he started walking off and looking at the walls, and listening to conversations to see if he can't find himself a place to be. There were a couple of desks with long lines, but he'd wait those out. A large orange poster on a wall caught his eye though, and a group made up mostly of athletic folks were surrounding it. As Abe approached, they allowed him some space to read.

“Presented by Andrew 'Archie Davis... the Combatica Challenge.” Abe muttered to himself. He doubted he'd find himself a place here, but it looks like there might be something for him after all.

---

_@JunkMail

---

Andrea was in eager retreat from Abraham and whatever danger she felt he presented. Her mind was flurrying – for some, some reason, God, she couldn't think why. Something about him just felt threatening to her and... Lord, the walls were closing in on her. Spiked, prickly, suffocating walls - breathe - she had to breath! In and out. In through the nose... out through the mouth... she was beginning to regain her nerves now and was trying to think back on something. There was a reason for this sudden anxiety. There had to be. There's a reason for everything, she just had to think back. Maybe he reminded her of something or someone...

“Welcome to the Promise, Wednesday.”

That voice. She knew that voice, the one with the distinct British accent. She turned around to see Arianna and found immediate comfort in being around a familiar face. A girl with beautiful blonde hair, thin like she was, and Andrea likely had some British influence on her Slavic accent, so it was no big surprise when people might have confused the two as sisters. That was one suggestion she couldn't complain about – they may as well have been. Arianna's help in getting herself to fit in was invaluable.

“Arianna!” Andrea exclaimed out of relief.

Arianna turned around curiously and then gave her an excited wave. "Hello, love!"

Andrea greeted her with a warm hug and found solace in her touch. “I'm glad I managed to find you out here. Who's our new passenger?”

"This is Wednesday!" Arianna proclaimed proudly. "Wednesday, Andrea Pasternack. Polish beauty queen."

"That's enough of that." Andrea jested with a smile.

She looked Wednesday up and down as though she was reading her. Wednesday felt threatening in a similar way to man she helped out, prompting reluctance as she was still somewhat shaken by him, but Wednesday was different in that she carried a greater burden on her; a vulnerability, which made her feel more trustworthy than the man. Maybe it was foolish on her behalf, but experience taught her that the difference between people molded by responsibility and molded by choices was that the former was held in higher favor on moral grounds than the latter. Andrea glanced away for a moment as if to look at someone – no one was there – and then back at Wednesday's eyes wand tilted her head to the side.

“She has weary shoulders,” she commented absentmindedly in her soothing voice. Her face softened to a delicate and gentler expression.

“What are you worried about, miss?” She asked.

---

People were already surrounding the poster. Older students mostly, those who looked combat-experienced. And what seemed like a new, unfamiliar face, just a bit further back. Much taller than Archie, darker complexion, more rugged wear. Archie knew full well assumptions were often wrong when it came to metahumans, but this gent looked like he was interested in fightin’. And he was bored, so making a first impression didn’t strike him as a terrible idea.

As he approached the man, his pocket buzzed. He opened his phone to a text from his teleporting assistant. Posters are done! PAY ME.

Damn. Faster work than he thought. Archie opened an app - a Promise-made one, for student and resident credit accounts - and did a bit of transacting. 500 credits, standard payment from someone like him. After he finished, he texted her, Sent. Good job. And she quickly replied with a few dollar sign emojis. Archie chuckled, put his phone away, and approached the gentleman.

“Poster caught your eye, stranger?”

@Spoopy Scary

---

---

---

Out of all the places Jasmine has gone - Germany, France, England, and eventually America - she sure as hell didn't expect to ever go to space.

Or, honestly, want to.

This Promise... Thankfully, Jasmine didn't have to be drugged to be sent up here. Because, unlike some of these other dirty ass rednecks, she has a spotless record. Only problem was coming up here... if she had to be honest with herself, she was more afraid than anything. Aside from the fear of everything going wrong, a part of Jasmine had a grave feeling that she'll never return to Earth. Hopefully, that'll never be the case, because Jasmine wants to feel natural dirt underneath her feet. Not artificial metal.

