#malcolm tpu

[transmogrified-in-the-void]

The Powered Universe: Chapter 2

Leto feels the air behind her arm surge forwards as she tries to hit Malcolm just below his sternum. His hand grabs her curled fist and holds her arm still as he moves his knee closer to her now exposed stomach. A sudden wall of air shoves its way into his body. He falls onto his back, Leto’s fist still securely in his grip.

She jerks forwards, and grunts as the twin soles of thick leather boots make contact with her ribs. Not hard enough to break anything, but she’s definitely going to be bruised tomorrow. The boots dig into her as Malcolm pulls her into them using her arm, and she’s lifted off her feet and flung forwards and over her prone Mentor. 

She uses some strong wind to keep her from falling, and to help her flip around in time to dodge the hand zipping towards her face. She catches the elbow that tries to hit her. Wind sweeps Malcolm’s feet from under him, and she shoves him to the ground. One leg over his shins, the other on his chest, and both of his hands pinned in hers, Leto grins in victory.

“I think I win this one.” She says, and Malcolm’s face gains a horrifyingly familiar grin.

“Do you?”

He swings a leg out from under Leto and raises it up. Stumbling slightly at the sudden change in balance, he curls his leg around hers and pulls it until she falls forwards. Rolling behind Leto and onto his feet, Malcolm grabs one arm and kicks her to the ground. Using her free arm, Leto pushes her and Malcolm into the air. 

She twists her arm out of his grip, and watches as he falls down again. This time, though, she pushes air up under her feet to keep her airborne. 

Malcolm looks up at her, his brows downturned slightly as he chews on his lip. Then, he nods and starts clapping.

“Good work.” He says. “Now, how do you go down without falling?”

Leto looks down. At ten feet, as long as she distributes her weight nothing should be broken. But without falling?

She takes a step forwards, and the air pushes against her foot as it ‘lands’. She takes a step down, and the same thing happens. And another. And another. 

Her feet hit real ground. Malcolm gives her a congratulatory pat on the back. “Take a shower. I’ll meet you outside.”

With that, he walks out of the training room, leaving Leto alone, panting as exhaustion starts to reach into her joints. 

She leaves her hair down after getting all the excess moisture out with the facility towels. It’s a lighter brown than her Mom’s, so are her eyes. Her long, pointed nose is the only part of her Mom that she got.

The sensation of fingers running through her hair startles Leto, but turning around she sees nobody else in the changing room. She shivers, turning back to face the mirror, and dry hair hits the back of her neck.

Oh.

She whispers a small thank you, and smiles a little as a curl of warm air brushes against her face. She finishes putting everything back into her bag, and swings it over her shoulder as she finally leaves for the day. 

Malcolm is waiting outside for her, leaning against the wall by the door with a cigarette between his fingers. He glances at her, and hums something. He lets go of his cigarette as it lights up a blinding white, and disappears into ash. 

“What are you doing?” Leto asks him. He’s never waited before. 

“I heard you graduated last week.”

Leto has to take a moment to fully process his words. “Yeah, I did.” She pulls her bag strap so that her bag is behind her instead of at her side. “Why?”

He stands up straight. “You turned eighteen this spring. Your contract with AHA states that starting at the start of next month you need to spend the next two years dedicated to Hero work. No job, no college.”

Leto’s heart skips a beat. “Am I compensated for any of that?”

“After your first year, when you get your tier assignment. Or if they let you get an office job, which they’ll only do if you end up being hopelessly incompetent.”

Leto grabs onto her bag strap to hide how much her hands are shaking. Her Mom didn’t let her work until this point because she wanted Leto to focus on school as much as possible between Hit training. She was going to get a job this summer. Was. She can’t.

Because of a contract her Mom signed when Leto was not even ten years old. A contract that she’s never seen. A contract that has defined her life for nine years. And will continue to for the next two, at least.

“Walk.” Malcolm’s harsh voice breaks through Leto’s catastrophizing. He’s a few steps ahead of her already, and she quickly falls in stride beside him.

Leto looks straight ahead. “Why didn’t you say this sooner?”

She can feel Malcolm’s eyes burning through her skull. “Why didn’t you?”

“What teenager in high school doing essentially four hours of extracurricular every day is going to think to go look at some piece of paper signed almost a decade ago?”

“A responsible one.”

Leto feels an incredulous laugh leave her mouth. “I don’t know what kind of childhood you had, but most high schoolers don’t have to worry about contracts and legal or financial repercussions of them. Not to mention, until now, I’ve only been told that I have a required number of hours per week training.”

At the mention of childhood, Malcolm’s steps halter for just a moment. He glances at Leto with an expression she’s never seen on his face. She thinks maybe he’s going to say something, but he just looks forward again and resumes his pace. 

She walks beside him in silence for the next several minutes, taking the occasional turn into a part of the city she’d never explored before. 

It’s…unremarkable. It’s not grungy or disheveled, nor neurotically clean and precise. There’s a clear amount of care put into keeping the buildings up, but not enough to power wash them every month, or even every year. Some of the apartment windows have taped up decorations, some are covered by curtains or blinds, some are just left empty. The business signs are clean, but not sterilized. Many seem to be small, hole-in-the-wall shops and restaurants, and there’s a few people wandering around inside the open ones. 

“Where are we going?” Leto asks as she realizes that she’s been following Malcolm almost blindly. 

“A friend’s. We’re almost there.”

“Why?”

“They’ll be able to help you.”

“Can I talk to my Mom first?”

Malcolm falters for a second time. That look from earlier shows up again too, and Leto raises an eyebrow at him. She stops walking and crosses her arms, trying to look confident. “What, didn’t expect that I’d want to talk about this to someone?”

He shakes his head. “No, no, not that. Just,” He looks off into space for a moment, “just forgot. You can call her now, but we- I can only meet them tonight. You can-” He groans as he rubs a hand over his face. “It’s complicated. For me. Call your mom, if you want, but we need to meet them tonight.”

Leto can’t help the curiosity that comes over her at Malcolm’s stumbling and stuttering. In the almost two years that he’s been Mentoring her, not once has he ever lost his composure. Not a single slip up in the cool, detached demeanor that he held up, and now it’s started to crumble.

She gets her phone out of her bag, and calls her Mom. She watches Malcolm as it rings, and rings, and rings, and rings. His face settles back into its typical impassivity.

The person you have called is not available.

“Hey Ma, I’m probably going to be late tonight. Malcolm is taking me somewhere. I’ll send you the address when I get there. Love you.” She puts her phone in her jean pocket, and looks at Malcolm. “Okay, take me to this super important person that you can only see tonight.”

He doesn’t even deign her with a response before continuing his previous pace down the sidewalk. It’s easy to catch up with the sudden distance, since her stride is longer than his, but it’s harder to cross the now uncomfortable silence between them.

