Today was perfect. 

There were no clouds to cover up the brilliant sun as it beamed down upon the land, but it wasn't too hot - for it had rained in the morning. As his curtains were draped open by a butler, wearing the signature Dair crest - a dagger wrapped in the American flag, the one and only Dair child rubbed at his eyes. He hadn't been sleeping: for he was already fully dressed - he was more like waiting beneath his covers. What else could he do, as nerves ate away at him causing him to fidget like there was no tomorrow. 

The butler gave him a weary smile, everyone in the house was nervous today. Quickly though, the man moved along not lingering to even perhaps give words of encouragement to the recently "child turned man". 

Skylar sighed. He shouldn't have expected that kind of thing from any of the staff here. They were all petrified of him - hardly ever speaking a word. He stretched out and stood swinging his legs around the side of his four-poster bed. His light-blue gaze danced around the room, crinkling at the edges as he frowned. Posters covered the walls in neat symmetrical patterns, they were movie posters to be exact -from the 80s. A book shelf covered the far wall, only broken by the massive circular window - who's satin curtains had already been opened. With care, Skylar stood and he grabbed a comb off of his nearby night-stand.

He used a full length mirror that was edged in golden trim, to comb his hair into submission. The young man forced it to sit the way it had been cut, long golden strands laying flat against his neck - while it gradually got shorter towards the front. His father had been furious that his son had grown his hair out, but the gentle mullet style had been a compromise. He owned two mirrors , actually, one beside his nightstand, and another on the left wall in-between the two doors that led to his walk in closest. Skylar tugged at his clothes self-consciously- there were going to be cameras everywhere. Paparazzi asking thousands of questions, but one couldn't avoid such things when your family was the biggest hero lineage of all time. 

So, their son had to dress to impress. He wore a tight-knit sweater, the color was pastel pink, not too bright - but still, colorful enough that he didn't look drab. Underneath however a white-button down made its appearance, the collar and cuffs being shown where the sweater ended. His pants were unwrinkled and slick slacks of a tan color, basic. His mother: had demanded color while his father, the ever traditional man he was, wanted a suit. 

He appeased both of them. Checking one more time in the mirror, stopping only to comb through his hair again: Skylar made his way out of his room, a smile - to fake confidence and to ease his own nerves, crept across his features. With his blonde hair, and pretty blue eyes - the young man was already the sight to behold, his skin fair and unblemished, due to tedious skin care. Yet, his face: was like the icing on top. The blonde had a sharp and slim face, his jawline cut seemingly from marble, and his nose wasn't crooked or too big for his face, it was a bit narrow - but that only made him look sharper. Once, it had been described to him that someone could cut diamonds with the edges of his face - and that stuck. Skylar took pride in his apprecance, far more than he would admit: and far more than he should. 

But, when you're told your whole life that you are the most gorgeous boy around (not just by parents, even the girls at school) it tended to inflate some kind of ego. Skylar trailed his hand down the wall of the hallway which was lined with photos of the great Dair heroes, plaques of their names and their aliases hung below them. One day, Skylar hoped to be placed upon this wall. It was a Dair's greatest honor - it would immortalize you in the hearts of future generations to come. 

He paused, his hand lingering on a plaque - that lacked an image. 

Rudy Dair 

The blonde sighed, and he stared up at the empty space on the wall trying to fill in a portrait with his fuzzy memories of the man. This was the place where his Uncle Rudy's image would have hung- had he not become a disgrace to the family. Skylar had known the man when he was young, and through his memories he found nothing wrong with his uncle. How could he anyway: when he shared the man's ability. It had been a shock to him - quite literally, as he found himself producing electricity between his fingers in the form of small little blue bolts, rather than lifting a car above his head. 

Both his parents, they had super strength - a highly common place, but effective ability. It was also the signature of the Dair family - the ability passed down every generation, each kid stronger than the next: however, the first woman to marry into the family - produced electricity: so every so often, that ability would pop back up in the family tree. The family kept this a secret, the public didn't know that another ability could be found from children of the Dair line. 

