Chapter Five

            “Damn it all!” Zorb yelled as he threw a glass at the wall in rage, it shattering to pieces.

            “Zorb, calm down!” Zita said. “So he beat everyone on your active roster--”

            “So? SO?!” Zorb whipped around. “Did you not hear the rest of your sentence? That human adolescent defeated Korak, Smooth, Graw and Gnarl. He beat those last two at the SAME TIME!! He even forced me to fall back and rethink our strategy! My father would never have done that. That boy has shown his superiority to everyone on our active roster—”

            Zorb’s expression changed from frustration to realization.

            “Our active roster…!” Zorb said as he wrapped his arms around her slender waist.

Zorb kissed Zita on the lips.

“Zita, I’m sorry, I should’ve seen the genius in what you were trying to say.”

            “Yes, you should’ve,” Zita admonished him playfully. “Now, who’s getting the call?”

            A smile of devious, ingenious imagination came over his face.

            “I think I know. Give me the communicator.”

            The school was a buzz the next day over a fourth Spektrum color, and how well that fourth form took care of two enemies at once. Several students were asking the same questions: What color could possibly be next? There are so many to choose from, it’d be impossible to guess. Cyndi’s friend Jen was shocked and thrilled at how her favorite color blue turned out to be exactly the one The Spektrum had used just the other day.

            Steven was probably the only one who had a true inkling of which color the next Code would be.  After coming home from school yesterday, Steven took a look at his game.  He had been meaning to see what the electric surge did to the game itself over the weekend, but his two little brothers had hogged the system.

            Everything had checked out fine: the game loaded up smoothly, there were no problems with the audio, the controls were the same, and his characters will still saved to the memory card.

            Looking at the characters felt odd, for some reason. As if he could see his own progress in actual numbers. He remembered that the characters’ overall levels had been at the minimum, level 10. After less than a week, the four he had used so far--Silver, Red, Yellow, and even Blue--had gone up to level 15. Black was still at 10, and he hadn’t heard from that voice, which he started to refer to as “Computer,” (that is, when he addressed it by a name), on whether Code Black was unlocked yet. The voice seemed to only respond when it was urgent, such as when Zorb and his thugs appeared. 

            Computer must feel it’s only important to tell me when it’s an emergency, he had thought to himself.

            After looking over his design for Code Black again, Steven knew that his costume would include black skinny jeans, finger gloves, elbow pads, and a black tank top.  His hair would be black, much darker than its usual coffee brown. The color Code Black’s eyes would be were hard to discern. They were a dark shade, but he wasn’t sure of what color.

            Additionally, Steven wasn’t sure what Spektrum Code Black’s mentality would be. Except for Blue, Steven could tell a hint of lightheartedness and relaxed confidence had come over him when he was the other Codes. Blue was confident, but focused on getting the job done and not on how fancy or dynamic his moves were. True, Blue’s display of brute force through spine busters and spear tackles seemed to impress the students, but not in the same way Red’s fast pace and acrobatic attacks did. The question was, “How would Black treat a fight?” Meaning, how would his mindset and mentality be reflected in his fighting style? Would he be more serious than Blue? There was probably no chance of him being even more laid-back than Red; he remembered how Red sarcastically introduced himself to Korak, Zorb’s giant mustard-yellow minion.  Or would he be somewhere in the middle, like Silver was?  This issue pressed on the back of his mind all the way to the next morning.

            Band class was the same as always that time of year. Since it was late autumn and regular high school football season was over, there was no more practicing annoying versions of songs like “Sweet Georgia Brown” and “I Feel Good.” Now it was all about the upcoming Winter Concert.

            The teacher/conductor, Mr. Reese, had chosen an arrangement that sounded great on paper: a march to start it off; a medley involving three short songs, one peppy, one gloomy, and one that was a love song; and a band interpretation of Disney’s Aladdin. Since this was the first day of rehearsals with these new songs, it was to be expected that not everyone played on beat, or on key. Also, it was a given that Mr. Reese would be a bit more forgiving when it came to those mistakes. And as always, Mr. Reese expected the students to practice and even mark the places in the song where they had made mistakes, so that those mistakes wouldn’t be made the next time.

            Steven’s next class, Graphic Design, started a new project. The first part of this project was name research: students will go to designated websites that specialize in giving the meanings of names, and will look up their first name, surname, and even their middle name (or names) if desired. This will help in the next stage, in which students will design symbols or logos that utilize images related to the meanings of their names.

            The class got to work quickly, since the research stage was easy enough.  Steven went to the first website on the teacher’s list, and began searching for his names.

            The name “Steven” itself meant “crown,” as in kings, princes, and nobility. His surname, “Michaels,” which was obviously just the plural of “Michael,” was a Hebrew name meaning “Who is like God?” Meanwhile, his first middle name, “Gary,” was related to Guerrero, the Spanish word for “warrior.” However, his second of two middle names, “Brown,” was more than just a color.

            The name “Brown” was connected to the bear. One route of understanding suggested the cuddly and cute teddy bear, the adorable children’s toy. The other was way to interpret the connection was its cultural symbolism, namely Celtic. The Celts saw bears as symbols of great strength and knowledge, and King Arthur’s name even had origins related to the bear. 

            “But not only does the bear symbolize strength and wisdom, the bear also symbolizes the primal ferocity and berserker spirit that wishes to rule over a warrior.”

            Steven read that last sentence with awe, for he was amazed by what he had learned, as well as a little worried, maybe even scared.

            Putting the four names together created a descriptive image of who he was as a person. The first name combined with his last, or surname, to describe Steven’s outer image, who he is normally: kind, and knows what is morally right. His two middle names was therefore the inner Steven: a brave warrior, strong and wise. But also one who fought against an inner rage. That was the reason Steven was worried.

            Steven wondered how this sentiment would be reflected in Code Black’s fighting style. Steven knew what a “berserker” was: a special class of warrior that was normally docile, but lost all control in battle, destroying anyone or anything that got in his way, and only stopped when victory was obtained. Was Code Black going to be a ruthless, destructive fighter?

            No, he won’t! “He” is me, and I’m not like that at all.

            But what the site said was that all men, all humans, have a natural instinct for violent actions as a part of a primal urge. The many wars and battles throughout the history of mankind are proof of that. Then perhaps Code Black was just the dormant aggression deep inside him, waiting to be let loose?

            Would it matter? It would help win the fights against Zorb and his goons easier, right? Maybe it won’t be so bad. In fact, the title “berserker” seems pretty cool.

            Steven relaxed and went back to work, looking for images related to what he had just found, gladly accepting the returning prickle as if it were an old friend.

            “What do you think The Spektrum’s ‘origins’ are?” Caitlin opened The Spektrum Fan Club’s conversation with.

            “‘Origin?’” asked Jen, Cyndi’s friend.

            “Yeah, you know,” Cyndi began to explain, “the story of how a hero got their powers is called their ‘origin.’”

            “Riiiiight,” Jen agreed in a way that made it sound like she knew all along.

            “You don’t think The Spektrum is like Superman?” posed Sarah, Cyndi’s other friend.  “Where he’s an alien who has lived on Earth all his life?”