The more she thinks about it, the more off her Mentor has been this whole impromptu journey. He seemed normal when they had sparred not even an hour earlier, so what changed? Did he learn about her contract stipulations while she was cleaning up? Or did this elusive friend of his let him know they were available? Maybe some third, even more secret thing she can’t even dream of happened.

Malcolm stops in front of an apartment complex. Leto watches as he stares at the call buttons mounted next to the front door, and tries to search his face for any change in expression, something to let her know what he’s thinking. Not a single muscle twitch as he raises a finger and presses one of the buttons. 

“Who is it?” The speaker crackles as someone’s voice filters through.

“It’s me.” Malcolm answers, and there’s a moment of silence as the person on the other side seems to think about it.

“The speakers are shit. Me who?”

He groans in frustration, the most emotion he’s outwardly expressed outside of when she lands a particularly good hit. “Malcolm.”

There’s no response from the person on the other side. The front door’s lock clicks, and Malcolm opens it and gestures for her to go first. The door clicks shut behind them, and Leto follows Malcolm up the stairs one slow step at a time.

One floor.

Two floors. 

Three floors.

Not a single word is said between them as they step onto the fourth floor and start walking down the hallway. It’s tense, at least on Leto’s end. She doesn’t know what Malcolm is thinking, or feeling, or if he’s even doing any of those things at all. 

He stops in front of door 418. Leto stops behind him, and watches as he hesitantly puts his arm up and raps on the door once.

Silence. He goes to knock a second time, but the sound of heavy footfalls stops him. The sound of a chain rattling, and a deadbolt sliding back is followed by the violent opening of the wooden door, revealing a person who immediately slams the door shut when she sees Malcolm’s face. 

Leto almost jumps out of her skin at the sudden sound. Malcolm knocks on the door again, this time hitting it more than once.

“Fyn, come on. At least let the kid in.” He begs, and there’s an edge to his voice that Leto didn’t know he could have. “She has nothing to do with this.”

The door clicks open again, and Leto actually gets a good look at them this time. They lean against the doorframe, brown arms crossed over their chest. Their worn fingerless gloves curl around their fisted hands, which show signs of mild burn scars. Their braided mohawk falls in front of their face slightly, which is the only reprieve Malcolm gets from their fierce glare. 

They have ten visible piercings in total. A pair of snake bites that look like bats, their ouroboros nose ring, three hoop piercings in each of their upper ears, and one earring in their right ear that looks like a spider hanging down on silk. Their vest and jeans are covered in various patches of all shapes and sizes, and there’s the hint of tattoos covering various scars on their chest that the vest barely covers.

They’re the coolest person Leto’s ever met in her whole life, and they look like they want to kill Malcolm where he stands. Their dark brown eyes move away from Malcolm to stare right at her. Their expression softens, and they sigh

“You can come in.” They move to the side to let Leto in. Their glare returns as they see Malcolm start to turn away. “Both of you.”

Her mentor’s jaw clenches, but he turns and walks ahead of her into the apartment. As Leto follows him in, Fyn gives her a small, gentle smile, and closes the door.

The apartment is small, and tidy. There’s no furniture outside of the table and couch, although there are few bookshelves that hold an eclectic collection of items. There’s a few succulent plants, some handmade figurines, and a few pictures and pieces of art put into cheap frames scattered amongst various trinkets. A couple frames are put face down, and she notices a thin layer of dust on top of them as she sits down on the couch next to Malcolm.

Fyn drags the chair at the table in front of the pair, and sits down in it. “So.” They cross their arms and lean back in the chair. Their dark eyes are staring right at Malcolm, who is refusing to look at their face. “What do I owe the pleasure?”

Leto looks at the man sitting next to her. His hands are in the top most pockets of his pants, and his eyes are staring at some blank spot on the wooden floor. Fyn shifts to lean forwards, elbows on their legs. They turn their attention to her.

“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Fyn.” They smile at her gently, and Leto feels some of the tension rise away from her shoulders.

“Leto.” She returns the introduction with a nod. She glances at the shelves. “I, uh, like the plants.”

Fyn’s smile reaches their eyes. “Thanks. I’m sometimes out of the city a few days at a time, so it’s easier to have something that doesn’t need to be watered as often.” The reach to the side and pick up a small round cactus. “And some of them make great improvised weapons.”

Leto looks at the door, which has two different deadbolt locks and a chain in addition to the key lock. “You didn’t lock up after us.”

“That’s because he’s here.” Fyn nods to Malcolm, who still hasn’t looked at them. “Y’know, Mal, a little heads up would’ve been nice.”

He shifts a little bit. “I didn’t know where you were until a little bit ago, and I didn’t know how long it’d be before I had another free evening.”

They hum dismissively. “Yeah, I know. I had to put my address in the incident report, and the big old HA would never let you talk to me after-”

“I know, that’s why I’m here now. Shit, Fyn, I’m trying.” Malcolm interrupts them, and finally meets their gaze. “Can’t you see that?”

Malcolm has never looked or sounded more desperate in his life. Leto doesn’t think she should be watching this, hearing this, experiencing this complete deconstruction of a person who’s been nothing but distant and put together. Fyn hasn’t even done anything, not from what she’s seen in the few minutes she’s been here. 

“I can’t, Malcolm. You look like shit, you brought a fucking child here with no explanation, you’ve completely retracted from not only me but everyone else over the last who knows how many years. Mal, why’d you bring a kid into this?!” Their voice slowly starts to get louder as they go on, and they gesture wildly at Leto. “She has nothing to do with our bullshit, much less yours, so why are you getting her involved?”

Malcolm looks at Leto, then back at Fyn. “She’s going to get involved no matter what. She’s my mentee.”

Fyn scoffs, and leans back into the chair. “What a great job you’re doing at it.”

Malcolm’s fists clench, then unclench, and he releases a loud sigh. “Fyn, look, be as mad at me as you want, but I think Leto would benefit from having someone like you in her life.”

Leto whips her head to look at him  with as much visible confusion as she can muster. “What? What does that mean?”

“I’ve seen where you live, and I know how much your mom works. Fyn is separate from all of that.” He looks at them. “And they’re also one of the most hard working, kind people I know.”

“You don’t know me.” Fyn argues. “You haven’t known me since we were 19.”

That starts another argument between Fyn and Malcolm, one which both of them refuse to back down, but Leto isn’t paying attention. She feels sick, and faint, and she wants everyone to shut up, and then she passes out.

First Chapter

Give me a Ko-Fi!

[powered-universe-official]

Draft 1, Part 2: Virtue; bathroom community

Virtue finds Malcolm.

Over the next few weeks, Virtue spent any possible free moment to see if they could find Malcolm. If the band was just practicing a few songs, they were scanning the whole garage for a hint of orange hair, or if Bug was leaving, they watched its car leave to see if Malcolm was possibly, hopefully, in the back seat.

