I was breathing hard already, but I kept going as I ran through the tunnels. I don’t want people to see me running around at high speed, so the tunnels are my only option.

  I didn’t particularly mind. It wasn’t that annoying, and they were suspiciously clean despite me never seeing a cleaning crew.

  I also didn’t bother worrying about my secret identity. They either already had access to this place and knew who I was or they didn’t.

  My identity was probably royally screwed anyway based on what I know so far, but there’s enough tech supers around that they probably took care of it.

  My thoughts for a moment search toward Caleb, but I stop that pretty quickly. I have no interest in him. Despite Amelia’s penchant for digital stalking, I hope she hadn’t thought about it either. The less said about him, the better. The only thing I was up to date on was ?his breakup with Ben had been messy.

  I feel minorly guilty that I hadn’t been there to help him deal with that, but it was also around the time we were breaking into a water treatment facility, so I couldn't feel too bad.

  I do another circuit of the path I’ve elected to be my run. The goal is to do ten loops before I break down, and I’m on loop eight.

  Despite breathing hard, it’s not bothering me too much, though I can feel the strain, so whatever I do after cardio is almost certainly going to suck significantly.

  My final lap leaves me gasping for breath and muscles incredibly unhappy with me, so I return to the clock tower to do the rest of my exercise only to see Cass slumped against Amelia.

  “You know I’m not even surprised,” I say, walking past them to grab a third water bottle since my previous two are empty.

  “I’m cold, and she’s sore; it’s the perfect match,” Amelia growls.

  “Is this code for you want cuddles and a massage for when you get home?” I ask once I’ve polished off the third bottle of water.

  “It wasn’t going to be, but if you’re going to offer, sure!”

  “I don’t even have muscles half the time, why do I need to do so many pushups?” Cass complains.

  “Didn’t you say your physical ability was multiplied a lot while shifted?” Amelia asks, poking her friend.

  “That’s entirely beside the point, and I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

  It’s weird not having Asher around the tower, but he had noped out the moment he learned our plan was to spend the day training.

  Part of me is tempted to join Cass in leeching cold off of Amelia to soothe my already aching muscles but if I let myself cool down and stop, it’ll be even harder to get started so I begin my workout thankful that between Asher, and Travis we got some weights for our enhanced strength.

  As I push my muscles, part of me wonders how many low-tier strong types pretend to be normal folks and make a killing as competitive weightlifters?

  Sure, I would be out instantly because of my eyes, but if I looked entirely normal, would they even be able to notice what I was doing?

  Despite the claims on the internet about how easy it is to tell who is a super or not, with folks like Travis and Sasha, you wouldn’t be able to tell without them informing you.

  My only saving grace from the workout is that after my run I don’t have to do leg day. Once I’m done training here, the plan is to relax and mess with my powers for a bit before heading out to spar with Travis.

  “Jason, if you’re going to do pushups, I think you should do ones where I lay on top of you?” Amelia says, sauntering in and grabbing her own pair of dumbbells to begin some curls.

  “I’m pretty sure the couch is more comfortable.”

  “But it’s nowhere near as funny, and sometimes you just need to do what’s silly instead.”

  “I thought you were going to do cardio?”

  “I would prefer doing cardio that was a lot more fun than running in large circles underground,” Amelia complains.

  “You could see if Cass is done recovering and see if she wants to do some sparring could count as her power work as well if she does it through her clones?” I suggest.

  Amelia narrows her eyes at me, but I pretend to ignore it.

  “You’re so much more serious right now, but yeah, probably. I want to get used to moving with all my newfangled cosmic powers,” Amelia agrees.

  “Cosmic powers?”

  “Yup, and I'm stuck in a itty bitty space called a human body.”

  “Does that mean I’m supposed to try and free you?”

  “No, I like it.”

  Amelia and I chat through our workouts, mostly one of us talking between a set while the other listens since they’re currently doing their set.

  This is the final control week, so to speak, for our physical abilities, so after this we’ll be able to properly track all of our growth, which I’m definitely excited for.

  I doubt there’ll be any explosive growth where I go into the top tier of strongmen and women, but it would be cool if I can at least get to some silly number.