            “But that would suggest he doesn’t yet know he’s an alien, and Superman knew the truth about his past before he started saving people,” countered Caitlin.

            “Well, maybe he does know?” Sarah proposed, trying to see if her theory would still work.

            “No, The Spektrum is human,” Steven affirmed for the group.

            Steven had only just arrived, so his words had surprised the group of girl comic book fans.

            “Oh, Steven, glad you’re here,” Cyndi greeted. “We’re theorizing The Spektrum’s ‘origin.’”

            “What makes you think The Spektrum is human?” questions Caitlin as she played with her cafeteria brand French fries. 

            “Well, just the way his powers are set up,” Steven began. “Superman has access to all his powers at once, but from what is obvious of The Spektrum, he can’t.”

            “What’s obvious?”

            “The Spektrum has different colored forms for a reason: he has to use his powers separately, and the colors are a system to help designate what power or powers he’s using.”

            “So his powers are color coded?”

            “Exactly.” 

Now maybe they’ll call them Codes like I do, Steven thought to himself.

            “So Silver Spektrum,” Cyndi started, “can be nicknamed…”

            “Spektrum Code Silver,” Steven finished.

            Something in Steven’s voice had made Cyndi blush again, and she had to look away to keep from burning up.

            Why? Cyndi panicked. What is it that makes me blush? Is it because he reminds me of The Spektrum?

            Cyndi looked up towards Steven again. He had busied himself with opening his bag of potato chips. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt there was something similar between the two. Maybe it was their voices. Perhaps that certain gleam in Steven’s eye that had flashed when anyone said The Spektrum’s name? Whatever it was, the fact it made her blush at all was oddly both annoying yet intriguing.

            “Iron Bull Rush!!” roared a gruff, bellowing voice from outside.

It was an impressively powerful and incredibly loud voice for it to have been heard above the din that echoed throughout the quad, not to mention inside the halls, both first and second floors, and maybe even the Science Wing’s third floor.  As all heads turned and swiveled to look for the voice’s source, something crashed through the outer doors that lead to the cafeteria lobby, the same place that Silver and Zorb’s goons first met. That same something then smashed a hole into the corner of wall between the lobby and the adjacent hall. Whatever it was kept charging all the way into a picnic table, splintering the wooden benches and twisting the steel support frame. 

            The rampaging thing rose from the wreckage to reveal a large, broad, tank-like humanoid wearing what resembled sports gear. Strolling along side-by-side through the destructive path left by the massive, living wrecking ball was none other than the leader of the dangerous degenerates, Zorb and his slender second, Zita. 

            “Good work, my friend!” Zorb commented as he and Zita applauded his display of devastating power.

            By this time, Steven had made it to the short bridge that connected the Science Wing’s second floor to the second floor of the Main Building’s first hall; he had left Room 243 the moment he heard the battle cry. No one outside noticed his movements because they were watching the trio of alien invaders, so he made it down the stairs and slipped into the first floor boy’s restroom without anyone bothering him.

            “Alright, Computer, load him up.”

            “Specify: which Code are you designating?”

     “Code Black! Load Code Black, Activate Code Black, ‘whatever-the-hell-it-is’ Code Black!” 

For some reason, Steven was easily frustrated by Computer’s ignorance. Wasn’t it the first one who knew what was new about Steven’s powers?

     “Understood. Now activating: Code Black.”

            Black light scanned over Steven and reflected off the restroom mirrors, reflecting it all over the walls. When the black light faded away, it was Steven had guessed: black skinny jeans, finger gloves, elbow pads, and a black tank top. Additionally, his sneakers had become boots, tucked under the legs of his jeans. His hair was indeed dark black, and his eyes…

            My eyes are different colors.

            His left eye was the same dark brown as before, maybe darker, the same change his hair went through. But his right was most certainly different. It was red. And not that kind of “red eye” that people get from crying, allergies, or exhaustion. The iris was the red he gave the character in the game. He wondered why he ended up with two different eyes, but only for a moment because he figured it didn’t matter. The Spektrum Code Black had to make his debut and stop Zorb’s big behemoth henchman.

            The sound of the restroom door shutting caught his attention. Had someone come in, saw him, then left? Hopefully they saw him post-transformation. Again, this was not the time to worry about anything other than defeating Zorb’s newest addition to his team of thugs.

            Spektrum Code Black walked out of the restroom and into the hall. He could see the students moving from one side of the hall to the other. All those students were crowding in the rooms overlooking the quad, where Code Black assumed Zorb and his two assistants still were. A few stragglers had noticed him as he exited the restroom.

            “Dude!” one of them had shouted. “Don’t go outside! Zorb and that juggernaut are still out there!”

            Code Black let out a snuffed chuckle and cracked a smirk of strange amusement as he turned to leave.

            “Not for long.”

            Code Black reached the door and pushed it open as he heard one of the students say, “Heh. Good line.”

Code Black exited the hall to hear the same gruff voice bellow from the other side of the quad.

            “Hey, Spektrum! It’s Game Time! Show yourself, meat!”

            Code Black made his way into the open, confident he’ll stand out among the crowd of frightened students and faculty. In places here and there, students marveled at this Fifth Spektrum, how once again his costume was strikingly different, how even Code Black’s presence felt remarkably different from the others’.  

            Zorb, Zita, and even the blow-hard behemoth took notice of the shift in attention.  The big, broad brute snorted like a bull, and even scraped at the ground with his foot.

            “Relax, we haven’t even properly introduced you two yet,” Zita said to calm the bullish demolisher. “Spektrum, Zorb and I would like you to meet a former intergalactic athlete, and former superstar of the popular sport ‘Brutality Ball,’ The Iron Bull, The Organic Machine, The One-Being Wrecking Team, Pu-ao Pu-ground!”

            “Or you can call me what it means in your silly human dialect: Pulverize!”

            With each moniker and nickname Zita had listed, Pu-ao, aka “Pulverize”, had flexed and posed, all the while an arrogant grin stretched across his big head.  Now that he was closer, Code Black thought that Pu-ao’s skin looked a bit like leather, and the shape of his head was almost perfectly round, like a big copper colored basketball minus the grooves and bumps, although part of that may be due to the weird helmet he was wearing. 

            In fact, Code Black’s first assumption was right: Pu-ao had on an oblong helmet, shiny and bronze in color, but no face guard. He was wearing what appeared to be metal, football-style shoulder pads, and his boots had laces going all the way up the shin. Both items had a well-used look to them. He had gloves and elbow pads, which were just more big bulky pieces of leather.

            Everything about Pu-ao gave the idea of him being worn yet tough, flexible yet solid, and mobile yet unyielding. He was indeed the living incarnation of what it was to be leather. Whereas others may have been intimidated by this daunting fort of muscle, who had proven himself more powerful in strength alone than the other four of Zorb’s men combined, but Code Black felt not even so much as a quiver in his resolve. In fact, he was pleased that he’d have an opponent who was a definite challenge.

