Power and Principle.

         The two figures stalked down the darkened hallway, one on each side. The tall, wiry pyro-kinetic, Flare, didn't so much creep as he did strut. Smoke rose from his hair as he walked down the corridor, making no effort to hide himself. On the other side of the hall, Quake, the larger of the two, stayed close to the painted cinderblock wall, blending in with the shadows. Quake was a terra-kinetic, gifted with not only the ability to manipulate earth and stone but also superhuman strength.
                "Mind if I smoke?" Flare asked, grinning. The smoke rolled thickly from his hair.
         “You're gonna set of the fire alarm like that.” Quake said quietly, gesturing to Flare’s hair. “Not exactly the way we want to get his attention.”
         “Who says I want his attention?” Flare said, making no effort to lower his voice or extinguish his smoldering follicles. “Maybe I want to sneak up behind him, nice and quiet, and then beat him like a cheap drum.”
         “Then you have a funny way of going about it,” Quake replied. “And Dr. Stevens said we're to keep collateral damage to a minimum, as well as serious injuries.”
         “I never said I was going to seriously injure him, but I don't think he'll decide to surrender simply because we're so awe inspiring. Being realistic, I wouldn't be overly impressed by us if I were someone else,” Flare said. “Besides, you're the one that seems to have a problem with the collateral thing.”
         “Because you usually make it impossible to avoid,” Quake replied. “You never said you were going to seriously injure him, but your tone made it clear enough.”
         The halls of Bierce-Crane Elementary were deserted, as were the classrooms, cafeteria, library, and offices. The students, staff, and faculty had been evacuated when the school’s central security system had begun to malfunction. Fortunately, the principal had managed to deactivate the system before the school went into lockdown. Flare and Quake had been going through the building room by room, searching for Voltage, the cause of the mass exodus. Voltage was a second rate criminal with the ability to manipulate electrical currents in his surroundings and an expertise with electronics. Voltage also had a tendency to describe himself as having an “electrifying personality”.
         Voltage's reasons for taking over the school were nebulous at best. The only thing the two young superheroes knew for sure was that this was seriously cutting into the time they had to study for their finals. Both Quake and Flare were seniors at the Parker Academy, a school for superheroes-in-training. The call had come in at ten, and since both had been in study hall at the time, they got the assignment.
         “Oh, goody,” Quake had said, not bothering to hide his irritation. True, saving the world was usually fun, but not when there's an Advanced Superhero Physics exam the next day to worry about.
         As the pair entered what appeared to be a conference room, the lights dimmed, came back to life, and then died completely. This unexpected turn of events was followed by the sound of vehement exclamations echoing down the cement corridors.
         “Someone doesn't sound too happy,” Quake said through the darkness.
         Flare snapped his fingers, and a small flame appeared between his thumb and middle finger, illuminating the scene. “Not gonna lie, I'm not exactly thrilled myself.”
         “Still, this does provide better cover,” Quake replied. It was true, both men were dressed in black and gray jumpsuits equipped with built-in body armor. Quake's suit had a hood that effectively obscured his face even from a camera flash. Flare's suit was, of necessity, flame retardant, as was the pair of large, polarized goggles he wore.
         “Right. Ready to go?” Flare asked.
         “Yeah, let's hit it.”
         “Or him. Whichever comes first,” Flare said, only half in jest. Normally he wasn't so eager for a fight, but this was different. There was a history between Flare and Voltage that Flare discussed with hardly anyone. Both had entered the Academy at the same time, and had initially been friends. When Voltage had begun behaving in a way that was more super villain than hero, Flare had distanced himself, eventually moving out of the room that the two had shared. Rather than this bringing Voltage to his senses, things got worse. One day, Flare had come into the room he shared with Quake to find Voltage planting a bag of marijuana in Flare's equipment bag. Voltage was expelled the same day, and had since turned to a life of crime.
