"Long time hyperhuman; first time caller. Never been to one of these shindigs before, so just out of curiosity, how many of us WILL you be sacrificing to your gods in this thing for a good harvest this year?"

Cassander's attention was turned towards the source of the voice, finding no surprise upon discovering that it belong to none other than 'Banjo'. The age old rhetoric said that every class had to have a clown, and Banjo was gunning for the title between his name, his comments and general antics. To his surprise however, out of the corner of Cassander's eye, he caught a smile creep across Calliope's face in response to Banjo's comment.

A statuesque beauty, Cassander would be lying to say he hadn't noticed Calliope. Her demeanor though was rarely as enticing as her appearance. A literal ice queen. If Banjo could thaw her, then maybe he wasn't so bad to have around after all.

“So cool,” A mocking voice called out in retaliation to Banjo's comment making Cass' head spin as he tried to locate the nearby voice.

“Look everyone, at the cool boy challenging the system. He’s so edgy. No one’s evah thought to do that before!”

Suddenly Cass wished he had been able to ignore the voice as his eyes located the source. While Trace wasn't the least human-appearing Hyperhuman that Cassander had come across on campus, they were the ones he saw most often and their inhuman eyes and borderline transparent hair still gave him pause. Cassander was often guilty of wondering what Trace had looked like before their Hype-Gene exploded. Most of them got off 'lucky', at least in a manner of speaking. Hyperhumans were often attractive, retaining their youth longer if the faculty were anything to go off of. But cases like Trace were what propaganda makers focused on, branding them all inhuman monsters.

Following suit with the rest of the student body, Cass stood from his seat. Taking a second to brush himself off, more out of habit than actual necessity. The campus grounds were kept nearly immaculate, though the older teen would be lying if he said he hadn't put together that the students themselves were the ones doing the bulk of the menial labour. His eyes wandered back towards the center of the stadium, starting towards the woman who had introduced Jonas and the man himself whom she was talking to.

Cass' eyes were suddenly pulled across the bleachers as he watched a blonde amazon make a beeline for a familiar face he knew to be Haleigh Crawford. The wheelchair-bound girl had been assigned with him to aid in the mess hall and the two had spent more hours familiarizing themselves with various produce than either had anticipated coming to a school for 'gifted' youngsters. That said, barely a word had been spoken between them, but as low of a bar as it was, Haleigh was still the closest thing Cassander had to a friend on campus.

All the more reason Cassander's protective instincts kicked in when he realized that the amazon wasn't simply moving towards Haleigh out of the same familiarity, but because something was wrong. Cass had already planned on offering Haleigh a hand with her wheelchair, though the girl now kneeling beside the other teen definitely had him 'outgunned'.

Jumping over several rows of seats in front of him, Cassander tried to close the gap to get to Haleigh before being suddenly halted in his tracks. The sight of the familiar spade emblem on the amazon's bicep made Cassander realize that the blonde bombshell was more of an ally than he originally realized and that perhaps, he didn't need to play hero today. Awkwardly stopping, he hoped no one had seen his saviour complex override his common sense. Taking one last look to ensure, Haleigh was in good hands, he felt his cheeks burn for a second as his gaze lingered too long on the teen knelt beside his kitchen buddy.

“Fuckin’ wanker.”

Cass's attention was quickly brought back to his surroundings as he heard Trace continue to complain about Banjo before being caught in the wave of students moving toward the exit. He briefly locked eyes with Banjo who looked like he was about to respond to Trace before Cass allowed himself a half smile and responded.

"Hey, they may have said it. But we were all thinking it." He raised his hands dismissively, cobalt-coloured energy accidentally crackling through his fingers betraying Cass' manufactured calm demeanour. He was a little on edge and not just because of the situation moments ago with Haleigh, or the slight confrontation just now with Banjo, but because he had no idea what 'Trials' they were about to experience.

In his exploring of the campus, Cassander had asked around about the trials and not once had he gotten a straight answer, nor a repeated one. It was beginning to feel like after you got sworn in, you kept the secret of the trials or else Jonas would make you disappear. Given everything he had seen at this school, he wouldn't have been surprised if the rest of 'Blackjack' had to work together to steal a dragon's egg tomorrow.

Breaking off from the main throng of students, Cass meandered his way back towards the Intake House. The day was too nice to rush through and he knew there was a bit of time to retrieve his uniform and necessities before the shuttle carted them all off to the far side of the island to be, as Banjo so eloquently put it, sacrificed for a good harvest.

