I was in the classroom again. Mr. Dracos is now teaching math — the most infuriating subject man designed to torture kids. But it wasn't on my mind; honestly, any subjects this past week have all been background noise to me. In fact, if I hadn't had my powers or used the internet, I would have had no clue how I would do my homework. It had been a couple of days since I fought the Combat Robots.

  Gavin immediately called Jason after I was ordered to return to the shop. It turns out Jason didn't know — it was too late. By the time the Americans let him know they'd sent their bots into his territory, the bots were already vaporized by my optic blasts. I remember Jason apologizing over the phone, but before he disconnected, he told me to be wary; they didn't send their bots without a reason. We all knew they were spying on me, probably seeing what they could do to counter my powers or detain me. I was praying they wouldn't figure out the Cosmic Energy limit.

  If I don't eat and use massive amounts of energy, I'm as helpless as any kid my age. The only thing going for me without my powers is that I know how to punch people better.

  "Alright. We're starting a group project today—for our habitat lessons," I heard Mr. Dracos say.

  Almost immediately, everybody groaned. Me too, except inwardly. I hate group projects. Not only am I going to be with another kid I barely know, but there is also a high chance I'll be the only one doing the project. Which doesn't bother me too much. With my speed, even a big project I could finish in only a minute. But no—the biggest problem is someone actually trying to work with me.

  It would be very difficult to explain to my group how I managed to finish a project meant for three people in only one day. And while we could do it at class time, what if my group wants to do it at his house or at my home? That means superhero activity takes less time. I don't care if it's only for a day or only for a short amount of time; that's still bothersome to me, not to mention I have to be on guard for whatever the Monarchs are about to throw at me. At the very least, I hoped for a partner I could get along with.

  "This project will be worth ten percent of your final grade. You will be working with a partner, and I have already chosen your partners for you."

  I heard the class groan harder and start muttering how this was unforgivable and how this was abusing their Canadian rights. I leaned back in my chair. At least I didn't have to deal with the annoying task of finding someone.

  "Benson, you'll be working with Jimmy," Mr. Dracos said while reading the paper.

  My stomach tightened. What kind of stupid movie plot is this!? Listen, I don't care for the victim and his bully having to work together. And this isn't a movie. Why do I have to work with Jimmy Bullard of all people? I stole a glance at him, and it turned out he was looking at me too, with a blank expression.

  But when our eyes met, he quickly looked at the blackboard, ignoring me. I crossed my arms and sulked while Mr. Dracos kept listing names in the background. After a few minutes, we were forced to connect desks and discuss with our partners for the project, having to choose a topic. That puts me where I am right now: Jimmy and I staring at each other silently. From an outside perspective, we'd look like we were having an intense staredown.

  But I was nervous, trembling a little. Even if I have superpowers, Jimmy always had an intense aura about him. He wasn't even glaring at me, but I couldn't help thinking he was piercing my soul.

  "I—"

  "We—"

  We both spoke at the same time. I gulped, and Jimmy turned his head away, briefly clearing his throat.

  "What were you about to say?"

  "So..." I started rather awkwardly, with an unconfident voice. "We should probably pick something easy. Like polar regions."

  Jimmy shook his head. "Rainforests," he said calmly, not even looking up.

  "Uh...why exactly?" I asked, feeling a little annoyed that my idea got shot down.

  Jimmy finally lifted his head and looked at me, expression neutral. "Polar regions are actually harder than they seem. Climate change, food chains, migration patterns — it's a lot."

  That's surprising; it sounds like he knows what he's talking about. I thought someone like him would be too much of a meathead to know about nature and stuff and only calculate the meanest way to stuff a kid into a locker, which he never did. That's what he has his cronies for.

  I cleared my throat. "Okay, well—rainforests are kind of overdone."

  "They're overdone because they're important and have tons of facts." For a moment, he had a sad frown on his face. "High biodiversity, massive oxygen production, and they're disappearing fast."

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  He released a sigh. "It's a shame; they're quite pretty. Have you heard what happened to Russia?"

  A chill ran down my spine, and I froze. Sensing my silence, he narrowed his eyes at me with a curious look. I cleared my throat.

  "N-no, what happened?"

  "Apparently, Russia was testing out some weapons, and it accidentally exploded, wrecking the ecosystem and the lives of the animals. There was also what happened to the Caucasus mountains."

  Guilt hit my chest like a train. I hadn't realized — because of the chaos — but Jimmy was right. Because of my fight with the NWO, I absolutely wrecked regions and plains. I wouldn't be surprised if I'd accidentally doomed a species there. Jimmy sighed again.

  "But that's neither here nor there. The rainforests give us more sources to work with: documentaries, research papers, and case studies. Less chance of running into weak data."

  He made a good point. He seemed to know what he was talking about. But I continued to discuss potential topics. I brought up deserts; again, Jimmy shook his head.

  "Deserts are extremely complicated."

