How to Train Your Heroes

<!-- Super Name: Costume: Powers: -->

It had been a quiet morning.

Breakfast was approaching perfection.

Thick slices of SPAM sizzled on a small electric hot plate, carefully seared until their edges developed a delicate caramelized crust and the rendered fat glazed each slice with a luxurious sheen. Beside them, instant noodles simmered to precisely the right tenderness in a deeply aromatic broth prepared from the finest contents of a silver seasoning packet. Steam curled through the cell with the quiet dignity of a meal that had absolutely no business being described this elegantly.

With the cooking nearly finished, you raised the morning's carefully prepared accompaniment toward your lips: a cup of Château Montclair Premium Gold instant coffee, dark, fragrant, and obtained through the Locke Island commissary in a bulk box of thirty sachets for $5.99.

Imported, according to the box.

Retirement had been good.

Admittedly, Locke Island Maximum Security Penitentiary was not where most people pictured spending it.

Beyond the reinforced bars of your cell, another morning moved through the prison. Guards made their rounds. Doors opened and closed farther down the block. Inmates argued, laughed, traded contraband, and went about the strange routines that eventually made even a prison for supervillains feel mundane.

Across the block, King Komodo occupied a reinforced Red cell built around several tons of irritated reptilian supervillain. The enormous Komodo-dragon humanoid sat hunched on the edge of his bunk in a Red uniform, thick tail curled along the floor as he stared silently through the bars.

Two cells down, a considerably less impressive prisoner sat inside another Red containment cell.

He wore Grey.

The clown henchman had permanent white facial makeup, a red nose, and the miserable expression of a man reconsidering several recent decisions. According to the guards, his actual offense had been stealing another inmate's food.

King Komodo's food.

The Red cell was for his protection.

Then three sets of footsteps stopped outside your cell.

Valor Fist stood on the other side of the bars.

The red-and-blue costume was difficult to mistake. So was the man wearing it. One of the most famous heroes alive stood with his arms loosely folded, regarding you with the calm familiarity of someone who knew exactly whose cell he had walked up to.

Beside him stood a young blonde woman in a black-and-red bodysuit and cropped jacket. She looked considerably newer to all of this. Her eyes moved from you, to the hot plate, to the SPAM, then briefly toward the warning placards surrounding your cell before returning to you with open curiosity.

Director Kevin Barker stood on Valor Fist's other side, dressed for a government meeting rather than a prison block. He carried a thin folder beneath one arm.

"Special Assets Program," Kevin said without preamble. "Project Hero encounters problems requiring capabilities, experience, or perspectives that conventional personnel don't always possess. Locke Island happens to contain an unusually concentrated supply of all three."

Valor Fist's expression tightened slightly.

"They're people, Kevin. Not equipment."

"The federal government has spent an extraordinary amount of money constructing cells specifically to contain these 'people.'" Kevin glanced toward the reinforced cell. "Forgive the terminology."

The blonde hero looked between them.

"Wait. This is the program you two were arguing about?"

"Discussing," Valor Fist corrected.

"You said putting bombs in people's necks was insane."

"Because it is."

Kevin's mouth flattened.

"The proposal was a control mechanism."

"One you already know won't reliably control half the people you'd want for this program." Valor Fist looked toward him. "If someone can be trusted with a mission, give them a reason to come back. If they can't, leave them in the cell. A kill switch doesn't turn a bad decision into a good one."

Kevin regarded him silently for a moment, then opened the folder.

"Which is why there is no explosive device."

The blonde woman blinked.

"Oh. Cool. That's... probably a good start."

Kevin ignored that.

"Successful participation earns consideration toward sentence reduction and privileges. Refusal changes nothing. Violate the agreement, and you return here."

Valor Fist looked through the bars at you.

"And while you're out, you're treated like a member of the team."

"Temporary government asset," Kevin corrected.

"Member of the team."

Kevin exhaled through his nose.

The young hero's attention drifted back toward you. She leaned slightly toward Valor Fist and lowered her voice just enough to demonstrate that she had not yet mastered whispering.

"Sooo... who is this?"

Valor Fist glanced at her, then back toward you. A small smile touched the corner of his mouth.

"Want to answer that yourself?"