Finding himself at the fountain outside of the Administrative Building, Cassander's eyes were drawn to a plaque dedicating the fountain to Vanessa Bordeaux and the five other Hyperhumans who were lost during the Crestwood Hollow Incident. Of course, Cass had heard about the incident; he had lived in Crestwood Hollow for seven years. Back home Hyperhuman was a loaded term, the incident put Crestwood on the map and for all of the wrong reasons. Alexis didn't like to talk about those days, Calvin let on a little more but the way Cassander understood it, the murders were grisly and Alexis' brother, Aiden was right in the middle of it. In fact, so was Jonas as Cassander understood it.

The name Bordeaux also stuck out to Cassander. Wasn't his bunkmate Axel Bordeaux? In fact, he was sure there was a Viktor Bordeaux on staff at Pacific Royal as well. No doubt, both were related to Vanessa somehow. As large as the Hyperhuman community was, it also felt like one big family at times.

It was borderline eerie.

Speaking of eerie, Cassander had never spent enough time at the fountain to previously notice, but the water occasionally warped into the shape of a person, alternating between six distinct shapes. Looking back at the plague, it suddenly clicked as Cass jumped back.

Couldn't just have a statue like anywhere else?

While Alexis didn't recount the incident, she had spoken about babysitting a much young Vanessa, and how Vanessa and Aiden used to play under her watchful eye. She spoke in terms of endearment like one would speaking about a sister.

A wave of homesickness passed over Cassander. The winds blowing off the Pacific suddenly seemed a little colder and he wished the blazer of his uniform provided the same warmth Calvin's jacket did. Ripley would be starting Grade 4 this year back in Crestwood. Cass smiled sadly into the crystal waters of the fountain. He could only help but wonder if she was as nervous as he was about the beginning school year. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Cassander turned his steely gaze towards the Intake House.

There was only so long he could delay the inevitable.

H.I.T. Agents storming an apartment linked to the attack on Kowalski.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Vivamus at mi mi. In imperdiet porta dolor, at fermentum nulla commodo eu. Suspendisse volutpat et ex tempor suscipit. Nullam tincidunt at nunc vel auctor. Donec venenatis, nisl nec fringilla varius, massa quam porttitor turpis, sed bibendum purus sem id risus. Nullam scelerisque lectus eget diam gravida malesuada. Maecenas consectetur est ac sollicitudin congue. Maecenas interdum erat dignissim lectus sodales, nec ultrices neque egestas. Integer convallis lacus at consequat volutpat.

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"I guess it's nice to look at, but I wouldn't be caught dead having my likeness used as a roundabout way of saying 'look at me, I have money to burn in a world where people are dying on the streets'."

Cassander was suddenly startled out of his thoughts. Jumping, energy crackled along his hands, a slight pulse of light emitting from his palms along with an audible 'pop'. Turning his eyes to the source of the voice, they widened slightly upon realizing the statuesque beauty from the ceremony was not only standing across the fountain from him but actually talking to him.

His mind raced thinking about how to play the situation in front of him. Did Calvin ever give him any tips on talking to girls? What if he ended up sounding creepy? Or worse, what if he ended up sounding like Banjo? Calvin had always said that the first thing Alexis had noticed about him was the jacket, the same leather jacket that he had given to Cassander when the teen left Crestwood Hollow, and the same leather jacket that was currently sitting in a foot locker.

And instead, I'm stuck wearing this dorky uniform, at least it looks good on her.

It was true though, on Calliope the uniform was flattering. She wouldn't have looked out of place in the corporate world or a high-end law firm. On Cass however, he felt the uniform was too tight in places it should have been loose and too loose in places that should have been tight. A tailor would have gone a long way on this campus in Cass' opinion. The upside was that everyone on campus was forced to wear the same aforementioned 'dorky' uniform. Clearing his throat to respond, Cassander tucked a finger inside the high-collared shirt, moving it around his neck attempting to loosen the stiff fabric.

He could feel dampness on his finger that he wasn't sure if it was caused by the heat of the sunny day or an unmistakable nervousness slowly escalating instead of him. The prolonged silence was broken as Calliope spoke again, Cassander thanking the universe for the few extra seconds to think as he tried to formulate a response through floundering thoughts.

"Sorry, we don't know each other and I may very well be insulting a person you like-"

Opening his mouth to speak, Cass was cut off as another teen suddenly dropped out of the sky. Instinctively, raising his hands, Cassander felt his control slip as a blue glow swelled between his fingers. A crackling orb of energy formed in either palm only to dissipate as Cass realized the gravity-defying student was none other than his bunkmate.

"Her name was Vanessa, she was killed, brutally. They all were." Axel stated, his eyes motioning towards the fountain and its many faces. Panting between his words, Axel paused as though he had more to say before deciding against and sitting down on the edge of the fountain.

"I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it," Cass interjected, circling the fountain while positioning his body between Axel and Calliope. This wasn't the first time in the past week that Cassander had seen Axel openly and freely use his abilities. In fact, it was often the norm for the older student, Cass could barely pick out a moment in his mind when he had seen Axel with two feet on the floor. To say it was annoying would be burying the lead, Cassander was downright jealous.