Every time, without fail, in the moments they weren’t paying attention, someone would yell “bye Malcolm!” as the door clicked shut, and they were needed again. It was frustrating, it was aggravating, and for some reason it bothered Virtue to absolutely no end. Maybe because they prided themselves on being so observant, that not seeing someone who apparently was around a lot was a failing of that in some way. Or because Malcolm seemed to be doing it on purpose, if Bug’s constant snickering had anything to say about it.

Regardless, it’s annoying the hell out of Virtue. What started as them wanting to just meet their band member’s sibling has now turned into a personal goal that if they can’t accomplish it,  they have failed. At what? Virtue doesn’t know yet, but they know it’s a failure of something.

“Bye Malcolm! Make sure to bring food next time you decide to hang around right after school!” Bug yells to the door that just clicked shut, and the irritation rises through Virtue’s core. Again, they just missed him.

“Hey V, can you make sure he closed the door all the way?” Michael asks as he checks over his guitar. “You know how the latch is on that one.”

Sighing, Virtue nods and walks over to the garage door. They tug on it, and it falls open easily, making a slip of paper flutter slowly to the ground. After latching the door shut soundly (it’s still cold out, after all), they pick it up and unfold it.

Get good and just find me already, I’m getting bored :p - malcolm

The paper crumples in Virtue’s hand as they slowly turn around and see Bug’s wide and borderline malicious grin. So that’s how it is, then. 

Game on.

-

It has been two weeks, and Virtue is no closer to finding Malcolm than they had been on day one. And it’s getting beyond frustrating, it’s beyond aggravating. It’s absolutely maddening, and they’re about at their fucking limit.

Doors shut and the band choruses a “bye Malcolm!” over and over and over again, and they haven’t seen the little shit once. How does he do it? What is he doing? It’s like he’s a fleeting shadow of a person.

A thought creeps into Virtue’s head, and settles itself deep. Their eyes scan the garage, focusing on the dark corners, and find nothing. He’s not here. He never is in their line of sight…

They spin around on their heels and see a small young teen leaning in the corner. His hair curls tightly to his scalp, dark black that cuts into faded orange, which frames dark eyes that look at them without an ounce of amusement. He’s clearly related to Bug with how they have the same face, his is just untouched from burn scars and holding onto the vestiges of baby fat.

Even so, Malcolm couldn’t look more different to his older sibling. Bug is covered in tattoos and art, and is looking into piercings. Not to mention the chaotically and carefully crafted look and aesthetic of some kind of grunge punk anti-hero. Malcolm, on the other hand, has a hoodie and soft jeans and slip on shoes and big headphones wrapped around his neck. 

He steps away from the corner, and walks towards the door that leads outside. Virtue follows, and when the door clicks shut behind them Malcolm shoves a piece of paper to their chest.

Virtue looks at him as he retreats back against a wall and watches. They carefully look at the paper, and unfold it slowly.

You never look behind you when you need to, especially when you’re actively looking to achieve something. Good job finding me.

Virtue looks up to say something, and Malcolm is gone.

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[bittenpath-blog]

48cm:TrainingPeaks confirms speakers and workshops for 2019 Endurance Coaching Summit

TrainingPeaks has confirmed that the 2019 Endurance Coaching Summit (ECS) will be hosted on September 18-20 at the University of Colorado in Boulder. TrainingPeaks is partnering with USA Cycling and USA Triathlon to provide coaches with a blend of business development and science-based training topics. These are designed to help successfully grow coaching businesses.

For attending, all USA Triathlon coaches will receive 12 CEUs (Continuing Education Units) and all USA Cycling coaches will receive 15 CEUs.

Over 800 coaches from 25 countries have attended ECS in the past, returning each year to gain insights from both the science-backed lectures, as well as the networking opportunities with other coaches.

“Coaching education is all about teamwork and collaboration, and sharing of ideas and findings within the coaching community,” said Kevin Dessart, Director of Coaching Education and Athlete Development for USA Cycling. “We are once again excited to partner with TrainingPeaks on their Endurance Coaching Summit to help deliver the best education possible to the entire coaching community.”

For those eager to take full advantage of their time in Boulder, TrainingPeaks University (TPU) will take place on September 17-18 leading into the Summit. TPU is designed to give coaches insights into effectively navigating the TrainingPeaks platform, including mastering metrics, best practices for planning and creating workouts, and setting up efficient workflows.

New this year, TrainingPeaks will also be offering a series of special hands-on small group workshops. These guided discussions will take place on Wednesday, September 18th and give coaches the opportunity to dive deep into the topics that interest them most. The sessions grant attendees with personal attention from leading experts on subjects such as coaching fundamentals, data-informed planning, and strength & conditioning for endurance athletes.

Coaches can purchase TrainingPeaks University + Workshop + ECS bundle and ‘turn their trip into a week-long coaching camp’.

ECS will explore a variety of endurance training topics informed by some of the latest breakthroughs in exercise science.

Keynote speaker and Olympic athlete Stacy Sims will explore how sex hormones play a significant role in hydration, nutrition, performance and recovery across an athlete’s lifespan – as well as how to coach female endurance athletes more effectively by digging into the science of their unique physiology, and using it to their advantage.

“USA Triathlon is proud to partner with TrainingPeaks to bring multisport coaches from across the country to Boulder for the 2019 Endurance Coaching Summit,” said Linda Cleveland, Coach Development Senior Manager at USA Triathlon. “TrainingPeaks is the industry leader for triathlon training, planning and analysis software. We see tremendous value in exposing as many coaches as possible to those tools, as well as the other best practices and business strategies they will take away from this state-of-the-art conference.”

Keynote speaker Alex Hutchinson, award-winning science journalist and New York Times bestselling author, will be presenting a lecture that examines the evidence of how our brain influences performance. This session will include an understanding of mental fatigue, brain training, group dynamics, and how simple sports psychology techniques can alter the perception of effort – and consequently – improve performance.

Additional speakers will include Andy Blow, Christie Aschwanden, Joanna Zeiger, Jen Rulon, Corinne Malcolm, Nate Wilson, Andrew & Katie Simmons, Jess Elliott, and more to be announced as the summit approaches. These experts will cover subjects such as building mental toughness, growing a social media presence, better athlete communication, and more.

www.trainingpeaks.com

[transmogrified-in-the-void]

The Powered Universe: Chapter 1

“I’m scared.” Leto says as she looks at her mom. In the summer sun, her mom’s brown eyes glitter and her carefully put up hair gains a pale halo. Even though Leto’s only 16, she’s almost an entire head taller than her mom, and has to tilt her head to look properly. From her father, her mom insisted, even though there were no photos to prove it. 

“Oh baby.” Her mom croons, and she lifts a hand up to hold Leto’s cheek. “No matter who it is, they’ll love you. How can they not? You work so hard.”

“Ma-” Leto starts, but her mom moves her hand to put a finger to her lips.

