Disclaimer:I do not own Sky High, its setting, premise, or characters -or related characters named and unnamed. All is the property of Walt Disney Pictures, Buena Vista Pictures, Andrew Gunn, and Mark McCorkie.

Cloudy Internships

Chapter One: Match Your Mentor

It was senior year.

The year they finally got some hands-on, real world, actual superhero experience. Ya know. Aside from the hands-on, real world, actual superhero experience they got at prom freshman year. That didn't count. It wasn't sanctioned by the school. Moderated by adults. Or able to be graded.

But things were different now. They were seniors, either already eighteen and able to participate on real hero cases, alongside real heroes. Or else with parent signed permission slips giving them the freedom to participate in Sky High's internship program.

Everyone gathered in the gym where they would receive their mentor matches. All dressed for the occasion in the costumes they planned to wear for their debuts.

Will was decked out in white, blue, and red –like his parents. A form-fitting but not skin-tight body suit. It hugged his figure to reduce on drag while flying, but remained lose and pliant enough to allow freedom of movement when fighting with super-strength and punching bad guys through walls. On his chest was the stylized image of a castle rampart, very similar to the Commander's.

Layla, maintained her conviction to only use her powers when the situation demanded it. After the incident at prom in their freshman year, and over the course of the interim years between then and this moment, that conviction had not changed, but she had relaxed the rigidity of it. She would still only try to use her powers in service of the greatest possible good. But determining what the 'greatest good' actually was would take experience and wisdom that the she did not have. But the internship program could provide that.

Layla showed up to meet her mentor dressed as if she were going for a hike in the woods. Dark green track pants, tight to her legs to prevent them catching on protruding twigs or branches, a sensible cotton top that was breathable, over which was thrown an active wear jacket in a lighter shade of green than the pants. All of it was bare and devoid of logos, emblems, or brands –both hero and commercial alike. In Layla's opinion, neutrality was a key factor in mediating peace without the use of superpowers. She didn't look much like a superhero, but she did look ready to make a difference.

Magenta didn't look all that much different than her regular daily aesthetic. Black and lavender two-tone hair twisted up into an avant guard style. Top, a blend of violet and dark teal. Long sleeved with a shorter sleeved shirt thrown over. Her fingerless gloves were replaced by leather bracers, buckled under the wrist and studded. The fishnets on her legs remained the same, but the black skirt over them was replaced by a pair of black shorts instead. Held up by a black leather belt, similarly studded like the bracers. Her clunky Doc Martins were replaced by combat boots fit for running or climbing. Like Layla, she didn't look much like a superhero, but she did look ready to take on the world.

Ethan was a wash of warm colors. Yellow, orange, and red. All splashed across his costume in random swirls and lines. Like the color patterns of the slick he could morph his body into. Like Layla and Magenta Ethan's costume was devoid of symbols or logos. He hadn't yet decided on an emblem yet. He was still figuring out his hero brand. But he was solid in his representation of liquid. He knew what he was, the next step was figuring out what he wanted to be.

Zach's costume showed clear Legion of Superheroes inspiration. A mostly white jumpsuit with a single wide yellow stripe going down the middle. White arms and white hips and thighs. But the neck of his high collar, the front of his chest, going down his belly, under the belt, and the inside of his legs was an almost blinding day-glow yellow. In the center of his chest was a black star, the only dark color to be found anywhere on him. From the moment they first met in freshman year, Zach knew he was destined for great things. He had his costume planned out since before his enrollment in Sky High. Now it was senior year and his time to shine! Figuratively as well as literally.

"Zach, you look great!" Magenta commented.

"Thanks, but I'm nowhere as cool looking as Will!" He replied, indicating their friend. "Look at you, man, you look just like the Commander!"

Will gave a modest little blush and scratched the back of his head distractedly. After so many years of getting compared to his father at school, he was –sort of- finally getting used to it. But today was different. Today was their internship match. That meant he would actually be –one day- filling his father's shoes. That was a whole new kind of comparison and pressure, and Will was finding that he still hadn't quite figured out how to handle it.

He might have said something in reply to the complement. But was cut off before any words could escape, by the gym's double doors banging open, and another costumed figure storming in.