Cass' own Hyperhuman ability could only be used for destruction and he could barely control it. One wrong reflex, one instinct-driven action and he could blow. But Axel, Axel was able to fly. What Cassander wouldn't have given to have his head literally in the clouds, to have flown away from all the bad foster homes in his past, to have picked Chloe up and disappeared over the horizon where they both could have been safe.

The scowl across Cass' face betrayed the fact he had become lost in his thoughts again. It was Calliope's voice that once again brought him back to his present surroundings.

“No, I meant it the way I said it. I didn’t know she was being honoured, however. Even still, the money spent on it could have surely gone elsewhere.” Came Calliope's reply. Tilting his head slightly, Cassander shot her a look out of a narrowed eye while Axel replied to the pair.

"Their deaths started all of this. It caused the creation of this school. They became martyrs for all of our kind."

While talking, Axel palmed some water from the fountain, splashing it over his face as a bead of sweat was running down the side of his face. Dabbing himself, he stood up, catching his breath as he once more pushed off of the ground a couple of inches, hovering in front of the two.

Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, Cassander had to question whether this was an intimidation attempt. He had been in enough fights to recognize the signs and while he felt fairly confident he could hold his own against the literal 'Air Jordans' in front of him, he wasn't about to be baited into a fight when they had places to be.

"Most of P.R.C.U. wasn't built with money either, the school and campus are basically self-sufficient. They build, grow and create everything they need here. Primarily through the use of our abilities. While this fountain is a bit of a vanity project, it didn't take any funds away from a worthier cause."

Cassander's attention was suddenly pulled away from Calliope and Axel. Behind the other boy, exiting the Intake House dormitories was none other than their resident troublemaker, Banjo, dressed in nothing but a school-issued speedo bottom. Suddenly burying his head in his hands, Cass took a moment to gather himself, or rather his gag reflex. The vision of Banjo's wedgie burned into his mind's eye. He coughed, clearing his throat before addressing the other two teens around the fountain.

"I think the two of you might want to look over there." Cassander pointed as Calliope replied.

“Well, that’s one way to get kicked out of school. At least he has the body for it.” Looking at Calliope, Cassander tried to hide his frustration at the comment. It was utterly disheartening that Calliope seemed to only be interested in Banjo's physical form, enough so that she was willing to overlook his juvenile and frankly grating personality. The familiar feeling of envy slowly crawled up Cassander's spine as he looked at the girl practically drooling after the cackling maniac.

Peering behind him, Axel smirked a little. It reminded the older student of his high school days. There had always been some jackass who would go streaking after a football game. It seemed that those behaviours were never truly gone in some people.

"I'm sure he just thinks he is invisible or something," His attempt of a joke was undercut by his serious tone. Taken aback by Axel's tone, Cassander furrowed his brow momentarily. He had been counting on Banjo's performance to break the tension.

"I really hope one of the faculty members can transfigure clothing." Cass stated wryly, realizing that they had all probably delayed getting to the Southern Plateau long enough, he jutted a chin back towards the Intake House.

"I guess we should more or less follow suit and head over to the shuttle to get to these trials."

Post goes here

The odour of fresh manure drifted over the rolling hills interspaced with the sprawling fields of West Virginia farmland before being lost in the still billowing smoke of the crash site. The acrid smell of burnt fuel, lubricants and flesh caused the nose of Special Agent Sebastian Scott to crinkle in disgust while he continued to survey the wreckage of Albatross-1.

Each of the six quad-rotor VTOL aircraft was part of a special requisitions project developed by the best and brightest that H.E.L.P. had to offer. These vehicles were purposefully built for rapid transportation and deployment but were also fully combat capable. Deceptively heavily armoured, they were designed to withstand fire from even the most advanced anti-aircraft artillery. The hull of each Albatross should have been able to withstand nearly anything shy of a nuke being thrown at it.

Sebastian let out a growl of discontent. He didn’t like the smell of any of this. Neither literally nor figuratively.

Continuing to scan the scattered debris, he tried to focus his senses, filtering through the various layers of scents, isolating the overwhelming ones and ignoring them before honing in on the subtle faded notes. The bodies were burned beyond recognition, but there should still have been something he could use first to identify them, and secondly maybe even a trace of what managed to take the aircraft down.

“Agent Shield! The Director’s body is not here.” Agent Scott suddenly barked, alerting the supervisory agent to his conclusion.

“Local authorities assured us all passengers had been accounted for with no survivors. How certain of you are that conclusion?”

