PRETTY BOY: Ah-ah-ah. You chicas going to have to find a better way to work this out.
PAGE 12
PANEL ONE: PRETTY BOY in the midst of the ROOKIES, willing to be ADMIRED.
THROWBACK: Who are YOU?
PRETTY BOY: They call me Pretty Boy — yes, yes, I know you can see why. Now move along. You all supposed to be in your rooms.
PANEL TWO: PRETTY BOY is irritated with COLDBLOODED, who’s giving him the EYE.
PRETTY BOY (Cont. — to COLDBLOODED): You, too. Go on. I know you worried, first night away from your mamas
COLDBLOODED: Shut up, bitch! Don’t talk to me like you know me!
PANEL THREE: COLDBLOODED is now LEANING INTO PRETTY BOY’s grill while the others watch with various degrees of interest/nervousness.
PRETTY BOY: Oh, you going to throw some catos with me? You want to mix it?
SNAIL (quietly): Fix it.
COLDBLOODED: You disrespect me, you’re disrespecting all the Los Reyes Screwtops.
PRETTY BOY: Oh, man, you sniffin’ the big time and you’re STILL reppin’ that gang shit? Are you gonna take a shot or just stand there like a pussy?
PANEL FOUR: COLDBLOODED takes a swing. PRETTY BOY is gone.
PANEL FIVE: PRETTY BOY taps him on the shoulder from behind.
PANEL SIX: COLDBLOODED swings on him again. PRETTY BOY is gone.
PAGE 13
PANEL ONE: PRETTY BOY has reappeared, GRINNING. COLDBLOODED POINTS at him with his RIGHT HAND.
COLDBLOODED: Motherfucker…! I don’t have to hit you to mess you up!
PANEL TWO: COLDBLOODED’s HAND turns GLOWING ORANGE HOT, so fast there are little SPARKS of BURNING DUST.
PANEL THREE: PRETTY BOY hits him HARD, and so fast it seems simultaneous — we see him STRIKE THREE TIMES.
SFX: CHUD! CHUD! CHUD!
PANEL FOUR: COLDBLOODED is down on the ground with PRETTY BOY’s foot on his throat and the other on the wrist of his HOT HAND.
PRETTY BOY: Check it — there are only thirteen people faster than me in the WHOLE WORLD. You ain’t one of ‘em. Now get the hell back to your block before I pull your eyeballs out and play hacky-sack with ‘em, chavalo.
PANEL FIVE: THROWBACK puppydogs PRETTY BOY.
THROWBACK: Thirteen? Wow! You must be a Level 8. Even Overdrive’s only a Level 9.
PRETTY BOY (to THROWBACK): You into that stuff, huh? Actually, I was only number fifteen in the world until last week, then this East Coast guy named Courier got a rip in his friction suit when he was doing, like, Mach Mucho — vato blew up like a Tijuana bottle rocket…
PAGE 14
PANEL ONE: DOLLY and MINK are leaning in the MEN’S DORM doorway — well, DOLLY does, MINK hangs back, looking CONTEMPTUOUS. SNAIL and THROWBACK are looking at something on SNAIL’S FOLD-DOWN computer screen.
DOLLY: We’re going upstairs to get new costumes.
THROWBACK: Yo, Doll. Make sure they don’t cover up TOO much.
DOLLY: Ooh. Aren’t YOU a bad boy…
MINK: Shit. You think you’re Big Mack, but you’re only Vanilla Shake, white boy. And speakin’ of dumb as shit, what is that you’re looking at? Oh, jeesus, is that Plusdotcom? That shit is so OLD.
ANTHONY: The superhero website? Explains a lot.
THROWBACK: I hope you ain’t putting down Plusdotcom, because they got it ALL. Where else a beginner gonna get some face? Look, they got an article on one of the guys who’s in here with us! Toxin, his name is. They made him one a’ their YVORs.
MINK: Why vee oh WHAT?
THROWBACK: Young Villains on the Rise.
ANTHONY THOUGHT-CAPTION: I swear to god, has this whole country gone crazy while I was overseas?
DOLLY: Little boys and their toys.
THROWBACK: Hey, I ain’t playin’ — I take this stuff seriously. This is research.
ANTHONY: That ain’t research. That’s self-abuse.
