The training field was finally silent. The clangs of metal and echoing shouts had faded into the warm hum of summer cicadas and the occasional hiss of the breeze slipping through the concrete columns surrounding the simulation yard.
Most of the trainees had long dispersed, sprawled out under shaded canopies, hunched over water bottles, or dragging their aching limbs back toward the dorms. But tucked beneath the thick shadow of one of the larger trees near the edge of the field, Disrupt and Amplify sat in silence, sharing a cold bottle of citrus-flavored hydration fluid. They passed it back and forth like a secret between old friends.
Their masks were still on—everyone wore one of some kind—but sweat beaded and dripped down from underneath them. Disrupt had his mask halfway up to allow him to drink. The fabric of their suits clung tightly to their muscles, soaked through in patches but holding firm. Durable, practical, but uncomfortable in this heat.
"Remind me why we're doing this again?" Amplify asked, voice hoarse with exhaustion but a lazy smirk behind his mask.
Disrupt took a long sip before answering, wiping his brow with the back of his glove. "Because… we don't wanna be villains."
Amplify laughed, short and dry. "Damn right."
They sat in quiet understanding for a moment before footsteps crunched softly on the gravel nearby. Amplify's head turned first. Disrupt followed.
Approaching them were two more trainees—Barrier and Shadowsmith.
Barrier was hard to miss, even in the subdued trainee gear. Her hair was pulled back into tight twin knots, and her sharp eyes glinted behind the pitch-black, tinted goggles wrapped tightly around her face. Despite the exhaustion in her body language, she carried herself with an odd spring to her step. Like the heat didn't bother her, or she was too stubborn to show it.
Shadowsmith walked beside her like a living shadow—quiet, smooth in movement, and dressed in a fully black suit. His mask covered everything except his eyes, mouth, and nose, which only made him look more unreadable. His deep eyes flicked between Disrupt and Amplify, taking in the small camp they'd made.
Barrier gave a short wave. "You two always this antisocial, or are we just catching you during your 'brooding hour'?"
Amplify chuckled. Disrupt gave a slow nod, suspicious but curious.
"What's up?" Disrupt asked flatly.
"Thought we'd say hi," Barrier said. "And maybe… talk about something."
Disrupt raised an eyebrow behind his mask. "You mean join us."
Barrier grinned. "You're quick."
Disrupt set the bottle down and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Why?"
Barrier didn't hesitate. "Because we watched that training session. You two work like veterans. Disrupt, your crowd control is insane. And Amplify? You know how to move. You adapt. Fast. And me and Smithy here?" She thumbed at her quiet partner. "We're tired of groups with people who yell and pose too much."
"You talking about Sunstrike?" Amplify asked knowingly.
Barrier nodded. "And Tremblor. I don't need a teammate who shouts like he's already got a stadium behind him. Or someone who thinks this is all about the spotlight."
Disrupt tilted his head. "So what, you think we're… better?"
Barrier smiled. "Not better. But... you feel real. The kind of people I'd actually trust in a firestorm."
Shadowsmith finally spoke, his voice low but deliberate. "Everyone's forming groups. You've seen it. Even if it's unspoken. If you're alone out here, you're already behind."
Disrupt narrowed his eyes. "You're not wrong… but that doesn't mean we let anyone walk up and join."
Barrier laughed softly. "Good. You shouldn't. That's smart. But we're not 'anyone.'"
Shadowsmith added, "We're not looking to slow you down. If anything, we make this team strong. Real strong."
There was a long pause.
Amplify looked at Disrupt, then leaned back with a shrug. "I like 'em. Smart, quiet, honest. Plus, Barrier's funny."
Disrupt gave him a skeptical side glance. "You serious?"
"Dead serious," Amplify replied. "You wanna help people, right? Then help some heroes out."
Disrupt sat with the words. His instinct, born from watching Sunstrike's posturing and arrogance, made him cautious. But something about Shadowsmith's eyes—and Barrier's straight-shooting honesty—cut through the doubt.
He sighed. "Alright. You're in."
Barrier grinned wide. "Nice. So if there's ever a match that needs four, we've got a squad."
Shadowsmith gave a nod of approval.
The four stood. Disrupt reached for the last sip in the bottle, then handed it to Barrier.
"We'll see what you've got next time," he said.
"Hope you're ready," she replied, taking the bottle.
They parted in twos—Barrier and Shadowsmith strolling back toward the dorms, side by side in the dimming afternoon light. Disrupt and Amplify started toward the opposite side, walking slow.
"I like this group," Amplify said, breaking the quiet. "We might actually have something here."
Disrupt said nothing at first. He kept his eyes ahead, watching the horizon where the sun dipped closer to the buildings in the distance. He felt the fatigue now. Not just physical—but something else. A pull in his chest, a question growing louder with every session, every fight, every new face.
Something real.
---
The sun was low now, casting long orange shadows across the compound. The light clung to the tops of trees and the glass panels of the Hero Core facility shimmered with a final golden flash before dimming with the approaching evening. A soft wind swept through the walkways, rustling leaves and tugging at the hem of their suits. The fabric snapped softly against their legs as Disrupt and Amplify wandered the long outer path that circled the training fields.
Their bodies still ached from the day's simulations, but the walk was slow, casual—something to stretch the legs more than the mind. Still, the silence between them never felt empty. They didn't need to fill every second with noise.
