As Megan Parker was driven to the private school in a shuttle car, she wondered what her days at Capeville would be like. She'd heard quite a bit about her new school and its primary rival, which was also located in Capeville. The driver told her she didn't have that certain look that some graduates had, but she'd have four years at the Capeville Institute for Gifted Youngsters to change that.

This was the first time she'd been away from her family, and she left with their blessing. She was going to join a fine tradition for people like her -- being a superhero. She didn't really know what sort of superhero she'd be, but hoped to aspire to the recognition of Superman and Batman and other members of the Justice League, and if that wasn't possible, her Uncle Herman had promised to get her a reserve membership in the Inferior Five (though she didn't think too highly of standing in for Awkwardman or White Feather the next time one of them got the flu and had to stay home sick while the rest of the team took on Dr. Gruesome for the thousandth time). She looked over her class schedule as she rode through Capeville.

The Institute encouraged students to do good in the community, but to refrain from using their powers to fight crime until their junior year. They said it was for the students' own good, and it kept down the liability if any students were killed.

Months ago, Megan had woken up one morning to find her butt cheeks rubbing against the ceiling light fixture. Two seconds later she fell seven-and-a-half feet to the floor. It didn't hurt too much, but she counted herself lucky when she landed in a pile of her own dirty laundry. Other abilities had started manifesting themselves, too, which made her wonder what the heck was happening to her. One day, Megan looked up the mirror to brush her teeth, and found that she resembled something like Steve Buscemi with a hangover, before her girlish features snapped back into place. Then, when her dad was working on the car and the jack snapped, she'd been able to lift the car from on top of him single-handed. These powers were quite a surprise to have to deal with now, especially since her mom had only just bought Megan her first training bra a week earlier.

She thought she had her super-heroine name picked out -- Amazingirl -- but the more she thought about it, the dorkier and dorkier it sounded. And the reason she'd chosen to be a heroine was a complete mystery to her. It wasn't that she felt responsible and thought she'd have to use her abilities to help fight evil, or anything like that. Nobody she knew was hurt, so she wasn't the guilt-ridden type, either, and she'd certainly never been a thrill seeker. The Institute was supposed to teach their students the reason for being a hero, or at least point them in the right direction.

The driver was even nice enough to stop at a department store to allow her to shop with the money she got from her parents for clothes. Even though she spent it on a collection of halter tops and bras in varying sizes, she was grateful didn't have to live up to the stereotype of the flat-chested nerd girl, since she could make herself look however she wanted with her shape-shifting abilities.

Megan contemplated what the teachers would be like as she arrived at the gates of the Capeville Institute for Gifted Youngsters. The gate security waved her through as her car got into a line behind others that the Institute had sent out for other prospective students just like her. By the time hers got to the front door of the Institute, she looked up. The pictures that she's seen didn't do it credit. It was massive. She was greeted by an older student, a senior named Marvin, who told her that he was her student advisor. She let him handle her belongings, as there was something about him that she just trusted. Who wouldn't, with those shiny white teeth and dreamy Zac-Efron-in-High-School-Musical hair?

She was taken to her dorm room first and told that there was a mandatory meeting for new students as soon as the last of the drivers dropped off their students. In the auditorium, Marvin was so dreamy that she let him show her the way, and he soon introduced her to another student advisor, Wendy. Megan loved the way Marvin smiled at her, but she couldn't help but notice that Wendy flashed her a look that said, in not so many words, "Back off, bi-atch!"

There were students of every type here, from huge "Tank-Lads" to tiny "Ant-Boys." There were mystics and magically empowered students, as well as technological savants of all kinds. All who came here had one thing in common -- learning the path of the super-hero or heroine, and to earn recognition. There was even a rumor that the Teen Titans may visit during the homecoming dance. Speedy was so cute in those red tights, but then there was Kid Flash, and -- gasp -- Aqualad. So adorbs.

Megan's locker was spacious compared with the one at her old school, and it even had room for a mirror and magnets to hold pictures with. Though it did smell a bit weird. Then she saw the reason why -- the kid in the locker next to her kept his spell components in it. Some of those things made her totally want to hurl. She was going to reinvent herself this year, and was going to try to not be the teacher's pet this year and not get any dates unless her weird cousin was in town again. Total downer.