A black bodysuit, separate kevlar armor plates protecting his chest, mid-section, shoulders, thighs, and shins. All a similar shade of black as the suit underneath. The only color on the suit was the occasional red piping here and there outlining the contours of his form. A black domino mask covered his face, but even with it on there was no mistaking who it was. It wasn't the two streaks of red in his long hair that gave it away. Nor was it the fact that both his arms were currently on fire from his clenched fists to his elbows. It was the way he stomped up to the group –as if he were angry at the world- that truly gave away his identity.

"Warren?" Layla blinked at him. "What are you doing here?"

Warren Peace was one year ahead of them in school. Last yearwas his senior year. He got to fulfill his internship before any of them got to even starttheirs. He should be out now. Certified to practice independently and fight the good fight as his own hero with his own identity. There was no reason for him to be reporting for internship orientation and mentor matches.

Unless he was reporting as a mentor?

That seemed remarkably unlikely.

Taking up a place in line next to Will, Warren crossed his arms over his chest with a silent snarl. For half a moment, it looked like the temperamental pyrokinetic wasn't going to answer. Finally, he looked across Will to Layla to answer her question. "My mentor-" he somehow managed to make the word sound like is only had four letters "-didn't think Barron Battle's son was ready to be an independent hero."

"No way!" Ethan blinked at him, voice raising an octave. "So, they're making you repeat a grade!?"

"Not senior year." He shook his head. "Just my internship."

"So, you'll be interning with the rest of us?" Zach blinked at the –currently still on fire- pyrokinetic.

Warren's lip curled in a silent snarl, but said nothing.

"At the same time as us." Magenta corrected. "Internships are one-on-one with our mentors, not group activities. It's like the old sidekick system, except they don't pick our names and costumes, and we're not stuck with them for our whole careers. As soon as the internship's up we pick our own names and go out to be our own superheroes."

"Unless you're 'unfit' and have to take a do-over." Warren growled to no one in particular.

There was a beat of silence in which no one did anything but stare at the pyrokinetic's blazing biceps.

Will cleared his throat. "You're- uh, you're still on fire, there, dude."

"I know." Warren growled back, making no move to extinguish his flames.

"Ya gonna put that out?" Will pressed. "Like, maybe before the grown-ups show up to tell us what mentors we matched with."

"Stronghold,we'regrown-ups too now." The pyrokinetic reminded him. "Who gives a flying fork what they think?"

"You do." Layla announced without missing a beat. "Obviously. Otherwise you wouldn't be here, lining up with the rest of us, to take your do-over like the good hero-in-training you're so desperate to prove you are." She fixed him with a level glare, her emerald eyes blazing brighter than his flames. "You can drop the brooding tough-guy act, Warren. We all know you here. Your first mentor failed you because he couldn't see past the fact that you're Barron Battle's son, so now you're back to prove that you're not a villain. You're your own person, with your own hopes and dreams, and strength and weaknesses, and you want to be judged based on who you are instead of what people thinkyou are."

Uncrossing his arms, hands balling into fists at his sides, flames spreading from his elbows to his shoulders and across his chest, Warren fixed Layla with a hostile glare of his own. "Ya know what, Hippie-!"

"What?" She took a step closer to him, raising her chin, refusing to be intimidated.

She was the first of their group to befriend Warren Peace. To get in through his barriers, work her way under his walls, like stubborn roots. Slipping under the foundation, growing through the fill, until the wall finally cracked under the force of nature that was Layla Williams. She knew him better than any of the others. She knew when his intimidation tactics were truly the warningthey were meant to be, and when they were the defense mechanism of a lost and scared child desperate for approval but equally terrified of rejection, who would rather push people away than let them get close enough to hurt him.

Right now. This. This was the latter of the two.

Warren extinguished his flames. Throwing his arms up in frustration. "It's not worth fighting over."

Layla smirked.

It took her a while to figure it out, but a gentle touch was notthe way to calm the passionate fires of Warren Peace. For Warren, peace could only be gained through equality. Matching temper for temper. To set his stubbornness against your own. Like would recognize like and the raging flames would be banked by dense hardwoods. A wilting flower would have been consumed, but a formidable oak would stand against the blaze.

That was also one of the reasons why Will and Warren managed to become such good friends.

