Trainee Superhero (Book One) by C. H. Aalberry

The bullets ping off my shield without
even lowering my shields. I still can’t move, so all I can do is
watch as he walks over to a grenade launcher, shoulders it and
brings it over.
    “Bomb test,” says Brat gleefully.
    “Wait… what?” I ask.
    The grenade hits me right on the chin. It
doesn’t hurt, but the lights are bright enough to blind me. My
shields don’t even drop below 99%, so it seems I’ve got nothing to
worry about from old fashioned projectile weapons. Unfortunately
for me, Small Talk has access to a whole arsenal of more
dangerous guns. He picks up a laser cannon and aims it at me from
only a few feet away. He shoots, and the burst of light curves into
my chest and disappears when it hits my shield. Small Talk re-aims the cannon and fires again. This one curves into my leg. I
can feel the warmth on my skin, but my shields are still 97%. Small Talk walks right up to me, places the cannon against
my chest and pulls the trigger. The blast ripples across my shields
but doesn’t even knock me over.
    “Try the plasma cannon,” suggests Brat .
    Don’t try the plasma cannon! Don’t try
the-
    Small Talk picks up a plasma cannon
and levels it at me. The first blast arches and hits my head; the
second engulfs my leg and burns the sand at my feet into a single
glowing crystal. Small Talk hits me with the third blast. It
stings a little. Shields at 95%.
    “Stop trying to kill me!” I shout.
    Small Talk picks up a large axe with a
glowing blade and bangs it against my head. It bounces with a
thud-thud-thud that doesn’t hurt. He tries again with a two-handed
sword that takes 1% off my shields every time it hits me. He
smashes a heavy mace against my knee, but I barely feel it. He
pulls out a pair of plasma gloves and slams them against my head.
That hurts, but not badly. My shields start rising as soon as he
leaves me alone.
    “Decent shields,” says Talented Brat thoughtfully, “time for some bigger guns.”
    A mechanical nightmare walks out from behind
the rocks. It looks a little like a triclops, but it has seven arms
and a small cockpit in the head. Each of the seven arms ends in a
very large and unique weapon. They don’t look battle-ready, but
have open panels and are connected by loose power cords.
    “There’s some kind of monster out here,” I
shout.
    “Yep… and who do you think is driving it?”
says Brat , “Now shush. This is going to hurt you a lot more
than it’s going to hurt me.”
    He shoots me with each of the weapons
individually, and then in pairs. The attacks lower my shields to
about 80%, but no more. Brat tries the arms in sets of
three, but my shields hold up.
    “Give it everything,” orders Small
Talk .
    Brat giggles, levels all the cannons
at me and lets loose. It’s a dazzling display of light and my
shields are sizzling and popping. They hold, but is it getting
warmer in my suit? The guns blast me down to 60% shields, and then
stop.
    “Time to get the really big guns,”
says Talented Brat .
    A second walker emerges from behind the
rocks. It’s a simple thing, just a cannon on legs. It ambles
clumsily over to me and aims its barrel at my chest. Then it and Brat open fire together. My shields light up; the dial on my
arm drops to 56%...48%...30%...uh oh.
    “30%!” I scream, but all I can hear is a
crackle of white noise.
    Something hard hits me, and I fall to one
knee.
    Thousands of little blue discs burst from my
helmet and form a round shield in front of me. The shield absorbs
the worst of the attack, the discs popping and reforming as the
round shield slowly shrinks away beneath the array of weapons
focused on me. More blue discs appear and form a dome around me.
Nothing is getting through, and my regular shields start to
recharge.
    “Ha!” I say, “I have superpowers.
Finally!”
    My little blue guardians all burst together
and a laser blast lifts me off my feet and throws me through the
air. I hit the ground and slide through rocks. A shrill