         As they stepped out into the hallway, they heard the villain swearing, apparently at a telephone, and demanding that the power be turned back on. As the two stalked onward, they heard several popping noises behind them, followed by the whine of blades slicing through the air. Flare turned and let a quick blast of flame fly from his hands. The orange light glinted off of a swarm of robotic blades scything through the air towards them. The terminology for this was the same in both civilian and superhero circles: not good. They ran, tiles cracking under the force of Quake’s footfalls. The blade drones, guided by thermal sensors, pursued Flare’s fleeing form relentlessly.
         When they reached the school's central lobby, a large space with glass and red brick everywhere, Flare turned to face the horde of whistling blades. Jets of flame sprang from the ends of his fingers as he deposited pools of fire on the floor around him, hoping to distract the sensors. Quake tore chunks of masonry from the wall molded them into large spheres, the hardened clay yielding like putty between his massive hands. As Flare shot burst after burst of flame at the drones, Quake hurled the spheres down the corridor, snaring or smashing several of the small robots at a time. The remaining drones flew directly into the flaming pools, preferring the many hundreds of degrees in the pools over Flare’s 197.2 degrees and Quake's measly ninety-eight point six.
         Flare let the fires die, and sighed with relief. It seemed like there was always something new. He turned to check on Quake just in time to hear a buzz of electricity and see the large man drop to the ground, twitching. He rushed to the fallen superhero’s side, “Quake!”
         “...Is not able to come to the phone right now, please leave a message after the beep,” a voice said from the hallway before Flare. Flare's eyes followed the voice to a stocky young man in a filthy t-shirt and ragged jeans. Voltage had apparently been waiting for the right moment to make his presence known.
         Despite the formidable looking metal rod the man held, Flare couldn't resist a sarcastic remark, “You're the only person I know who would rob three banks and still shop from a dumpster.”
         Voltage shrugged, “Guess it depends on what you're into. The cool threads are on hold, but the bank jobs did buy me some pretty sweet toys. Like this baby,” he said, patting the six foot long staff he held. At the end of the staff was an strange mechanism that occasionally made a small whirring sound.
         “Which is supposed to...?”
         “Well, if you must know, it fires tiny electric dynamos capable of generating electrical charges that would knock a bull elephant on its rump. Seems to work pretty well on someone about his size too,” Voltage said, nodding at Quake. “But don't worry, He'll be fine in a while. Or not. I don't know. Doesn’t really matter.” Voltage swung the staff, and the weapon gave four small twangs in rapid succession. Flare saw four gleaming metal spheres, each about the size of a large marble, flying toward him.
         Three of the four spheres went wide, flying past him and bouncing harmlessly off of the walls. Flare unleashed a wave of flame shot from his fingertips with little concern for where Voltage stood, enveloping the fourth sphere. The now-blackened sphere fell to the floor and collapsed into ash as it landed. Apparently Voltage had been wise enough to get out of the way of the fire, He now stood at a safer distance shadowy hallway, outlined by an aura of blue electricity.
         As Voltage raised the staff again, a tendril of flame suddenly raced along the handle and, viper-like, began lashing at his hands. Voltage dropped the rod, glaring at Flare. “You can't just let me have my fun, can you?”
         “Not when innocent lives are involved.” replied Flare, now advancing slowly. “You know, I still can't figure out why you'd want to take over a school.”
         “Why shouldn't I?”
         “Well, there's relatively little money here, and it's not all that defensible. Just from casual observation, it really isn't that great a choice.” Flare said,
         Voltage stopped backing away. “Maybe not. But I didn‘t do this because I wanted money. If I wanted more cash, I could rob another bank. This is about you and me. You got me kicked out of the academy. You wrecked my future, so now I‘m going to take away yours.”
         “That wasn’t my fault and you know it.” Flare said.
         “Shut it. I’m done talking.”
         Voltage rushed at Flare. Flare met this attack with a kick to the villains gut, sending him toppling backward. In a flash Voltage was back up and charging at him again. Electricity crackled as Flare ducked his swing, and drove the air from Voltage‘s lungs with two powerful blows.