Jasmine just put her head back, and closed her eyes, as she tried to just push away those nasty thoughts. She chose only to relax. The station's going to be great. If not, she'll just find a way off it. Though, a part of her was wondering why they would use all this time and effort to build a space station for a bunch of superhumans. Unless they want to throw every damn one on that ship into the sun if things get too out of ha-

The ship began slowing down, and Jasmine was completely caught off guard. She loudly sweared in German as she was shot forward. Feeling a sudden wave sickness overcome her, whether it was from stopping, or just being in space... Honestly, didn't matter to Jasmine. Thankfully, that was the end of their little NASA trip, and the doors to the ship flew open, and everyone got out. Even her good-for-nothing little sister was having a better time than her. She was sitting here clenching her stomach like a damn pregnant women.

She was almost jealous.

Jasmine looked down at her white button-up shirt, and blue jeans, with red Nikes... Yeah, the last thing she wanted to do was throw up all over her damn self. She was glad she saw this coming and didn't dress all nice, but Goddamn the last thing she wanted to do was vomit. She's got a reputation and composure to live up to!

"... Just give me a minute." Jasmine groaned, her German accent being very thick.

It took a few moments for Jasmine to get up to her feet, holding onto her well-toned stomach very tightly. Thinking happy thoughts as she carried herself outside the ship, and immediately looked up to see a rather peculiar sight. A tall man wearing one of the gayest T-shirts (plastered with "The Promise," or whatever, she wasn't paying attention), but he had no Goddamn eyes. Jasmine saw past his sunglasses, and all she saw was a swirling light.

"Hey, there, welcome," The man said with a gruff accent, trying to hold back a smile. He immediately pointed towards the side, "The trashcan's right there, don't try holding it in." Was his advice.

Begrudgingly enough, Jasmine conceded, and took his advice while she had the chance. She quickly scampered over to it, because she was reaching her breaking point, and just let it all out. There were many disgusting sounds of Jasmine retching, and it just never ended.

Phoebe walked up, and laughed at Jasmine, "I can see that Jazzy's having a great time on the ship." She said, and if Jasmine wasn't incapacitated, she would strangle the ever loving shit out of her little sister.

"Yeah, I know," The man said with a smile.

"... Leon!"

A rather shrill yell came from the side, as a woman hopped into view. Phoebe didn't even have to give her a thorough look to tell that she is... inhuman. Well, the woman was Caucasian, and average heighted. Didn't really have a whole lot of curves to her, and wasn't "conventionally" attractive from Phoebe's perspective. Well, if you found the frog tongue that hung out of her mouth, almost going to her ankles, attractive, then, well, you should reevaluate some of your choices in life. The woman looked frog-like in appearance. Her hands and feet were webbed, and her eyes were abnormally large like a lizard - with her eyes being green. Her bestial features clashed well against her human ones.

"Did you tell her about the tradition?" The woman said.

"Oh yeah, the custom, it's a custom, Sonya." Leon said, trying to correct her.

"And you forget it every time you get a batcha' newbies, you dolt," Sonya playfully said, before turning to Phoebe. "Oh, hey, lass. I'm awfully surprised ya' managed to take your first few steps on ya' own. Most of the people are like big butt over there." Sonya playfully snickered as she pointed at Jasmine with her face in the trashcan.

Jasmine paused for a moment as if she was going to try to regain her composure to come up with a snappy comeback, only to put her face back in.

Which made Sonya laugh, as she sucked her tongue back into her mouth. "Anyways, love, name's Sonya Mayfield, Promise staff!" She extended her hand to Phoebe, who gladly took her hand... but winced when she felt Sonya's slime. "Oh, sorry lass, I forgot."

Phoebe stared at her hand for a moment. "Uuuugh, what is this?"

"That? It's my slime!" Sonya said, oddly delighted. "See, I'm a froggy, just don't ask me to ribbit."

"Oh, that's... cool." Phoebe said, before Leon presented her with napkins.

"She does that with everyone... name's Leon Vahan, by the way." Leon said. "And welcome to the Promise, like her, I'm staff here."