It was a loaded question and Sebastian knew it. When Albatross-1 went down, the Director along with everyone else on board was presumed dead. Local authorities had been first on the site and had reinforced those assumptions. The agent didn’t envy his supervisor for being the one to have to recant the previous statements. It wasn’t in the best interest of cooperation to turn around and call the locals liars or incompetent.

“If I’m going to issue a retraction of that fact, then I need it to be iron-clad before I send SAC Locke to Director Caspian.”

“I’ve got the pilots there-” Sebastian replied, pointing towards one body, before turning and gesturing towards the other. “And there.”

Stopping, he took a few steps forward, tracing out the Albatross’ interior layout amongst the wreckage. Stepping into what should have been the crew quarters, the H.I.T. agent motioned toward five more bodies.

“The Director’s security unit is here, save for the remaining body that was stationed outside of his quarters.” Sebastian craned his neck towards another piece of wreckage. The underlying smell of oak pointed towards the Director’s favourite Scotch being spilled amongst the twisted and torn metal. But true to Sebastian's words, there was only a singular body amongst the debris.

“The facts speak for themselves, there is a body missing and it has to be the director. No one else on the boat's manifest would be considered an asset. Let alone worth causing an international incident." Agent Scott replied. “Bring in another team to verify, bring in the K-9s, they aren’t going to find any evidence of the director here. There’s not even a drop of blood left. This is looking less like an assassination and more like an abduction.”

Michael knew better than to doubt Sebastián. A gifted agent, Sebastian's ability coupled with his 'condition' made him an ideal bloodhound in these sorts of situations.

“The security detail were also stripped.”

Sebastian and Michael both turned to the source of the interjection. Sebastian's piercing gaze in particular turned to meet the bright-eyed optimism of their young probationary agent. Fresh out of Pacific Royal’s Hyperhuman Enforcement Advanced Training program, Veronica Duquesne was the newest member of their Hyperhuman Investigation Tactical Unit.

“That is to say, they’re missing their Hyperhuman Combat Suits. There’s equally no trace of their armour.”

“Good catch, Rookie.” Praised SSA Michael Shield as he processed both Duquesne and Scott’s observations of the scene. “Residual HZEs are also off the chart, the boat must have been destroyed by another Hyperhuman.” He paused, massaging his brow before letting out a long, exasperated sigh.

“It all means we can only be dealing with Hyperion.”

“Odd they haven’t claimed the attack yet.” Sebastian commented, “You’d think they’d want to make a point of the director’s abduction. Kowalski is after all one of the biggest proponents for Hyperhuman and Human cooperation."

“We’re missing something, go over it all again.” Agent Shield ordered before his scanner began to flash as it detected a concentrated cluster of residual high-energy particles. Sebastian’s nose flared as he took a deep breath. His eyes flash momentarily, the hackles on the back of his neck rising.

“Teleporter,” Michael stated.

“One we’re familiar with,” Sebastian replied confirming what SSA Shield had already concluded. The familiar sickly sweet traces of a certain perfume filled the young agent's nose as he detected it beneath the other lingering scents in the pair's immediate area.

“Get a BOLO out on for the known Hyperhuman Cassidy Parker, classification Exoteric Fundamental, considered a Delta level threat.” Michael ordered Agent Duquesne. “Scan for HZE surges matching this signature in a one-kilometre radius. For every match you find, scan another kilometre in radius, I want to find out where she’s going.”

Waving for the rookie to follow him, Shield turned back to address Sebastian once more.

“The second they have her route, I want you in pursuit.”

Rhythmic guitar and harmonica-filled music blared from the cab of the truck as James ‘Jim’ O’Neil haphazardly steered the massive six-wheeled vehicle with his right hand. His left, however, was otherwise occupied as the tanned arm hung out the window, tapping against the side of the door to the beat of his favourite Delta Blues. Behind Jim was a convoy of similar vehicles, each heading to the Intake House to pick up the newest Pacific Royal students in order to shuttle them to the Southern Plateau for the Homecoming Trials.

It had already been a busy morning, with having to deliver Iñigo to the Chancellor before the kick-off ceremony. The ‘prisoner’ transfer had made the red-blooded American madder than a boiled owl. His knuckles turned white gripping the steering wheel as he thought back to the earlier events of the day. Each member of Team 21 was under his care, as the team’s assigned faculty representative, which essentially made him their den mother. While he didn’t have to care, Jim had never been one to take injustice lying down and seeing a Hyperhuman in chains paraded across campus wasn’t exactly something he took kindly to, let alone one of his.

Downshifting the truck, Jim purposefully over-revved the engine as he pulled the six-wheeled truck up to the Intake House. His music still turned all the way up, it practically shook the aged windows of the large brick house in their frames. Besides his own vehicle, another of the shuttles was emblazoned with the Blackjack ‘Spade’, while both were followed by a pair of identical trucks marked by a white circle nearly encompassed by a darker one placed over the top of it; the logo of Team 21’s rival university-level team, Eclipse or Team 18.