Skylar had never been told what Rudy did wrong, but he could suspect: it had something to do with his ability. The blonde clenched his hands together, swallowing. His parents knew about his lack of super strength too - they had been seemingly heartbroken at first, but, soon they got over it. He simply trained his body to give the best illusion of super-strength to the public and when working use his true ability, as long as the public never found his identity: he could pull off the illusion. 

His thoughts had rattled on, all the way into the kitchen. It was massive like the rest of the house, with high vaulted ceilings and large open windows - made of hurricane proof glass. Everything in his house felt too spacious for him, everything open and cold: lacking personal touch. His room was likely the only real place in the entire mansion where you could tell someone lived there. Not even his parent's room appeared to be used. Whether because that was it was constantly neat and clean, courtesy of the maids and butlers, or because his parents didn't let anything that wasn't expensive and upper class into their house was a mystery.

Likely a mix of both. 

Skylar's eyes danced around as he observed the kitchen, a large cake - fit for a wedding more than a celebration, sat upon the table: seeming almost as tall as Skylar himself. That, was where he had gotten the short end of the Dair genes - he didn't get much height. He was closer to his mother's height, barely three inches taller than her. While his father - was sitting at the end of the table: towering over both his son & the gigantic cake. 

Matthew Dair, proved that Skylar was a Dair at all: they were the spitting image of each other, save, for the face. While the young man had sharp and pretty features his father's face was square, looking broad. It matched him though: and Skylar felt glad that he for his mother's features- he would have not looked so perfect with such a face. The blonde liked being pretty, for being handsome didn't really appease him - because every man could be handsome if they cleaned up enough. But how many of them could flawlessly pull off masculinity and femininity? Not many. So, Skylar preferred to be called pretty. 

Across from his father was his mother, almost an ant compared to his father - but he had seen her lift the man with one hand. Lisa Dair, had thick curly brown hair: and dazzling green eyes, but when standing next to one another you would almost think Skylar was just a recolored version of her. Then, sitting between them feet on the table - was a much different character. His hair was a stark trimmed white on the sides, covered by the dyed - middle parted top, that which looked rough to touch, was dyed, today, a bright purple. His green eyes swirled with a playful air. Not to mention, his smooth dark chocolate skin made him stand out when sitting beside the fair-skinned Dairs. This is Kiwi - and Skylar had known him for most of his life. He wasn't quite sure still what he was to the family: but he was constantly here. 

Skylar suspected he just broke in one day: and his parents failed to chase him away. His parents told him nothing of their life or their friends so, Kiwi - was just a strange man who liked to hang around and sometimes help the young blonde train. He would say they were reasonably close - but more so like siblings, than anything else. That may have just been because Kiwi, had rather childish nature. At least, Matthew called it childish. He was sure, Kiwi thought himself as an uncle to Skylar - but the male didn't see it that way. 

The white-purple haired man grinned at Skylar, and he stood up revealing what he was wearing: as always, he donned a silly white skirt - a loose jacket, unzipped: to reveal the baggy pink shirt he wore underneath. Skylar had once, inspired by Kiwi, to wear a skirt; but his father had shut down the idea. 

"Ah, there is the boy of the hour!" Kiwi's voice was easy to listen to, it was a bit high-pitched: but still masculine enough to be recognized as a man's voice. "Why don't you join us at the table, hun?" 

Skylar went to take a seat, but he found himself stopped. His father had stood: and his large arm was barred across the younger's chest. 

"Now that you've arrived: we're leaving." Matthew demanded, his voice deeper than Skylar ever had hoped his would end up. 

The blonde faced the older man, "But - I haven't eaten breakfast yet." 

Matthew shook his head, and he began to drag his son to the front door. "Trust me, you don't want to take the Destiny Test: with a full stomach." 