"Nice, I'm Phoebe Sarin," Phoebe said, before she pointed at Jasmine, "And that's my older sister, Jasmine... usually she's more in your face, but I don't think she was built for space travel."

"No one was, but here we are," Leon said. "On not just a space ship, but a full blown space city... I wonder what they were thinking about when they built this."

"How they can throw away taxpaper money?" Phoebe replied, electing a chuckle from Leon.

"Anyways, Lass," Sonya said. "Just sit tight for a second while we get things ready for you and Big Butt over there. You'll love it here."

Phoebe laughed, as she looked out the window into the expanse of space. All she could see was nothing... but, what one person called nothing, she calls unexplored territory.

"... I just know I will."

---

Grit wasn't one to get nauseous much. After spending his formative years running 40-yard dashes across hundred degree football fields and bouncing up and down mercilessly on the wheel wells of short busses, he had grown accustomed to uncomfortable situations. Being launched into space, however, was absolutely nothing like anything he had experienced before. It was all a rush like he'd never felt before, a litany of hard jerks, sudden stops, and accelerations so rough he could nearly feel his skin cartoonishly stretch back against his seat.

When the ship finally came to a stop in the docking bay of the Promise, Grit laid his head back on his seat and took three quick deep breaths. People (school workers, he assumed) bustled past through the aisle and began to unbuckle the new students from their restraints. For a good ten minutes, Grit laid there still with his eyes closed and his head back against the seat rest. He thought about home back on Earth, of a nice house in a nice little town in northern Oklahoma where his family was probably sitting right now around the fireplace, wondering if they'd ever see their son again. He thought of the fridge in the kitchen of that house, and the piece of gold-foil paper stuck to the fridge that read the words:

"Dear Mr. John Crane,

Congratulations, You have been selected by the University of Texas Athletic Committee to be awarded a full athletic scholarship for football..."

When the room stopped spinning, Grit shook his head roughly and opened his eyes to the shiny silver roof of the ship. He noticed quickly a large, dark shadow being cast over him from the aisle. He turned his head towards the aisle to see the smiling face of the largest man he had ever seen in his life. He was massive, at least seven feet tall, with bulging muscles unlike anything Grit had seen before and a red beard that looked like a lion's mane. The giant man smiled down at him with a grin full of large flat teeth.

"How you holding up there, friend?" the giant man said. His voice boomed through the cabin. "I promise you the ride up here will not be the most uncomfortable part of your stay." Grit stared up as the giant bent down and unbuckled him. "You look like someone who's never seen a guy this big before," the man said.

"Can't say I have," Grit replied, getting out of the seat. "Thank you kindly for helping me out of that contraption." The large man extended a hand to Grit, and they shook. Grit could feel that the man was trying to crush his hand, but it wasn't doing much to him.

"You have a strong grip there, friend." the man said. "Name's Titus MacArthur! I'm a Third-year here at the Promise!"

"John Crane," Grit replied. "But most fellas call me Grit." They locked eyes tensely for a few moments and then Titus nodded for Grit to follow him. They walked up the main aisle of the spaceship towards the door, crowds parting around them to accommodate the size of the beastly Titus. Grit noticed that Titus' head was bowed as he walked so it wouldn't scrape against the roof of the shuttle. They stopped at the shuttle doors and Titus stood aside.

"You have good legs on you for someone who just got blasted into outer space," Titus said.

"Not much tends to keep me down, brother," Grit replied. Then he shrugged and turned to look out the door.

"It's a time-honored school tradition for new students to take their first steps onto the Promise under their own weight, but I can see you won't have much trouble with that." Titus replied. Grit stepped out of the doors of the shuttle into the massive hangar. Titus followed close behind him as he followed arrows on the ground to the hub where the other students were. The ship was nothing like he had ever seen before. Back home the largest buildings he ever saw were in Tulsa, and this was one big step up from multi-story office buildings that he gazed up at in wonder.