“Shh, no fighting back, I’m right.” Her mom takes a step back and the gleam in her dark eyes softens as she looks up at her daughter. “You’re the hardest working Hero-in-Training I’ve ever seen.”

Leto moves her arms to hold herself as she fights the embarrassment that’s slowly rising. “You don’t know any other Hits other than Jason, Ma.” She protests, and her mom huffs.

“Jason doesn’t do anything.”

“Jason’s already got a Mentor.”

“And what has he done to earn one? You’ve put in more time anyways.”

“Ma, he can summon things, that’s more than what I can do.”

Her mom huffs again, and spends another few moments looking Leto over. Even though she’s wearing a simple button up from Rufus and the nicest slacks Clemmie owns, she feels naked under the scrutinizing eyes of her mom.

Her mom shakes her head, and from the way her shoulders quiver Leto knows that it’d be better left alone. “If you stand out here any longer, you’re going to be late. Go, go.”

Leto tries to fight against her mom pushing her through the embellished double doors, protesting on going in alone, but unfortunately she can’t go against her mom, no matter how strong she is.

The door swings closed slowly and silently behind her, leaving Leto alone in the entrance of the Hero Association. At least last time she was here, her mom was there with her. But then again, she had only been 9 then.

She wishes this could happen at the training center. At least she knows that place, and the people who work and go there, and every nook and cranny of it. Here, even just on the first floor, she feels lost and out of place.

Not that the way it’s built helps anything. From the spotless white stone floor to the unmarred off-white walls, and the unused but dustless black leather furniture, it’s very fake. Sterile, even. The air settles around her wrong and moves into her lungs unnaturally.

She makes no noise as she walks to the front desk, placed perpendicular to the doors and right across the one elevator. There’s no visible stairs, which has to be a fire hazard of some kind, unless the receptionist has some sort of water-based Power, which wouldn’t make sense. 

The receptionist is just as sterilized as the rest of the room. Her white shirt looks like she was ironed in it, with not even a wrinkle in it. Unless she just clocked in and sat down, she had to have been here for at least a few hours.

“Name?” She asks.

“Leto Marcella.” Leto answers. The sounds of the keyboard as she types is just as clean and precise as everything else here. 

“Occupation?”

“Student.”

“Power?”

“Wind Manipulation.”

“Reason for being here?”

“Mentor assignment. 1 o’clock PM.”

The receptionist hums, types a few more things down, and turns in her chair to face Leto directly. “Floor thirty two.”

The sound of elevator doors opening startles Leto, and she turns her head back to see the elevator is now open. “Thank-”

“Go.”

Leto nods, and walks to the elevator. There’s no button on the wall, and the doors don’t close until she steps into the middle of the space. Looking for floor thirty two, she notices the total of sixty different floors. What would the HA be doing with all that space? There’s not that many A and S tier’s, who would be using that space for their Nemeses and Heists, at least not enough to still demand sixty whole floors.

She can barely tell that the elevator is moving upwards, only feeling the air pressure change around her. It doesn’t take that long to get to her floor either, since nobody got on the elevator on her ride up. 

The doors open, and she steps out into what looks like a floor full of conference rooms. There’s rooms to the left and right of her, and a hallway in front of her that seems to branch out twice before reaching the windows. She looks further down to the left and right, and sees nothing that would indicate she needs to be in one of those rooms. 

The air around her shifts slightly, pushing her from behind and grabbing at the loose parts of her shirt. She moves forwards as she tries to settle the anxiety that’s started to bubble in her stomach. She walks past the first intersection, and as she starts to reach the second the air shifts and pushes her from the left. She turns right and continues past one, two, three doors before stopping at the fourth as the wind disappears. She takes a deep breath, and knocks on the door.

“Come in.” The muffled voice of her hand-to-hand instructor comes through the door, and Leto opens it to see all of her instructors from the training center sitting at a table, plus three strangers she’s never seen before.

Ms. Jensen gestures for Leto to sit down at the chair across from everyone, which she does. Sitting makes the eight pairs of eyes staring at her more intimidating. “Thank you for making it, Leto.” Ms. Jensen smiles at her, and it looks weird on her face. 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Leto responds, making sure every word was enunciated. From across the table, Mr. Ortega gives her the smallest of smiles. 

Ms. Jensen nods, and lifts up a small stack of papers and places it in front of her. “As I’m sure you’re aware, the last seven years we’ve been monitoring your growth, in both physical and mental capacities, as well as your grasp on your Power.”

Leto nods in affirmation.

“Today we will be going over your growth, and deciding if you are ready to have a Mentor and enter the Hero space officially. Joining us today are the Citadel, Blitzfire, and Quantum Duke.” She gestures to each of them as she says their name. “If they decide to be your Mentor, you will be able to learn their given name, but for safety you will not know that until afterwards.”

“Actually, one more is coming for this.” Blitzfire interjects, and the five instructors look at her with confusion.

“Then why aren’t they here now?” Ms. Jensen asks. “And why weren’t we told? Do we need to wait for them?”

Blitzfire glances at Citadel, who nods. “We don’t know him either, or his name, or his Hero name, just that the boss upstairs said one more was coming and to not wait up for him.”

The carefully made balance of the room starts to tilt out of control as a theoretical wildcard is introduced. Mr. Ortega told her last year that the way Mentor assignment meetings are incredibly methodical, to try and eliminate as many stray variables as possible, to exemplify the Hit as much as they could. 

This fourth Hero broke that methodology. Leto relaxes enough to take a full breath of air.

“Well then.” Ms. Jensen resettles herself. She looks at the papers in front of her, then at the Heroes, then at Leto. “As your general physical instructor, and hand-to-hand combat instructor, you do very well. You’re eating enough, sleeping enough, drinking enough water, and are taking good care of your muscles and joints. You’re quick to react in a fight, and don’t let pain inhibit you too much. Not anymore, at least.”

Citadel takes out a small notepad and scribbles something. Quantum Duke whispers something to Blitzfire, and they quietly giggle at it.

“Now as for your weapons training.” Mr. Knox speaks up, and Leto prepares herself for whatever he’s about to say. Something awful, probably. “As long as it’s blunt or non-lethal, you do a fairly decent job. You don’t put in as much force as you could, nor do you hit particularly critical spots, but you’re competent. Anything more lethal than a wooden stick, though, you lose every fight, or fail every test. It’s pathetic.”

Leto hides the confusion from her face at how tame Mr. Knox is when describing her inability to use a dagger properly. Citadel scribbles something else down.

Mr. Ortega and Mrs. Hynes explain Leto’s ability to understand political situations, basic meteorology concepts, and recognition of Hero tier and Power structure as above average for her age, and Mrs. Hynes in particular sings her praises when it comes to being able to explain why the weather outside is acting the way it is. Of all her instructors, Mr. Ortega and Mrs. Hynes have always been her favorites. Not only because she leaves their lessons not sore and in mild agony, but because she could ask questions and have them answered. With words.

