Since Doyce indicated we would all be answering all the Headmaster’s questions, here’s my go at that.
1. Interview with a Headmaster
“Welcome Mr. Moore, welcome.” The Headmaster’s toothy grin was … disconcerting, even if Joey hadn’t been far more scared about the situation than he wanted to admit, even to himself.
Joey paused a moment, looking dubiously at the door frame into the office. He’d need to duck, turn sideways –
Mrs. Schwartz, the school administrator who had walked him to the Headmaster’s door, smiled pleasantly and pressed a metal square next to the jamb. Instead of a blue wheelchair, it had a pair of blue stylized stick figures, like on a bathroom sign, one small, one much larger.
In response, the doorway hummed and expanded in both height and width, the edges somehow folding into the wall.
“No worries, Mr. Moore, no worries,” the Headmaster said with a corresponding chuckle. It sounded like he chuckled far too often. “We’re used to accommodating all sorts of students, and guests. Why, Ravenous himself was here just last week, checking on his boy’s IEP, and his stature exceeds even you.”
Joey stepped in with the peculiar rolling gait he’d had ever since Africa. He could maneuver on all fours more easily, but insisted most of the time on walking on his rear hand/feet, even if it looked a little strange. It was a human thing to do, and that trumped comfort and convenience as far as Joey was concerned.
The Headmaster gestured towards one of the chairs, but Joey shook his head. “I’m good,” he rumbled. If the door could accomodate his size, the chair probably could, too, but even sitting on the floor his head was still over the Headmaster’s. A chair would seem ridiculous.
He looked around. He’d met the Headmaster a few weeks back, when the Foundation was arranging his education here, but it had been at the landing pad, with quick introductions and a quick handoff to Mrs. Schwartz for a tour of the grounds while the “grown-ups” signed paperwork. It was the first time Joey had been in the office though.
This office, at least. He’d been in principals’ offices more than once over the years, before Africa. Joey was a middling student, with occasional discipline problems – “not well motivated” (as Mr. Mays had said in the 8th grade), and “lacking an academic focus toward his future” (according to Mrs. Helgerson last year, at his old school).
This office was similar to those, if ratcheted up in quality. The furniture looked kind of like IKEA – not cheap, not at all, but that same kind of pale wood and simple forms. A place like this, he’d almost expected something like Dumbledore’s inner sanctum.
A large window looked down on Kirby Quad, the heart of the Phoenix Academy, and out to the city across the bay. The walls had many framed photos of the Headmaster alongside various superheroes. There was also one large framed newspaper front page, the Halcyon Herald. It was yellowed with age, but still shouted in its top headline: “HELLBINDER ATTACK DEVASTATES PHOENIX ACADEMY”.
Joey stared at the image of burning buildings. “FIVE TEACHERS, TEN STUDENTS DEAD. ‘WE MAY NEVER RECOVER’ SAYS HEADMASTER BARNES” read the subhead.
The Headmaster – who no longer looked like the monstrous Hellbinder that he had been then, followed his gaze. “A reminder,” the older man said, simply, “of many things. But mostly that we can overcome even our darkest demons, so to speak.”
Joey started, realizing the Headmaster was talking to him. “Oh, uh, sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean --”
“I put it up there, my boy,” the Headmaster replied. “For others to see, and for myself. Yes, and for myself. No offense taken. Now, not to rush, by any means, but I did call you here for a reason.”
Joey jerked his head in a nod. Here it comes, he thought. This was all a mistake. No way I get to go to Phoenix Academy. Not even if the Foundation gave me a scholarship – me, a scholarship. He’s going to tell me when classes start next week, I won’t be –
“I have a few questions I need to ask. I ask them of every student as they begin their career here. I might ask some of them more than once over their stay. We are not all as we start off being, yes?” The Headmaster smiled, that non-comforting smile, even as Joey was realizing he wasn’t being kicked out.
The Headmaster ignored the computer monitors on his desk, and picked up a clipboard with what looked like a single sheet of paper held in it, and then a well-sharpened pencil from a row of them to the right of his blotter. “Now then, let’s start off by telling me your name, your superhero identity, and your preferred pronouns.”
“Uh --” Joey found his mouth didn’t seem to be working well. Come on, you can tell the man your name. He didn’t question why the information was needed yet again, why the Headmaster didn’t simply tap a few keys and pull it up. Adults were weird that way, sometimes.
“Uh, Joey Moore,” he finally got out. “My – other identity --” He had a hard time thinking of himself as a “superhero”. He wanted to be. He wanted to be worthy of that title. But – “I go by Mighty Joe Young. You know, like the movie.”
“Yes. I know. Both movies, in fact.”
That’s right, Joey knew there were two movies, though he’d only watched the color one. They were both old, though. Charlize Theron was hot, or had been.
That guy at the Foundation had suggested the name, even though Doctor Quill had said it was a bit “on the nose.” But, then, Doctor Quill had wanted him to watch the black-and-white version, and Joey had to pretend he had by looking up its Wikipedia entry. Black and white films were bo-ring.
“And the pronouns?”
“He/him.” Even in this new body, he was definitely a guy. Not that he was likely to be going out on dates or anything.
“Right. How did you get your powers?”
That Joey knew was in the records. He sighed. It was a question, or variation on a question, he’d been asked a thousand times since his “rescue.” And he wished he had a better answer. “Um … super-gorillas. In the Congo. After I was shot. I … think.”