"It's a sight to behold your first time, ain't it?" Titus said. He clapped a big hand onto Grit's shoulder. Grit was speechless. "Ah, you'll get tired of it in a few years kiddo. Now I've gotta go help some other fresh meat off the shuttle. Cafeteria's running low after all! Hahaha!" His laugh boomed across the raucous crowd, but no one else found the joke particularly funny.

"Sure I'll see you around, pardner," Grit said to him. They shook hands once more (Titus once again failed to crush Grit's hand) and Titus walked back off towards the spaceship. Grit looked around, shocked by the sheer number of people mixed with the size of the silver halls around him. In that moment, how far away he really was sunk in deep.

---

“Eli, c’mo-”

“No.”

“He’s not a bad guy, jus-”

“No.”

“You’re being unreasonable.”

“Oh no, I am being very reasonable. I have plenty of reasons. And no matter how many times you bring it up, despite the fact that I keep asking you politely to fucking not do it, I am not going to be in the same room as-”

“Arrived. Central Hub.”

“So there.”

“Fine, fine. _Coward.”

“I’ll fucking get you. Somehow, and I will make it look like a bloody goddamn accident.”

They bickered like an old married couple all the journey to the central hub. It was tradition by now, seeing the new freshman class with their own eyes. Henry’d get a feel for how much he was going to have to instruct or discipline whoever he took under his proverbial wing, and Eli got a new round of conversational subjects to bitch about. They stepped out of the elevator and onto the floor of the hub, taking in the sight of all the students, both new and old, congregating there. Some folks turned their heads to look at Henry with a smile, like noticing a friend out in public. Others looked at Eli like he owed them money. Or they owed him money.

“You feeling up for any wagers this year?” Henry asked as they strode. Eli sighed and responded, “Gee, I dunno. Think I’ve already won enough credits off your scaly ass, don’t you?” And Henry chuckled, returning with a soft fuck you a little under his breath. He preferred not to swear out loud in front of the newcomers, whoever might be listening. At least, not until he got to know them first. Eli was much more candid, usually.

“We’ll see the new batch and then decide if we wanna put money on the table.” Eli said. Henry simply nodded and replied, “Alright, alright. Got a good feeling about this year, though.”

“You’ve always got a good feeling about something.”

“Well, one of us has to. Or else the whole dynamic of this relationship is thrown off.”

“Eh, fair point.”

---

_{@SepticGentleman}

---

Abraham looked towards the approaching man at the prompting of his voice. "Poster caught your eye, stranger?" Indeed, though this time it was the man's own head that enraptured Abe's attention. The guy was wearing a mask on his face. He wondered if he planned on blowing something up or was just so hideously ugly that he hid behind it. Whatever the case, security wasn't jumping on the guy, so whatever his reason was didn't matter to him. Strange, sure, but Abe was in space now. The bar of expectations of weirdness should be set pretty high by now. He looked at the man (though he was not quite sure where to look at) with a smirk, then back at the poster.

"With it being that orange and shiny, how could it not?" Abe replied. "Yeah, it caught my eye. So what's it about, really? This Archie guy looking for a special someone to catch some hands?"

Truth be told, that was one thing he learned from fighting rings on the street. Sure, it was mostly for fun and money. But people also used them as hunting grounds to scope out some able bodies to do a bit of dirty work for meager pay. He wasn't sure if such practice existed on board this station, but it was big. Big enough that some things could go missing - or some people. But public advertisement for such a recreation sounded unbelievable. There was something more to what the poster was advertising than it told us.

It didn't help that it was formatted in such a way that it seemed to speak to those who already knew what it was.

"I can fight," Abe continued, "but I don't like being a part of someone else's game."

---

“Well…” Archie began in response, “It is a game, friend. And plenty of people are gonna be part of it this year.” He took a step around Abraham, looking at the poster.