Climbing out of the spacious cabin, the bearded man emerged from the driver’s seat, waving for the driver of the other Blackjack vehicle to follow. Jim’s graying hair was unkempt, bordering on bedhead which seemed to stand in stark contrast to his neatly trimmed beard. Though the man was still something of an enigma, this was not the first time that the members of Team 21 had laid eyes on Jim O’Neil. He had personally met and toured each member of Blackjack through the campus upon their first arrival and acted as the team’s liaison and in a similar capacity to a guidance counsellor, ensuring the team and all of its members were where they were supposed to be, when they were supposed to be.

Straightening his trademark jacket, Jim twitched his nose before spitting out the wad of gum he had been chewing. Pausing to reach back into the vehicle behind him, the older man pulled his stetson from atop the center counsel and placed it on his head.

The sound of the H.E.L.P. issued Minotaurs had alerted almost all of the residents of the Intake House to the shuttles’ arrival. Counting the waiting students, Jim nodded his approval as almost all twelve were waiting and ready to depart.

“How’s my team of wildcards doin' today?” He asked with a smile, before waving the younger driver from the second vehicle towards the group.

“Tad!” Jim exclaimed in his usual boisterous tone. “Introduce yourself to the team!”

From behind Jim stepped forward a slender, mousey male. Loose curls of raven-like hair hung from his head, obstructing part of his face. Dark eyes stared out at the gathered team as Thaddeus ‘Tad’ Finch nodded a salutation toward them.

“Hello,” He started with a small wave before looking at Jim and back towards the team as he cleared his throat, “I’m a student teaching assistant at Pacific Royal Collegiate and University, a member of both House Strigidae and a former member of the last iteration of Team 21 prior to our graduation. Like you, I went through the Hyperhuman Enforcement Advanced Training Program, before beginning work with the Department of Education and Logistics, which subsequently led me back here and before you today.”

“Tad here is y'alls student advisor, your personal guru.” Jim interjected speaking over the graduate student, “Everything y'all goin' to go through as part of the Trials, the H.E.A.T. program and just general student life here at P.R.C.U., Tad has already been through. Don’t hesitate to ask him for advice or help if the need arises.” Jim explained.

“Officially Tad no longer belongs to this team,” Jim paused, winking toward the team, “Unofficially he’s still as much of a member of Blackjack as any of y'all.”

“Look what the Chancellor dragged in,”

The voice came from the driver of one of the Eclipse vehicles. The barrel-chested man made even the Minotaur look like a small vehicle as he squeezed out of the cabin. A pair of dark aviator sunglasses seemed to accent the smug look on his face.

“Team,” Jim stated, turning towards the fair-haired gorilla of a man, “This mountain of a man is Aaron Matthews, the faculty representative for your fellow new students of Team 18.”

From behind Aaron, a petite-framed redhead appeared. Her piercing blue eyes studied the gathered members of Team 21 before a look of boredom washed over her face. Turning her attention to the other gathered group of students, a smile crept back onto her face.

“And this spitfire here, is Team 18’s student advisor, Ryan Clarke,” Jim added, gesturing towards the smaller woman.

“These ones have the look of winners,” Ryan stated as she pointed towards her own team before looking back towards Jim and the rest of Blackjack. “Yours, eh, I wouldn’t go all in just yet, Jim.” She turned back towards the vehicles, pausing to ruffle Tad’s hair before winking at him.

“So cute,” She said, her nose crinkling in a look that was somewhere between the lines of disgusted and smug.

“All students assigned to Team 18, you’re in the vehicle marked with an Eclipse, anyone not assigned to Team 18 can find their ride 'cause you’re not with me.” Aaron hollered as the twelve members of Eclipse departed leaving Jim, Tad and the rest of Blackjack.

Jim had read the files on all of the upcoming students. Watching the other team as they climbed into the pair of Minotaurs, he began to put names to faces. The blonde boy that raced to be first into the lead Eclipse vehicle, he recognized as Gareth Wagner, a student possessing the ability to propel themselves forward at high speeds, enveloping themselves in a bubble while doing so which essentially turned them into a human bullet. Following at Gareth’s heels was Robert Thoreau, or RJ as his file had noted as his preferred name. Like Blackjack’s own Axel, RJ possessed a variation of tactile telekinesis that allowed him to expand his body’s bioelectric field to grant him a variation of hyper-strength.

Following the two boys came two girls, one with dark hair while the other had horns peeking out of her forehead. Jim figured for the first he had a fifty/fifty shot of whether she was Charlotte Valentine or Simone Richards. However, without double-checking the image on file or seeing the girl use her abilities, Jim couldn’t remember which this was. The other was definitely the team’s osterokinetic, Kaitlyn Riley.