There’s only one instructor who hadn’t said anything. Mage Sparks. Her Power instructor.

Mage Sparks narrows their eyes at Leto, thinking for a moment before beginning her small spiel. “Leto has a very intuitive grasp of her Power.” They start. “And we’ve spent most of our time trying to understand not only how it works, but how to effectively utilize it both in and out of combat situations. It’s only been the last two years we’ve been able to work on using her Power specifically. Her Power makes her exceptionally quick on her feet, and can help her cover more distance with less energy and time than most Heroes. However, we have yet to figure out how to implement any of this inside of combat.”

Mage Sparks leans back, indicating that they’re finished speaking. Blitzfire and Quantum Duke whisper between each other, and Citadel snaps his notepad closed.

“Well,” Citadel starts, “you have a good head on your shoulders, that’s for sure.” Bad start. “But I’m out fighting often, and don’t like Mentees that dawdle behind me. So no, I’m good.” His head turns to Blitzfire, leaving Leto to feel more like some sort of pet on auction than a person. 

“Blitz, might do you good to take on a less volatile Mentee.” Quantum Duke teases, and Blitzfire groans and rolls her eyes.

“I’m not taking on someone that shy. What would that do for my reputation, huh? That’s the first thing keeping Harlequin Jester from busting down my door every week.”

“Well I’m not gonna take her, she’s not gonna be able to keep up with my schedule anyways.” Quantum Duke gestures at Leto flippantly. “No hard feelings, kid.”

Leto wants her mom. Her mom would know what to say, what to do. Instead, she’s here, alone, feeling more and more like a doll on the shelf with every minute that passes. Why did she need a Mentor?

The door clicks, and she turns to see an older man walk in. He looks out of place here, with her instructors dressed professionally and the Heroes in their masks. The man, however, is in a worn purple shirt with some band name on it, black pants that have multiple pockets clearly full of something, and a bright orange jacket that stops just above his ribs. His hair is messy, he has a slight stubble, and clear eye bags under his eyes. Her eyes first see the jacket, then flick to the small strand of bright green hair in front of his face.

“I’m not late, am I?” He asks, and Ms. Jensen checks her watch.

“By about an hour.”

“Ah, damn. Sorry.” He says with little emotion as he takes a chair stacked behind Leto, and sits down next to her. “So, how close are we to finishing it all up?”

Everyone looks at each other. Blitzfire is the one to lean towards the man with clear annoyance. “We just did. In fact, I was about to leave.” She stands up, and the other two Heroes follow suit and exit the room.

The man follows the trio with his eyes, and when the door shuts he looks right at Leto. “So, you’re the trainee, right?”

Leto just nods.

“And you can manipulate wind? Is it the currents, or is it the air itself you can manipulate.”

Leto looks at her instructors, who give her nothing in response. She’s on her own. This is the wildcard. The mystery. The exception. She looks back at the man. “It’s more complicated than that, but I can manipulate already existing currents and pressure systems. Essentially.”

The man hums. He turns his chair to face her, leans forwards slightly, and just stares. Something’s off. Something’s wrong. 

As the man starts to move to hit her, Leto spins her chair to face him and kicks with as much Power as she can muster, causing his chair to fly back in unison to hers, although hers stops before it crashes into the wall while his doesn’t. The instructors stand up in a hurry, ready to do something, anything, when the man stands up with a small chuckle.

“Okay, fair enough. I wasn’t going to hit you, y’know?” He says.

“I don’t, actually.” Leto says as she stands up, still tense. “I don’t know you.”

The man nods. “I’m sorry.”

The air is tense. Leto watches him hook his thumbs in his pants loops and lean back on the heels of his clearly well used boots. “Fine then.”

The instructors stay standing, ready for anything. The man moves one of his hands and holds it out from across the room. “I’m Malcolm. I heard you need a Mentor?”

[transmogrified-in-the-void]

It's Only Up From Here

Here's an almost 3k oneshot I wrote for the TPU anniversary yesterday! I had to stop bc it almost made me cry!

Malcolm sits in the dining room with the lights mostly off. The counter light, which is the only light downstairs that hasn’t been replaced with LEDs, illuminates the half-full coffeemaker and an opened box of cereal left precariously on the edge.

Across from Malcolm and his bowl of cereal is Airael and his coffee. He blends into the shadows more than most mornings thanks to the black tank top, but the light catches the glazed ceramic of his bright purple mug with every sip he takes.

“You have a presentation today, don’t you?” He asks in his gravely just-woke-up alto voice, and Malcolm watches Airael’s dark eyes gleam in the yellow light as they move to look at him.

Malcolm shrugs and takes a bite of his cereal. “Yeah, I guess. Dunno if they’ll get to me today or not.”

Airael hums and takes another long sip of coffee. “Which class is it again?”

“English.”

“Ah.”

The silence returns to the kitchen, and the two continue their morning rituals in the comfort of each other. Airael drains his mug, and moves to get another cup as Absinthe shuffles into the space. Silently, Airael takes another mug from the cupboard and fills it alongside his.

He ruffles Malcolm’s hair as he makes his way out. “Have a good time today, kid.” And he walks out of the kitchen, and up the stairs where he and Gemini’s room is.

Malcolm watches Absinthe doctor her coffee, grab an apple from the fridge, and sit down in the chair next to his. “Did you get the slides turned in last night?” She asks, watching Malcolm carefully as he stares into the mostly empty cereal bowl.

“Yeah.”

“And you’re sure you don’t want me to help you practice it at all?”

“Nope.”

She shrugs and leans back in her chair, mug in hand. “If you say so. You better give us all the whole spiel after you’ve done it, though. I know Gem’s been dying to hear it.”

Malcolm laughs softly. “You all have, don’t single her out.”

“You’re not the one who has to hear the complaining all day.”

“You’re not the one they’re begging.”

She rolls her eyes and takes a long drink. There’s a moment as she looks at Malcolm, studying him like it would be the last time she’d ever see his face. It would make Malcolm more uncomfortable if it wasn’t a common occurrence, if he didn’t understand exactly why she did it. 

“We get the house to ourselves tonight.” Absinthe tilts her head, and her crazed neon green hair falls over her left eye.

“Wait, really?” The bleariness starts to leave Malcolm as he sits up in excitement. “Why? Isn’t it, like, impossible to do that?”

“Usually, yeah.” Absinthe shrugs like she didn’t just get four people to be out of the house at the same time for hours. “But Gemini and Airael are going out to a concert tonight, Cato’s meeting up with some friend, and I convinced Virtue to go out as well.”

He grins, and gets out of his chair and hugs her as tightly as he can. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

She hugs him back. “No, I think I do.” They let go, and Malcolm takes a step back. Absinthe pushes her hair back, and gives him a small half-smile. “When you get home everyone’ll still be here, but it’s empty by 7 and will be until late.”