Will might not be as aggressive or volatile as Warren, but he was just as willful and stubborn. The two were evenly matched in that regard. Equal, but contrasting. If ever there was a need for a team-up in their future, the duo of Will and Warren would be immovable and unstoppable.

Layla smiled, it was actually better that Warren was doing his internship at the same time as them. What Magenta said was true, internships were not group activities. They wouldn't be interning together. But having a friend who was also taking his internship would be a great support and a big help –for both of them. Warren and Will both. One, trying to live down his father's reputation. The other, trying to live up to it. They were both under equal pressures. Not the same, but equal. Not kind, but like. Warren and Will would lift each other up, while other friends could just stand at their side.

The double doors of the gym opened again. But this time, it wasn't a late student storming in late with a showy entrance and display of temper.

This time with was Principal Powers, followed by a procession of established and well known heroes.

The Commander was the first one they recognized. Will's dad being the one they all knew best.

But there was also Flamebird, Mara Peace, Warren's mother.

She was one of the few heroes like Will who had two powers. Pyrokinesis (which she passed on to Warren), and flight. Her colors, unsurprisingly, were yellow and orange –the colors of fire. A bright, skin-tight suit that hugged every inch of his figure and looked as if it might have been painted on, with an umbra fade to the colors starting with yellow at her boots and climbing into a deep orange at her shoulders. Her hair was cut into a short pixie-bob and was a color so red, it made Layla's look brown in comparison. It was the same shade of red, in fact, as the two red streaks in Warren's hair. A domino mask the same shape and style as Warren's covered her eyes, but unlike his, hers was not black but the same shade of orange as her shoulders. In fact, there didn't seem to be any black on her costume at all. A rather striking contrast from her son whom was wearing all black.

She smiled at all of them as she entered and waved to her son.

Warren put his face in his hand and groaned. Between the gaps of his fingers, where the domino mask didn't cover, one could see that his cheeks were flushing with embarrassment. Nobody wanted their dorky old mother around when you were about to meet what would essentially be your boss for the next year.

After Flamebird was one who wasn't anybody's parent, but was no less famous.

Titan was an older hero. Not yet at what was considered 'retirement age' for their community, but certainly older than anyone's parents. If ever asked why he stayed in the business so long after everyone from his graduating class –and, in fact, his generation- had long since thrown in the towel, Titan would laugh and jokingly say he wouldthinkabout retirement after he was dead. His power was fairly basic and straightforward, no nuances or gimmicks. He grew from the height and size of an average person to something the size of Nakatomi Tower.

His costume was fairly unremarkable compared to Flamebird and the Commander. No garish colors, or skintight suits. No mask either. Like Jetstream and the Commander, Titan's face was exposed for the world to see. He wore what looked like a mundane and unassuming white cotton tank-top above a pair of fatigue pants that looked like they might have been military issue. Being from the old guard, from a time when the government and military was trying to contract supers as private soldiers, it wasn't out of the question to assume. His boots, likewise, looked military issued, but along their sides were painted yellow and black diagonal stripes and printed with the words "DO NOT CROSS!" A detail that looked absurd so tiny. But when he grew to the size of a building, his clothes grew with him and the warning on the boots became a practical and necessary warning sign for bystanders.

He crossed his arms over his chest and looked the kids over, expression neutral. Not impressed with them yet, but also not yet having a reason to disapprove of them.

Behind Titan, almost hidden behind Titan, was a thin man with his face completely covered. His everything completely covered, actually. From the top of his head, to the tips of his fingers, to the toes of his feet. He wore more of a morphsuit than a contemporary unitard. He wasn't overly tall, but he was so slender and lithe that if gave the impression that he was tall. He didn't so much walk into the room as he did glide into it. None of them had ever seen this hero before, but they new of him from reputation. This guy couldn't be anyone but Wraith, the shadow hero.

His power was something that one would generally associate with villainy. He traveled through darkness. Any shadow that was large enough for a human body became a portal for him. He could teleport into or out from any room or space so long as there was a shadow for him to pass through.

It was impossible to see his face through the morphsuit shroud, but by the movement of his head, sweeping from one end of the line to the other, it was clear that he was surveying the kids. It was just impossible to tell what Wraith actually thought with his face so completely covered.

