The next day, Liza, Braxton, and Justin arrived early to the sparring room, each of them quietly going through stretches and warm-ups. The air was heavy with tension, muscles tight, and breaths controlled as they mentally prepared for the mock battle against Captain Fantastica. Every stretch, every roll of the shoulders, felt heavier than usual; none of them spoke much, each lost in their own anticipation.
After a few minutes of silence, Evermend casually walked in, dragging a steel chair behind her. She set it down at a perfect vantage point over the sparring ring and lowered herself into it, pulling out her phone as if nothing about her presence was noteworthy. The rookies all raised an eyebrow, exchanging subtle glances.
Justin was the first to break the silence, clearing his throat and asking, "Uh… Miss Evermend? What exactly is going on here?"
Evermend shrugged, tilting her head at him and motioning toward her civilian clothes. "You don't have to call me Evermend or 'Miss' right now. Today's my day off," she said casually. "Just Talya Zentry. I… uh, forgot something in my office and happened to notice your little mock battle was going on, so I thought I'd come watch." Her words were smooth, though the slight glimmer in her eyes gave away the lie.
Braxton gave a small grin, shrugging. "Well, we hope you enjoy, Talya."
Evermend smirked, lowering her phone for a moment. "I can't wait to see how you three fare against Fantastica. I hope I made the right call putting him in charge of this little training session. Fingers crossed," she said, her tone lighter and less formal than usual.
A few minutes later, Captain Fantastica entered, fully suited and ready. His eyes flicked briefly to Evermend, a faint hint of surprise crossing his face before he remembered exactly who she was. "Bet your cats are lonely and would be wondering where their mama went," he said with a teasing smirk.
Evermend's eyebrow arched. "How's wife number five today?" She shot back, her tone equal parts barbed and playful.
The two exchanged several more passive-aggressive quips, each barb pointed but clearly familiar, as though decades of unspoken camaraderie made this their language.
Braxton leaned back against the wall beside Justin and whispered, "Do they… always do that?"
Liza snorted softly. "Yeah. Somehow, despite all that back-and-forth, they're basically best friends. I don't get it either, but hey… whatever works works."
Once their verbal sparring faded into silence, Fantastica turned his attention to the rookies, his face brightening with a smile that radiated both pride and challenge. "Alright," he said, pointing toward them, "today's the day. You three younglings are in for the test of your lives."
The trio exchanged nervous glances. This was not just a mock battle; it was the first real measure of how far they'd come in their training.
Everyone makes their way into the sparring ring, the polished surface marked with old scuffs and impact lines from years of combat drills. Three against one should favor the rookies, but none of them mistake Captain Fantastica for an ordinary opponent. This is a pro's pro, someone who has survived the hero business for two full decades. Evermend steps up beside the ring, folds her arms, and gives a sharp signal with her hand. The mock battle begins.
Fantastica moves instantly. Magic circles flare to life around his limbs, tightening like restraints turned inside out as his speed and strength spike. He launches forward, aiming straight for Liza. A kick whips toward her head, fast enough to punish hesitation, but her situational awareness training kicks in. She spots the angle of his approach and slips aside at the last second, the strike cutting through empty air.
Fantastica lands and glances her way. "Good," he says, genuine approval in his voice.
He doesn't stop moving. Spinning midair, he redirects and drives a heavy kick into Braxton. Braxton blocks with crossed arms, boots screeching as he slides backward across the ring. Justin reacts immediately, flying in to tackle Fantastica out of the air. Fantastica reads it cleanly. He plants both feet on Justin's shoulders and slams him into the floor with a brutal double stomp that sends a dull shock through the room.
Fantastica flips back and lands smoothly, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck as if loosening up before a jog. The rookies regroup, each taking a breath. Justin pushes himself up, jaw tight but eyes focused.
Evermend claps slowly from the sidelines. "Still throwing rookies around like they're training dummies, huh? You really do still have it, old man."
Fantastica snorts. "Careful, Talya. You say that like you're not just a few years behind me."
She arches a brow. "Funny. I don't remember needing magic circles to keep up."
He grins back at her. "Funny. I don't remember asking."
The tension snaps back into place as Fantastica turns his attention to the rookies again, stance lowering, magic circles flaring brighter.
The three of them huddle near the edge of the ring, voices low. Braxton rubs his forearms, shaking out the lingering sting.
"Man, that kick sucked," he mutters. "It felt like getting hit by a truck, and he didn't even give me a second to shift."
As if to make a point, his body ripples. Muscles swell, fur spreads, and claws scrape lightly against the floor as he settles into his were-tiger form with an annoyed huff. "Next time, I'm not letting him tag me first."
Justin cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders, his eyes never leaving Fantastica. "Good. We're warmed up now," he says. "Soon as I see an opening, I'm paying him back for that stomp."
Liza steps slightly in front of both of them, lowering her voice and fixing them with a hard look. "No. You're not doing anything stupid," she says flatly. "This isn't some random we can rush."
Justin glances at her. "You saying he's special?"
"I'm saying he's a pro," Liza replies. "Fantastica's one of the most recognizable heroes in Haven City. He's fought outnumbered more times than either of you can count, and he's good at it. If we charge in blind, we're dead meat."
Braxton nods, ears flicking. "Yeah. She's right. He leaped in there and took on all three of us like it was nothing. We've gotta move together."
Justin exhales through his nose, then gives a small shrug. "Alright, alright. Teamwork, but I still want a receipt for that stomp," he says.
Liza rolls her eyes. "Focus," she says. "We coordinate, we cover each other, and we don't give him clean angles."
Justin nods, his grin fading into something sharper. "Fine. Let's do it your way."