At the mere sound of it, Skylar thought he began to feel bile rise up in his throat. The Destiny Test happened every year, before the beginning of fall - and any person who was 18 at the time, was forced to take it by law. Anyone who thought they'd try and ditch it would have to face the Super-Powered People's Commission (SPPC) a branch of government established when the first people with super-powers began to pop up. The test was publicly known to be a virtual simulation - what exactly you saw and were supposed to do during it, was classified and unknown. It likely changed from person to person. The purpose of the test was ultimately to judge one's character: and decide what their role in society is. 

There were three classes: Hero, Villain & Civilian 

Whichever one of the three classes you got, you would have to live by that: your entire life. Though, the role of civilian gave you the most choice. You could be a lawyer, a shop owner - even police officers and other first responders: who had licenses to save people, but not licenses to use their abilities to save people. Declaration of you as a hero or villain, got you shipped off to an equivalent to college depending on the class. Skylar didn't know the name of the villain school, but, he did know the hero training academy was located in Denver and acutely named: 

The Academy for the Valiant

That was where Skylar, was hoping to go - but if anything, civilian would be alright too. Not to his parents of course, but it wasn't as likely to get him abandoned. He wasn't worried he'd get villain, how could he? A pretty, blonde and heartfelt Dair? He ended up completely missing the conversation exchanged between Kiwi and his dad as he was shoved out the door. 

Skylar stumbled, and he brought his arm up - not to protect him from the sudden appearance of the sun, but from the flashing cameras as they glared into his eyes. Whether it was the flash on them: or the sunlight catching off the lenses it didn't matter - he was still blinded. 

"Gosh, the cameras are obnoxious aren't they?" Kiwi commented as butlers, who also served as bodyguards, pushed the crowd back. The blonde male could hardly hear their screaming questions - it all sounded like gibberish almost. He was even having a hard time hearing Kiwi: as his heartbeat picked up. He wanted to bolt - who decided this was a good idea? To have a single test define what a person's entire life would look like? 

He really, really wanted to run. 

A hand clapped his shoulder, and he found his mother smiling softly at him. "You're gonna be fine, Sky, now: let's get you to the testing center." 

He was practically pushed into the limo that sat outside waiting for them: he winced at this. Why did everything have to be made so noticeable? Everyone would be staring at him already, but even people who didn't somehow know about the Dair's would be looking at him too now. Why couldn't they have just taken the average car? 

He sighed. 
It was likely his mother's doing. Once he was locked in the car, he felt calmer - unable to see the scrambling paparazzi. He pressed his face into the cool window, feeling the car bounce as his father stepped in. Everything always seemed to move with him around, like the world shook when he walked. 

Skylar stared down at his zip-up combat boots (that made him an inch taller) and wondered if he could one-day make the world tremble at his feet. He didn't want it to shake when he walked: that proved only physical strength - he wanted people to shake when he walked by. 

He frowned, that was an odd thought. 

[☆☆☆]

As he suspected, the moment the limousine pulled up to the Testing Center he felt eyes on him through the tinted windows. Lines sprawled from the building likely hundreds of young people deep, for they flocked from all over the country - there was only about three Testing Centers in the U.S. So, it took about three days to actually test everyone. When he was younger, he had actually passed by here a few times and seen them working into the early morning: and the volunteers who administered the test would only have a heavier workload - every year.
He glances around again, the flat and long marble building stands out among the city's sleek architecture. 

Especially since only once a year was it used. Skylar stepped out of the car, expecting that since he would end up at the back of the queue- this would take all night for him: if they even got him in today. He swallowed, looking down at the ground wary of meeting someone's stare. There was a lot of staring - and he could guess why. If not the limousine, then, because they knew who he was - or who his family was. He couldn't tell which was worse. The blonde took a few steps to the nearest line, which was basically to the door of the car - but was harshly grabbed by a rough hand. 

His mother smiled softly at him, "Sweetie, what are you doing? We're the Dairs! Late or not, we - get to skip the queue." 

Skylar frowned, furrowed his brows. "But these people were here before us-"

Lisa shook her head, and gently pushed her son forward. "But that doesn't matter. We are above them. Meaning, we cut the line." 