Next to Wraith stood Hardplace. A relatively young hero. Still in his mid-twenties, barely older than Will and his friends themselves. Hardplace had graduated from Sky High only six years before Will and the gang's freshman year. But he became very high profile very quickly when he saved a senator's idiot teenaged son from a prank gone wrong. Senator Elena Juarez-Feldman had been spearheading a new clean-water initiative and her son though it would be hilarious to mess with all the gauges in the Maxville water treatment plant they were touring. Unfortunately, that included pressue gauges, and a number of pipes broke, flooding several parts of the complex. Young Mr. Juarez-Feldman was caught up in the current carried away by the water.

That was where Hardplace came in. His power was to convert any substance, be it gas or liquid, into a solid. He solidified the water carrying the senator's son, rendering it immobile and just walked across the surface to pluck Young Mr. Juarez-Feldman out by his exposed shoulder.

The incident was in the news for weeks, and Hardplace was instantly a household name.

Finally, the last to enter, was a hero none of them really knew much about. She was relatively new to spite being the same age as their parents.

Bedrock sauntered in, wearing climbing shoes instead of the more common boots that most heroes seemed to favor. Her costume was in ivory and brown. Tight pants with a wide utility belt. Equally tight shirt with a high collar, but only three quarter sleeves. On her head, she wore a spelunking helmet with goggles that came down to hide her eyes. Her mouth was pursed into a line. Not technically a frown, but definitely not a smile either. More like she was thinking. Decided on what she actually thought about the young heroes before her.

"As you know, we're no longer practicing the old and antiquated sidekick system." Principal Powers began, addressing her students –and Warren. "The mentor system is still new and we're working out the kinks in how matches are determined."

Did that sound like an apology? It was pitched sort of like an apology.

The kids all turned their heads to look at Warren. But he had his arms crossed and was starring dead-ahead, not making eye-contact with anyone.

"As you know, your parent cannot be your mentor because of the risk of creating a conflict of interest." Powers continued to explain. "We tried matching mentors with students based off complementary or contrasting powers. But that didn't take personalities or personal bias into account."

That was definitely, definitely an apology.

Once again, everyone looked at Warren. But he was still looked anywhere but at another person.

"This year we have tried to take all this into account when matching mentors." Powers called everyone's attention back to her. "Also, we have added a new Open-Door policy. If you have a problem with your mentor, of any kind, come see me at my office here at school and I will look into the matter and –if necessary- find you a more compatible mentor. Are there any questions?"

Oh, they had tons of questions now. But not for Principal Powers. When this was over, every single one of them was going to pounce on Warren and demand details of what exactly went so wrong between him and his first mentor that Principal Powers decided to overhaul the system.

"Alright, then." Powers cleared her throat when no one raised their hand. "Come forward when your name is called. Ethan Daniels."

Ethan stepped forward, swallowing a lump in his throat and looking nervous. He would be picked first.

"Your mentor shall be Hardplace." Powers announced.

Hardplace stepped forward to shake the younger man's hand. But Ethan was so nervous, that he melted into a puddle of anxiety before their hands could touch.

"Oh, um…?" Hardplace looked up at the older, more seasoned heroes.

"He'll be fine." Powers assured them.

Ethan just needed to build up his confidence. An older, more legendary mentor would have just made him feel less worthy. But someone who was young, like Hardplace, someone who might be fairly famous but was still new enough to understand and empathize with a young hero still trying to find themselves and their own identity, that was exactly what Ethan needed.

Powers turned her attention back to the line of young heroes in training. "Magenta Vitz. Your mentor will be Titan."

Magenta stepped forward to stand next to her mentor. Even not using his powers, at his baseline height, the man was a skyscraper. Standing well over six feet tall, maybe pushing seven. But muscular and wide to make the height proportionate. Titan was easily three time's her size and standing next to him Magenta looked every bit like the tiny guinea pig she turned into.

The image was rather comical and Principal Powers indulged herself in a small smile before returning her attention to the task at hand.

"Zach Braun." She called. "Your mentor will be Wraith."

Zach gave an almost hesitant glance at his friends before he stepped forward to take up a place next to his assigned mentor. With the all black costume and dark and brooding air about him, Zach would have assumed they'd match that guy with Warren. Swallowing a protest he didn't even realize he had, Zach stepped out of the line and moved to stand next to Wraith.