She glances at the clock on the wall. “Go get your shit now, otherwise we’ll be late.”

He starts to run out of the kitchen, but pauses for a moment and looks back at her. “You’re the best, by the way.”

“I have been your whole life.” She smiles, but it’s heavier than earlier. “And I will be until I die.”

-

“So what you’re saying,” Josie points her fork at Malcolm absentmindedly, “is that you’re excited to spend time with your wackadoodle sister that I’ve heard nothing but annoyances about.”

“Okay, yes, but-” Malcolm starts, but Finn cuts him off.

“We’re not worried, Mal, more confused.” They take a bite of whatever soup they brought for lunch and tuck some of their curls behind their ear. “Family is weird and shit, but we’ve heard like, nothing super positive about her, or anything super negative. So you being like this about it is just weird.”

Malcolm groans. “You guys wouldn’t get it.”

“Not if you don’t explain.” Finn quips.

“Oh yeah, just because we don’t live with one of the most popular local bands means we’ll never understand complicated relationships.” Josie rolls her eyes. “Trust us, dude. That’s it.”

Malcolm purses his lips as his friends watch him intently. “It’s just. She’s been there my entire life, through everything. When I was younger and living with our aunt, and she was out of state for weeks at a time, she’d try to call at least once a week. But she was gone a lot, and it wasn’t until recently that I’ve actually been able to like, talk with her and spend any amount of time with her.”

Finn and Josie nod slowly, and Josie spears a piece of chicken from the plastic tray. “Well, that kinda explains some of it. Kinda.”

“It’s not like we talked about her a lot in the first place.” Finn agrees. “Have you even been able to have, like, one on one time since moving in?”

Malcolm shakes his head, and the pair ‘ohhhhh’ in sudden understanding. “She’s… different around the band than she is around me.”

“Gonna play the devil's advocate, maybe that’s for a good reason.” Josie looks down at the white-grey chicken alfredo in front of her. “You’re 16 in a few days, she’s almost 25 and most of the band is around her age. Whatever the hell happened when you were a kid happened as she was at least your age now. Whenever she met the band was probably around the same time she was figuring out the impact of your childhood, it makes sense.”

Malcolm shrugs. “Yeah, except for Cato. She met Cato only two years ago.”

Finn gives Josie a look. “Cato’s the short one with brown hair, right?”

He nods. “Yeah, when you guys came by to pick me up last week he was on the front steps.”

“Ah.” They take another spoonful of soup. “Well, this isn’t something we’re going to be able to figure out during lunch, so maybe table it for now?” Everyone nods, and they grin. “Cool, so I bought another deck yesterday.”

-

“Malcolm, it’s your turn.” Mr. Acosta announces, and Malcolm watches as his slides are projected onto the whiteboard.

He takes the clicker, stands to the side, and takes a deep breath. Countless nights spent in his bedroom working on something that, in the end, shouldn’t mean as much as it does. It’s not like this speech is worth a large part of his grade, or that he’s figured out some secret previously unknown.

He looks at the class of faces that he vaguely recognizes but will never truly know. A sense of unfathomable connection fills him, knowing that he is going to give a room of strangers a vulnerable corner of his heart that he’s never shown anyone else.

“Music has often been called the universal language.” He starts, pushing through the stewing anxiety in his chest. “It is as diverse and vast as the people who make it, and it can connect to people in a way that simple conversation can’t.”

He clicks the next slide, and it shows an old picture of Bardic Inspiration in a dingy basement, back when Michael was still playing guitar. “I found this picture on an old camera that Airael owned.” He turns on the laser pointer and points it at Airael, who’s leaning back with his eyes closed as he plays his old red bass. “And he remembers setting up that camera to take a picture every five minutes, and playing in a cramped basement that had maybe 15 people in it.

“It was one of their first gigs, and he told me that the thing he remembers the best is how loud everyone in the crowd was, and how it became part of the music already being played.”

Click. A picture of Bardic Inspiration at their last big concert. Even after spending so long looking at the two pictures, it’s astounding how different the three continuous members are from the first photo to the second.

Airael’s no longer thin and lanky, instead his body filling out from both easier access to food and his daily runs, Gemini’s hair is long and intricately braided, and her arms and face are free from scabs. Absinthe’s hair is dyed green and in its long, shaggy mohawk style; no longer matted in its original rusty reddish-brown color.

But the biggest difference is that they don’t look angry in the second picture. They look so incredibly happy.

Malcolm clears his throat. “This photo was taken about seven years later. I asked Absinthe,” He lasers Absinthe’s face. “What it felt like on the stage. She said it was like leading a choir into a loud, righteous song of joy and personhood. So it’s really easy to tell who writes the lyrics, honestly.”

There’s a slight laugh from the class. Click. “John Cage’s composition 4’33” requires that the players don’t make a noise, not from them, not from their instruments. Instead, the composition is made by taking in the sounds of the world around you. And it is both the experiences of hearing a crowd, and this one composition that I made my thesis: the telling of humanity is to hear music in everyday life.”

-

“So,” Finn glances at Malcolm as he closes the passenger door. “Whaddya think you guys are gonna do tonight?”

Malcolm shrugs as they shift the car in reverse, and slowly move their way into the line of ever moving cars. “Who knows. Probably get food and watch a movie. Maybe play a game.”

“You sound less excited now.”

“It’s not that.” Malcolm leans his head against the window and watches as they inch forward. “I’m just realizing that this is the first time in years I’ve had the ability to talk to her alone. I dunno what’s gonna happen.”

They hum, and watch as a car up ahead almost runs into another in their hurry to get out of the parking lot. “Well, from the few times I’ve met your sister, I don’t think it’s going to be disastrous.” They glance over at Malcolm, whose eyes follow the group of students weaving between cars. “But you can call me if something happens. I don’t have anything important happening tonight.”

Malcolm hums, shrugs, and closes his eyes. “I dunno. I just don’t.”

Fyn turns onto the road and starts driving towards Malcolm’s. They exhale loudly through their nose.  “Neither do I. But it’ll be fine, I bet. You two don’t hate each other.”

He turns to look at them, and a small smile makes its way to his face. “Yeah, she kinda gives a shit.” He looks back out the window, shoulders relaxed. “Kinda bad at showing it sometimes, though.”

They grin. “Oh absolutely. I would give so much money to know why she thought to get you a moped when you don’t have a license, and don’t want to drive anything like that.”

That gets him to bark out a laugh. “Apparently she misinterpreted me wanting the moped LEGO as me wanting an actual moped. Apparently.”

“Well let me know when you’re actually able to drive it around, I need to be a passenger at least once before we graduate.”

“We’ll see if I ever get around to signing up for drivers ed, maybe I like being chauffeured around for cheap.”

Fyn smacks Malcolm’s arm. “Don’t you fucking dare, Mal. I’ll kill you, I know where you sleep.”