  “And done!” I cheer as I collapse to the ground. With that last set, I’ve finally finished up the curls for the day, meaning I can go to the substantially more interesting training with my powers.

  “Finally!” Amelia screams, collapsing on top of me, which I really want to push her off. The idea of any physical exertion after working out for hours seems dreadful, at least until I can get the time to rest.

  That complaint is instantly silenced with the joy of cold washing through me and easing all of my aches.

  “So are you just going to lay on top of me or do you want some specific attention?” I ask, kissing her forehead gently.

  “Just hold me till I am dragged away by my conscience to go freeze things for hours.” Amelia grumbles. “And you’re substantially more comfortable than the floor.”

  Amelia and I relax for thirty minutes before the two of us disengage to head to our respective personal power training rooms.

  If I were to hazard a guess, I would put decent odds that Amelia ends up taking a catnap in her room since it’s boiling hot to provide resistance to her ice.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  It just happens to also be at perfect napping temperature. At least with our respective temperature resistances.

  Setting each of us up with our own private room to work on our powers hadn’t made much sense initially to me, but now that I have a space to myself where I can lie and say that I’m being productive.

  I’m still going to try and not just use this as my personal alone time space, but just a few minutes to myself wouldn’t hurt.

  Once I’m settled into a comfortable sitting position, I let my eyes drift shut, focusing on the sensation of the world around me. Originally, I had thought the precision of my senses was inversely proportional to how stretched out they were, and there are elements of truth to that.

  However, I have gotten even more precise just through training.

  Ever so slowly, I begin to tease power out of myself.

  At the same time, my mental awareness of the room sharpens at the same rate as energy flows out of me.

  Parts of my ability don’t make sense. And I’ve come to think that it’s strange to assume that they’re all separate. Amelia has only one power, even if there’s tons of variations to it.

  Even Cass seemingly only has one power of her own.

  Why would I have so many different options? Most supers only have one ability and some sub-abilities if they have any extra.

  My super sense, I thought, was just that, a way for me to observe the world when I’m disconnected from it.

  But I’ve begun thinking that it could be potentially more.

  My new working theory is that I’m radiating the same energy or whatever that lets me phase or become immutable, and the permeation of how much I can see an object is directly proportional to how much energy is there.

  The closer it is, the easier it is for me to do it since it comes from me; hence why everything I’ve phased has been connected to me physically.

  Picking up a PVC pipe, I extend my reach, resting the pipe against a chair on the far side of the room.

  Power flows out of me like a river down the pipe and into the chair.

  I always think of phasing or turning immutable as a push or pull of activation kind of, so I want to try what happens when I just keep pouring power into something.

  Does the energy need my activation for something to happen?

  Both the chair and the pipe slowly become clearer to the point that I can begin making out various threads from the fabric of the seat cushion, but nothing seems phased or immutable.

  If it were phased, it would fall through the ground.

  Clicking my tongue against my teeth, I stop the flow and push the pipe away. They don’t instantly snap back to whatever natural level of permeation my power holds over the space around me but, closer to springing a leak, they slowly begin to lose definition.

  Moving over to the whiteboard near the door, I write down the notes from that experiment before deciding what I want to try next.

  The ever-present suggestion to work on becoming the master of forging shit out of the air glares at me, but I’m not feeling it today.

  I focus on my power endurance, and how much I can channel through me at once. I need it to last longer so that I can fight more or save more people.

  The more power I can wield, the more I can phase with me. It’s important if I can’t get to the point where I can carry someone with me out of a dangerous situation while phasing. I can't be particularly good at search and rescue.

  Progress is slow, but I’m better than I used to be.

  It just takes some time.

  Unfortunately, I don’t make any noticeable gains in my first day, but it feels good to slowly begin coming up with various exercises for my powers.

  When my alarm rings, I force myself to get out of the room and clean myself up before getting into my car and driving to the gym to meet up with Travis.

  The drive does wonders to help me mentally reset for what’s next.

  “Hey!” I greet, walking into Travis’s personal training room and setting my bag down.

  “You seem to be doing better since the last time I’ve seen you.” He notes walking over and eyeing me suspiciously.

  “Yeah, it’s almost as if I can actually sleep now that the crisis is over.”

  “The crisis is never over. You’re going to have to learn how to sleep no matter the circumstance; you’re more useful to us alive than dead.”