He looked to his father, but he didn't know what to expect from him. That Matthew would - speak up? That he would correct this, of course not. He put his gaze on the ground again - glueing his eyes there. He walked at the pace his mom forced him too, he heard people mumble - a few curse him beneath their breaths. Skylar glanced up for a few seconds: and he gazed at the crowd. He had never really seen so many people from all over - the diversity in a single line alone was astonishing. He didn't have long to stare, as he was shoved through a metal door. 

A woman, dressed in all white: stared back at him. She sighed deeply, and he caught what her name-tag said as she spun around. Jane. He swallowed, feeling his face flush a bit, this was embarrassing. He just cut the entire line of people outside, some of which have likely been there since before the sun even broke the horizon. He shuffled his feet back and forth, feeling his nerves grow. The hairs on his arms began to raise, as he felt the inside of his veins begin to hum. 

He took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself down; before he burst out a jolt of electricity. Jane stared at him, and then she gestured for him to sit down in the strange chair. It was made of sleek metal, and he swallowed at the sight of the straps. Skylar slowly made his way over and adjusted himself to the chair, though it was almost impossible to get comfortable. It was cold and there wasn't even a cushion on the seat or back part of it, just bitter metal. 

Jane was preparing a syringe, "You can't stop looking guilty now: your parents called in advance." She spun around revealing that the syringe was filled with a strange-white yellow liquid. The needle, to the young man's shock, was not as massive as he had been told it was: it was a regular size needle. Jane walked over, and she set down the syringe on a small table that was beside the chair. Skylar watched as she slipped a strange device over his head, everything going black as it covered his eyes.

Jane spoke again, "Don't be alarmed by the straps: they're for my safety and yours." Her voice was monotone as it had been before. He jolted a bit as he felt the rough leather go over his arms and legs. Another one, which he hadn't noticed before - wrapped around his chest. He went to speak, what he was going to say he wasn't sure, but before a single word could slip through his lips: he felt a needle prick at the side of his neck. 

"It's best if I don't warn you before I stick you: pick away, you can't tense up."Jane explained as his vision swirled with colors now. He heard a distant typing on a keyboard, and felt sick to his stomach. 

The swirling colors, formed into tangible shapes now: as Skylar found himself standing inside of a room. The walls were covered in mirrors, all of them warped and strange. Some would bend his image taller, others would somehow break it completely. He spun around on his heels, wincing everytime he caught his reflection: which wasn't easy to avoid as he surveyed the area. Seeing his image warped and twisted made him feel sick, and angry. It made him want to break every one of these mirrors: were they mocking him? What exactly was the point of all these busted mirrors? Who would ever want to see a twisted version of themselves, bent out of shape. 

He really thought about shattering the mirrors, but he stopped himself. He had nothing to break them with. Skylar stumbled, as the ground rumbled beneath him. Three stone pillars rose up from the floor, and settled at about his hip. He wandered over to them observing that there was a single item placed on top of them, all of which: were weapons. 

"Choose one."
A voice resounded through the room, seeming to come from the mirrors: or maybe it came from nowhere but the way it bounded made it seem as if the mirror were reflecting the voice the way they did light. Skylar tilted his head, and frowned. He crossed his arms over his chest. 

"Why do I have to choose one of these weapons? Will I be fighting someone?" he asked the voice from the air, but he was given no reply, so, he shook his head. 

He dismissed the first pillar's choice - which was a wooden bat. He had no need for it, anyway, the other two weapons were better. There was a pistol and holster upon the second pillar, which he considered for a while - but his gaze was drawn to the third item, a copper-throned whip. It would not only conduct his ability extremely well inflicting maximum damage, but: it would also allow him to not simply kill those he fought. He could make sure they remained alive -  maybe even hurt them more than necessary: just for the hell of it. 

As for the need to get information, a whip would work as a fine torture device. 

