Diary of a Teenaged Mimic

Dear Diary,

I am such a stupid bitch sometimes.

I forgot about hangovers.

I mean, that was not a small bottle. Small enough to kill it pretty quick, but not small. I came to with an odd, unpleasant mixture of ’still tipsy’ and ’seriously hung over’.

Saffron knocked on my door, and I buried my head under the pillow moaning. She knocked again, and I groaned something nearly incomprehensible to me, and I was the one moaning it. Finally, with the third knock, I crawled out of bed, scaled my door, and pulled it open. Saffron looked down at me and smirked, ”Y’know, I might get used to looking at you down there if you keep this up.”

A second later, she must have gotten a better look at me in the gloom of my room and said, ”Oh, shit.” She reached down and gently lifted me to my feet, saying, ”Nightmares again?”

I shook my head and immediately regretted it. ”No. Hungover.”

She rolled her eyes. ”Yeah, I could tell that. I’m getting tipsy off the fumes from standing next to you. Did you sleep, or just pass out?”

”Same difference. No nightmares though.” I gave her a weak thumbs up.

She escorted me back to my bed, then went over to the armoire to pull out a clean uniform, frowning as she nearly tripped over the small pile of dirty ones in front of it. ”It’s... really not. Trust me.”

I leaned over, elbows on knees, the palms of my hands holding my head up and covering my eyes. ”I know. No nightmares though.”

She brought back a clean uniform and got to dressing me like a toddler. ”Yes, but you don’t need your liver failing before you graduate.” I managed to push the chemise away, and she shrugged and threaded my arms through the sleeves of my shirt.

”Pfft. If it’s failing it should have studied harder.”

That got a snort out of her as she tied my blouse behind my back. ”If you’re feeling good enough to crack jokes, you can put your own pants on,” she said as she handed me a pair.

I pulled them on, moving my head as little as possible. I wound up standing next to my bed with Saffron staring at me. ”I shouldn’t be surprised, but... really, Diaz? Straight up commando?”

”Yep. No sandpaper in my crotch.”

She rolled her eyes and helped me into my jacket. Once I looked more or less ’in uniform’ she looked me up and down and said, ”You’ll do.”

I waggled my eyebrows and said, ”Oh, really?”

She just rolled her eyes again, shook her head, and grabbed my hand to lead me out of my room toward the Dining Hall.

While my head pounded like my brain wanted to escape confinement, my stomach hadn’t gotten the entire hangover memo. The moment I smelled the food arriving, my mouth tried to water despite my awful case of cotton mouth. I grabbed a pitcher and chugged the whole thing, repeated it with another pitcher, and by the time Marie arrived with the food I’d made it halfway through a third.

”Bath tonight?” I asked while putting my best ’I’m not hung over, really’ smile on. She nodded and set a tray of spicy eggs in front of me. This batch even had what looked like cut up scallions and peppers in. I started cramming eggs down my pie hole as fast as I could, and the ROTCs and gobbos all rushed to snag some before I devoured them all. At some point I realized that not only did I have a powerful thirst, enough to empty two pitchers every time they brought a fresh three, but I’d also missed two meals while drinking my nightmares into submission. By the time I stood up, the gobbos had stopped eating entirely to stare at me, and even the ROTCs paid more attention to my epic mealtime than their own food.

When the Barbies stood, I dropped my food and bolted for the Practice Yard. I wouldn’t try to beat Mr. ’I can teleport and fuck around with illusions’ duBois to the Yard, but I’d be damned if I let Larry get there first.

Once we’d all arrived and gotten into formation, the Marshall nodded. ”Okay, Cadets. As I’m sure Cadet Lancaster has been eagerly awaiting, this week we’ll begin sparring.”

He gave the kids who had been waiting for this a few moments to cheer and crow about it before continuing. ”Last week we went over the basics of hand to hand fighting. None of you are what I’d call proficient yet, but you at least shouldn’t injure yourself taking a swing at someone.”

He paused again, this time meeting each of our gazes before going on. ”As most of you already know, Phileo City does not have an official police force. As Heroes, you’ll be expected to patrol the city on a regular basis, and a big part of any Phileo City Hero’s job is apprehending criminals. While Heroes are authorized to administer summary justice, most criminals are, as you might imagine, petty criminals. They steal stuff, they beat people up, they vandalize things. As such, the use of lethal force is contraindicated. Even a Hero can be found guilty of murder if they overstep. So today that’s going to be your rules of engagement. Nothing lethal, nothing a competent healer can’t bring back to full function. Now, do we have any volunteers to go first?”

I raised my hand, despite a history of not volunteering, because I still remembered my whole ’graduate, become a Hero, ???, Profit!’ plan.

”Okay then. Lancaster. Diaz. Front and center up here. For this first bout, I’ll be refereeing.”

Lancaster just had to cut in. ”Isn’t that a little unrealistic? We won’t have referees on the street.”

DuBois didn’t roll his eyes, but they twitched heavenward before he could stop them. ”You’re right, but most of you aren’t really up to determining when an opponent is down for the count and when they’re faking to get the drop on you. The refs will be there to keep someone from beating a surrendered opponent and to catch someone who surrenders and then tries for a cheap shot.”

”Don’t we all need to learn that though?” Lancaster just did not know when to shut the hell up.

”Yes, you do, but that’s for later. Today, just concentrate on your hand to hand fighting.” He lined both of us up separated by a single paver, with two pavers in every direction around us cleared of Cadets. Beyond that the remaining dozen or so Cadets surrounded our ’ring’. ”Are you both good to begin?”

”Yes, Marshall!” barked Lancaster.

”Ready as I’m gonna be,” I said.

”Begin!”

I shifted to present my side to Lancaster, but before I finished the move he charged me, one fist cocked back to swing. I slid backward half a step, then when he committed to the swing brought my leg around, shin aimed right at the side of his knee. Credit where it’s due, despite only catching it out of the corner of his eye he reacted, twisting his waist so I caught the back of his knee instead of the side. He still dropped to his knees, but rallied with a jab to my gut.

Saffron hadn’t been kidding about me having a six pack. His fist hit my stomach and just bounced. Between rock hard abs and two layers of clothing, I hardly felt it. I brought my knee back and kicked him in the back of the head with my shin. Maybe a little on the rough side for ’not trying to kill someone’, but with nothing holding him up it just knocked him from his knees to an outright spread-eagle sprawl on the ground. He slapped the ground with one hand, and I took that as a sign he’d surrendered.

”Good work, Diaz. Nice energy, Lancaster, but if you’re going to commit like that you need to avoid telegraphing.”

I moved over and reached down a hand to help Lancaster up. Fucker wasn’t going to paint me as a bad sport. He rolled over, sneered at me, and grabbed my right hand with his left. I pulled him to his feet, and he yanked on my arm. Before I caught on, he jabbed out with his right, pulling me toward him as he did. His fist hammered into my throat, and my world went black.