            Just as a smirk of indulgent arrogance had come across Pu-ao’s basketball shaped head, Code Black could feel a smile come across his own human face. The smile was powered by an unfamiliar feeling. It was strange, but Steven still found a way to classify it. It was an odd hybrid: one part anger and rage, and yet one part excitement and joy. Code Black had to hold a hand over his left eye, as if was going to come bursting out. As the huddled masses murmured in anticipation of another beat-down, drag-out fist fight, the “furious enthusiasm” welled up and pushed out amused, yet still very dark, laughter, his right eye, iris as red as fire and blood, looking at Pu-ao with a purpose.

Chapter Four

            “Heyyyy Pirates!” the P.A. system blared throughout the campus as the always peppy 2^nd Block announcements started. “The ‘Spektrum Fan Club’ will have its first meeting in Room 243.”

            “That didn’t take long,” Steven mumbled.

He was surprised to hear a fan club for his alter-ego was formed so quickly, but he supposed it was the same in any of the superhero series he’d read and watched.

            The rest of the morning announcements, and the morning itself, went normally, with no appearance from Zorb or any of his minions. It was at lunch that the newly formed club met, and Steven hurried to Room 243, located in the second floor of the Science Wing. Steven took a seat by the window so he could keep watch of the school’s “quad,” the large open area surrounded on all sides by the school’s three main buildings: the main building, with its three halls forming a giant U shape; the gymnasium that also doubled as the auditorium; and the Science Wing.

            The club itself was a mix of students from all grades, 9^th through 12^th, but mostly 10^th. Additionally, the club members were mostly female students. The Club Leader was only a 10^th grader, Cynthia “Cyndi” Simmons, blonde with bright blue eyes and slim figure, Capri pants and a little white T-shirt. The reason she was leader was because she was the one who requested this club be formed. Pretty darn cute in Steven’s opinion, but he wasn’t going to let it distract him from what was being said.

            “Now, we’ve established that The Spektrum is a fellow student here at San Leandro High. So far, we have seen him as three different color forms: Silver, Red, and Yellow.” 

            Steven was pleased that she noticed the first Color Code was indeed silver and not white. 

            That’s a true fan right there, Steven thought.     

            The beginning of the meeting went quick, signing everyone in, talking briefly about which of the current three was the majority favorite and the possibility of a fourth color.

            Even though The Spektrum had only been here for less than a week, Cynthia felt that she was his number one fan. She made sure that everyone in the club knew the correct names: it was Zorb, not Zorp, Zita, not Zeeda, and the colors of The Spektrum seen so far were Silver, Red, and Yellow. She was one of the proud few who had his autograph from that very first day The Spektrum saved the school. And most recently, she was among the disappointed who chased after Spektrum Yellow and missed her chance to ask him what everyone wanted to know: “Who really is ‘The Spektrum?’”

            Of course, that was just question #1. Other questions that Cyndi had herself were: did he go to San Leandro High? Well, he’d have to if he knew about Zorb’s surprise attacks. Is he a student? Again, he’d have to be, because his body type is obviously not a match to any of the male staff at all. What grade? Most of the club members guessed either 10^th or 11^th. Again, this was based off of what they knew from seeing The Spektrum with their own eyes. She being one of those who saw The Spektrum up close in person, she could tell he wasn’t that much older than she was. This fact made her and her friends, who were also present in this first meeting of The Spektrum Fan Club, rather excited. The possibility that their hero was in the same graduating class as they were was thrilling, and the thought that he could be in one of their classes was too much for words. Cyndi and her friends were big superhero/comic buffs, and understood the unofficial rules of being a superhero and/or dating one. 

            Over the weekend, the circle of friends had met at Cyndi’s house to discuss how unbelievably amazing it was that there was a real life superhero in their hometown, and reviewed the “rules.”

            One: a superhero cannot reveal his/her identity to anyone—friends, family, whatever—without running the risk of enemies who knew going after those in the know to get at the hero. The girls had assumed that even though this was the first, it was not iron clad in this case since Zorb definitely did not know yet, either.

            Two: because superheroes cannot reveal their true identities, that makes it incredibly difficult, almost impossible, for them to have real, romantic relationships due to all the secrets he‘d have to keep and the fact he’d have to leave inexplicably. This made the girls sympathetic to whoever The Spektrum was, because they couldn’t bear the thought of being forced into romantic isolation.

            And finally: unless the one they fall in love with is completely understanding, trusting, and devoted to the hero, said hero will remain alone, with the only option left to him/her being to devote their life entirely to being a superhero, and everything that fallows. 

            That third note the group discovered upon was quite the up-lifter. The girls thought that if they could get The Spektrum to reveal himself to one of them, that lucky girl could be his “true love,” seeing as how they’d understand why he’d have to go off at random times, he wouldn’t have to hide who he is from them, and—as sad as it was to admit it—they’d always wanted a superhero boyfriend to be with forever. Cyndi herself got a little flustered and excited at such a romantic idea.

            The opening stage of the meeting went quick, signing everyone in, talking briefly about which of the current three was the majority favorite and the possibility of a fourth color.

            “If there is a fourth form, I hope it’s blue,” wished Jen, one of Cyndi’s friends from the weekend meeting. “Blue is such a beautiful color, and I bet The Spektrum would look great in it.”

            “But what was up with Yellow’s outfit?” interrupted Craig Foster, at least that’s what Cyndi remembered his name being, an 11^th grade jock standing in the corner, who probably thought he was somehow cooler than The Spektrum. “Yellow cowboy pants?  His name shouldn’t be ‘The Spektrum,’ it should be ‘The Gay Ranger.’”

            His idiot friends laughed at his Power Ranger/Homosexual/Spektrum joke.

            “This club’s for fans of The Spektrum, not jackasses, Craig,” defended an 11^th grade girl with blonde hair much shinier than Cyndi’s. “The Spektrum is obviously secure in his masculinity. Or at least, more than you are.”

            The room filled with jeers as Craig was humbled. 

            “Plus, you shouldn’t be making fun of the guy who saved everyone, including you, from those alien thugs, idiot.” 

            More jeers sounded as the club leader looked at Steven. Steven tried not to show his own surprise at how automatic the sentence came out of his mouth. Admittedly, he was going to keep it inside, but Craig’s obnoxious comment extremely irritated him.

            Craig, stopped in his Spektrum Bashing and frustrated by an underclassman speaking up to him, left with his friends following behind without a word.

            “Good on you, sophomore,” complimented the junior girl. “The name’s Caitlin.  But don’t call me ‘Katie.’”

            “Hi, Caitlin, the name’s Steven.”

            Cyndi got up from her seat and introduced herself to the two defenders.

            “Um, hi, I’m Cynthia, but you can call me ‘Cyndi,’” she said shyly as she raised her hand to greet them.

            “Hi,” Caitlin greeted with a smile as the two girls shook hands.

            “Hi, Cyndi.”  Steven shook hands with her.

            Why is my face turning red?! she screamed in her head as she noticed her cheeks getting warmer.

            Why is her face turning red? he wondered at the sight of her cheeks getting rosy.

            “So, um, Steven,” Cyndi stumbled over her words, “Do you have any opinions as to why he was wearing cowboy pants? The Spektrum, I mean.”

            “I don’t know either.”