A male towering a head above the others started towards the first vehicle. His fur-covered face and red eyes pointed to this being Adam Prince. As he made his move towards the Minotaur, the pair of blonde women darted towards the second vehicle. By Jim’s recollection that would make them Layla Schade and Eden Sherwood, a photokinetic and florakinetic respectively.

Raising an eyebrow at how the two girls avoided sharing a vehicle with Adam, Jim tilted his head to get Tad’s attention, gesturing with his eyes for him to watch. Whether the members of Blackjack knew it or not, the Trials had already started and if they were to win, then Jim and Tad needed to realize all strategic advantages. Teammates avoiding each other meant there was a flaw waiting to be exploited.

Jim turned his attention back to the remaining five members of Eclipse. By his recollection, the only ones left were Zebulun Michales; the Hydrokinetic, Noah Gallager; the animal shifter, Sunder Rana and his toxic spit, Raoul Ishmael; the pyrokinetic and the remaining woman. Upon a second examination, Jim decided she was Simone Richards and the first woman must have been Charlotte.


“I’d get your team moving and loaded, O’Neil!” Matthews called from the driver seat of his truck. “Don’t want to miss out on the good campsites.” He laughed, laying down the horn to signal his departure before yelling over the engine as he pulled out. “Plus, sounds like this year’s Trials are going to be rough!”

“Well, what are y’all just standin' around for?” O’Neil said, turning back to his own team, “Blackjack, get your asses in gear. Six of y’all with me, the other six with Tad.” Climbing into the driver's seat again, Jim continued to bark orders.

“Anyone who doesn’t get in right now is walkin'. If there are no seats left in the cab, climb in the box.”

The large all-terrain vehicle tore across the island, seemingly unhindered by the rough paths cut through the forest surrounding the campus, nor bothered by the uneven terrain along the mountainous range towards the center of the island. Eventually, the scenery changed from plains of blowing grass and protruding rocky crags to a large flatland. It was barren save for the numerous bodies now inhabiting it, along with colourful banners flying in support of each of the eight school houses.

"... As most of y’all know, any student is welcome and invited to view the trials,"

Holding a shortwave radio up to his mouth, Jim continued to explain the ongoing activities to the team, broadcasting his voice between both vehicles. Gesturing with an arm through the open window, he pointed towards the numerous rows of tents and multiple campsites. While many of the tents were dressed in house colours and grouped across eight areas, the rows closest to the center were more monochromatic, instead bearing their team logo. Each of these team campsites had six small tents, all placed around a central fire pit. Most of them were already lit and the smell of cooking meat, vegetables and numerous other appetite-inducing aromas wafted through the open windows of the pair of Minotaurs.

As the team continued to approach the center of the plateau, they could see the temporary bleachers erected on either side. A team of faculty members and graduate students were working to terraform the plateau into this year's trials. From the ground, greenery began to appear as a massive hedge grew from the ground.

To the west, Jim’s eyes narrowed as he spotted an ominous row of dark clouds, coming closer to the island. There was no way the Chancellor would allow a storm to dampen the event, even O’Neil had to admit those clouds didn’t look good. A cold wind whipped through the open window, sending a slight chill down Jim’s spine. It echoed over the Southern Plateau like a blood-curdling scream.

“Do you hear how the wind sounds here?” Jim asked, picking up the radio again, “The edge of the Southern Plateau is known as the Howling Cliffs because an enthusiastic Elemental decided to use their abilities to shape the cliffs to perfectly accent the ocean wind in such a way that it sounds like a banshee. It’s impressive, damn eerie too.”

Bringing the vehicle to a stop, Jim climbed out, motioning those riding with him to follow suit. Behind their Minotaur, Tad brought his vehicle to a stop as the team reunited around an empty campsite.

“Listen up y’all!” Jim yelled to the gathered group, “I may like the sound of my own voice but I hate repeating myself.” Taking a step forward, he pointed towards the pair of vehicles as Tad opened the tailgates and began producing their bagged tents.

“First order of business to get our camp set up, two people to a tent, find a bunkmate. I don’t frankly care who pairs up so long as the rest of us aren’t going to hear you all night.” He paused, his eyes seemingly looking directly toward Banjo.

“In any capacity,” Jim added, his tone making the implication perfectly clear. “While you lot do that, Tad here will get the fire going and rassle us up some grub, If ya don’t eat meat, now’s your time to speak up and Tad will get you the proper vittles, otherwise, I think we have something y’all are going to enjoy.” Lifting his hat, Jim smoothed his hair back before replacing the Stetson atop his head.