PAGE 15
PANEL ONE (SMALL): The MEN are getting out of an INDUSTRIAL ELEVATOR. THROWBACK (wearing a NEW) is looking REPROACHFULLY at ANTHONY.
THROWBACK:…But you didn’t have to do me like that in front of the ladies. That was cold.
PANEL TWO (BIG): They are in the midst of a HUGE INDUSTRIAL AREA with LOTS OF BRANCHES, CORRIDORS, WEIRD EQUIPMENT, ETC. This could be
our chance to see a lot of OTHER “STUDENTS” like TOXIN, some TEACHERS, ETC.
THROWBACK (Cont.): Man, how are you supposed to find ANYTHING around here?
ANTHONY: They said the weapon shop was on level 5. We’re on level 5. Follow the blue line. I’m relying on you — I can’t even SEE color with these things on.
PAGE 16
PANEL ONE: THROWBACK is INTERESTED, in a fan-boy way.
THROWBACK: So, what’s your trip? I mean, like, your powers?
ANTHONY: I see into the infra-red and ultra-violet. And I can do some other stuff.
THROWBACK: Oh, kind of like Pipistrel, huh? That bat-chick? You a mutant, too?
PANEL TWO: THROWBACK sees TIME MASTER/MASTER TIME, who is pushing past COLDBLOODED — THROWBACK’S EYES WIDEN. He’s STOPPED LISTENING.
ANTHONY: No. I got my powers the old-fashioned way.
ANTHONY (Cont., quietly): Shot in the back by my best friend, then shoved into a vat of active nanobuilders…
TIME MASTER: No! Don’t go! They’re waiting for you — they know!
COLDBLOODED: Look out, you crazy mother…!
PANEL THREE: TIME MASTER STOPS right in front of ANTHONY, GRABS his LAPELS (or the equivalent.) ANTHONY is TAKEN ABACK.
TIME MASTER: Don’t you understand? They’re way ahead of you — HE’S way ahead of you.
ANTHONY: What the hell are you saying?
PANEL FOUR: TIME MASTER STUMBLES AWAY, leaving ANTHONY shaken.
TIME MASTER: Well…then you better take sun block. And plenty of it.
ANTHONY: What was THAT about?
THROWBACK: I don’t know, but, dude, that was Time Master! He fought everyone! He’s the guy that dropped that dinosaur into the Tonight Show! Ate like a hundred people before Regent showed up and knocked it out! A T-Rex!
SNAIL: S-s-special effects.
PANEL FIVE: THROWBACK pissed — SNAIL looking ASHAMED.
THROWBACK: No way! It was real! From, like, TIME.
SNAIL: Sorry. I can’t help it. I just…say things. They rhyme, sometimes.
COLDBLOODED: What, you trying to be a rapper?
PANEL SIX: ANTHONY has found a DOOR, MARKED “ARMORY”
SNAIL: No, it’s a s-syndrome. I’ve got a…a syndrome.
COLDBLOODED: So do I. It’s called “I’m sick of hearin’ your retarded ass.”
ANTHONY: I think I found the place.
PAGE 17
PANEL ONE: IN THE WEAPONS SHOP with FLAK, a middle-aged black man in a functional BATTLE-SUIT. He looks like he might have been a top-sergeant in the military — very short gray-flecked military cut, no facial hair. He has an unlit cigar in his mouth at almost all times. He’s addressing COLDBLOODED and THROWBACK.
FLAK: You two I got no use for.
THROWBACK: Why? What do you mean?
PANEL TWO: FLAK frowns at THROWBACK.
FLAK: ‘Cause you ain’t got no weapons, stupid.
THROWBACK: You could give us some.
PANEL THREE: FLAK STARES at THROWBACK.
PANEL FOUR: FLAK to THROWBACK.
FLAK: Boy, you have no idea of the countless ways in which I could permanently fuck you up. It’s only because you haven’t yet earned back a single penny for this facility that I’m gonna refrain from ripping off your nutsack right this moment. Go on. You boys get the hell out of here.
PANEL FIVE: FLAK TURNS to ANTHONY and SNAIL. Behind him, THROWBACK and COLDBLOODED are heading briskly for the exit.
FLAK: As for you two, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do for you…
FLAK (Cont.): Special Forces Paladin-class defensive suit. Doesn’t need much but routine maintenance. Stolen?
ANTHONY: Not exactly. Put it this way — I was wearing it when I left. You’ve seen one of these before?