Oh. My. God.
Zeke thought they were actually trying to kill him. They totally knew he had lied about having any qualifications to teach anything. Turned out they let literally anyone in this place and you didn't have to have a job at all, because he was pretty sure people like the Canadian lumberjack midget didn't do jack around here besides terrify people. He could be doing what normal people did on Friday nights instead of having just spent the better part of the afternoon trying to dodge lasers and fireblasts and giant robots and honestly he wasn't sure what else because he had fallen off the obstacle course and was pretty sure they had left him unconscious for a little while before he woke up to someone throwing water in his face.
And if the X-Training didn't get him the students might. For one thing they had way scarier powers than he had expected. He wasn't about to assign homework to kids who could electrocute/stab/set on fire/compromise his identity/manipulate his blood him. And who knew what else. That was just a sampling. So really his class ought to be the most popular, but since he had no idea how to actually run a class that was sort of a problem if anyone decided to audit him. Like the bald dude who could read minds or the hot ginger who answered questions before they were out of your mouth.
He was in so far over his head it wasn't funny. Kidnappings? Whatever that thing was they had talked about in that meeting yesterday? He still wasn't clear what they had even been talking about. One of the girls had tried to explain it afterwards, but since he only had a vague idea of who most of the people involved were and even less of an idea of the real scope of their powers he had just nodded a lot and tried to look like she hadn't wasted her time. Also the Southern accent was sort of distracting. And indecipherable to his California trained ears.
The rest of the Blue Team had dispersed to do whatever it was they did on their nights off (probably going to stop a few drug runners or something, no big deal), so still in his new training uniform (which was depressingly black and boring, but he didn't know how to sew so making a more personalized one was out) Zeke had decided the best place to be was in the sketchy sub-basement hallway, sitting on the floor with his legs blocking half the hallway and his head against the wall. It was easier than trying to find his room. Or running into someone who had watched him fall flat on his face for the millionth time.
Maybe he would just go back to couch surfing. This was way too hard and he sucked at it, whatever Mom-Hallucination said about making something of himself. He ought to just get the hell out of there before he got himself killed or eaten or just laughed out of there. It had basically been one bad thing after another.
Zeke was contemplating getting to his feet when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Just great. The one time he didn't want an audience and here one came.
Maybe if he kept his eyes closed they would have the decency to not notice his slightly charred self and just step over him on their way to do something that would undoubtedly be wicked cool and awesome.Magma