"I swear, if they make us write another paper tomorrow," Amplify said, tossing a small rock down the path, "on that crusty excuse for a 'data pad,' I might lose it."
Disrupt let out a short snort. "Right? It's like—'Here, write a thousand words about Hero Act Reform like you're living in the year 50.' Meanwhile, they have tech that can scan your thoughts into words."
"Exactly!" Amplify laughed, dragging a tired foot behind him playfully. "They give us tech that can simulate alien terrain, but not a decent way to submit homework. What kind of villain-ass design choice is that?"
Disrupt shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips beneath his mask. "Maybe it's to build character."
"Or carpal tunnel," Amplify retorted.
They passed under an arch of intertwined branches where the tree limbs grew over the path like a leafy tunnel. The shade cooled the air slightly, though sweat still clung to their undershirts beneath the suits. The air smelled faintly of pine and ozone from earlier training activity.
Disrupt's mood shifted slowly, his light laughter fading into silence. He glanced at Amplify, hesitated, then finally spoke.
"…I'm confused, Kaleb."
Amplify stopped bouncing his steps and turned. "About?"
"This whole Hero Core thing."
Amplify raised an eyebrow behind his half-mask. "What do you mean?"
Disrupt took a breath, looking forward again as they kept walking. "It just feels… backwards. We spend hours learning how to bring things down. How to hit harder, break faster, overpower more. We're learning how to market ourselves, gain ranks, increase status—but no one's taught us how to save anyone yet. Not really. Not how to keep someone from bleeding out, or calm a scared civilian. Nothing."
Amplify stayed quiet for a beat, mulling that over. "I mean… we just started, Michael. Maybe that comes later."
"Maybe," Disrupt said, voice quieter. "But shouldn't that be first? Shouldn't the first thing we're taught as heroes be how to save someone's life?"
Amplify didn't answer right away. Instead, he gave a small, thoughtful nod. "You've got a point."
Disrupt continued, now staring at the sky overhead. It was turning purple and red at the edges. "All the rankings are based on power. Who can destroy the most robots. Who looks good doing it. You ever heard one teacher ask how many civilians we could save in a real situation? I haven't."
Amplify looked over at him. "You're not wrong."
They reached the edge of the walkway, where a small concrete platform overlooked a steep hill covered in wild grass and scattered stone training blocks. Disrupt leaned on the railing, staring out into the distance. Amplify joined him, their bodies bathed in the softening light.
"So," Amplify asked gently, "what's your dream then, Michael? What do you actually want out of all this?"
Disrupt was silent. His eyes fixed on the horizon. The city's silhouette rested faintly in the distance, barely visible.
"I want to create a perfect world," he said finally.
Amplify blinked. He turned to Disrupt, studying him—but the mask made it hard to read. Disrupt felt his gaze, unsure if it was confusion or awe.
"A perfect world?" Amplify asked. "What do you mean?"
Disrupt's voice softened, low and raw, something unshakable behind it. "I mean a world without discrimination. Without villains. A world where people aren't scared to walk down the street. Where awakened and unawakened live side by side without resentment. Where cities aren't built around propaganda towers or fame-obsessed heroes. Just peace. A world worth waking up to."
Amplify stared at him, stunned silent. The wind picked up.
Disrupt kept going. "You remember when we first met, on the bus?"
Amplify nodded. "You were asleep. Kinda twitchy."
"You asked if I was okay."
"Yeah, you were trembling."
Disrupt looked at him now, eyes steady. "That dream I was having—it's always the same. That world. I've seen it since I was a kid. The perfect world. And when I wake up… it hurts. Because it isn't real."
There was a silence between them, heavy but not uncomfortable. Amplify let out a breath.
"…That would be nice," he said finally. "Really nice."
They began walking again, slowly tracing the curve of the path that would lead them back to the dorms. Dusk was starting to settle.
"But how would you even do that?" Amplify asked. "It sounds… impossible."
Disrupt gave a half shrug. "That's why I'm here. Part of me wants to save people. Always has. But the other part? It's here to figure out how to make that world real. Even if it takes my whole life."
Amplify didn't answer. He let the words settle inside him like dust.
After a moment, Disrupt looked over. "What about you? What's your goal?"
Amplify hesitated. "I… I don't really have one. Not like that."
Disrupt's brow furrowed. "What? Come on."
"I mean it." Amplify's voice was soft. "I want to be a hero, yeah. Help people. But I don't have a plan. I've always been the weird kid. Whether it was bullies in regular school, or jerks with powers at the academy—I've never fit in. I just want to be someone. Someone real. Someone that matters, even if it's just to one person."
Disrupt's hands clenched slowly at his sides. He didn't say it out loud, but a single thought screamed in his mind:
"This is why I want to build that world."
Someone like Kaleb—who had a heart purer than most of the teachers they'd met—wasn't trying to be rich or famous. He just wanted someone to see him.
Disrupt turned to him. "I look up to you, Amplify."
Amplify blinked, startled. "What?"
"I mean it."
Amplify laughed, rubbing the back of his head. "Dude, we're friends. That doesn't count."
Disrupt didn't say anything more. He just smiled quietly behind his mask, and they kept walking—two silhouettes fading into the orange glow of a setting world, dreaming of a better one.