My apartment wasn’t much, but it was functional. Typical guy thing. Bed, TV, computer, and a kitchenette.
Bit messy, but I lived alone and didn’t spend much time there, and it was quiet and private.
But when I went to pick up Glacia, I got a look at how the other half live.
The address was uptown in one of the high-rise apartment buildings on Ritz Street.
The second I pulled up I felt out of place in my old car. Geeze, she even had a doorman in a spiffy uniform. Goes to show you, I guess.
I shot her a text, and she must have been waiting for me because no sooner was it sent Glacia burst from the doors and raced down to the car.
She was wearing a thick, white fur coat despite the summer heat, I noticed, and her eyes were bright.
The eyes of her doorman however were not particularly friendly, glaring at me from under his hat. Yeah, fuck you too, buddy.
"I can’t wait to begin, sir," Glacia said as she slid into the passenger side, her normally pale face flushed with excitement. "I could hardly sleep last night. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I’m ready to start with simply bated breath, sir!"
"Right, good," I said as I put the car in gear and started off down the highway.
I spoke little with her on the way to the trainyards, instead going over the plan I’d come up with in my head.
I’d never actually trained someone before, but I did know enough of the ins and outs of the trade to hopefully get the ball rolling.
We reached the trainyards and I left the car near the fence, taking out a bag of empty beer cans I’d been meaning to deal with, but was glad I’d delayed.
Glacia gave them a curious glance, but I’d explain it all soon, so I led the way in silence.
Among the aged cement and maze of rusting boxcars, I knew we wouldn’t be disturbed.
I’d often come here back in my early days to practice my powers—when I first transmigrated—and refine my control.
It felt strangely good to be back among the old metal and machinery.
I walked over weed-choked tracks and towards the old loading bays, where a forsaken crane stood in abandoned salute, creaking in the wind.
The feel of so much raw metal was oddly soothing, and its hum as I moved among it resonated in my bones.
"Alright," I said, stopping near an old shed, the cement tagged with so much graffiti you couldn’t even see the brickwork under it anymore.
I dropped the bag of cans and opened it up. "Here, I’m going to see what you can do, and start getting you trained up on what to expect."
"Yes sir!" Glacia said, straightening sharply and God as my witness she actually gave me a salute. "I look forward to it. I have some excellent control over my powers, sir, and am excited to demonstrate it."
"Yeah, okay," I said. "First off, did you wear your costume?"
"As instructed, sir," she said, shrugging off the heavy coat.
I had to admit, it was a good suit. Lacey may be a gigantic pain at times, but she knew branding, I’d give her that.
The sleek suit was white trimmed with an icy blue, clinging to Glacia’s curves in a highly appealing way.
Her baggy coats had largely hidden her figure, but now that I could see it, I had to admit she was lovely.
Trim but not lacking in curves. Her coat had masked a smaller one, this with a thick furry collar that framed her silver hair nicely.
It hung loose, more a cape than a coat, the sleeves similarly trimmed in fur, which would probably have PETA all over her ass if those morons had dared try anything.
Gold ornamentation decorated it, giving her a look like she was ready to conquer Narnia. Likely an homage, knowing Lacey’s sense of style.
"Not bad," I said. A lot of it was impractical in a real fight, but Glacia wouldn’t be seriously throwing hands unless something went very fucking wrong. "Good style. Very ice queen."
"I am pleased I meet your approval, sir," she said.
I gave her a look at that, but she looked sincere. "Mhmm. Alright," I said, sensing the metal around us, wrapping my magnetic grip around several of the cans in the bag and lifting them to hover in the air. "Let’s see what you can do."
Smirking, Glacia spread her hands at her sides. It was a familiar pose, though I couldn’t place it at first.
A cold wind blew through the air, swirling around her. Stirring her coat, lifting her into the air.
That’s when I figured it out.
It was the same stance I used to fly.
Intrigued, I wondered what else she could do. "Good. Now," I said, as the cans rotated around me like boozy satellites, humming with magnetic fields. "Stop these."
I flung them at her, lightly enough, since though I doubted they’d hurt, I wanted to see how she’d react.
Fortunately, it wasn’t looking to be a problem. Glacia swept up one hand, and from her palm blasted a pillar of air so cold it steamed.
It caught the hunks of metal with ease, freezing them midflight into pillars of ice and anchoring them to the ground.
I nodded in approval. "Good. Not bad. But keep in mind you don’t want to do that with people. At least, not all of them. Up to the shoulders is the rule,"
I said, tapping my own. "Otherwise, they’ll just suffocate. Or get thawed in a few centuries."
"Of course, sir," Glacia said, floating with quite the smug air about her.
Hmm. Not good. Confidence was good, but overconfidence killed more villains than falling from tall buildings.
A frequent hazard. If only heightened narcissism didn’t always demand one rule from a perilous vantage point over their subjects.
So often villains didn’t even install railings around their nefarious balcony.
The perfect place to get kicked off by some enterprising hero, conveniently freeing the good guy from actually murdering the villain properly.
And that was exactly the sort of excessive confidence I didn’t want Glacia getting.
"Alright," I said, lifting more cans out of the bag. "Let’s try it a bit faster."
"Ready, sir," Glacia said, her palms up, the cold air swirling around her.
"We’ll see," I said, tightening my fists as the flying cans turned into flying spikes. "Let’s get serious."