These kinds of thoughts were regularly locked away in the deepest depths of his heart. Yet, nothing could be kept hidden from the test as it drew out everything he may have tried to hide in his subconscious. He reached out and grabbed the whip, he let it slowly uncoil onto the floor as the pillars began to descend back from where they came. Skylar ran his hand gingerly across it, a grin beginning to split his features. It was a beautiful weapon, it felt like it had been handcrafted for him - perfectly fitting in the palm of his hand...

Bright light blinded him for a few seconds, and he jolted upwards, trembling. He groaned a bit, readjusting his eyes to the light. Skylar glanced around, and found that he was back in the testing room. Jane's cold gace had melted into a look of shock, though she hid it quickly. 

"Your test is complete,"She handed him an envelope. "These are your results." 

Skylar sat up, and he blinked, realizing that he was no longer strapped down. He glanced at Jane, and noticed a slight tremble in her hand. He glanced at the chair, wondering why he wasn't sore: these tests last for hours. He noticed that the straps on his chair were charred and broken. The burns reflected lighting. He blinked at this, he had broken through the straps: for what reason? The young man couldn't answer his own question, and he glanced at the clock. 

He paled. 
Only five minutes had passed. 

"Ma'am, are you sure the test was - done? It's only been five minutes." The blonde ran a hand through his hair, flattening the strands that had started to float up a bit. "Nobody has ever been judged that fast. I barely even did anything...?" 

Jane shook her head, her eyes wide and scared. "The test has never in its history determined someone's class faster: but the computer spit out your results, and sent a digital copy to SPPC. So,"her voice rose a bit, shaking.

"Leave." 
Skylar had never been that rudely dismissed, and he felt a chill run down his spine. He was sure it must have been scary - watching small bolts of electricity burn through the straps of the chair, but he wondered how that could have shaken a seemingly strong woman. Was it the quickness of his test? He smiled. It was likely because he was a hero - of course. That had been a given from the start, why had he even been nervous for this at all? 

He thanked her, before he stepped outside holding his results proudly. He was tempted to open them but he waited until he was rejoined by his parents -and Kiwi. 

The eccentric man was frowning, and Kiwi spoke up his thoughts, "That was awfully fast..." 

Skylar nodded, "I know! This just has to mean I'm a hero! The test realized who I was and, boom!" He snapped his fingers as he puffed out his chest. He could already see his future. Living up to his parent's expectations. Saving thousands of people during his lifetime, proving to the world that a Dair could be anything he wanted to be: even without super strength.

Matthew grabbed the envelope from his hands, he was grinning at his son and Skylar was taken aback - this had been the first time since he was young he had seen his dad smile like that. He felt warmth flooding his chest, pride swelled. Lisa leaned over to her husband, both of them anxiously hunched over the envelope. His father ripped it open, and pulled out an official-looking document, the crest of the SPPC printed on the back. 

The silence that followed, made Skyalr's heart drop into his shoes. He gulped, "Um - what does it say?" He expected celebration, for tears of joy to be shed as his parents embraced him. He watched as his mother put a hand over her mouth- her eyes watering, but they certainly weren't tears of joy. She turned away, choking down a sob - a hand covering her mouth: hiding a sneer. Kiwi, simply cast his green gaze to the ground shifting nervously from one foot to the other. 

The blonde's father gripped at the document, there was a strange twitch in his face, and a strangely vulnerable look that came cross his features - but it was gone before Skylar could identify it. He flipped the paper around holding it up for Skylar to see, as his voice boomed.  "Tonight: you'll pack up all of your things - and tomorrow, stay in a hotel until the testing is done and you're shipped off by train to the school. Then - everything will be cut off. Your debit card, your credit card, everything. You will no longer hold any meaning to this family, and will not be welcome in our home." 

Skylar's breath shook, and he felt tears leap up to his eyes ready to pathetically spill down his face. Matthew wasn't even looking at his son, and the blonde finally forced himself to look up at the pages, though he already knew what he'd find. There was only one reason he would ever be cut off that way. Sprawled across the page in neat-print was: 

HIGH-GRADE VILLAIN 

Today was the worst day of his life.

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4,393 words
Edited by Pleasenobodynoticeme