***

As "Fix" Hoover was driven to the Academy in a private limousine, he wondered what his days at Capeville would be like. The teenager had heard quite a bit about his new school and its primary rival also located in Capeville. The driver said that he didn't have the look that some graduates had, but the boy knew he would have four years at the Chang Tzu Memorial Academy of the Arts to change that.

This was the first time he'd been away from his family, and if they knew where he was headed, they wouldn't approve. They were weak and worthless in his mind -- sheep to be slaughtered. Fix was off to learn the path to true evil, with the hopes of eventually outshining such luminaries as Lex Luthor and the Joker. He looked over his class schedule as he rode through Capeville.

Academy policy prohibited him from doing anything really interesting in Capeville so it could keep its lucrative "educational contract" with the city.

The boy hadn't even mastered all of his abilities yet, and the designs running through his mind for weapons had kept him awake. Fix had been called a prodigy since he was five. He had mastered his computer and started rebuilding it by the time he was seven. It was currently as small as his fist, and had better computational and memory capabilities than most supercomputers used by corporations or the government.

Fix Hoover hadn't thought of his super-villain name yet, nor what he wanted to accomplish with his genius, but that could wait. He was going to the Academy so he didn't end up working for some covert government agency, in a prison, or worse -- imprisoned in an insane asylum. The Academy was supposed to teach him how to avoid such fates for those like him, while allowing him to live the life he wanted to live at the expense of the sheep.

As he arrived at the gates of the Chang Tzu Memorial Academy of the Arts, Fix contemplated what the teachers would be like. The gate security waved him through as his limousine got into a line behind other such limos that the Academy had sent out to pick up other prospective students. By the time he reached the front door, he finally got a good look at it. The pictures he'd seen of the Academy didn't do it credit. It was massive.

He was greeted by an elder student, a senior named Klarion who said he was his student advisor. Fix insisted on handling his own belongings, as there was something about the witch-boy and his ever-present black cat that he just didn't trust. After being taken to his dorm room, Fix was told that there was a mandatory meeting for new students in the auditorium as soon as the last of the limos arrived. Calling up his computer's three-dimensional map of the location, Fix decided to make his own way there once Klarion left.

There were students of every type here, from "Gigantas" to "Mouse-Men," and from mystics to technological savants of all kinds. All who came here had one objective in common -- to learn the path of the super-villain and to earn their infamy upon graduation.

The lockers were small, but Fix doubted he would use his, since the locks were primitive, and made of feeble materials, much like the lockers that he used to break into at his old school. The faculty there didn't have a clue that the phantom who was robbing the lockers and spoiling his old rivals' homework and projects was none other than Fix Hoover. In a desperate bid, the principal had even come to him for help in trying to rid the school of the phantom, and Fix agreed to do so -- at a price.

Yes, Fix had his old school under his thumb. The bullies gave a share to him daily, the teachers gave him high marks in their classes, and everyone feared him and his wrath, except those too stupid to see that opposing him was the course to destruction. He only made one example of a rival; pity they never found his body.

Fix Hoover was still contemplating the super-villain name he should take; so far it was a tie between Mister Fix and Doctor Fix, but that would depend on whether he wanted to bother with a PhD.

He was running late for his first class, as some green goo on the floor had caused him to slip and hit his head on a student calling herself Headstone. She was as hard as stone, and seemed just about as bright. But that was the least of his problems at the moment. Having no time to argue with her about who hit whom, Fix just ran off and practically leaped into Classroom 175 before the door closed on its own.

Having made it into class just barely in time, Fix made it to the only open seat left, right up front, as his teacher, whom he recognized as the Ultra-Humanite in his albino gorilla body, glared at him. The day just seemed to be getting better and better.

Ultra adjusted the reading glasses on his nose, then began to speak. "Glad you could make it, Mr.... Hoover, was it? For future reference, please take note that I consider it an insult to me and all my students when a student A: interrupts me just as you have, and B: comes to class late. Thusly you will do detention in my office this afternoon during the first free period you have. Now kindly apologize to the class, and we will move on from this unpleasant business."

Standing up, Fix said, "I'm sorry for interrupting your class, Professor. I beg your forgiveness."