  I scoffed. "How?"

  "They cover about a third of the Earth's land surface," he said smoothly. "And they're not just hot. Cold deserts exist, too. Survival strategies vary a lot."

  Wow — he really is an expert on these things. When has he been like this?

  He shrugged. "Since always."

  Oh crap — I said that out loud. I looked away. I could feel my cheeks flushing a little. Still, being outsmarted and little-bro'd by Jimmy Bullard, who I always thought was nothing but a stoic dumb meathead, hurt my pride a little. We decided to work on rainforests.

  We spread the rubric and our notes across the table. Mr. Dracos expected research slides, our notes, and facts. Thank the lords — we weren't presenting. Now that we'd finished talking, Mr. Dracos gave us the remaining time at school to get started on our project. He handed out some Chromebooks and we started to type away.

  I was on my first slide, searching for interesting images, when I saw Jimmy reach for his water bottle. He tipped it back and took a huge gulp, the kind that makes the bottle squeak. I noticed then that he was sweating quite a bit. Not that I blamed him — it's summer, after all — although for some reason he's always wearing a long-sleeve sweater, even when it's hot. Even last year, I saw him wear long sleeves in gym class.

  He pushed the water away and continued typing before pausing. He then grabbed a sheet of paper and started to write something.

  "Since we're going to be partners for a big project, here's my phone number."

  "Yeah, good point," I nodded.

  After he finished, he lifted his arm to give it to me, but his sleeve rode up. For half a second, a ribbon of skin showed the inside of his forearm — it looked like someone gripped his arm way too hard. I blinked at the sight, but before I could process what I was seeing, Jimmy's hand snapped back, and the sleeve dropped down. He covered his arm with his other hand like it was nothing.

  His face didn't flinch. He didn't stammer. Jimmy carefully slid the paper to me. I silently grabbed it, folded it, then stuffed the paper in my pocket. I opened my mouth to make a joke about him fighting people a bit too much, but I wisely kept my mouth shut.

  For the rest of the day, we didn't talk.

  RED

  Near Nova Mansion...

  JUSTICE

  Michael thrust his baton at the training robot, which pierced its torso. He then had to roll away from a swipe from another bot. With a horizontal swing, he cut the machine in half despite wielding a blunt weapon. Michael stood straight and wiped the sweat off his face.

  He was in a spacious area in a forest near the Nova mansion; around him, littered in the pile, were dozens of combat robots that were mangled or torn apart — about seven hundred of them, to be exact. They are about as strong as a grizzly bear and have the speed and reflexes of a cheetah. Strong, but weaker than the combat variants deployed to Toronto.

  Michael flashed back to the memory:

  They were all sitting on their couch, watching the large screen. It showed Red Justice absolutely tearing apart the robots, and he seemed to be fooling around rather than taking the robots seriously. Gabe gulped beside him, and Michael didn't blame him. That speed, that strength — team Nova had never encountered anyone like that. Granted, it was clear from the footage that he didn't have much precision, which would signify a lack of martial-arts experience, but it didn't matter.

  His raw might compensated for that.

  "Uh, so how are we going to survive against that guy, let alone detain him?"

  "I have no clue, brother..."

  Ricardo crossed his arms and looked at the other part of the screen where Nine was watching their reactions.

  "Mr. Nine, was it really wise to send Combat Bots to a foreign country, especially without permission?"

  Nine shook his head. "It's necessary. It's no secret that the Canadian Monarch is defending him rather than capturing the creature. All Monarchs are trying to capture Red Justice, so even if they dislike it, it would be unwise to deny the other Monarchs." He explained.

  The team watched as he broke every Combat Bot. He was muttering something under his breath — probably communicating with someone.

  "So any theories on little red's friend on the other line?" Arti crossed her arms.

  "No. Whoever's behind the line has a very powerful firewall, so it couldn't be traced or hacked."

  "But that is a SEE Goggles, right? And that suit... it sort of looks like custom lightweight Adamantite body armour, right? Alien or not, someone like this shouldn't have possession of highly advanced armour."

  "Arti makes a good point," Ricardo said. "Could it be that the Canadian Monarch is supplying Red Justice with equipment?"

  "A likely theory, but not confirmed, is that the current Monarch is much sharper at keeping secrets and information than its predecessor. Regardless, analyze these videos as thoroughly as possible. The Canadian Monarch restricted any drones and bots from entering its borders. So this is the only information you can get for the time being... farewell and good luck."

  Nine's screen vanished, leaving the footage of Red Justice grabbing the drone before crushing it. The video rewound to him fighting the robots, leaving Team Nova to ponder how they could take down this powerful person.

  Michael shook his head. Now wasn't the time to get distracted. He took a deep breath before pulling out a remote and tapping a few buttons — and, suddenly, more training combat robots appeared out of the woods to rush at him. Michael roared, rushing in with his baton at the ready.