The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism

Chapter 201: 201 | The Courage to Live Authentically [PS BONUS]

The exchange highlighted something I’d been noticing about the social dynamics. Sloane operated from a position of absolute confidence in her own capability, which made her assume everyone else should be equally confident in theirs. Rina operated from a position of uncertainty about her own value, which made her assume everyone else was more capable than she was.

Both perspectives had problems.

"What about team formations?" Percy asked, his notebook already open to a fresh page. "Should we assume random assignment or capability-based groupings?"

"Random," Marco answered before anyone else could respond. His voice carried the weight of someone who’d been through similar evaluations before. "Steele will want to see how we handle working with unknown variables. Team chemistry matters more than individual capability in most real-world scenarios."

"Team chemistry requires compatible personalities," Petra observed, speaking for the first time since Sloane had arrived. Her voice was cool, professional, and completely unbothered by the various power dynamics swirling around the room. "Random assignment tests adaptation rather than optimization."

"Adaptation is what matters in the field," Sloane countered. "You don’t get to choose your backup when civilians are dying."

The conversation had shifted from logistics to philosophy without anyone noticing the transition. What started as questions about scheduling and uniform sizes had become a debate about the fundamental nature of Hero work and what kind of training best prepared students for real-world application.

It was exactly the kind of intellectual disagreement that could either build mutual respect or create lasting friction, depending on how people handled being challenged on subjects they cared about.

I was betting on friction.

"Anyone else starving?" Caden asked, apparently deciding the philosophical debate was running too long without resolution. "Because I’m thinking pancakes. Big, stupid, ridiculous pancakes that take up the entire plate and require structural engineering to consume properly."

"The dining hall isn’t open yet," Percy informed him with the precision of someone who’d memorized the campus operational schedule.

"Who said anything about the dining hall?" Caden’s grin was infectious in the way that made people want to go along with whatever he was planning despite knowing better. "Kitchen’s right there. Ingredients are in the fridge. Pancakes are a fundamental human right that shouldn’t be constrained by institutional meal schedules."

"Cooking in the dormitory kitchen requires compliance with fire safety regulations and prior approval from facilities management," Petra said, though her tone suggested she was reciting policy rather than expressing personal opposition.

"Cooking pancakes requires flour, eggs, and the courage to live authentically," Caden replied without missing a beat. "Everything else is just suggestions."

The room split along predictable lines. Half the residents were immediately interested in unauthorized pancake production. The other half were concerned about rule violations and institutional consequences.

Sloane watched the debate with the amused detachment of someone who found the entire discussion entertaining but ultimately irrelevant to her own plans.

"I’m going back to my building," she announced, pushing herself off the couch arm with fluid grace. "Unlike some people, I have actual training to do before this afternoon."

She paused next to where I was sitting, close enough that I could smell the faint scent of her shampoo and feel the ambient heat her Aspect generated when she was feeling territorial.

"Walk me out?"

It wasn’t really a question.

I followed her toward the entrance while the pancake debate continued behind us. The morning air outside was crisp enough to make the warmth radiating from Sloane’s skin feel like standing next to a space heater.

"Thoughts?" she asked once we were far enough from the building that our conversation wouldn’t carry back to interested ears.

"About what specifically?"

"About them." She gestured back toward the dormitory where voices were now being raised about proper pancake batter consistency and whether syrup warming constituted a fire hazard. "Your classmates. The people you’re going to be spending the next two years with."

I considered the question while watching Felicity’s silhouette move past one of the common room windows. The Ecchi Logic trait was apparently optimizing lighting conditions to make her movement more visually compelling, which was both impressive and deeply concerning from a reality-manipulation standpoint.

"They’re interesting. Complicated. Most of them are probably more dangerous than they look."

"Most people are more dangerous than they look when they have Aspects that can level buildings." Her voice carried the dry humor of someone who’d never forgotten that Hero training was fundamentally about learning to weaponize supernatural abilities. "Question is whether they’re smart enough to be dangerous in the right direction."

"Too early to tell."

"Maybe." She was quiet for a moment, watching the campus gradually wake up around us. "Be careful with the blonde one."

"Felicity? Why?"

"Because she’s already decided you’re interesting, and girls who decide you’re interesting tend to make that everyone else’s problem." The edge in her voice was subtle but unmistakable. "Especially when they’re that pretty and that obvious about what they want."

The Devotion’s Echo trait let me feel the emotional undercurrent beneath her words. Concern, protectiveness, and a thread of something sharper that might have been jealousy or might have been simple territorial awareness.

"I can handle Felicity Hardy."

"That’s what I’m worried about." She turned to face me directly, blue eyes serious despite the smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Handling her. Being handled by her. The distinction gets blurry when someone looks like that and has an Aspect designed to make people see what they want to see."

She had a point.

"I’ll be careful."

"You’ll be yourself, which is different from careful and significantly more dangerous for everyone involved." She reached up to straighten the collar of my hoodie with the casual intimacy of someone who’d earned the right to casual contact. "Just remember who you’re coming home to at the end of the day."

The kiss she left me with was soft, warm, and carried the faint taste of the mint toothpaste she used every morning. Brief enough to maintain plausible deniability if anyone was watching from the dormitory windows, long enough to make her point about territorial boundaries clear.

"Two o’clock," she said as she stepped back. "Don’t be late. And don’t let Steele intimidate you into underperforming."

"Planning to do the opposite, actually."

Her smile was sharp and approving. "Good. Show them what you’re worth."