The older man turned his head, and very clearly looked the boy up and down. Noting the spotless white and obnoxiously bright day-glow yellow suit. But if Wraith had an opinion about it, he did not void it. Just put a single hand on his hip and stood there silently.

"Layla Williams." Principal Powers fixed the younger woman with an affectionate smile. Aside from the occasional picket or protest, Layla was a model student. "Your mentor will be Flamebird."

"But that doesn't make sense." Layla shook her head. Ah, so today was a 'protest day' not a 'model student day'. Powers resisted the urge to sigh as Layla elaborated. "Ms. Peace is a fire-user. I make planets grow. Fire burns plants. Our powers won't work together."

But Flamebird just offered a gentle smile. Warm like the summer sun. Nurturing and full of light. "But they're not matching people based solely on powers." She reminded the younger woman. "Personality and personal philosophy also play a hand in the mentor matches. Also, what your teachers think you still need to learn and who's best to give you the lesson."

Layla continued to look skeptical.

"You look like you're on your way to the gym." Flamebird continued. "What were you hoping you and your mentor would do today after you matched?"

Layla hesitated. Unsure. She didn't know Ms. Peace as well as she knew Mr. Stronghold. The few times they'd met over the past few years, it was always in passing. Warren never wanting his dorky mom around to embarrass him in front of his friends. Mara Peace always seemed nice. But it was hard to forget that this was also a woman who had a love-affair with a supervillain. Who conceived a child with a supervillain, and –if Warren's convoluted feelings and behaviors were any indication- allowed said supervillain to be present and influential in that child's life. It was hard not to doubt her judgment.

But there was no apparent double meaning or malice in the question.

"I, uh, I don't like the idea of using my powers against others." Layla explained. "So, I was thinking my mentor and I could explore preventative heroism, or something. Like, like stopping disasters before they happen and stuff. Or, maybe, helping people recover from disasters. Stuff like that. The, uh, the less glamorous but more meaningful side of heroism."

That gentle smile widened into one of approval and agreement. "I think that's a great idea!"

Visibly relaxing, Layla smiled back. So, they weren't matched based on their powers, but on the parts of heroism they valued. Layla stepped forward to stand next to Flamebird. This wouldn't be so bad.

The only two left who hadn't been matched were Warren and Will.

"Will Stronghold." Announced Principal Powers. "Your mentor will be Bedrock."

Nodding, Will left Warren's side to stand next to his assigned mentor. He didn't know much about Bedrock. Will wasn't really much for keeping up with superhero news. But he knew about the vast majority of Maxville's local hero population through stories from his parents, or friends. None of them had ever mentioned a 'Bedrock' before.

"So, uh, this is nice." Will ventured, hoping to break the ice. He was imagining a mentorship going similar to those Kung Fu movies where the young kid gets trained by the wise old teacher and the slowly develop an affectionate comradery. Nothing like the formal teacher-student dynamics that went on in regular high school.

But Bedrock only offered a mild grunt in return. She, it seemed was in no rush to break the ice.

Everyone turned their attention to the only young hero, and mentor that had not had their match announced.

The Commander looked at Warren.

"What?" Warren gaped. One short clip of a syllable. She stared at the Commander, then turned an accusatory glare at Principal Powers, the whited out eye-sockets of his domino mask narrowing at her. "Why?"

"Don't be mad at Lynda." Commanded the Commander. "I requested to be your mentor."

"Why!?" Warren repeated. Demanded, actually. Those whited out eyes of his mask were fixed on the Commander now.

For half a second, an unreadable expression flashed across the Commander's face. Guilt? Affection? Fear? Disappointment? Hope? It was impossible to tell what it really was. The expression was there and gone again in the space of a second. Looking around at the room full of people watching this exchange, the Commander cleared his throat. Whatever the real reason was, he was not about to say it in front of a room full of people who didn't know him. Sure, they knew who he was, but they didn't really know him, and they didn't know Warren, and they didn't know the history there.

Finally, Steven Stronghold offered the boy a lopsided grin, and answered the question as if it should have been obvious. "You're my son's best friend. I just want you to succeed."

Warren frowned. He never received any such preferential treatment from the Commander before.

But Principal Powers smiled, thinking the matter was settle. "Warren Peace, you mentor will be the Commander."

…