As the others walked to the medical center where they would be treated by the medical team, Alex led Mateo to an isolated corridor under the premise of "We need to talk."
Mateo knew something was up with that look in her eyes, and he somehow instinctively knew Alex would not take 'No' for an answer for whatever 'talk' they wanted to have.
As they walked, the two of them alone, Amara, the black girl with golden hair from Team B3, looked to them, eyes widening as she shot Mateo a knowing wink. Mateo turned away from her, extremely sure that whatever was going to happen between him and Alex was far from what she speculated.
Alex herself was still covered with nasty bruises from the glass rain. What did she want to talk about that was so important that she would bear the pain of her injuries just to be alone with Mateo?
And why did it require them to be completely isolated?
They finally rounded into the empty corridor, out of sight and earshot from everyone. Mateo stared at Alex, who hadn't spoken even though she had finally gotten what she wanted.
"So why did you bring me—" Mateo started to say.
Alex raised her arms. Stretched out her fingers.
Oh, shit.
The thought barely had time to form before Mateo was launched backward like a cannonball. His spine cracked against the concrete wall with a sickening thud as Alex's gravitational push slammed him into place and held him there.
The fluorescent lights blinked hazily above as Mateo struggled against the crushing force pinning him to the wall. With nowhere to move, he could only grit his teeth and endure the relentless pressure Alex brought down on him.
He felt like his bones were creaking underneath his skin, like the structural integrity of his skeleton was failing under the gravitational crush.
Alex stood in front of him, her fingers still outstretched, an intense and furious look burning in her eyes.
"What are you playing at, Mendoza?"
She asked this with barely controlled rage, clenching her teeth as the pressure continued.
"What do you mean, 'What am I playing at?' You're the one pinning me to a wall!" Mateo shot back, which only caused the force to increase.
"Don't mess with me!" She barked. "You let me win. I could feel it during our fight—you held back. You let me beat you!" Her voice cracked slightly. "What were you trying to do? Spare me? Pity me? Or just show off later how much stronger you've gotten?"
"What. The. Hell. Are. You. Talking. About?" Mateo grunted between breaths, trying not to collapse under the pressure. Could Alex accidentally crush him to death? Even if she didn't mean it? He could feel the concrete wall behind his back cracking under the force and quickly created a slime barrier to cushion himself.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" She yelled, spittle flying from her mouth. "In yesterday's race, you shot forward to the finish line—even beating me! And today, you tried giving me advice like you're some kind of leader?" Her gravitational field pulsed with her anger. "Do you really think you're better than me? Then prove it! Fight me!"
Mateo clenched his fists, forcing slime to pour out of his limbs, but even that was quickly flattened against the wall by the gravitational force. It was no use. He couldn't even move his body. He had been incredibly unlucky and backed into an inescapable corner. Strength and quirks were useless here, which meant he could only rely on words.
"That's the problem! You don't think!" he gasped. "Everyone has their own problems! Do you really think I walk around plotting how to surpass you? How arrogant can you possibly be?"
The pressure increased, and Mateo felt his vision starting to blur at the edges. Alex stepped closer, her face twisted with something between rage and desperation.
"Arrogant?" She laughed bitterly. "You want to talk about arrogant? You strut around here with your strategies and your coordination, acting like you're so much smarter than the rest of us. But what are you really? A guy with a useless quirk who can't even fight properly!"
The words hit harder than the gravitational force. Mateo felt something dark and hot rise in his chest—anger that had been building for days, weeks, maybe years.
"At least I don't think the world revolves around me!" he snarled back, his voice strained but venomous. "You're so obsessed with being the strongest that you can't see past your own reflection! You think being a hero is just about beating people up?"
"It is about being strong!" Alex screamed, and the pressure spiked so hard that Mateo's slime barrier cracked. "Without strength, you're nothing! You're just—you're just weak!"
"And you're a dumbass!" The words tore from Mateo's throat with surprising venom. Something was unleashing inside him. "You think you can punch your way through every problem? That your precious strength means anything when you don't even understand what you're fighting for?"
Alex's face went white, then flushed deep red. For a moment, the gravitational pressure wavered.
"I know exactly what I'm fighting for," she said, but her voice had lost some of its certainty. "I want to become a hero so I can beat up bad guys. That's all there is to it."
"That's not enough!" Mateo shouted, and he realized with shock that he meant it—that the anger pouring out of him felt good, felt right. "That's a child's answer! What happens when the bad guys are stronger than you? What happens when beating them up doesn't fix anything? What happens when—"
He stopped himself, breathing hard. Where had that come from? The fury still burned in his chest, hotter than it should have been.
Alex stared at him, something flickering behind her eyes—confusion, maybe hurt. "Then what?" she asked quietly, and for the first time since she'd pinned him to the wall, she sounded uncertain. "What do you fight for that's so much better?"
The question hung in the air between them. Mateo felt the rehearsed answer on his tongue, the one he'd given countless times, the one that made him sound noble and selfless.
"I fight for the people I love," he said.
But even as the words left his mouth, he could taste the lie. Or not a lie, exactly, but something that was changing. He did fight for the people he loved—but more and more, it felt like he was fighting against the people who had hurt them. The distinction was getting harder to see.
Alex studied his face with those sharp eyes. "The people you love," she repeated slowly. "And what about everyone else? What about the people you don't know? Don't care about?"
The question cut deeper than it should have. Mateo felt his jaw clench.
"I'm not trying to prove myself superior to you, Alex," he said, deflecting. "But we're a team now. We have to work together. You have your reasons for trying to become a hero. I have mine. You're the strongest fighter we've got—we need that strength. But I know how to coordinate our powers to work as a team."
He tried appealing to her pride, but Alex wasn't buying it. She stepped back, the gravitational pressure finally easing, but her expression had grown cold and distant.
"You think you have me figured out," she said. "The girl who just wants to punch things. But you don't know anything about me, Mendoza."
Mateo slumped against the cracked wall as the crushing force released, gasping for air. His whole body ached, but Alex's words stung worse than the physical pain.
"I am not something you can control, Mendoza. So don't try to." She paused at the corner, her back to him. "I'd like to have another fight with you soon. A real one this time. Maybe then we'll see who we really are."
Mateo glared at her back until she disappeared from sight, but the anger felt hollow now, mixed with something he didn't want to name.
That girl is insane, he thought, massaging his aching muscles and feeling along his spine for damage. The concrete wall behind him was spider-webbed with cracks from the impact.
He sat there for a long moment, letting the pain settle, letting the aftermath wash over him. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, and somewhere in the distance, he could hear the muffled voices of other students getting medical treatment.
"I fight for the people I love."
He had said it to get her to back down, to end the confrontation. And it was true—wasn't it? It had to be true. But the way the words had tasted in his mouth, the way Alex had looked at him when he'd said them...
The truth was getting harder to hold onto. Each day, each training session, each reminder of why he was here, the line between protecting the innocent and punishing the guilty grew thinner. Sometimes, late at night, he wasn't sure which one drove him anymore.
As long as it would help him achieve his goal—as long as it would help him become the hero Alec always said he could be—he would do anything.