The Ultra-Humanite nodded his head, then involuntarily scratched his butt -- a reflex action from his gorilla body. Fix did his best to keep from laughing, while some in the class did laugh for a moment, until a glare from Ultra silenced the room.

"Now, then," began the teacher, "I have collected some files on some of the teenagers you may more than likely face for several years to come."

The first slide showed the so-called Scooby-Doo Gang. "This bunch calls themselves Mystery Inc., and they have acquired a reputation for debunking guys in rubber masks and other suits pretending to be ghosts, monsters, and such, and have even worked with Batman and Robin on a few occasions, not to mention several other lower-tier television celebrities. Only three of their long-term members have any experience with true supernatural phenomenon."

Stifling a yawn, Fix hoped he wouldn't become too bored as Ultra began showing slides of each of the members separately, going into great detail ad nauseum about a group that only entry-level villains would ever have to face. Hopefully his other classes wouldn't be so dull.

Professor Thaddeus Bodog Sivana was teaching introductory super-science as well as several other science-related courses as part of a deal made by the Academy's lawyer for his release. So it wasn't unusual to look out the window of the classroom to spot one of the Marvel Family flying by outside on patrol.

Fix Hoover saw this minor inconvenience as a great compliment to the evil genius. Dr. Sivana was the perfect person to act as his instructor, as he had a powerful enemy, was credited with hundreds of patents, and had come within a breath of taking over the world on many occasions -- all thanks to nothing more than his mighty intellect. If he could only be half the mad scientist Sivana was, Fix would do well for himself.

"As you have no doubt noticed -- heh-heh -- we have some voyeurs looking in on our class," began Sivana, cackling in an insane tone. "Do not be alarmed! As long as I am teaching you, they cannot enter." Walking over to the window, he pulled the blinds down on a stern-looking Captain Marvel hovering outside.

"Do not let our spectators worry you or impede your creative process, for we -- heh-heh-heh -- will do what no mortal has ever dreamed they could do: use science to achieve the unimaginable! I'll show you the ropes of creating your own devices for your own nefarious schemes. Some of you are already starting to realize the gifts that you have, and most of you don't even know what you are capable of quite yet!" He laughed maniacally once more.

"Now, please note that anything you may have already invented cannot be used in your class projects, nor can you use modified versions of them. Other professors may allow you to do this, but not in my class. My job is to teach you the underlying basics of the techniques that you will use to invent and build new devices. Heh-heh. We will start with the simplest of constructs, and work our way up to the more fantastic. We will find out what branch of super-science you are best suited for based on your talents and abilities. And some of you will find that your talents only lack direction and may stretch across many branches!"

Fix leaned forward, anticipating the sheer knowledge that he hoped to imbibe from this mad genius.

"I was not always the jaded person you see before you," Sivana said. "I once had hopes and aspirations of having a legitimate career in science at one time, to benefit the world with scientific advancements. However, in all tragedies, something must happen to crush the spirit of a true genius. I will not go into what changed my life. But you must know that not all variables can be counted when you are building that perfect trap or death-machine. There will be things that you cannot anticipate. Unless you find a way to account for all those variables and probabilities, they will be your downfall."

Even as he listened intently to everything that Sivana said, Fix was scribbling down plans for his next invention. Thus he didn't even hear Sivana come behind him, so lost as he was in drawing up his plans.

"Very interesting design, Mr. Hoover," said Sivana. "What is it, and on what principle does it work?"

"I... uhhh... I-I don't know yet," Fix stuttered. "It just popped into my mind, and I started to draw it."

"Ah, a true -- heh-heh -- inventive genius, taking what comes and putting it onto paper. How rare! But how many facets does your genius contain, Mr. Hoover?"

Fix just looked at him with confusion.

"That's all right, Mr. Hoover," replied Sivana. "You won't know until you try other mediums. For now, inventing gadgets and other things are fine, but do try to challenge your genius. Try music, or something completely different as well before settling on just one discipline. The genius of Leonardo da Vinci was his ability to apply himself to many sciences and arts, some he was equally brilliant at, and others... not so brilliant."

Fix was surprised that Sivana had picked him out until he looked down and saw the mess he had made on his desk. He had scribbled across several pieces of paper, drawing lines to connect all the papers to each other.