            “Oh,” Cyndi let out, sounding a little saddened.

            “Maybe we can ask him when we meet him,” proposed Cyndi’s other friend, Sarah.  This piqued the interest of both Caitlin and Steven.

            “Oh, see, we have this plan to…” Cyndi began to explain, but stopped short because she didn’t want to disclose her and her friends’ silly dream of charming The Spektrum. “To interview him! For the school newspaper, The Cargo.”

            “You do?” asked Caitlin.

            “We do?” asked Cyndi’s friends.

            “Yes, we do,” affirmed Cyndi. 

            True, Cyndi and her friends didn’t know anyone from the Cargo well enough to suggest article ideas, but right now, she was sure the school paper would jump at the chance to know more about their mysterious, multi-colored hero. That is, unless one of their reporters wasn’t already planning to try and catch The Spektrum after a fight for an interview.

            “Well, that sounds cool,” Steven commented. “Hope it works out.”

            “Oh, uh, thanks!” Cyndi replied, still a bit confused by her reaction to Steven.

            The rest of the meeting went smoothly, with Cyndi and her friends adding Caitlin and Steven into their lunch circle.

            “If there is a fourth, I hope it’s blue,” wished a brunette sophomore girl, probably one of the club leader’s friends. “Blue is such a beautiful color, and I bet The Spektrum would look great in it.”

            It took a few moments while the group of five--Cyndi, her friends Sarah and Jen, Caitlin, and Steven--ate lunch together for Steven to recognize Cyndi as one of the two girls he--meaning “The Spektrum”--gave autographs to last week. It helped that Cyndi had pulled out her autographed notebook and showed it to everyone.

            “So lucky,” Caitlin said with a hint of envy.  “When’d you get it?”

            “The first day The Spektrum showed up.” Cyndi was practically beaming with her recollection, it was such a great memory. “There were so many people in the hallway, I was afraid I wasn’t going to be able to reach him before they did.  Luckily, I also had a pen and my notebook, or else it would’ve been a waste to talk to him.  It was like meeting a celebrity!”         

            Then, when Code Yellow showed up during lunch, I wanted another autograph to make sure it was the same guy, but he got away before Sarah, Jen and I could talk to him.”

            “That was you?!” Steven blurted out loud.  It was such a sudden reaction that Steven was as surprised and confused by it as Cyndi and her friends were.

            “What do you mean?” Caitlin questioned.

            Steven had to remember to answer based off of his lie he gave his friends yesterday.

            “I was coming out of the restroom when Yellow’s fight ended, and this group of girls asked me if I’d seen where he went.  Obviously, I didn’t know, so I lied and said he went to the grass field in the back of the school.”

            “Oh, that was you?” Cyndi said, feeling so embarrassed.  “Sorry I didn’t recognize you.”

            “No, that’s okay.  I didn’t recognize you either, though it’s hard for me to recognize someone when I’m scared.”

            The group had a bit of a laugh. Cyndi noticed Steven’s smile, the confident, friendly look on his face, and she felt her face blush again. 

            What is it about him that makes me do this?!

            At the same time, Steven had noticed Cyndi’s blue eyes, looking at him in a way he had never seen any girl look at him before. Their eyes met for the slightest moment, then the two looked away, feeling a bit awkward.

            Then out of the blue came the sound of a trash can hitting something.  The group rushed to the window to see what was going on. 

            Two savage-looking men were causing chaos as they were tearing through the quad, hunting for something.

            “Those are two of Zorb’s henchmen!” Cyndi yelled. “The one that looks like he’s part lion and the other that looks like he’s part panther!”

            “What’re they looking for?” Jen asked as she turned to the others.

            “I think it’s The Spektrum,” Caitlin guessed.

            “Hey, Steven, do you--?”

            Cyndi turned to where Steven was standing, but he had disappeared.

            “Steven?”

            In the stairwell, Steven rushed down that stairs, frantic to get outside before Zorb’s animalistic associates hurt any of the students, scratching at the tingle in his right arm, suddenly recognizing a sort of trend.

            Lemme guess, new Code?

            “Yes,” answered the computer voice in Steven’s head.  “Code #4: Code Blue.”

     Sounds like Cyndi’s friend will get her wish.  Load him up.

            “Understood. Now activating: Spektrum Code Blue.”

            In another scan of light, a bright, sapphire blue, Steven’s hair became a sapphire blue and his eyes a natural, almost sky blue.  His shirt, a long sleeve, became a light blue short-sleeve, and his black jeans became deep blue denim long shorts.  Finally, as The Spektrum went through the door at the bottom of the steps, his white-and-black sneakers became blue-and-sky-blue sneakers.

            The stairwell The Spektrum exited from was on the opposite side of the Science Wing that his friend’s usually meeting place was.  Unfortunately, that side of the Science Wing was exactly the place the two animal-men were wreaking havoc.  Code Blue sprinted across the quad, the two menacing minions in his sights.  As he kept sprinting the entire 20 yards or more, he didn’t even notice that he wasn’t getting winded.

            “Hey!”

            Code Blue’s shout caught the two thugs’ attention, and they immediately stopped throwing trash and roaring at students to turn and look at their oncoming opponent.  The two henchmen moved into the same formation they used during the five-on-one against Code Silver. The lion-man rushed at Code Blue first, but Code Blue crouched, then used his body as a shovel to lift and toss the on-comer like dirt. But this left him open to the panther, who tackled him, slamming into him around the shoulders. The panther-man then followed up by putting Code Blue in a headlock and battering him in the side of the head with his free fist.

            Code Blue fought back, turning towards the man-panther and punching him as hard as he could in that awkward position. One of his punches caught the man-panther in the temple, and Code Blue war released from the headlock.

            But before Code Blue could return to his feet, the lion-man landed on him, smashing and rolling him back onto the ground.

            “Graw,” said the panther man in a snarling, growling voice. “Keep him pinned down while I get something to bash his bones with!”

            At this command, Graw began beating the back of Blue’s shoulders with his padded elbow. Of course, the pad only softens the blow for the wearer, Graw, while the receiver, Blue, still feels a lot of pain. Blue struggled to get up, but Graw kept pushing him back down. Graw’s man-panther pal had returned quickly with a branch he must have broken off from one of the trees there in the quad. As the branch brandishing brute raised his weapon above his head, Code Blue struggled even harder against Graw’s weight. The branch was brought down like an ax, aimed at Blue’s legs, ready to break the bones, when Blue swung his feet around to the front, causing Graw to slide off and Blue to scramble away and onto his feet. The branch narrowly missed Graw’s head, and hit the concrete ground with a wooden thwack.

            “Gnarl!” Graw gruffly growled at his teammate. “Watch what you’re doing!”

            “Me?! You were the one who couldn’t hold him down!” Gnarl growled right back, still holding onto the branch.

            Code Blue turned and punched the distracted Gnarl in the head, who still kept hold on the branch. The sneak attack surprised Graw, giving Blue an opening. 

            Code Blue kicked Graw in the gut, lifted him onto his shoulder like a hay bale, then slammed him onto the ground. This move is known as a spine buster, and although it didn’t actually bust or break Graw’s spine, it certainly left him in loads of pain.