“You’d have to get past Airael. I swear to God that dude never sleeps.”

“Oh woe is me, I’ll have to grapple with the cool ass bassist that lives on a different floor than you.”

“Don’t underestimate how quickly he can get places. Once Cato yelled that tacos were ready, and Airael went from being on the second floor in the room farthest from the stairs to the kitchen in less than 10 seconds.”

“Damn.” They whistle. “I’d like to see that in action one day. See if I can replicate it for my own nefarious means.”

Malcolm laughs, and sits forwards in the seat. Fyn turns onto the street that eventually leads to his house. “I don’t think I could handle that, if you managed to appear out of nowhere so quickly. Who knows, maybe I’ll suddenly get a Power and it’s appearing in a way that’s unsettling only to you.”

He shudders. “Oh that would be the worst, please no.”

They only wink and smile, but it slowly fades as they creep closer to the house. They slow the car down more and more, before coming to a stop a good 200 feet away from the front door.

“What the fuck.” They whisper, eyes wide as they count one, two, three, eight cop cars stationed in front of Malcolm’s house, and two cars from the Heroes Association. Multiple cops, and two Heroes stand in front of the house, talking. They turn to grab Malcolm, but he’s already unbuckled and starting to open the door. “Wait, don’t-”

Fyn tries to catch up once he’s out, but he’s so much faster. “Malcolm!” They yell, but he can’t hear them, he’s pushing past cops and steering clear of the Heroes and running inside. He almost slips, Gemini must’ve spilled something, something that smells bad and wrong and horrible and-

“Get back over here, kid!”

Someone is yelling his name. It might be his name, he doesn’t know, he’s staring at the kitchen he had just been in earlier and there’s a wolf four times larger than him in the middle with an uncomfortably familiar blonde coat that’s soaked red and eyes that look just like Gemini’s, but that can’t be her eyes since she’s a person and a human who can’t do anything but play the drums and beat everyone during game night.

In front of the wolf is another person, it looks so like Airael except his eyes are bright red instead of their normal dark brown, and his teeth are too sharp and in the wrong places and there’s no torso connecting his arms and his legs, only the one laying by the fridge, so it can’t be, it can’t be-

There’s a shoe peeking out from behind the wolf. A shoe that might have been doodled on with a familiar hand, if it wasn’t absolutely soaked with. With red.

Something grabs his shoulder and he wrenches himself free as he stumbles around and the shoe is attached to a leg with cuffed jeans covered in sharpie and something red (no, no it’s not, it’s not), and the chest is absolutely shredded but he recognizes the hands. That’s the bracelet he made Absinthe why is it here? That should be with Absinthe and she’s not here with the wolf with Gemini’s eyes and the Airael look alike.

But that’s her face. That’s her face on her head with her hair looking into the distance. Malcolm follows her gaze, hoping to see anything, any sort of answer to what happened. There’s nothing, just the cabinet that holds plates. His knees hit the slick tile (oh God, it is) and he shakes her shoulder.

Nothing happens. Not even inside him. There’s nothing. But if this is Absinthe, then-

“Hey, twerp, you need to get out. We got questions for you.”

Malcolm glances back and sees the bright colors indicative of a Hero. A hero whose costume is covered in blood.

He tries to cover as much of Absinthe’s body and face as he can. “Hey, hey if this is a dream you can wake me up now.” He begs. “Please, please just wake me up, please.”

There’s a cacophony of noise playing in his head, everyone is talking, there’s a beat in his ears, Absinthe is talking to him but it was from this morning, he holds onto how her voice sounds, and how the words are hers every time.

Two hands grip onto his arms, and it hurts.

“Leave me alone!” He screams, and he tries to push out everything that’s running around in his head and his chest, and the hands go away and it’s quiet. “Please, I just want them to be okay.”

The symphony of pain and agony rings out again in his head, and quiets. His knees don’t feel wet and sticky anymore. Neither do his hands. He opens his eyes (when did he close them?) and sees them, all three of them as he remembered them. Gemini and Airael are holding hands side by side, and Absinthe is smiling. It looks like they could be asleep. Malcolm pulls Absinthe’s body close, and it’s so heavy, but when he hugs it close it almost feels like she’s right there, just a little too cold, and he cries.

[powered-universe-official]

Ayo! Idk if you've received the ask cuz you haven't anwered it yet and i know tumblr loves being a functional webbed site (/lh /s), and it's been a while so i thought i'd re-send!

What kind of minecraft mobs/hybrids do you think everyone would be? Can be "main" story and BI, or both? (<- desperate for BI crumbs /lh)

If minecraft isnt your forte this could also be extended to dnd!!

Ahhhh i’ll do both for both!!!

For the main story:

Electrode is an enderman, and a sorcerer/artificer

Virtue is a villager, and a rogue

Leto is a parrot, and a druid

For BI (and yes i get the BI crumbs):

Gemini is a wolf (duh lol), and a barbarian/druid

Airael is a bat, and a bard/rogue

Bug is a snow golem, and also a bard

Cato is an ocelot and a bard

Malcolm is a wandering trader, and a wizard/rogue

[transmogrified-in-the-void]

I am having the fun time of writing Leto and Malcolm's dynamic pre-Zephyr, but I am very sad knowing what's going to happen once she takes up the mantle of Zephyr and what he does to her :(

[transmogrified-in-the-void]

any random things about your ocs in tpu that you don't know how to add into the story but are just things you randomly think about? (ex. favorite color, what kind of movies they'd like, things like that)

Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh so. Literally everything with Bardic Inspiration other than their deaths is technically random since I made the decision that they don't appear at all in the story so that's super fun.

Malcolm, for how much he wears an orange jacket, actually hates the color orange. He just was contractually obligated to have an easily identifiable Hero Costume and so as a Fuck You he commissioned the most obnoxiously orange half rib multi-pocketed epaulette'ed leather jacket. His favorite color is actually midnight blue, a color he never wears.

Electrode and Virtue actually rarely drink coffee!! They have caffeine pills, and coffee is for days that they don't need to stay up to fuck all o'clock.

Leto's best friend is a barista named Cleo that she used to live with. Cleo is obsessed with various mythologies and legends and folklore, and is the reason Leto's Hero name is Zephyr (the greek god of winds).

Leto and Malcolm's relationship is not a parent/child or mentor/mentee relationship, or even a teacher/student one. It's That One Drunk Uncle/The Burnout Gifted Kid and they get into a lot of arguments that boil down to "i have made a hill that i will attempt to kill you on"

Virtue hates black coffee. Their coffee order is the fucking overcomplicated coffee order bullshit with like 10 shots of espresso. Electrode drinks black coffee, though, and makes fun of Virtue for it

Malcolm takes no drugs except for tobacco. Including caffeine. He survives off of smoking. He uses his Power to keep away all negative side effects, and never smokes around Leto

Leto wants to go to college. She doesn't know what for, but she genuinely loves learning more than anything.