“But it’s no sinister plot or, criminal undertaking, I assure you.” He continued, “It’s simply what it says. Come to one of my arenas, fight some enemies of my design, win some credits. Credits, of course, being the staple currency aboard the Promise - not sure if they told you so already, thought I might as well. Nothing else to the game, just gotta… take your money, spend it how you like. Better payday than student allowance or most jobs here, I’ll tell you.” He turned his head to Abraham, meeting his gaze (in a sense). “I am the proprietor of this venture, by the way.” He said, pointing towards the circle with the X in it at the bottom of the poster, akin to the design of his own mask.

“Andrew Malcolm Davis. Archie. Pleasure to meet you.”

He extended his right gloved hand, for a shake.

@Spoopy Scary

---

You would think a girl missing an arm would be ready for a worst-case scenario. You would think a girl that had a building come down on her could take anything life could throw at her.

Well space travel was a sucker punch.

Blair Van Zant, normally able to take anything, had a newfound hatred of rockets in her life thanks to the one she was on, hurling towards an orbital station in the Earth's upper atmosphere. She was in this predicament because, like the rest of the riders on this death trap, she was a black sheep among society, a Metahuman. Internal thoughts aside, her stomach was turning in every direction under the pressure of breaking through an atmosphere. Her biggest fear right now was vomiting- not because everyone would be staring at her, she got that enough thanks to the cybernetic arm that currently had the seat belt in a death grip. It was the struggle of disinfecting a gas mask, including the pair of filters on the sides. The station came into view, and got closer, and closer, an-

The reverse thrusters hit hard, catching her off guard and forcing her to lurch forward, barely holding onto her breakfast at that moment. The rocket slid into the station seamlessly, though the details were lost in her nausea. All she cared about at this point was finding the nearest trash can, and the sound of the airlock opening. Lucky for her, that came as she felt the motion in the cabin stop completely, and she immediately set to getting out of her seat. For a long moment, her shaking hands fumbled with the buckle on her chest, desperately trying to free her. The heartburn hit, the classic early warning to find something to throw up in now, and she thankfully got out of the contraption in time... only to try to stand up and immediately fall over onto her side. Yeah, she was that freshman.

"Hey, you alright there?" A smallish boy with messy, brown hair and glasses rushed over to the fallen Blair, getting down on one knee and propping her up. "I'm Travis, second year. And don't worry, happens to the best of the newcomers." He smiled brightly, coming across as the kind of guy to help anyone with anything.

Truly, she was shocked, and not electrically for once. This place was a stark contrast from Terra Firma, alright. "Well Travis, I'm Blair... ugh, shit... get me to a trash can, please? Or a bathroom? As long as I can be sick in it..." She was helped up and her arm was put on the smaller kid's shoulder, practically limping to the door. On the way, they passed a pair of African women that were conversing with a... frog lady? More preoccupied with a gut reminiscent of Chernobyl right now, she passed it off as some weird mutation caused by Meta genes. This was reinforced by the tiger-esque behemoth she somehow missed when she first got up. For a moment the pair paused, just at the door to the Promise proper. "Erm... Travis, unless you wanna have vomit on you... c'mon..." She choked back her stomach's first attempt to betray her, though time was certainly limited.

"Sorry, but it's a custom for newcomers to take their first steps on the station unassisted."

"This is some kind of cruel joke, isn't it?" The boy shook his head, giving her a pitied look. "Fuck... fine, let me go." She freed her right arm from Travis' shoulders and took a deep breath, putting her left foot forward to step onto the massive station first, as if to spite every ship captain she had ever read about. One step down, one to go. The right foot came next, shakily coming off the shuttle and onto the station, coming down to support the punk's weight fully. She started a slow move forward, stumbling and picking up the pace when her Holy Grail came into view; a trash can. She almost broke into a jog to get to her goal, using the wall to her left as a support. The second she was there the gas mask came off, falling to the ground beside her to reveal the heavy scarring across her mouth and cheeks, which immediately went into the trash can. From there, the contents of her stomach were released back into the world, painting the black bag within a sickly combination of green and red. Her head remained in the can for a few minutes to be safe, the aftershock of projectile vomiting slowly fading away from her system. She stood up, hands firmly on the edges of the barrel to steady herself while she took some ragged breaths, coughing every couple of seconds. "Ugh... who thought that was a good idea again..?" Giving one final cough, she bend over and picked up her mask, reapplying it and tightening the straps on the sides. Her appearance restored to normal and her equilibrium more or less back to what it was, it was time to explore the station. With a quick wave to Travis, who stayed back to help others off the shuttle, she was gone into the crowd.