            Code Blue then turned to find Gnarl, but instead he found the discarded branch on the floor. A blur of black moved to Blue’s right, and blindsided him, knocking him toward the picnic tables lining the quad’s grass field. Code Blue could hear the crowds of students booing and hissing at Gnarl.

            “Oh, shut up, you human brats!” Gnarl snapped at the multitudes of The Spektrum’s fans.

            Blue leaned on the edge of a picnic table to balance himself as he regained his focus and composure. Gnarl turned back to his prey, not worrying about his hurt teammate. Grinning with blood thirsty anticipation, Gnarl swung his arm down on Blue’s shoulder like a club, hitting The Spektrum with a blunt thumping sound.

            “C’mon Spektrum!” yelled several students. “Fight back!”

            Gnarl clubbed Code Blue across the shoulder again, and more shouts came from the crowds. 

            Leaning on the table, Blue could see Gnarl in the corner of his eye. He waited for Gnarl to raise his arm again, then turned on the attacker and kicked him in the gut like he did Graw. He then grabbed Gnarl behind the neck and smacked his head against the table’s edge. Gnarl bounced off and recoiled in the same instant, followed by the cheers of students. Now Blue turned the tables, metaphorically, and hunted Gnarl, striking him across the shoulder before he walked more than three steps. 

            The crowds began to cheer again, and Code Blue felt a sort of charismatic momentum begin to build in his favor. Code Blue moved ahead of Gnarl, and he rebounded off of what felt like ropes or cables. He then barreled into Gnarl just above the stomach shoulder first, knocking the man-panther’s off his feet; a textbook “spear,” down to the part where Blue left his feet in an explosive lunge and fell with his target.

            Wait, what?

            Code Blue looked back to where he had bounded off ropes, and saw a faint glimmer of blue light, almost like neon tubes used for signs. Except, they were floating there, not attached to anything. Blue got back to his feet and moved to examine the ropes made of light better, but before he could touch them with his hand, they vanished without a trace.

            Weird.

            Blue turned back to see Graw finally back on his feet, signs of back pain still noticeable on his half-human, half-lion face. Blue decided to see if he could get those ropes to reappear.

            Blue charged at Graw, ready to tackle him like he did Gnarl. But even with an aching spine, Graw moved out of Blue’s path, avoiding the spear. 

            A shimmer of blue appeared in front of The Spektrum, and he knew what that meant. As before, he turned so that he would hit the ropes with his back. The ropes of light responded in the same elastic nature as before, allowing Code Blue to easily change direction without losing momentum. 

            But there was not enough room between him and Graw to set up for a spear.  Instead, Blue just barged right into Graw in a shoulder versus shoulder collision. This slamming into one another like bumper cars caused Graw to fall back abruptly, again landing roughly on his back. However, Blue was unmoved, standing sturdy as a stone wall.

            Well, if I’m not mistaken, that’s because Code Blue is Stat Number 4: Endurance.

            In Pro Slam-down, the video game from which The Spektrum’s powers were obviously based, the stat known as “Endurance” is actually two-in-one. One part is Durability, how much one can take, while the other is Stamina, how much one can do.  It was easy for Code Blue to see from what had happened so far in this fight that he indeed had both; he was not winded after running from one side of the Science Wing to the other, and even after being hit across the shoulders and in the head, there was little soreness left in those areas.

            Code Blue turned his attention back to his two opponents, wondering if winning this “handicap match,” as the video game Pro Slam-Down would call it, would earn him double the “points,” if that’s how his powers worked. 

            Either way, I need to put these two away, Blue confirmed, borrowing the common pro-wrestling phrase.

            Gnarl was the first animal-man hybrid to stand back up, and was most certainly the next one to be knocked back down. Blue walked over to Gnarl, who had not yet regained awareness of his surroundings. Blue moved fast, lifting and flipped Gnarl onto his shoulders, much like he did with Graw earlier. But instead of slamming Gnarl on the ground right there, Blue ran to where Graw was still struggling to get off the ground.  Blue tilted forward and fell, with Gnarl between him and the ground. But instead of landing on the ground, Blue and Gnarl instead landed on Graw. The half-man, half-lion was squashed under the combined weight of Gnarl and Code Blue, while Gnarl was sandwiched between his teammate and his opponent, and Blue was cushioned by the two alien hooligans.

            The crowds exploded with cheers at seeing one villain used as a weapon to hurt the other. Code Blue could feel that energy from before, that charismatic momentum, reach a climax. It was time to unveil Code Blue’s Finishing Move.

            Code Blue dragged Gnarl to his feet, and placed his head between his legs like a bike seat. He wrapped his arms around Gnarl’s waist, and lifted Gnarl’s lower body up and towards him. By popping his hips, Blue swung Gnarl’s head up so that Gnarl sat on Blue’s shoulders. Blue pushed forward, fighting against inertia and momentum in order to slam Gnarl back onto the ground, and fell with him, per the procedure for this powerful move known as a “power bomb.”

            Gnarl’s momentum was turned around 180 degrees, almost giving him whiplash.  Blue practically flung him onto the ground and, once again, Gnarl landed on Graw. Graw was flattened even worse than before, and Gnarl got another case of whiplash because he did not land flat. As in the last two battles, The Spektrum pinned his opponent—or in this case, opponents—and the computer voice counted again.

            “One… Two… Three… The winner is—”

     “The Spektrum!” exclaimed the students, who could again hear the voice, and had decided to join in the announcement of their hero’s victory. The campus echoed with cheers, and Code Blue rose to his feet, proud of his handicap victory.

            Before the throngs of fans could swarm around him, Code Blue ran to the nearby stairwell of the Science Wing, the one next to his friends’ meeting place. As he ran past them towards the door, some of Steven’s friends called out.

            “Hey, Spektrum!”

            “Wait!”

            As Spektrum went through the threshold into the stairwell, Alex, Julian, Bryan, and Michelle ran after him in hopes of catching up. By the time the four friends made it through the doorway, The Spektrum was already up one whole flight of stairs.

            A scan of blue light shined through the stairwell as the gap between pursuers and pursued closed. Steven’s transformation back to his normal self was complete just as his friends came into view.

            “Steven?” asked Alex. “What’re you doing here?”

            “Yeah, where’s The Spektrum?” questioned Michelle. 

            “Is that who ran past me?” Steven lied. “Some guy just ran by towards the next floor. Might have even gone up to the third.”

            “Damn,” protested Bryan. “He’s probably hid inside a classroom, bathroom, or even made it to the other side of the building by now. We won’t be able to tell who he is.”

            “Too bad,” Steven feigned sympathy, because he was actually glad none of his friends saw him.

            As Steven’s friends went back down, Steven went up, remembering he left his things in Room 243. As Steven walked down the hall, someone exited from room 248.

It was the Junior Jock, Craig Foster, from earlier in the Spektrum Fan Club meeting.  He watched Steven walk away with a smile full of wicked intent.

            “Hope to see you tomorrow, Spektrum.”

Chapter Three

            “Pathetic! Simply, pathetic!”