The pencil paused on the paper, then wrote steadily onward for a few moments longer. “Yes,” the Headmaster said. “I recall the tale. Quite extraordinary, quite extraordinary.” He looked up from the form with that smile. “Well, yes, by definition extra-ordinary. And I see you are scheduled for sessions with Dr. Anton, so perhaps some of that mist-shrouded memory can be cleared up over time, yes?”
Joey hated the idea of going to the school psychiatrist, though Dr. Quill had said that Dr. Anton was “Quite adequate, even occasionally inspired,” and it was a requirement for his admission. “You’ve had quite the trauma – on multiple levels, I’d say,” Dr. Quill had said when mentioning it. “I’m happy, even intrigued, to assist you with your physical issues, but the school insists on someone helping you with your emotional ones.”
Joey snorted mentally, even as he cringed inside a bit. “Emotional problems” were those kids that lost control, the ones that spent a lot of time at the principal’s office, and often just disappeared, dropped our or run away or joined gangs or sometimes hauled off by the cops.
He’d never hung around with kids like that, but he knew some, knew of more. And the idea that, with his new size and strength, he might have “problems” like they did made his blood run cold.
Joey realized the Headmaster was looking at him, patiently, as though waiting a response. “Uh, sorry – zoned there a moment.”
“Ah, yes, no worries, origin stories are often accompanied by flashbacks.” The smile. “Mustn’t dwell overly on the past, not overly, but still it must be faced, yes?”
[Section omitted about past experience as a hero as the timing of the “When You First Came Together” vs the school year is unclear at the moment.]
“Whom do you admire amongst the known heroes of the world, past or present?”
Joey started to answer, then caught himself. His face felt hot. Gorillas didn’t blush, though, at least not visibly. He still squirmed a bit.
“Honesty is often the best policy, Mr. Moore. I assure you of my discretion.”
“Uh --” Joey paused again, then said, “Well, I always kinda – kinda liked Sigrun the Valkyrie.”
“Ah.” The Headmaster made a note. “For any particular reasons?”
“Well, she’s kick-ass. And she speaks out on stuff, speaks her mind, doesn’t mind trash talking people who cross her, or her cause.”
“So feminist causes are important to you, Mr. Moore?”
“Well --” It’s not like they aren’t, but – “Yeah. Sure.”
“And I assume you had a poster of her on your wall.”
Oh, yeah. And Joey was honest enough to realize a big component of his ‘admiration’ for her was from that poster, though he’d never, ever say that to the Headmaster. “Yeah,” Joey answered. “I – did.” He wasn’t sure what had happened to the poster. He assumed it was still hanging up in his old room, but he hadn’t been back there since Africa, since his parents’ death, since Aunt Edie had disowned him, since –
“Yes, Sigrun is a worthy role model, if a bit more outspoken than the Academy’s classroom discipline expects. If you feel the need to expound on the rights of sex workers, for example, I might suggest less strenuous rhetorical practices than she used during her appearance on Jimmy Fallon. We have a larger budget than most schools for furniture replacement, but even so …” He raised an eyebrow.
Right. Minimize the property damage. Like I needed a reminder. Even he thinks I’m a menace. He nodded back.
“Splendid. Now then, what do you hope to gain from this?”
Joey blinked. “From --?”
“From this. Your academic career at the Phoenix Academy. Your lessons and labs.” A pause. From being here."
“I --” Joey stopped.
The Headmaster smiled at him, patiently.
“I – well, I need to do – I want to – I guess I want to meet people. To – other people, like me. I mean, not like me, there aren’t any like me, but, y’know, other people with powers. Learn how – learn maybe how I can --” He stopped, realizing he was babbling. The Headmaster’s expression hadn’t changed. Joey took a deep breath.
“I want to be a hero, sir. I – what happened to me, what I see around me, people being hurt, people being --” Killed. “-- hurt bad. It’s not right. I – know I can’t do anything normal. But I can maybe do something about that. I can stop people from being hurt, or stop the people doing the hurting. I think I can learn about that here, can learn how to be – y’know – a --” He made himself say the word. “-- hero?”
Joey shook his head. “I know that sounds --” He trailed off.
“Not everyone is so eloquent as Champion, my boy, but your sincerity is clear.” The Headmaster paused, cocked his head. “Do you feel your present state has that goal as part of a greater purpose?”
His heavy brow furrowed. “A greater --?”
“Is it a destiny, and some act of intentional fate that you are as you now are?”
Joey thought a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t believe in some sort of greater purpose. I used to go to church and all that --” With Aunt Edie. She always insisted, even if Mom and Dad didn’t when they were around. “But, no, I don’t think like God wanted me to become a gorilla to fight crime. I just think --” He shrugged his massive shoulders. “I gotta do something. I gotta show I’m not just – just this. And I wanna help people.”
The Headmaster nodded. “Well, that is certainly one of the goals of the Academy – to help the young find their life path, be prepared for it, and, to the extent it involves using their abilities, metahuman or mundane, to that end, training them accordingly. I think you should do just fine here, Mr. Moore.”
“You --” Joey realized he had said it aloud, and had to finish. “-- do?”
The Headmaster set down the clipboard and stood up. “Yes, just fine.” He extended a hand, which Joey gingerly took to shake. “Welcome to Phoenix Academy.”