Eager to see what the station had to offer now that her nausea had passed, Blair's first sight was a massive orange poster, partially written in Latin with rewards listed below, and a promise of trial by combat. She looked around and milled her way into the crowd, taking up some of the open space beside a much taller man. She read through the whole thing, giving time for someone that was apparently made of orange gel to come in and explain the reason behind such a tournament. When he finished, her gravelly voice cut in quickly. "I'm up for a challenge like this. But I wanna know, for Quinta, how's an ultimate winner decided?" Her left arm came under her chest to support her right arm, which rested under her mask in wait, her eyes trying to figure out exactly what she was talking to. She had a name at least, Archie. "I'm Blair Van Zant. Sparky if you feel casual." Beneath the mask, she gave the entity a friendly smile, the only hint of this being the edges of her face raising slightly.

---

Archie’s attention turned towards the new girl, dressed in by far the most punk-ish outfit he’d seen on the station today. And she was sporting a robotic arm to boot. This, this is what Archie loved, all these characters with quirks and personality. Brought a whole ton of spice to the happenings aboard the Promise.

“Well, uh…” Archie said, retracting his hand from the attempted handshake with the rugged gentleman. He paused for a moment to collect himself. He cleared his throat - metaphorically - and began.

“Blair Van Zant.” He repeated her name, a bit struck by it. Then again, there was plenty else to be struck by in this crazy place. “Hello. My name is Andrew, or, Archie, yes, and…” He paused again, turning to his first source of intrigue. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name, sir?” The gentleman simply replied, “Abe.” He looked just a tad confused, and irritated, but he was still present, so Archie attempted to salvage the situation by explaining the rules of his challenge.

“Yes, well, the way it works in detail is - five arenas, ascending in general difficulty and number of enemies to face. We start with Prima, and take the hundred or fewer participants who make it through all five waves and defeat the ‘boss’, so to say. All those hundred are then allowed to take on Secura, the second arena, and half of the participants who finish the arena with the best times move on to Tertia. And so on to Quartia, and lastly to Quinta. For the final challenge in particular, who so of the ten participants who finishes it in the fastest time, takes home the grand prize of ten thousand credits, in addition to their winnings from previous trials. All are welcome to participate, students new and old alike, as long as they believe their powers are combat-applicable. The challenges are nonlethal towards the fighters, of course, as I don't want any blood on my hands. My constructs are designed purely to incapacitate.”

Archie clapped his hands together, darting his vision between Blair and Abe. “All understood?” He asked, holding his hands out.

@Spoopy Scary
@Mega Birb

l

---

---

Grit was glad to exit the narrow white halls and walk into a large open area, surrounded by greenery. The hub was filled with people, students and faculty alike, and a giant stage loomed on the other side of the room. If it weren't for the glass dome up above, through which Grit could see naught but empty space, it would seem just like a normal outdoor amphitheater on Earth. Palm trees half-circled the courtyard, and a cool breeze blew through the air. Grit looked around through the crowd of people. It felt awkward and even more isolating to be alone. Never backing down from some interaction, he decided to try making some friends.

He looked around the room. Even just after getting off of the plane, groups were beginning to form. In one corner of the room, a big guy and a girl with a robotic arm and a gas mask of all things were talking to a man with a red letter "X" for a face. The sight creeped Grit out a good bit more than he expected. Vigilantes, not unlike these guys in appearance, were constant menaces down on the surface, and Grit was sure they wouldn't be legal up in the stars. Up above them, a massive orange poster loomed, on which the words "THE COMBATICA CHALLENGE" were written. Club reps for a school program, he figured. Only way anyone would wear masks that outlandish.