            Zorb slammed his fist on the arm rest of his chair, his team wincing at his display of anger. They were gathered in the main room of their spaceship, which was both the bridge and the den, with Zita by his side and his four henchmen in front of him. Zorb’s golden eyes, filled with rage, turned on Korak, the big yellow brute standing indignantly in the corner. 

            “I don’t think I need to remind you, Korak, that you were just defeated by the human known as ‘The Spektrum,’ a human who is still only an adolescent and less than a third of your weight.” 

            Now, Zorb himself was relatively young, as was his lovely partner, Zita, but the two were still older than the annoying human hero. And of course, no one else present was as big as Korak.

            “You, Korak, a prime example of the muscular Grekorian race,” Zorb paused to let his small compliment sink in, “and a member of my organization,” Zorb continued, still furious.  “How could you lose?!”

            “You saw him!” Korak protested. “He was different! H-His hair was red, and so were his clothes!”

            “Of course I saw that, Korak, I have eyes.”

            “But the way he fought was different! He was far more acrobatic. He moved faster, and with more agility. It was as if he was a different person!”

            Zorb contemplated Korak’s firsthand account, and what little the ship’s monitors could pick up from where they were in Earth’s orbit. He then compared it to what everyone had seen during their first encounter with the heroic human male.

            “When he wore silver and blue, his style was headstrong, physical, and somewhat unrefined,” Zorb stated as he remembered The Spektrum tackling him to the ground, swinging wild right hands at his head, and finally picking him up and throwing him onto the ground. “But when he wore red--”

            “--he was swinging and jumping like he was a Primate Animisian,” Korak interjected. The other members of Zorb’s team couldn’t help but picture a red monkey-humanoid pounding on his chest and swinging on branches.

            “Zorb,” Zita began, “do you think he’ll have another new form the next time we see him?”

            “We can never make assumptions about an enemy,” Zorb advised his delicious deputy as he held her hand in his.  “The only way to find out is to lure him out and see. But who will be the lure?”

            Zorb looked at his four henchmen, contemplating which one would face their human enemy next. 

            Korak lost, leaving him with only three to choose from: the Lion Animisian, Graw, the Panther Animisian, Gnarl, and the neon haired, self-proclaimed “heart-throb,” Josta “Smooth” Kens. All those in this group were still comparatively young, the equivalents of a 22, 20, 21, and another 20 year old human, respectively.  Zorb and Zita, though the two people in charge, were the youngest, about 19 and 18 in Earth years, again respectively.

            Factoring in what they knew about “The Spektrum,” he had to think about his choice carefully.

            There’s a 50% chance of him using either the Silver of Red form.  We know the silver one is very rough in his attacks while the red one seems to prefer flashier moves.  However, they’re both unpredictable in what they’ll do next.  In other words, it really doesn’t matter. Therefore…

            “Josta! You’re up!” Zorb pointed to his selection as he announced his decision.

            “YES!!” Josta exclaimed. 

            There he goes again, so gung-ho about fighting it’s like it’s a sport to him, Zorb thought to himself, not surprised at all at his “employee’s” enthusiasm.  Meanwhile, Zita wondered why anyone would be excited to go into a situation that would most likely have an outcome of him, Josta, getting pummeled again.

            “Don’t worry, Zorb,” Josta began with a cocky grin and matching spark in his eyes, “I’ll succeed where you failed!”

            Zorb held back his irritation and anger as Josta swaggered off the bridge and headed to his room to properly prepare for his upcoming fight.  Zita did her best to calm her lover and leader, placing a hand on his shoulder as she sat on his lap.

            Steven let out a big yawn as he reclined on his bed, watching what little was on television on a Saturday afternoon. The yawn wasn’t because he was tired, but because he was bored, which usually did make him a bit sleepy. However, Steven wasn’t bored by his homework, he had breezed through his math homework and his English homework, and his other classes never actually assigned homework.

            At San Leandro High School, the current schedule format was the block format: four classes a day every day, two before lunch and two after. His first semester schedule included Ms. Graffito’s Beginning Graphic Design, 10^th Grade English taught by Mr. Wever, Mr. Neilson’s F.S.T. (Functions, Statistics and Trigonometry) class, and Mr. Styner’s Intro to Computer Science class, in that order. Plus, he had a “Zero Block,” a class taught before regular school hours. He was in the High School “Wind Ensemble,” which was just a fancy name for “Band Class.” Luckily it wasn’t a marching band, thank God. 

            But that aside, the reason he was bored was that now he had nothing else to do.  He had read all of this month’s manga releases of all his favorite series, since it was the afternoon, he had already watched the Saturday morning cartoons, and he didn‘t feel like listening to music at the moment. So he decided to recline back and think about this new phase in his life, if it was only a phase.

            So, he thought to himself, “I guess I’m a super-hero. Who’d’ve thunk it.  Although I guess I do fit the archetypal teenage super-hero: not incredibly popular, but not a total outcast; no real athletic ability before getting these powers (though I probably shouldn’t use them to show up jocks or anything; it’d feel like cheating); I don’t have a girlfriend, so I won’t have to worry about it interfering…”

            Steven’s thoughts trailed off at that last observation, and he rolled over onto his side since his back was getting sore.

            Actually, most realistic super-heroes have a hard time holding on to relationships because they always get called away at such random times. They can never truly connect with the person they love because of their secret life as a hero could hurt that person. In other words, the life of a super-hero is a lonely one, taking its toll on the hero. Which means, would me trying to even start a relationship be futile because it would crumble apart do to something I have no way of controlling or even predicting? 

            Steven had to sit up at his realization, it hitting him at the deepest part of his heart like a knife being plunged into his chest.

            How can I hope to be with a girl if she can never be allowed to know everything?  Does this mean my ‘love life’ is dead before it even begins?

            Steven gritted his teeth behind his lips and wrapped his hands into fists.

            No, it can’t be, I’m just over-thinking this, like before, right? Even Spider-Man made it work somehow.

            Steven considered all the facts he had just ran through in his head.  These things were true for many fictional super-heroes, but would it be true for him, a real-life one? He gave up on going any further with his internal debate.

            Besides, even though the news reports a few days ago only mentioned things like toasters shooting bread like rockets and lightbulbs blowing up like firecrackers doesn’t necessarily mean there weren’t others who were electrocuted like me, and possibly turned into “super-humans”; they might be keeping it secret just like I am.              Of course, the absence of such news doesn’t automatically mean there were, that I could, in fact, be the only one.

            Steven shook his head, desperate to get rid of his negativity. 

            Still unsure of what to think, Steven lay back down and decided to take a nap to help pass the time, ignoring the tingling itch that came over his right arm.     

            Monday afternoon at San Leandro High was the same as any, with all the students sorted into their separate circles of friends, talking, eating. As usual, Steven and his friends met by the metal bleachers near the Science wing. Steven took a bite of his ham sandwich when his friends brought up Friday’s debut of Spektrum Red. 

            “Why was he wearing red that time?” Michelle questioned the group.

            “Maybe his silver shirt was still dirty from the day before,” Bryan joked.

            “Right, maybe,” Nathan went along half-heartedly. “Don’t super-heroes only have one costume anyway?”