“This year’s homecoming trial is centred around the massive hedge maze you see growing over yonder. Startin’ tomorrow, we’ll be sending you into the hedge and as a team, you’ll need to work together to navigate it, while also overcoming anything you encounter inside. While I can’t get into specifics with y’all, I can forewarn you that these obstacles can be anything as simple as a riddle to a trap riddle corridor to even a physical confrontation.”

Clearing his throat, Jim continued.

“For tonight though, y’all should try and bond as a team. Throw the old pigskin around, sing kumbaya, play truth or dare, I don’t really care so long as you actually learn about one another. Another good idea, go over your Hyper Abilities, learn your deck before you play it. Now’s the time to reveal any hidden talents.” He nodded to Tad to get started on the fire.

“But first order of business, let’s get these tents up!”

It was suddenly Cassander's absolute mission to ensure that the next twenty or so minutes of his life weren't trapped in a six-passenger cab alongside Banjo. Despite the scramble Cassander had to make after leaving the Chancellor's office, he had still made it into the Intake House, changed and been back outside before O'Neil and Tad had arrived with the shuttles.

Cassander wouldn't say the same for Banjo who throughout the entire schpiel had badgered him with questions after coming in late. Unfortunately, Luce had ultimately indulged their class clown. The whole interaction was making it very difficult for Cassander to begin practicing Jonas' advice because at the moment it was very hard to enjoy the school.

“And this spitfire here, is Team 18’s student advisor, Ryan Clarke,”

Cassander's entire demeanour suddenly changed as the petite redhead appeared from behind the vanilla gorilla that Jim had introduced as Aaron Matthews. A small flare of sparks suddenly sprayed from either palm, causing Cass to jump before quickly burying his hands in his pockets in hopes that no one, especially not Banjo had noticed.

Every word out of Ryan's mouth was suddenly lost in a haze that came over Cassander. Was this her hyperpower? It was almost as though she moved in slow motion, he could feel his eyes glazing over before the warmth of his palms against his legs was enough to kick him back to the present.

That was embarrassingly desperate.

Giving his head a less-than-subtle shake, Cass, admittedly reluctantly, snapped free of Ryan's spell. Turning his head over towards their former housemates, Cassander just had barely taken a second to look over the opposing team before Matthews had ordered Eclipse into their shuttles. Cass had seen their faces in the hallways of the Intake House, and they had all come through the Mess Hall for food during meal times, but considering he had barely struck up any friendships among his own team, Cassander wasn't exactly on a first name basis with anyone from Team 18.

“Anyone who doesn’t get in right now is walkin'. If there are no seats left in the cab, climb in the box.”

"Is-" Cassander suddenly spoke up, sheepishly raising a hand. While his and Jonas' conversation might have been fresh in his head, Cass still didn't particularly enjoy the thought of exploding the cramped quarters of one of these 'roided-up all-terrain trucks.

"I-is riding in the box an option?"

"Whatever floats your goat, kid." Jim replied, "Now get a move on!"

"I believe that's O'Neil for yes," Tad added, reaching a hand out to offer to take Cassander's bag. "Personally, the box is better. Rougher seat sure, but the experience trumps the cab."

"I just really want the fresh air," Cassander lied, hanging back a second to watch where Banjo went before making a beeline to the opposite vehicle. Placing a hand on the edge of the box, he smoothly vaulted himself inside, before staking claim to a corner and making himself comfy amongst the luggage.

The ride across the island was spectacular. Cassander could hardly believe the variety of landscapes in such a small geographical area. But between the story about the Howling Cliffs and watching the Southern Plateau be literally transformed for the Homecoming Trials, he could begin to piece together just how much of this island had been changed by those who called it home. It must have been so amazing to have an ability that could benefit so many people. Literally creating land homes could be built on, fertile fields to grow food, regrowing deforested areas, the possibilities were nearly endless if the world would let the Hyperhumans help.

Any sense of serenity that Cassander found during the ride was rudely interrupted by the obnoxious laughter coming from the back of the leading vehicle. Clearly, Banjo had found something to entertain himself as his sounds of absolute mirth were relayed over Jim's radio, though Cass could the other teen without any assistant which had to mean that Banjo was clearly exaggerating whatever was tickling his funny bone.

The vehicle came to a stop and Jim's yelling very quickly continued as Cassander climbed out of the back of Minotaur. He couldn't say he was exactly thrilled about this latest development. Camping under the stars for some was romantic, but for Cass, when the Intake House was a ten-minute drive away, he had to question why they didn't just take their shuttles back to the main campus at the end of the day. Was this some sort of initiation test? Were they all being set up to be hazed in the middle of the night?

Hanging back, Cassander watched as the members of Blackjack slowly began pairing up. Looking over toward Katja, he briefly considered asking her if she want to share a tent before just as quickly deciding against it. Instead, he turned his gaze towards Haleigh, wondering if instead, she'd make the better tent mate. Of course, that just led to several fleeting moments of pondering how one in a wheelchair did camp out in a tent. Would someone need to lift Halleigh in and out of the chair?