Grit's eyes fell upon a short, frail-looking girl who was standing alone at the edge of the group by the poster. Her arms were cross over her chest, and despite being in space she was wearing a rain jacket. She was kinda cute, Grit thought, and if he was going to try talking to someone, they might as well be cute. Something in the back of his head felt like it was kicking him for thinking about the girl like that. He sighed and shrugged it off. Growing up with a father like his made him a disciplinarian of his own desires, in a way. He made his way over to where she was standing. He noticed her hair was floating on the breeze a bit. He figured it was the air conditioning. He wasn't sure quite what to say, but considering he was a foot taller than her he figured he had to say something before she ran away screaming "Help! A bear!"

"Uh, hello," Grit said to Procella, muscling his way through the awkwardness of a conversation with a total stranger. "Do you know, uh, what we're supposed to be doing around here? Everyone's just kind of milling around."

@He Who Walks Behind

Uril Miller

There wasn’t much that stopped Uril’s good moods. He was watching the fresh faces introduce themselves to the old ones. Old and covered in scales, thought Uril, as he saw Olin’s hide walking on the promenade, bantering with some partner. Uril’s bee rested calmly on his shoulder: though the air was a bit chill in this big chamber, the amount of people bustling to and fro simulated warmth. The bee’s wings only shuddered from time to time: Uril would have to take him to the tropic biodome for a short period today, as a treat. Luckily the bee was never over stimulated by crowds, and it was able to remain poised. It would be terrible to cause a panic for new students, making them imagine the station had a giant bee infestation.

It was warm, in a way. Everyone was being welcomed aboard the station, and although many were queasy, they would be adapting quickly enough. They had artificial gravity to thank for that, though Uril doubted anyone but the most bookish types knew who had invented it. Last year the labs handed out special nausea medicine to the newly orbiting folk: however it had the unexpected result of many green-haired freshman. Since it wasn't conducive to fitting in, the medicine was scrapped, and now the students had to find their “sea legs” on their own.

“You’ve just stepped out of a rocket that was based on another rocket, which was designed by a man who built rockets for the German fascists to try to irradiate the entire British isles with! How do you feel kid?” Uril patted a young girl with vibrant hair on the back handily. ”Someday I’ll fly down on one of those rockets, and I’ll hope they didn’t just strap a carseat onto a warhead for me! Hahaha!” Uril felt like the first mate of the Promise for a few moments, rather proud of his own ability to be merry. He spotted some men in suits with long weapons, tranquilizer rifles, standing in the shade on a mezzanine. One even had a tazer spear with him. Well trained men… Uril thought. Not to be challenged, and they stood up there declaring it with their gaze. They were there to escort a dangerous case meta-human, one who had wanted to see the new arrivals but who was too much of a risk to themselves and others to visit unguarded. It was someone a good deal smaller than their surrounding Promise militant police, and sealed away inside a hazmat suit. For a moment Uril thought he could feel their eye contact, because while he gazed up at them the whole station seemed to be gliding over earth just a little more slowly.

Uril stood tall, and as time caught back up to regular pace, the giant bumble bee crawled onto the crown of his head and seemed to scout for him. ”There’s all this view from up in space, but what’s everyone really looking for?” Uril projected his thought into speech unknowingly.

l

---

The girl spoke slowly and thoughtfully. It seemed to John like she was trying to say something about the poster, but he wasn't sure what she was trying to say. Thinking about it himself, he wasn't sure whether or not he would check the club out. Taking on others might be a good substitute for football workouts while he was onboard. Thinking about football still stung a little.

"Yes ma'am," he said. "Just got off of that damn spaceship. You'd think they would've trained us for that or given us a warning. I'm surprised nobody got sick or hurt." He figured he should tone down dwelling on pain, though. He needed to make some friends, and talking about people vomiting on a spaceship was not what he thought of as "cool".

"I'm John," he said to introduce himself. His voice was a low grumble with a southern drawl. "Though most have taken to callin' me Grit. Great to meet you." He held one of his big ol' bear paw hands out to the girl to shake.