  “That’s not true. The crisis can be over, but the problems remain. There’s no crisis currently. Just problems.” I correct.

  Travis stares at me blankly, but I don’t mind if he doesn’t agree with what my opinion is. There's no problem with that. Personal perspective, I think matters the most when it comes to dealing with stress.

  “So how’s the team doing?”

  “Why do you want to join?” I ask as I put on all the safety gear. Travis is far more durable than me but I don’t want to risk it at all. And I am not that durable unless I use my abilities.

  “Nope, no offense, but none of you rookies are strong enough for the stuff I do.” Travis says, making sure to try to soften the blow with a smile, but it irritates me regardless.

  “You won’t be past us forever.”

  “Depends. There’s the absolute domination of certain abilities. Are you sure you can keep up?” Travis says, his voice sounding hollow.

  His own personal issues with whatever that was aside, I don’t care. I can surpass it.

  “If I grow strong enough, are people going to force me to help out with problems I don’t necessarily want to?” I ask, foot lancing out to probe his defenses.

  We aren’t fighting with our enhanced speed yet, but it’s going to happen soon as we get more comfortable.

  “You don’t want to save the world?”

  “I really have no issue with that one.” I admit scampering back to dodge his fist. “I live here after all. But I don’t want to do the big stuff. I’m still trying to figure out what the little stuff means for me.”

  “The great thing about being strong enough to save the world is that you’re also strong enough to ignore anyone who would try to get you to do something via force.” Travis acknowledges as he presses the attack. “The problem with being someone who would save the world is that you’re usually easy to guilt into doing things.”

  “Is that why so many heroes have fortresses of alone time?”

  “One of the many reasons, yeah.”

  I let us lapse into silence as our sparring begins to kick up in intensity. I’m still nowhere near Travis’s equal, but I like to think I’ve improved substantially.

  Though my rate of growth has slowed down aggressively, which while irritating isn’t surprising at all. My powers let me skip so many steps that now, having to be faced with the premise of hard work, I don’t mind.

  If this lets me hit that extra little bit harder so I can save someone I love, it’ll be worth it.

  That conclusion is what distracts me, that and Travis’s fist making contact with my protected head.

  “One day I won’t spend minutes looking at your ceiling during a training session.” I grumble, sitting up and mostly crawling over to where the water is so I can take a moment to rehydrate.

  “You’ll have to get a lot better than that if you want to be able to get through that goal.” He snorts.

  “It’s the friends, isn’t it? Your super friends are the reason you have a fortress of solitude, am I right?”

  Travis doesn’t bother to respond or look at me, but I have a hunch I’m correct after all; that’s why I guessed it.

  Call me callous, but it wouldn’t be that hard to ignore complete strangers. Strangers die every day, and I would feel bad, especially if I could do something, but I’m the one in the driver’s seat, not someone else.

  But could I do the same thing if Amelia asked me for help? I started a whole damn crusade against super scientists because of her, and the only reason we’re on pause at the moment is we want to adjust to the hero stuff more.

  I still haven’t forgotten the lab, and I’m sure as hell they haven’t forgotten about me and everyone else who has been ruining their plans.

  If anyone close to me asked for help through hell or high water, I would probably go and try to help them even if it came at the cost of myself.

  Then, the fortress of loneliness plays two roles at once, I imagine. It gives you space where you can just focus on yourself. And for others, it gives them an excuse to not contact a friend and try to contact someone else.

  “So do you have any fortresses of solitude?”

  “No, of course not. I’m a speedster. I can just run away from anyone who’s trying to cause problems for me.” Travis says, and I am almost certain that he’s lying to me, but it’s the type of lie I’m not supposed to press.

  “Well, I hope you aren’t going to call on me for help.”

  “I don’t know; you make a pretty alright shield. How many people do you know that are indestructible?”

  “I’m not though?”

  “You’re at least partially indestructible. That’s better than me. I’m fairly destructible.”

  I don’t even bother trying to parse that out, instead getting up to try and spar again.

  I last better the second time, but once more I end up with my ass on the floor staring up at the ceiling.

  Third through fifth attempts go much the same, but our time is up, so I bid Travis adieu before heading back home.

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