The System Gave Everyone Superpowers

The trial lasted for three hours.

Kilpatrick’s legal team systematically destroyed the HRC’s case. They argued about why he punched them, and who arrested him.

They brought up the rising crime rates in District 9 since the HRC suspended patrols. They showed statistics proving that Heroes only responded to crimes in wealthy neighborhoods.

They painted Leo as a desperate citizen forced to protect his own home because the government had abandoned it.

The prosecutor tried to fight back, but he was completely outmatched. Every time he tried to cite a law, Kilpatrick cited a human right.

Finally, it was time for closing arguments.

The prosecutor stood up, looking exhausted.

"The defense has put on a good show today," the prosecutor told the jury. "But the facts remain. Leonard Spike is not a licensed Hero. If we let him walk free, we are telling the public that anyone can put on a mask and fight in the streets. We cannot allow that. The law is the law. You must find him guilty."

He sat down.

Kilpatrick stood up for his closing argument.

He walked slowly to the center of the courtroom, looking directly at the jury, making eye contact with every single person in the box.

"The law is a tool," Kilpatrick said. "It is supposed to be a tool used to build a safe society. But over the last three hundred years, the HRC has turned the law into a weapon."

He pointed toward the doors of the courtroom.

"Listen," Kilpatrick said.

The courtroom was silent for a moment. Then, through the walls, we could hear the faint chant of the thousands of protesters outside.

Free Leo. Free Leo.

"Those people outside are not anarchists," Kilpatrick said. "They are not terrorists. They are teachers, mechanics, and parents. And they are terrified. They are terrified because the monsters are real, and the Heroes they pay to protect them only care about energy drink commercials."

"Leonard Spike is not a criminal," Kilpatrick continued, turning to look at Leo. "He is a symptom of a broken system. If you convict him today, you are simply protecting the monopolies of defense contractors. You are telling those people outside that their lives matter less than corporate profits."

Kilpatrick turned back to the jury.

"I ask you to look past the HRC's corporate mandates. Look at the truth. Find Leonard Spike not guilty."

Kilpatrick returned to his seat.

The judge banged her gavel. "The jury will now deliberate."

The jury filed out of the room.

The courtroom buzzed with nervous energy. Reporters whispered into their phones. The HRC lawyers looked sick.

I sat back in my VIP seat and waited.

It didn't take long.

Only forty-five minutes later, the jury filed back into the room.

The courtroom went dead silent.

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" the judge asked.

The jury foreperson, a middle-aged woman, stood up. She looked nervous, but she held a piece of paper firmly in her hand.

"We have, Your Honor," she said.

"On the charge of Class A Unlicensed Blessing Combat," the judge read. "How do you find?"

"Not guilty," the foreperson said clearly.

The crowd in the gallery gasped.

"On the charge of felony vigilantism," the judge continued.

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"Not guilty," the foreperson repeated.

The courtroom erupted.

People cheered, reporters shouted, and the prosecutor buried his face in his hands.

Leo slumped forward onto the defense table, burying his face in his arms, shaking.

Kilpatrick placed a reassuring hand on Leo's shoulder and nodded at the judge.

The judge banged her gavel loudly, trying to restore order.

"Quiet in the court!" she yelled.

The room slowly quieted down.

"Mr. Spike," the judge said, looking down at Leo. "You have been cleared of the felony charges. However, the court cannot ignore that a public disturbance occurred. You are hereby fined five hundred dollars for a misdemeanor noise violation. Case dismissed."

She slammed the gavel down one last time.

It was over. Leo was free.

I stood up from my seat.

Kilpatrick had just beaten the System using the law to break the law. It was beautiful.

I turned around and slipped out the back doors of the courtroom before the reporters could swarm the VIP section.

I walked down the back hallway of the courthouse and pushed open the exit door.

I stepped outside.

It had started to rain. A cool drizzle was falling over the city.

I could hear the massive roar of the crowd at the front of the building. They were cheering for Leo and Kilpatrick.

I started walking down the sidewalk, heading back toward my penthouse.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out. It was a text message from Captain May.

Trial results are in. It’s a disaster for Romder. But it gets worse for us.

I stopped walking and typed back: What happened?

May replied instantly.

Gadol just held a press conference. Because of the massive positive PR from the trial, their main division has decided to reopen funding for the Hero division. They are no longer bankrupt.

I stared at the screen.

Another text from May came through.

Gadol has officially reinstated Leonard Spike as a licensed Hero. And they have officially been accepted to the Metropolitan Tournament. We will see them on December 5th.

I lowered my phone.

The rain fell softly around me.

Leo was a licensed Hero again, backed by Gadol's main division and Kilpatrick's political machine.

Aegis Defense. Gadol. Chloe. The Board. My family.

They were all going to be in one building in December.

I looked up at the sky and smiled.

No matter who won the ideological war or who beat who in the Tournament, one thing was certain.

Seasons would make sure he looked the best doing it.

I put my phone away and walked home. The board was fully set. Now, I just had to wait for the game to begin.

I woke up and looked at my phone.

December 5th.

The day was finally here. I got out of my bed and walked to my closet. Today, I had to be "Seasons."

I pulled out my Hero suit, put it on and looked in the mirror. I adjusted the Braple energy drink logo on my chest, making sure it was perfectly straight. I wasn't going to mess it up.

I practiced my fake smile in the mirror one last time.

I left my penthouse and took a corporate car to the Aegis Defense Tower taking the private elevator straight to the roof. The morning air was cold, and the wind was blowing hard on the helipad. A massive black helicopter with the Aegis logo painted on the side was waiting for us. The blades were already spinning loudly.

Captain May, Mr. Graves, and Genevieve were standing near the helicopter.

Genevieve was wearing her bright blue Apex Energy suit, her hair perfectly styled. She looked at me and rolled her eyes, but she didn't say anything mean. We had to pretend to be a team today.

Mr. Graves smiled when he saw me.

"Seasons!" Graves yelled over the helicopter blades. "You look perfect. Are you ready for the big day?"

"Always ready, sir!" I yelled back cheerfully, flashing my golden smile.

We climbed into the helicopter. The inside was luxurious, with soft leather seats and a small fridge filled with drinks. I strapped myself in next to Genevieve.

The helicopter lifted off the roof and flew toward the stadium.

"Listen closely," Captain May said, looking at me and Genevieve. "Today is a massive opportunity for Aegis Defense. The Metropolitan Tournament is the most watched sporting event of the year. Every major sponsor and defense contractor will be there."

"We are not just guests," Mr. Graves added, leaning forward. "We are scouts. We want to recruit the best graduating students before anyone else can get to them. I want you two to look powerful, wealthy, and successful. Show those kids what happens when they sign with Aegis."

"Don't worry, Mr. Graves," Genevieve said. "I know how to work a crowd."

"And you, Seasons?" Graves asked.

"I'll make sure everyone sees the Braple logo," I promised.

Graves chuckled and leaned back in his seat.

I looked out the helicopter window. We were flying fast. The tournament was the biggest sporting event in Drofman.

We were heading straight for Metropolitan Academy.

After five years, I was finally going back.

I wasn't a Level 1 failure anymore. I was a Level 50, S-Rank corporate idol with half a million dollars in my bank account.

I leaned my head against the glass of the window and watched the city blur by. I wanted to watch my family realize how wrong they were about me.

The helicopter banked sharply.

Up ahead, I could see it. The Metropolitan Academy stadium. It was massive, shaped like a giant steel bowl, waiting for the games to begin.