@He Who Walks Behind

l

---

_{@SepticGentleman | @Mega Birb}

---

Ah, so this was very much different from what Abe had expected. A big part of him assumed that they were supposed to kick each others' asses, rather than a competition to see who could kick the most asses in the shortest period of time. This sounded like virtual reality the way that Archie described it. The hype of the train slowed down a bit. Beating down a hundred mooks in safety wasn't the same as beating down ten people who knew what they were doing when your life was on the line. That made the rush all the more satisfying. He couldn't imagine having too much fun with Archie's “Arena Combatica” – he could throw in as much Latin as he wanted to make it interesting, but a fish is what a fish is... still, it couldn't hurt to try it out. Worst comes to worst, he wins an easy challenge, and he's suddenly popular. It definitely couldn't hurt.

“You know what, Mr. Davis?” Abe asked rhetorically. “I'll humor you – sure, why not? From one businessman to another, you did alright selling your product.”

“...And you, uh...” Abe started as he turned around to look at Blair. He was squinting his eyes and tapping his forehead. It was clear he wasn't paying much attention to her introduction, only that there was a sickly-looking and beat up little girl who was head and shoulders below him, and who – for the life of anyone, who could know why – was for some reason down for this sort of challenge. The girl with the gas mask and prosthetic arm.

“...Care van Bear. Whatever, I'll call you Bones – Bones. Keep fighting the good fight from the safety of a hospital bed. I'll make sure to give you a shout-out when I win.”

He shot her a casual (read: non-flirtatious [she's 16, come on]) wink paired with a finger gun, and turned around to bid his farewell to Archie and finally return the handshake he was first offered. “I'll see you whenever, eh?”

Blair Van Zant

---

Blair nodded as Archie explained the conditions the Combatica Challenge would take place under, warming up to the idea. With no legitimate risk involved, it was the perfect thing to see just how viable her powers were in a combat setting. "Where do I sign up? Might go for a speed record, come to think of it." She chuckled to herself as the blood began to return to her face, nausea passing fully by now. It was right around now where Abe actually said something interesting, saying he'd take part in this. Maybe there would be some competition, the crowd was starting to thin considerably as students either lost interest or finished reading the poster.

And then came what was potentially the most creative insult anyone had ever given her, followed by the second most unoriginal nickname anyone had ever come up with. And then, almost as a challenge, he went ahead and already promised himself the win in a space station full of superpowered humans. The girl laughed to herself, the sound muffled by the gas mask. "Keep telling yourself that, Abe." She reached up and gave him a light pat on the shoulder with her left arm, giving him the faintest of shocks when she made contact. He wouldn't be tazed because of it, it was the equivalent of static, but it sent a clear message. She wasn't going to let him walk right over her.

Blair refocused on the orange figure, still unsure of how he existed. "Anyhow, a little friendly competition never hurt. How often do they let you host this?" Her arms recrossed and her weight shifted to her right left leg, all signs of sickness finally gone from her now. Back to normal it was for her. Well, as normal as it could be on a floating hunk of metal full of Metahumans.

Truth be told, though, she looked forward to butting heads with the cocky golem beside her. It would be interesting, for sure...

---

“First time actually, in a more official setting.” Archie replied to Blair, “I spent most of last year designing the whole thing, testing it with some of the senior students and faculty. Now, I’m gonna see how it plays out, and after the champion’s been named, revise it as necessary for next year.”

Archie placed his hands in his blazer pockets, taking another look at the poster. “I just hope people like it, is all. Something to entertain.”

He paused a moment before continuing. “Anyhoo… believe they’re gonna start orientation over at the main stage pretty soon, so you’re gonna wanna be present for that.” He stated, in as casual and subtle a tone as possible, “You want to talk more on the challenge, I will be at my club, the Apothic. You can find it on the map they’ll be giving you in a bit.” Yes, it was a bit of shameless self-promoting, but Archie was the sort who was undeterred by the practice.

He stepped backward a bit, looking to leave. “Take care, Sparky.” He said, acting as if he and Blair were already fast friends. He turned, and began making his way away from the bustle of the hub’s gathering crowd.

@Mega Birb