Leto's mom's name is Ariadne. Ironically, when she and her husband came to America for better work opportunities, he divorced her shortly before she learned she was pregnant with Leto, and disappeared. She jokes that Leto was her Dionysus, and saved her from a life of loneliness and decay.

Electrode's middle name is Bennett.

When Absinthe died she was Malcolm's legal guardian

Electrode's favorite color is orange

Leto's favorite color is light blue

Virtue decided to get into computer hacking shenanigans after watching The Matrix. They also decided to be Not Cis after watching The Matrix

Malcolm LOVES tragedies in movies. He loves feeling like emotional garbage. He will never address this.

Leto doesn't really like movies that much, she prefers reading. But documentaries are really nice.

Virtue is a horror movie buff. They are jokingly pretentious about horror movies, and love to make horror movie circlejerkers MAD about it.

Electrode likes cheesy romcoms, especially if they're stupid.

[transmogrified-in-the-void]

The three year anniversary of my original story, The Powered Universe (or TPU for short) is coming up in a couple of days (may 2nd) and so if people could send in asks about the story or characters or writing prompts I'd really love and appreciate that.

I have the whole shebang over on @powered-universe-official so if you want to read it go over there (i also have the first few chapters here under the tag #the powered universe), but if you wanna ask about characters I have the original three: Leto/Zephyr, Virtue, and Electrode. The original Bardic Inspiration: Cato, Virtue, Bug, Airael, and Gemini. The new four: Leto/Zephyr, Virtue, Electrode, and Malcolm. The new Bardic Inspiration: Virtue, Absinthe, Airael, Gemini, and Cato.

If you wanna know more abt a specific version of a character that is both old and new, pls specify! But I'd super appreciate it, this project has been so important to me and I've been working on it a lot behind the scenes so sending in any asks about it would be wonderful and lovely, thank you.

[transmogrified-in-the-void]

Pls pls pls ask me abt my ocs. ask me abt bardic inspiration. ask me abt virtue and electrode, malcolm and leto, about what the powered universe/tpu is. pls. i have so much trouble writing it. i need to talk abt the guys in my brain. ask abt absinthe.

[transmogrified-in-the-void]

The Storm

A new The Powered Universe short! A scene between Leto and a new character I've been developing, her mentor Hero, Malcolm! Let me know if you want me to write more TPU stuff, requests, etc!

The wind blows past them with ferocity as they stand on top of the building. In the distance is the towering dark shadow of the oncoming storm. Deep within the curling violet-gray clouds are the occasional spark of light and power that disappear as quickly as they arrive. 

Leto is glad that her cornflower blue and white suit was made to reflect her own heat back into her, since the whipping gusts of air would have chilled her to the bone otherwise. The small half-cape that was mandated flutters annoyingly at her back, and her hair is flying out behind her, but she can’t bring herself to care about it as she stares at the bright figure in front of her. 

His suit is more bulky than most heroes would ever want them to be, with the almost oversized jacket hooked to his belt loops. The only two things about him that would denote his hero status are the pants that are attached to Power Boots, and the almost garish orange and blue colors that cover his clothes. The most boring piece of clothing on him is the black mask that only covers his mouth.

There’s a dull rumble of thunder as the storm rolls in closer, and the wind gets stronger around them. Leto takes one careful step closer to him, cape whistling behind her. “Malcolm, we should go.”

The sound of wind roars in their ears, and Malcolm turns his head to look at her. There’s a crease of anger and frustration on his face, underlined with a familiar flavor of sorrow. “Leto, I can’t.” There’s a tension around his eyes, and Leto knows he’s tensing his jaw like he does when there’s something he doesn’t know he should say. “You were taken by someone who shares the same pain that I do.”

The storm is close enough that the wind drags drops of rain and throws them at the pair. They both know that it’s only minutes before the true downpour begins. Leto takes another step, now almost within arms reach of him. Even in the darkening sky, she can see the light scar marks that cover his hands, a thing he refuses to cover with gloves, or fix with a Medic. 

“What do you mean?” Leto has to yell over the wind now. “What does Electrode have to do with you? Is it because you never want to use your Power, and they masquerade as Powerless?”

She can barely hear the broken laughter through the cacophony, and Malcolm turns around fully to face her. He sighs and stands up straighter. “Leto, do you remember what I told you about my older sibling?”

She nods slightly. “They and their band were murdered in their house, right?”

The grim twist of Malcolm’s eyes is the answer she’s looking for, and he looks down at damp concrete. “The carnage that I walked in on all those years ago was the very carnage that Electrode and Virtue escaped.”

The storm is upon them. Rain flies towards them with fury and velocity, and quickly soaks the two of them. She remembers the story that Virtue told her, even though it was in a moment of protective anger.

“The only other people that Electrode has ever loved or cared about were slaughtered by the Agency, with no warning and no reason.”

Panic rises through Leto’s throat, in an almost choking force of fear and realization. “Then why aren’t you like them?!” She yells out over the blockade in her mouth. “You had every reason to join the Circle!”

There’s a crack of lightning, a roar of thunder, and Malcolm reaches up to take off his mask. He clips it to his belt, and moves to be right in front of Leto. 

“If I was high enough in the system, I could change it.” He admits. “And I have. We don’t kill people for suspected villainy anymore, although that was much harder than anyone could have guessed.”

He looks at her, and he smiles a little through the sadness drenched in his face. 

“And, because of someone like you.” He says. “Leto, when I asked to be assigned your Mentor, it was because I knew that the Agency was not for someone like you. If I could save at least one gentle soul from the violence they instill, then I did what I wanted to do.”

His face melts into apologetic sorrow as he sighs. “I never thought you’d end up entangled in this mess.”

Another bolt of lightning and roll of thunder. “I don’t think anyone did.”

Malcolm takes another step forwards, and pulls Leto close to him. “If you need me, you know how to call.”

You don’t have to do this alone. “I know.”

He gently kisses the top of her head, and hums a bar of You Are My Sunshine, and the storm passes. “See you kid.” He turns, and jumps off the ledge.

“See you.” She whispers to the now empty and dry building roof, and cries.

[transmogrified-in-the-void]

Small tpu ch2 sneak peak

Leto looks straight ahead. “Why didn’t you say this sooner?”

She can feel Malcolm’s eyes burning through her skull. “Why didn’t you?”

“What teenager in high school doing essentially four hours of extracurricular every day is going to think to go look at some piece of paper signed almost a decade ago?”

“A responsible one.”

Leto feels an incredulous laugh leave her mouth. “I don’t know what kind of childhood you

had, but most high schoolers don’t have to worry about contracts and legal or financial repercussions of them. Not to mention, until now, I’ve only been told that I have a required number of hours per week training.”

At the mention of childhood, Malcolm’s steps slow for just a moment. He just hums, but doesn’t actually respond. He takes a right, and Leto follows.