         With a wheeze, Voltage broke away and darted to a safe distance. The air crackled with electricity once more, and a bright blue bolt of lightning arced toward Flare. The bolt passed harmlessly by as he dodged out of the way, but not by as much as he had hoped it would. The static of the passing bolt had rustled Flare’s hair as it passed, only to leave a charred patch on the wall. Flare's patience was wearing dangerously thin.
         “You wanna know what I think?” Voltage shouted. “I don't think you wanna fight me. I think you're scared of me.”
         At this ill-timed remark, the superhero's patience snapped like a dry twig. Tiles blackened and cracked underfoot as he advanced on Voltage. Waves of heat emanated from Flare with each footstep. His hair, thus far having only smoked, was now fully aflame, and rather than standing spiked now hung in fiery dreadlocks, flames spreading to cover his shoulders. Smoke came not in wisps but in billows from his hands. Voltage was horrorstruck at the ghastly apparition that bore down on him.
         A blow from Flare knocked Voltage from his feet. When the villain landed a few feet away, Flare strode over and pulled him to his feet, only to hit him again. This happened several times, and each blow that made contact with exposed skin resulted in a burn. As Voltage hit the floor for the last time, Flare, fueled by anger, reached down and grabbed him by the neck, lifting his prone form into the air.
         This was it. This was the end of the road. Voltage wouldn't be a problem anymore; Flare was going to make sure of that. He wrapped his gloved hands around the villains neck, preparing to throttle the life out of him. Flare began to squeeze.
         “Don‘t confuse righteous indignation with personal prejudice...” These words, spoken aloud by no one, made Flare pause. It was something his father, another superhero, used to say. In fact, Flare had heard this so many times that he had lost count. Right now righteous indignation and prejudice were almost inseparable.
         “...Or justice with revenge...” Flare had a response for this. This was justice; he was ridding the world of someone who lived to inflict pain on others.
         “...Or the power to do something with the right to do something...” Oh. That part he hadn't done so well with. Flare‘s philosophy was more often than not “might makes right”, a mindset that had more often than not caused him trouble. On the first day of Superhero Ethics during Flare’s freshman year, Professor Rogers had made the class write down a quote from the school’s founder, Dr. Parker. It was now buried deep in Flare’s notes, but he remembered that it had something to do with great responsibility coming with great power.
         “...And never, ever, use ‘justice’ as an excuse to do what you want.” That hit Flare like a three-ton weight. That was exactly what he was doing, using justice as an excuse to do what he wanted. But wasn't he doing this for the greater good? Wasn‘t he punishing evil? No, that was just another excuse. He was a superhero. He brought criminals to justice, but he didn't execute judgment. Flare laid the unconscious villain on the floor. “It's not my place.”
         “Well done,” a voice, not the one that he had just heard or at least thought he had heard, but that of Dr. Stevens, came from nowhere and everywhere at once. The hallway blurred, then broke down into individual pixels, and then vanished into blackness. It was only then that Flare realized that his eyes were closed, and felt the weight of the simulation helmet on his head. He opened his eyes; he was strapped into the large padded seat of a simulation pod. Dr. Stevens opened the main hatch and climbed into the cramped area, switching off monitors and unplugging cables as he went.
         “What's going on here?” Flare asked, appropriately confused.
         “Daniel, m'boy,” Dr. Stevens replied, using Flare's real name. He didn't believe in using aliases when not in the field, “you have been in this simulation pod for about forty-eight hours now. We hooked you up when you were asleep so you would slip seamlessly into the simulation. The past two days have been all in you head, as they have for all of the seniors. This was the most important of your exams: what you would do when the opportunity for revenge presented itself.”
         “So this was test?”
         Dr. Stevens smiled. “Correct. I have to admit, I got a little worried for a moment there, but in the end you passed with flying colors.”