Axel seemed like a safety net at this point. It seemed Calliope had picked Banjo based on her direct approach, which was somehow both a blessing and a curse to Cassander. He would have asked Calliope, he appreciated her bluntness. But she, pending Banjo's agreement, had also done everyone the favour of taking the hit of having their resident troublemaker as a bunkmate.

Cass really needed to ensure his tent was as far from theirs as possible. As Rory suddenly started barking orders to the poorly dealt hand of students; which of course, prompted a subtly raised eyebrow from Cass, a sudden violent gust of wind seemingly dropped the temperature on the Plateau, sending a shiver down his spine. For the first time since arriving on the plateau, Cassander's attention was directed upwards bringing his attention to the ominous storm clouds rolling in from over the Western Pacific. It wasn't that he was superstitious, any sense of belief in the supernatural or otherwise had been beaten out of Cassander at a young age. But even he had to admit, there was no way that the dark horizon was a good sign.

"Hey, uh, Tad?" Cassander asked, "What happens if it rains?"

Tad chortled a little before responding.

"Trials go on whether rain or shine. If you're worried about getting wet, these tents are the same issue as H.E.L.P.'s agents get. They'll survive everything sort of a nuclear blast." He nodded towards Cassander's bag, "You'll also find a jacket was included in your Physical Training uniform, plus all pieces are water proofed and quick drying, no chance of a bunch of Hyperhumans coming down with hyperthermia."

Cass could only stare at Tad as the other male delivered his joke with a straight face. A silence hung between the two for a few seconds, Cassander waited for Tad's proud face to fade before immediately retorting with a follow-up question.

"So, that storm won't change anything?"

Tad shook his head.

"Nah, Trials have never been cancelled in the school's entire history. It would take a pretty extraordinary act of God to get Dr. Lehrer to call off the trials."

Nodding in acknowledgement, Cassander took another look around the gathered team. Ultimately, the teenager decided he'd rather not be the one making the decision about a bunkmate and opted to leave it to fate. Catching another glimpse of the trial being raised in the center of the plateau, Cass took one look back to ensure no one was paying attention to him and then snuck away to get a closer look.

”Heya broer!”

Cassander was quickly stopped in his tracks.

“If we’re going to be a solid team we should first get to properly introduce ourselves, right? I’m Katja, Katja Kruger.”

He had been sure that no one was paying any attention to him and yet here, in front of him now, was the team's Amazonian knockout. There was no way this was actually happening. Cassander quickly looked around the barely contained chaos that was their campsite, sure that one of his teammates must have had the power of illusion and was currently screwing with his perception of reality. Alas, there didn't appear to be a second Katja and thus the blonde bombshell currently towering a head and a half over Cassander must have in fact been the genuine article.

“You euhm, got a tentmate yet?”

Cass was certain his knees were about to go out from under him at any second. He hadn't expected anyone to ask him to be their tentmate. He had a solid plan, he'd sneak away, spare himself the awkwardness of being picked last and reluctantly retire for the night with whichever sucker was forced to share a tent with the human time bomb. But this was not his plan, he had not expected to be asked to bunk with an attractive girl. He had to somehow muster the courage to turn her down.

"Actually I do," Cassander lied, his eyes rapidly darting around the campsite. "Uh, Axel and I had actually planned to bunk together since we're already used to each other."

What is wrong with you?

"I was just scouting out a good spot before grabbing a tent, y'know close enough to fire to stay warm, but not in the path of the smoke. But also far enough away from the other tents that we can't hear each other snoring at night. Standard stuff."

Put the shovel down, Charon.

"Maybe uh, Trace, needs a partner?" Cass suggested as he stepped around Katja and headed back toward the pair of trucks. There was no sneaking away at the moment, he definitely needed to grab one of the last tents before Axel either picked himself a partner or worse, Katja's feelings got hurt because of his lie. She certainly seemed like a nice enough girl, Cassander wouldn't have minded talking to her more but he was definitely not open to sharing a tent with her. He didn't know her well enough for that, and there was nothing quite like involuntary bodily functions to accelerate one's intimate knowledge of a person. At least sharing a tent with Axel or one of the others from the male dormitory, those things were expected.

Picking up a tent, Cass hauled the bag upwards with minimal effort, though noting that despite its seeming lightweight construction, it wasn't without heft. Walking over to Axel, Cass lifted the tent in a salutation before forcing a smile.

"I got us a tent! Want to help me set it up?" His eyes darted back towards Katja, before looking towards the older male in a manner that practically screamed 'save me'. With any luck, Axel would take pity and save Cass from the hole he dug.