His uniform is uncomfortable where the collar scratches against his cheeks and jaw, the legs pulling up far above his ankle with every step. The chest of his jacket too broad and the hem of his pants much too short for his stature. His hoodie bounces with every step, his head tipped down as he avoids the other students. He has been lucky, so far, to avoid recognition. He holds on to it for as long as he can, knowing that it will be inevitable that someone will find out.

The moment his hood is down again, someone will see. Someone will KNOW.

He cracks the pinky of his left hand, nerves eating at him.

Avin would tell him to breathe. Would tell him that not everything is going to go straight to hell, that the world isn't going to combust spontaneously.

'What does that matter? Avin isn't here.' The annoying little voice is darker than usual today, chewing at what balance he had managed to scrape together that morning. He stops just outside the school gates and beaths deeply, hair fluttering out as he centers himself once more.

Program assignments had been sent out three days after the assessment, sheets attached for uniform infomation, courses, and supply lists. Malikai hadn't been able to focus on much more than the thickly printed assignment tag:

ANTI-HERO.

He'd expected to be placed in Hero Support (Sidekicks, though Hero Support had been a long preferred term), given his lack of actual participation in the assessment test. It meant that they had already known where he was going to be placed.

That idea sat bitter on his tongue.

His inablility to get passed his program assignment accounted for the, honestly, embarassing mistakes he's made when getting his unifrom sheet sorted. It was difficult to dress himself on a good day, he's a broad shouldered skeleton wrapped in skin, but this was something else entirely. The walk to Anti-Hero Hall only made it that much more obvious that his uniform lacked any kind of proper fit.

He'd deal with it later.

He cracks the pinky on his left hand again.

Anti-Hero Hall is almost empty, a few other students lingering with friends; the numbers dwindling as groups split up to find their own respective classrooms. It isn't uncommon knowlegde that Heroes outnumber Anti-Heroes three to one; but statistics versus a visual are very different things.

There had been almost two hundred students in that gymnasium, and since class sizes were group to twenty five students to three homerooms; that meant there were 75 Heroe students, 75 Hero Support students, and only twenty or so Anti-Hero program students.

It's jarring.

The classroom he steps into is equally empty, it decor bordering on dismal. It's obvious that there are additional security measures in these rooms; it makes sense. As most Anti-Heroes have difficult to manage or outright dangerous Anomolys, they can dangerous to themselves and others.

It's why so many people fear Anti-Heroes.

A shrill ringing cuts through the air, more like a metallic screech than any warning bell Malikai has ever heard. He supposes it's been designed to be heard by people with Anomolys that affect their hearing, but that doesn't make it any less grating.

Voices start to filter in over the other noise, and he slots himself into a seat in the farthest corner of the room. The other students that filter in are.....colorful; both in a literal and figurative sense.

It obvious that not all of these students are first years, both in the way their uniform patches have changed and in the way some of them speak with eachother with a familiarity that only comes with years of knowing another person.

The older students don't take seats like the others, opting instead to stand at the front of the room or mill around to some of the younger students.

He takes the distraction for what it's worth, sliding his fingers through his hair and pushing his hood back in the smoothest motion he could manage despite his creeping nerves, biting the bullet by his choice while he still can. He doubted it would take long to be recognized.

He'll give credit where it's due in that it takes longer for the other students to even take notice of his hunched form in the corner than he'd initially thought it would.

Quiet whispering and friendly jabs turns into hard elbows and pointing fingers and hushed, worried words. Malikai want's the floor to swallow him, but luck has never been something he's had a great deal of. He can feel the looks and the words crawl across his skin, and he does what he can to ignore them.

His palms start to itch and his fingers grind into the leather, teeth digging into the soft flesh of his inner cheek.

He wonders if that is what it feels like when you're about to be lynched.

The door at the front of the room opens, breaking the tension with a sharp creaking noise that's followed by the tap-tapping of shoes across the floor.

Their professor is a tall man, built like a swimmer and forgoing both a hero costume or any kind of professional wear in favor of jeans and an old band shirt. Malikai doesn't recognize him. The Academy is run by heroes and anti-heros, their uniform was their hero suit and the members of staff were no secret. Revealing your face to anyone, your students or not, is dangerous.

So why......

"For anyone that failed to read their syllabus, I am Professor Key....."

Malikai drowns everything else out, mind running through the statistics now that he has a name to place against the face at the head of the room.

Name: Alexander Key

Hero Identity: Erophis

Anomoly: Immunity.

It's fitting, really, that someone that can't be hurt by other Anomoly's heads a class of what would be considered the schools 'most dangerous students'.

It also explains the lack of costume. Erophis works, primarily, with the police. Most of it is behind the scenes, assisting with capture and tansport. The number of time's he's been seen in the field can be counted with the bones of the human body. He doesn't need a costume here.

Malikai tunes himself back in.

"We aren't going to start in the....traditional way your senior class leader's started. Today, we're starting with a field test. Follow me."

His stomach sinks.