            “Or at least a lot of the same costume,” Nick added.

            “Plus, those who were there to see this red Spektrum say he moved a bit differently,” Samantha--or “Sam”--added as well.

            “So does that mean there’s two Spektrums?” Michelle wondered.

            “Maybe, but the guys who were there also said that the red Spektrum said he was the same guy,” countered Jacob.

            “Jacob with a good point,” Julian interjected, high-five-ing his friend.

            “But what if that’s what he, or they, want us to believe?” Sam countered back.

            The group let out a collective, long “oh…” at this possibility.

            Steven had finished half his sandwich by now, and thought about how to assure his friends the two heroes were the same person without raising suspicion towards himself.

            “Well, I think it’s the same guy.”

            The group looks at Steven, who hadn’t said much as of yet; he was eating his sandwich, after all.

            “Really?” asked Alex, who had also been a bit quiet.  “How so?”

            “Well, it’d be unlikely that more than one person here in San Leandro, let alone more than one person here at San Leandro High, would have super powers.  And those witness reports say that the two did look alike, even with different hair and clothes.”

            Everyone else thought about it, and eventually, they all agreed that the odds of “The Spektrum” being more than one person were very high.

            Michelle asked on last question.

            “Well, then do you think The Spektrum will be a new color the next time he shows up?”

            “I think only he himself can answer that.”

            “Hey, all you adolescent Earth ding-a-lings!” bellowed an unfamiliar voice.  Everyone outside, not just Steven’s circle of friends, looked around for the source.  On top of the metal awning connecting the gymnasium and Main building’s third hall stood the humanoid alien with the neon hair, decked out in shining purple long shorts, sneakers, socks, rather gaudy sunglasses, and a black tank-top.  “Prepare to be dazed, phased, and amazed by me, Josta Kens!”

            “Well, I guess The Spektrum will have to now,” quipped Alex.

            Josta jumped off the awning and onto the ground below, landing on his feet as if it were just a single step in a staircase.

            “But for you ladies, you can just call me ‘Smooth,’ ‘cause that’s what I am.”

            At this cleverly ridiculous line, Smooth gave a thumbs up, and grinned as he gave the nearest group of girls a wink. Their response: the girls cringed at how obnoxiously absurd this weirdo with the neon orange was acting.

            “Now, where’s that human, The Spektrum?”

            Steven took advantage of everyone’s state of distraction to sneak away so The Spektrum could appear.

            Luckily, the Science Wing’s staircase, surrounded on all sides by brick walls, made a convenient locale for him to make the transformation. Steven slipped through the doorway, trying his best not to make a sound. 

            “Okay, voice in my head,” Steven said once the door was closed and he knew no one else was around. “Toggle appearance!”

            “Select a Code,” it responded in its computerized form of Steven’s own voice.

            “Give me whichever Code is newest.”

            “Code Yellow has been unlocked as of Friday’s battle. Now selecting and activating: Code Yellow.”

            With light flowing up and down his body like a Xerox scanner, Steven’s sneakers, blue jeans and long sleeve T-shirt were transformed into a canary yellow sleeveless tee, black leather boots, and yellow-and-black cowboy pants.

            “Wait,” Steven, or rather, Spektrum Code Yellow yelled as he examined his wardrobe, “I don’t remember giving Yellow these. These are practically cowboy chaps!”

            Yellow looked at the questionable item of clothing’s front and back. Fringe, leather fabric, the legs were yellow but the rest was black. These were chaps! At least, they’re made to look that way. With a grunt, and no response from the voice, Steven put his embarrassment aside and prepared himself for a third fight.

            “Hey, I asked, ‘Where is The Spektrum?!’”

            By this point, Josta, aka “Smooth,” was getting tired of waiting for his target to appear.

            “Calm down, I’m right here.”

            The Spektrum had exited the enclosed stairway and went around the other way, so that now he was out in the open and away from where his friends were sitting.

            “About time,” Smooth let out with a tone of irritation. “I thought you had backed out like a coward.” 

            Smooth got a good look at The Spektrum’s newest look.

            “And I what’s with all the yellow?”

            Now that Smooth had made it known, everyone around was aware of this third costume.

            “Whoa, so bright!”

            “Good thing that ‘Smooth’ guy brought shades.”

            “Well,” Smooth started again, still very cocky, “I guess one way or another, you were gonna be yellow today.” 

            Smooth chuckled at his own word play, and The Spektrum was surprised at how well Smooth used what was thought to be only an Earth euphemism. 

            “I’m all for jokes and word play,” The Spektrum admitted. “But the time for jokes and play is over. Let’s get to the reason you’re here, alright?”

            “Was waiting for you to say something like that!”

            Smooth made the first move by rushing at The Spektrum, even though they were several yards apart. However, with the above-human level of athleticism Smooth possessed, he covered the distance, about 50 feet, very quickly.

            But The Spektrum’s reaction time was still well enough that he instinctively knew what Smooth would most likely do, and what he should do to counter it.

            As predicted, Smooth went at The Spektrum with a right handed punch, his momentum adding to its force. 

            Easily evaded by moving to the side of the arm used, The Spektrum thought to himself rather matter-of-factly. Quickly as he had seen it pop into his head, The Spektrum initiated his counter action. With right arm behind Smooth and left arm in front, Code Yellow opened with the Gut Wrench Suplex. 

            Connecting his arms and wrapping them around Smooth’s waist, Spektrum Code Yellow used his opponent’s momentum to aide him in the workings of the Gut Wrench Suplex. By popping his hips, lifting with his legs, and turning his entire body around 180 degrees, Code Yellow effectively flipped Smooth upside down and dropped him on his back with a thud, all this happening within the time it takes to sneeze.

            Smooth let out a grunt of pain while the audience of students let out several cheers and applause. But Code Yellow did not openly indulge in them like Red did, though he did enjoy the attention. Yellow felt like dazzling the crowds much like Red did, but through out-smarting his opponent rather than out-maneuvering him.

            Although I suppose out-smarting is the first step in out-maneuvering, the young hero thought momentarily, a moment that was long enough for Smooth to retaliate from where he lay. 

            Smooth reached up and grabbed Yellow’s head, then gave him a headbutt. Yellow stumbled back, giving Smooth room to get back to his feet. The somewhat embarrassed humanoid alien struck Yellow in the side of the head with his heel, causing him to stumble further back, in the general direction of the parking lot.

            Yellow had just made it to the fence that separated the parking lot from the rest of the campus when Smooth thumped him on his shoulders with a forearm. Yellow retaliated with a move that was a fusion of a back handed slap and a karate chop.  Yellow’s hand swiftly and sharply struck Smooth in the chest with a loud thwack.  Smooth recoiled, and Yellow grabbed him by his neon orange hair. Yellow yanked on Smooth’s hair, and pulled him into a short poll, the grounded obstacle slamming into Smooth‘s chest, gut and groin. 

            These planted polls were used to segment the openings in the fence so people couldn’t run through them, but in this case, the poll practically split Smooth into two equal halves.

            “What’s wrong, Josta? Things not going so smooth?” Yellow taunted, playing with his enemy’s name.

            “Shut up, you little…” Smooth growled as he swung at The Spektrum. 

            Smooth’s swing, full of frustration and void of focus, missed it’s target by several inches, and his error left him open to another back hand chop.

            Yellow’s attack hit its mark, causing Smooth to recoil again, and the crowd to let out an audible “Oh, that hurt.”

            Smooth leaned on the fence to catch his breath, but Yellow was still good to go.  Yellow lifted Smooth by the waist of his long shorts, as if he were going for a Back Suplex, meaning that he’d be dropping Smooth on the concrete ground shoulders first.  But by shifting his weight forward at the moment Smooth was as high as Yellow could lift him, Yellow dropped Smooth on the top of the metal fence groin first. And judging from Smooth’s incredibly pained reaction, his species wasn’t that different from humans after all.

            To add to Smooth’s discomfort, Yellow aimed and fired another Back-hand Chop, rocking Smooth back, the obnoxious alien nearly falling off his painful perch. 

            “‘Nearly,’” Yellow yelled, “isn’t nearly good enough!”

            Code Yellow delivered a strong, right handed punch, striking Smooth in the jaw and knocking down off the top of the fence. As Smooth tumbled into the parking lot, the crowd of students cheered their hero on.

            “Alright, Spektrum!”

            “Kick his ass!”

            Yellow moved to the other side of fence and joined Smooth in the parking lot.  Yellow yanked Smooth to his feet and led him deeper into the lot.  By this time, the campus security was doing its job and several guards kept students from getting any closer to the action than they already were.

            After taking a few steps, Yellow forcefully pulled Smooth by the arm and swung him into a car trunk.  As Smooth leaned on the vehicle in pain, Yellow hit him with another Back-hand Chop.

            “Agh.  Would you stop--”

            Smooth’s protest was interrupted by yet another chop.  Frustrated by taking damage without returning the favor, Smooth gritted his teeth and elbowed Yellow in the jaw.  Continuing his counterattack, Smooth kicked Yellow in the stomach and slammed his head into the same car trunk Smooth collided with.

            As Yellow’s head bounced off the trunk and he collapsed to the ground, the crowd let out more “Oh”s and some boos. The boos got Smooth’s attention, and he turned to face the audience of students with confusion and annoyance.

            “What d’you mean, ‘boo’?  What is this, some kinda prize fight? Like we’re fighting for your entertainment?!”

            In response to Smooth’s aggravation, the crowd booed even more, and a few girls called Smooth names because he “hurt our hero.”

            “Well, looks like we have something in common, you human trash!” Smooth snarled before stomping the slumped Spektrum. “We’re both popular with the ladies.”

            “What the hell are you talking about?” Yellow snapped at his enemy, even while on the ground in pain. “I’ve got fans ‘cause I’m the hero, and you don’t ‘cause you’re an ass.”

            “What was that?!” Smooth growled, angered by Yellow’s insolent remark.

            Smooth dragged Yellow up by his shirt collar, and put a lot of force behind a right hand punch. 

            “Sucker.”

            Yellow ducked out of the way and slipped around and behind Smooth. Grabbing Smooth around the waist again, Yellow popped his hips and fell back, lifting Smooth up and backwards. Yellow rotated as he fell so that he wouldn’t be squashed underneath.  This, in turn, added a bit more momentum to Smooth’s fall, which was translated into pain as the back of Smooth’s head fell onto the concrete ground of the parking lot with a thump.

            Yellow then decided that it was the perfect time to finish the fight.  Instinctively, Code Yellow knew how to set his “finishing move” up. He leaned on the car trunk, and pumped his foot, as if it were on a pedal. Yellow could feel an almost electric energy building up and coursing through his body. In fact, students could swear they saw a few sparks shoot from his foot and course around his leg.

            Smooth barely made it back to his feet, his head spinning, his vision impaired by his unsettled equilibrium. He wobbled and swayed as he turned around in search of his opponent.

            “Flash Kick!”

            The Spektrum’s declaration got Smooth’s attention. Smooth turned around just in time to have Code Yellow’s foot collide with his chin. 

            Yellow’s Flash Kick powered by a side-step and a twisting thrust of his kicking leg. Yellow had to stoop low for his foot to reach its target, and he swung back up to standing position as Smooth fell down like a chopped tree. And for the heck of it, Code Yellow pinned Smooth.

            “One… Two… Three! Spektrum Code Yellow wins!”

            The robotic voice counted the pins and made the victory as official as a strange voice can. But this time, it seemed that it was louder, more substantial and real.

            “Hey, did you guys hear that?” one of the gathered students asked his friends.

            The students stopped cheering to find the source.

            “Who said that?”

            “Where’d it come from?”

       “Go.”

            What?

            Steven didn’t understand what was going on, either.

            “While everyone is distracted, you can get a head start on your departure.” 

            This helped him understand.

            Code Yellow got up and ran to the other side of the lot, ducking behind the music wing. Simultaneously, but without notice, Smooth was retrieved via teleportation beam.

            “Toggle Appearance!”

            In another scan of light, Spektrum Code Yellow returned to Steven Michaels. A small group of students, apparently Spektrum’s personal flock of fan-girls, had somehow made it past the guards and followed the path their hero had taken.  They spotted Steven and rushed up to him, still in formation, excitement that bordered on fervent fanaticism burning in their eyes.

            “Which way did he go?” the evident leader demanded.

            “I think he went towards the P.E. fields,” Steven lied in self-defense.  He liked the idea of having fans, but he was worried what they’d do to him in there panicked search for him.

            The frantic flock of fangirls took off in the general direction of the field, and he took off back to where his friends were.

            The crowd was finally breaking up and circles of friends were headed back to their hangout spots. Steven weaved his way between the moving groups, hoping nobody took his backpack or lunch while he was gone fighting Smooth.

            “Hey, Steven!” Bryan called out. “How’d you end up over there?” 

            Apparently, his friends had become aware of the fact that he had disappeared somewhere during the commotion, so Steven had to think up an excuse as to how and why.

            “Well, embarrassingly enough, I had to use the restroom, and now I’ve missed the end of the fight.” 

            His friends laughed at his “bad timing.” 

            “Yeah, and when I came out, this group of girls were running towards the P.E. fields. I think they were chasing after The Spektrum.”

            “Well, the one thing that beats out money and cars when it comes to getting girls is being a superhero,” Alex observed, to which the other guys, and some of the girls, agreed.

            As the calm returned to the school, and students finished lunch, Steven thought about the idea of fans.  He remembered the girls he signed autographs for that first day he debuted as The Spektrum.  And he remembered that frantic formation of fan girls, who by now were very disappointed by the disappearance of their hero.

            “You know, maybe having female fans is the loop hole to the whole ‘ruined love life’ issue…”

            “What?” Steven’s friends were looking at him with curious expressions.  Evidently, Steven was mumbling his thoughts out loud. Loud enough that his friends had heard him mumble something.

            “Oh, nothing. I was just talking to myself,” Steven assured his friends. Think it, don’t say it, moron!

            After Steven reprimanded himself, the bell rang, and lunch period was over.